“You should be,” I said softly as I reached out and brushed a lock of hair out of Griffin’s face. “What am I going to do with… without you?”
FOR THE next week, I ignored Griffin to the best of my ability. After his testimony he would be gone and beyond my reach. I needed to accept that. He needed to accept that. At least, that was what I told myself as I paced the hallway outside his courtroom. On each lap I paused by the doors and listened for raised voices, for any indication that Liev Kohut was the least bit perturbed that Griffin pointed to him when they asked if he saw the murderer in the courtroom. Sure, there were guards inside, but none of them were me. None of them… loved Griffin.
I stopped in my tracks, caught in the sunlight pouring through a large window like God had hit me with a spotlight, captured by my revelation and not sure how to pick up my stride again. I glanced down at the street below and saw Runyon having a smoke and a chat with our supervisor. Our commander got a call on his cell and glanced up at me. In the same moment, I heard a commotion in the courtroom behind me. I ran over and pushed open the doors.
It was chaos—people on their feet shouting, the judge banging her gavel, guards restraining Kohut as he declared, “You are dead! I kill you! You’re dead flesh walking!” Huh? Yuck. Through it all I spotted Griffin being led from the room through a door at the back by the two marshals relocating him.
He was shouting too. “Give it your best shot, you toxic fuck!”
I grinned. Couldn’t help it. Then he was through the door, out of sight, and I panicked. I rushed back to the window in the hallway and saw Runyon and our commander standing by an SUV, the vehicle that would whisk Griffin Bartlett away from me for good. I took off. I flew down the stairs, my thoughts filled with the evening ahead of me, an evening without Griffin across the table telling me some ridiculous story, an evening without Griffin to say good night to, years without Griffin to hold in my arms. I ran faster.
Damn it! I should have told him how I felt, what I wanted.
I burst through the doors at the back of the courthouse and nearly took my boss’s face off. Runyon jumped back just in time. I’m certain they both protested, complained, showered me with startled profanity, but all I heard was white noise (that same buzzing from when Griffin had disappeared off the roof) as I watched the SUV vanish around the corner at the end of the block.
“WHAT’S THIS?” my commander asked a month later after I dropped my resignation on his desk.
“It’s what it looks like.” I sighed and collapsed into the chair in front of his desk. “I need a change.” I slouched further and let my gaze drift over the office’s mud-dull interior.
“A change I can give you,” he said, glancing past my shoulder, “but not a resignation.”
I lifted a brow. “Excuse me? Are you saying no?”
“Torrente, you don’t compute outside law enforcement. What are you going to do with yourself?”
I shrugged. “Haven’t given it much thought, but this is no longer working for me.”
“So you’d give it all up? Have you considered therapy?”
I snorted.
“Fine. I reject your resignation. You’re being reassigned.” His gaze shifted to peer over my shoulder again at the outer office. I turned to look but only saw my partner and other colleagues going about their duties. “Have you talked to Runyon about this?”
I nodded. “Yeah. He’s not thrilled, but he knows I haven’t been satisfied for a while. I think I’m bringing him down.”
He watched me for a few moments, then said, “Ya know, you’re a pain in the ass, and for the record, you used to thrive on this job. I think you’ve just lost your way.”
“Sir, I’m sor—”
“But there are a couple of offices that need some new blood,” he said, riding right over me, “so I’ll okay a transfer to—” He shuffled through a few folders on his desk. “—Santa Monica. I hear it’s nice there. Get some sunshine and find your spark again, you jackass.”
Santa Monica? Sunshine year-round. I shrugged.
RUNYON SLAMMED the trunk of my car. “That’s it.” He shoved his fists in his pockets and stared into the distance. “Be sure and call when you stop for the night, or Corella will nag me.” He looked into my eyes. “We’ll worry.”
“I promise I’ll call.” I wasn’t sure what to say. We’d been partners for three years and had just been getting into a groove, a rhythm, when my feelings for Griffin had thrown a wrench into things.
“Oh yeah, here.” He dug in his jacket and removed a business card. “This is your temporary address. I hear it’s a decent apartment complex. Near the beach.” He brightened. “Maybe you’ll learn to surf. If you do, send pictures. Even if you’re lousy at it—especially if you’re lousy at it.”
We laughed, embraced in a nice, brief straight-boy hug, and I walked around to get behind the wheel of my ratty 1969 Dodge Charger. On my trip across the country, I kept my promise to call the Runyons each night. I even spoke to the kids a couple of times. Apparently they were marking “Uncle Kirk’s” progress on a map of the United States.
My new apartment was adequate. My new job was adequate. The sunshine was nice, but my day-to-day life was… adequate. Then, a few weeks after settling in at the office and meeting my new partner—a gorgeous redhead named Felice Carter—I dragged a duffel of dirty laundry down to the shared laundry room of building B and walked in on raised voices.
“You kick this machine one more time, and I’ll drown you in it, Carlos!”
“These crappy washers never work, Frankie!”
“Not true,” Frankie said more calmly from behind the washer he was apparently working on. “They work quite well when not abused by impatient dicks such as yourself.”
“Aww, sorry, Frankie,” Carlos said sweetly. “So, you… uh, thought any more about my invite?”
As I approached a washing machine on the other end of their row—exchanging a quick chin jut in greeting with Carlos—I heard Frankie sigh deeply. “Not interested. Tell your girlfriend I’m not ready to meet anyone new, okay?”
I took my time loading my washer, making sure the clothes were distributed evenly around the basket, and was just about to push the power button when I realized the room had gone silent. I glanced toward Carlos and saw the man staring at his friend in confusion. My gaze shifted to Frankie, and then my eyes met Griffin’s.
The stunned look on Griffin’s face morphed into utter joy, as did, I was sure, the expression on mine. We stared at each other for a long time, each uncertain how to begin, so Carlos solved our stalemate for us.
“Franklin Gerber, this is… uh—” Carlos gestured toward me, snapping his fingers, calling for my name.
“Kirk Torrente,” I whispered, my gaze never leaving Griffin’s. I couldn’t risk his vanishing again.
After watching the two of us for a while longer, Carlos said, “I never believed in love at first sight, but I can’t wait to tell Bebe about this.” He chuckled. “Uh, I’ll leave you two alone. Start that load for me when you get the chance, Frankie, huh?” And he was gone.
Then Griffin, or Franklin, was in my arms, our lips locking, our tongues getting reacquainted. I slid my hands all over his body, remembering, and then we broke apart.
“How?” he gasped.
Between kisses, I answered, “I… I think Runyon… talked to my… commander. Got transferred here. I was miserable… without you, Grif—Frankie.”
We dove together again.
THAT NIGHT in bed, Griffin and I caught up. He told me about arriving in Santa Monica and starting work at a computer programming firm downtown. The marshals had gotten him the job and falsified his credentials, proof of an education he’d never been able to afford. He told me about his new friends Carlos and Bebe in our apartment complex and how Bebe had been trying to set him up with her brother.
“But I missed you too much, Kirk.” He rubbed his hand over my buzzed hair and smiled, clearly remembering.
I no
dded, wrapping him up in my arms. “I got downstairs too late that day after court. I’m sorry, Grif—God, it’s going to be tough remembering what to call you.”
“Stick around. You’ll get the hang of it.” He slithered free of me and straddled my thighs. Then he kissed me, bringing back every night I’d spent in his bed at the safe house. We had new memories to make in our sunny new home, in our sunny new lives.
Fall Train
JAIME SAMMS
In my heart, I’ve always believed in Happily Ever After. I’m hardwired that way. So while I’ve never met TJ or Eric in person, the story I saw unfold between them, which they have generously shared with the world, gives me hope that I don’t believe in vain. If I can return to them even a fraction of the hope they’ve inspired, then I count myself lucky to have had the opportunity to do such a small thing as contribute another HEA story and dedicate it to them. Thanks, Eric and TJ, for touching people you don’t even know and making the world brighter and lighter.
A TRAIN-RIDING veteran by his third year of uni, Brad knew how to pick the most deserted car: move toward the back, but not near the snack car, and not next to the observation car. Even if no one sat in the car next to it, everyone dragged their hyper kids through your comfort zone to get them more pop and chocolate, make them sit and play Sorry!, and watch the endless parade of pine trees. Because kids loved that shit. That’s why they screamed that their sister was cheating and their brother was a booger nose and proceeded to pound on the dice-rolling bubble in the center of the board game until they cleared the car.
After three years, Brad still wondered what genius thought that dumb, rowdy game was a good choice for cross-country train rides. Probably, he reflected, it had been left behind by some harangued mother—accidentally on purpose.
Carefully shutting the observation car door behind him, Brad continued on, leaving that gem of an argument behind. The next-to-last car on the train was usually the most quiet. Everyone always assumed the last one would be best, but by the time they got there, they discovered everyone else had had the same idea, and the car would be full and smell like feet and onions.
“No, thank you,” Brad murmured to himself as he entered the coveted next-to-last car. It was perfect. There was an old couple. The wife was doing some sort of needlework. She smiled up at him in that kind old-lady way as he passed. The husband had earplugs in and the little blackout eye covers on. He snored very faintly. It was a small price to pay for being the only other occupant of the car, Brad decided, and chose a seat close to the middle of the car, next to the baggage rack.
He stored his suitcase and pulled his backpack onto the seat beside him, luxuriating in the fact he had all the room in the world to stretch out. The luggage rack meant no one behind him to care if he pushed his seat all the way back, and choosing the seat next to the emergency exit meant he could be fairly certain that no one would want to sit with him. People didn’t want to be responsible for saving the old ladies and children if the train crashed.
He settled into his seat and sat back, earbuds in place, gaze drifting to watch the gold-and-red kaleidoscope of fall leaves zip by. He was about to drift off when the car door opened and a man about his own age shuffled through from the end car. He was dragging his suitcase and balancing his backpack on one arm, a coffee and muffin in his hand.
He looked desperate and exhausted. Brad guessed he was on day three of a cross-country trip and in search of a safe place to crash for a few hours. Idly, Brad watched as he nearly dropped the coffee, did drop the muffin and step on it in his attempt to rebalance the coffee and backpack, and let out a low string of really vile-sounding curses in another language. When Brad looked into his face, the luminous glint of too-tired eyes swimming in tears sent a thrill of goose bumps over his arms.
“Shit,” he muttered and pulled out his earbuds. “Here.” He stood and took the coffee from the other man, grabbed the pack as it was about to take a dive to the floor and block the guy’s passage, then slipped back into his own seat to let the guy by. “Put that away, first off.”
The man stared at him, mouth partly open, cheeks flushed pink.
“In there.” Brad pointed to the empty racks behind him. “Plenty of room.”
“The other was… full,” the man said quietly. He smiled, and it was shy and damn near sweet enough to make Brad’s teeth hurt.
But it did have him smiling back, wide and goofy, because the man was cute. His pale hazel eyes were still shining, though he seemed a little calmer, and his creamy skin, still flushed, was scruffy over his square jaw and lean cheeks. He had high cheekbones, though, and a thin, pert nose that left him looking delicate despite the beard shadow and strong chin. Sandy brown hair tumbled in messy waves over his forehead and collar.
“Back car is always pretty full for some reason,” Brad agreed.
“Here is nice.” The man nodded and stowed his large case, coming back to take his coffee and backpack. “Quiet.”
Brad agreed. “Roomy.”
The man’s brow furrowed, and he tilted his head. “Rooms?” He looked around. “I don’t….”
“Lots of room,” Brad clarified. “Space.” He swirled a finger through the air to indicate the near-empty car. “You can spread out.”
“Ah!” The man smiled wide and nodded. “Yes, I see. Roomy. Yes.”
English, apparently, wasn’t this guy’s first language. Brad tried a quick question in French, but that only got him another puzzled look, and he repeated himself in English. “Been on the train long?”
“Ah.” Another vigorous nod. “Yes. Days. You? Are you from here?”
Brad stifled back a chuckle, since “here” was a few hundred miles north of nothing much, really. “Timmins, actually. Farther north. I got on the train in Sudbury and will change in Toronto to go to Ottawa.”
His new friend’s face lit up, and the smile he directed at Brad was about a thousand watts of gorgeous. “Ottawa! Yes! Me as well.”
“Where are you from?”
“Lithuania.”
Brad blinked at him. “That’s one hell of a train ride.”
That got him a startled stare, and he did chuckle. “Where did you get on the train?” Brad retook his seat and stretched his legs out, surprised when the man took the seat next to him, tossing their bags, after a questioning look at Brad and waiting for Brad to agree, onto the empty chair across the aisle.
“Vancouver. Am Jokubas.” He held out his free hand and offered another dazzling smile. “Jacob, you would say.”
“Jacob. I’m Brad.” They shook, and another sweet chill zinged through Brad at the man’s warm strength. “Vancouver, huh? Long way to Ottawa from Vancouver.”
“Yes.” Jacob stared down at his coffee cup, clearly miserable. “Is true. I made wrong connection somewhere. Winnipeg, I think?”
“Didn’t the guy at the door look at your ticket?”
“There were so many kids from a school, it was chaos. I sat and waited. We were far along the track by the time he came to me. It was mess. I end up in Thoms… ville? Is in Manitoba?”
“Thompson. Yeah. Shit, dude, that sucks.”
Jacob tilted his head again. “I’m sorry?”
“Bad luck,” Brad said. “You went pretty far out of your way.”
“Yes. And I have to change trains again in Toronto.” His pretty eyes got big. “If I go wrong way again, I will miss my chance.”
“Chance at what?”
“I take my oath in Ottawa. Become Canadian.” Once more, he offered up that smile, and Brad’s gut twisted just a little bit. “I will be Canadian citizen. If I don’t get lost. They said take train, easier, less chance to lose myself.” He smiled, more sheepishly this time. “Even me.”
“You won’t get lost,” Brad assured him.
“I have special talent for it. Especially when I am so tired. But if I sleep and miss my stop….” He fiddled with the lid of his coffee cup, which he had yet to sip from. “It has been a long trip.” He sighed
.
Brad took the coffee from him and set it into the cup holder near the window. “Sleep,” he said. “I’ll make sure you don’t miss your stop.”
“You are very kind. But I can’t—”
“You can. Get some rest. We’re going the same way, and I’ll make sure you make it to the courthouse, or wherever you have to be, on time.”
“You would do this?”
Brad shrugged. “Sure.”
“Canada.” Jacob smiled softly. “I love this country.” He sank down into his seat, head on the rest behind him, and closed his eyes. “Canadian people.”
“We’re awesome,” Brad said, trying not to think about how awful it was that his sole reason for making the offer was to be able to keep looking at the amazing sight that was Jacob from Lithuania. He glanced out the window at the fall colors, resplendent in their vibrancy as the train slowed to allow a freight train to pass them going in the opposite direction. Canada was a pretty beautiful place. Next to him, Jacob shifted, and his silky hair slid across Brad’s neck as his head came to rest on Brad’s shoulder. He’d always thought of fall as the fresh new start to all things good. As he shifted to make a better pillow for Jacob’s head, he smiled to himself. It was going to be a great new year.
The train trip passed mostly in silence. Jacob slept a good portion of the way. When he woke, just a half hour out of Toronto, he was sweetly bleary-eyed and disheveled. He smiled a shy little grin when Brad reached to smooth the hair down along the side of his head.
“Can’t have you taking oaths with bad hair,” Brad said. His voice whispered out, softer than he’d intended, partially blocked by the way Jacob was peering up at him through his lashes, not entirely awake.
“No,” Jacob agreed. “That would be… unseen.”
Brad smiled. “Unseemly.”
“Gah!” Jacob thumped a fist on his thigh. “My English is not good. Still. I practice so much and small little things….” He made a starburst beside his head with his fingers. “Poof. Gone. Some words do not mean what you think they mean.”
Grand Adventures Page 26