No Place That Far

by Aleksandr Voinov

  “Works for me.” Julien hoisted himself off the counter. “I should go make sure Chris is awake. We’ll need to go pretty soon if we’re going to Pike Place too.”

  Marcus grimaced. “Good luck with that.”

  “Thanks,” Julien muttered, and disappeared out of the kitchen.

  Marcus turned to Timur again. “You all right?”

  “Hmm?” Timur’s eyebrows flicked up. “Yes. Why?”

  “I’m…” You tell me. “I don’t know. You seemed a little tense when I came down here.”

  “Oh.” Timur waved a hand, but even that gesture carried more tension than it usually would have. “Thinking. About…Legion.”

  Marcus resisted the urge to groan with frustration. Fuck the Legion for being so damned far away. “Having second thoughts?”

  Timur shook his head. “Just thoughts. Is five years. Long time.”

  “Yeah, it is,” Marcus whispered into his coffee cup. “It’s a really long time.”

  Timur fell silent for a moment. Marcus was about to ask if anything else was bothering him, but Timur shook himself again and drained his coffee. “We should dress. Julien will want to leave soon.”

  He didn’t wait for a response and headed upstairs, leaving Marcus standing there in the kitchen like an idiot. Wow. Timur hadn’t seemed upset over leaving, but suddenly…

  Marcus sighed. He finished his coffee too and followed Timur. No one ever said this would be easy. But he fully intended to make sure Timur enjoyed his last day—and night—in Seattle. A day out with the three of them, a good meal, the best sex Marcus could give him, and hopefully he’d be on his way with nothing but pleasant memories.

  There wasn’t much more he could do.

  When dinner was over, Chris and Julien insisted on cleaning up and shooed Marcus and Timur out of the kitchen.

  “You two just chill for a few,” Chris said, herding them into the living room. “Then we can all have a glass of wine and watch a movie or something before you guys head out.”

  That sounded damn good to Marcus, so he didn’t protest. He took a seat on Chris and Julien’s couch, and Timur sat beside him.

  Usually, after a long day and a good meal, Timur was as languid and relaxed as one of the cats. Tonight, though, he was tense. More so than he’d been this morning. He’d seemed fine all day, but now, he sat straight, his knee bobbing slightly as he tapped his heel on the floor.

  Marcus took his hand. “Hey. What’s up?”

  Timur looked down at their hands. He swallowed hard, and Marcus’s chest tightened.

  “Timur?”

  Without facing Marcus, Timur took in a deep breath. “I like it here. Seattle.” He nodded toward the kitchen. “Being close to my comrade again. And…” he slowly turned his head toward Marcus, “…and you.”

  “I like having you here. I’m definitely going to miss you.” More than I should.

  Timur chewed his lip. “I could stay.”

  Marcus’s heart flipped. “What?”

  “Stay. In America. With you.”

  Oh no. No, no, no… As much as Marcus had been dreading tomorrow, the thought of Timur actually staying—about this continuing past the point of fooling around and enjoying each other’s company—sent panic surging through him. “S-stay?”

  Timur nodded. “The Legion is all I have done. Only two times, felt…” He tapped his chest. “Two times.”

  Marcus swallowed. “Julien.”

  “Da.” Timur squeezed his hand. He hesitated, as if struggling to get his thoughts in order and hold Marcus’s gaze. “But Julien, that was not…” He looked down at their hands.

  Oh God.

  Timur took a deep breath. “Julien is comrade. On battlefield, he is… I trust. He trusts me. Is protection, friend.” He met Marcus’s eyes. “With you, is different. Battlefield?” He shook his head. “Never. Never with you.”

  Marcus cocked his head. “I don’t understand.”

  “On battlefield, you lose friends. You lose”—Timur nodded toward the kitchen—“comrades. Is hard, but is expected.” Timur’s thumb rubbed back and forth along Marcus’s, pressing in enough to create some friction, as if Timur was afraid one of them might cease to exist if he didn’t earnestly maintain that contact. “If you were on battlefield, I’d be killed.”

  Marcus forced a laugh. “You don’t think I’d watch your back?”

  Timur looked him right in the eye. “I’d never stop watching yours. Because to lose you…” He shook his head. “No.”

  The reality of what Timur was saying hit Marcus in the chest. He drew a breath, wondering when something that simple had gotten so hard. “You barely know me.”

  “I want to. I know the Legion. It’s all I’ve known for many years.” He locked eyes with Marcus, his gaze more intense than Marcus had ever seen it. “Thinking about going back, is…impossible to sleep.”

  Marcus gnawed his lip. “But what if it doesn’t work? Between us, I mean?” He struggled to even whisper at this point. “Your military career will be over. Your retirement will be gone. You’ll…” he gulped, “…you’ll hate me.”

  “No.” Timur shook his head. “Couldn’t hate you.”

  Any other night, Marcus would’ve responded with a bitter laugh. Instead, he just sighed. “You’d be surprised.”

  Right then, Julien and Chris came into the living room, and both stopped dead, eyes widening.

  Chris cleared his throat. “Uh, do you guys…”

  Julien said something to Timur in French. A question by the sound of it, laced with unmistakable concern.

  Timur nodded but didn’t speak.

  Julien turned on his heel and guided Chris back out of the room, leaving Marcus and Timur alone again.

  Marcus moistened his lips and faced Timur. “I love you, Timur. I haven’t felt this way about anyone in a long, long time.” Ever, Marcus. Try ever. “But I don’t…I don’t want you to change your life’s trajectory for me.”

  Timur gave a quiet laugh. “Too late.”

  Marcus blinked. “You haven’t cancelled your flight, have you?”

  “No, no. Just…” Timur touched Marcus’s face. “Trajectory is already screwed up.”

  “Timur…” Marcus closed his eyes, fighting back emotions. “Please. We…” As much as it hurt, as much as he wanted Timur’s hands on him, Marcus gently closed his fingers around Timur’s wrist and brought it down so he was no longer touching his cheek. He met Timur’s gaze—God, I’m hurting him, aren’t I? “I’m sorry. Everything that’s happened between us has been amazing, but it can’t…”

  He couldn’t find the words. Even if Timur’s English had been perfect, Marcus couldn’t string together his thoughts in any way that would make sense. Not without hurting him even more than he inevitably would.

  And the longer he sat here, looking into the face of the man he’d accidentally fallen for, the less sure he was that he could push him away. He loved him so much it hurt, but this was far too new and too much in the honeymoon phase to be the basis of life-altering decisions. A few weeks of bliss weren’t enough to throw away ten years of working toward a life-long retirement.

  A few more minutes, though, and Marcus knew damn well he’d cave in. And sooner or later, this thing would go down in flames, and Timur would hate him.

  He looked Timur in the eye, forcing himself not to lose his composure. “I don’t want you changing your life for me, Timur. You’ve got a career waiting over there. I want you to get on that plane tomorrow.”

  “And if I want to stay here?”

  Marcus winced. That was far too much pressure. Someone else bending the course of his life around him? No way.

  He let go of Timur’s hand and stood. “I need to go.”

  “What? But you’re…”

  “I have to.” He took a deep breath. “Safe t
ravels, Timur. I’m sorry this couldn’t have ended better.” For both of us.

  Marcus didn’t wait for a response. Though he felt like an ass, stopping just short of sprinting for the door, he had to get the hell out of there before he changed his mind. And with the way his resolve eroded a little more every time he looked in Timur’s eyes, that was going to happen quickly.

  So he left.

  He didn’t say good-bye to Chris or Julien. He’d apologize to Chris at work tomorrow. Apologize to Julien when he saw him next. Apologize to Timur…

  He swallowed the lump rising in his throat and keyed himself into his car. There’d be time for apologies later. Tonight, all he could do was get away before he hurt Timur even more. Before he brought him home, kept him there and ruined everything Timur had in exchange for a few months of bliss before this thing flamed out.

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  He’d been begging the universe for a little more time with Timur, for a solution to his soldier-lover’s inevitable departure. And when the opportunity fell into his lap to keep Timur here longer—forever, even—he’d run like hell.

  Sweaty palms slippery on the wheel, he drove on autopilot back toward his place, all the while racking his brain for answers. Some explanation. Something that made some goddamned sense.

  I want him to stay. He’s willing to stay. Why the hell am I running?

  And just like that, the penny dropped.

  It wasn’t that he’d been wishing Timur could stay here forever. He’d been wishing that things with Timur would stay the same forever. And they wouldn’t. There was no way in hell they would. Sooner or later, Timur would find a reason to resent him. And then Marcus would find a reason to return that resentment. The sex they were enjoying now would deteriorate into occasional middle-of-the-night quickies just to take the edge off, assuming they’d each had enough to drink to find the other arousing, but not so much they couldn’t do anything about it.

  They’d fight more than they talked, and, eventually, wouldn’t even bother to do that very often because who the fuck cared. Their fights wouldn’t end in compromise, but their dreams sure would. Separate bedrooms. Separate lives. Separation.

  And in the end, Timur would look at him with nothing but contempt, because Marcus would be the guy who cost him the future he’d worked for. Marcus would be the reason Timur didn’t get the retirement he deserved, just like Ray was the reason Marcus had never gone to Florence. Marcus would be the reason Timur stopped believing in love, like Marcus himself had a long, long time ago.

  Marcus forced back tears. It shouldn’t hurt this much. And, damn it, he should go back to Chris and Julien’s and explain this to Timur now that he understood it.

  But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

  Tonight, all he could do was drive.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Marcus barely slept that night. When he did sleep, he dreamed about that conversation with Timur. When he was awake, he was on edge, waiting for his doorbell or ringtone to announce that Timur hadn’t given up so easily.

  But the call never came. No one showed up at his door.

  The next day, Marcus cleaned his apartment from top to bottom just to give himself a reason not to look at the clock every few minutes. That didn’t help, though.

  Noon. Timur was probably packed and ready to go. Probably having lunch with Chris and Julien.

  Two. En route to the airport, no doubt, so he could be there three hours early because it was an international flight.

  Two thirty. Saying good-bye to Chris and his wartime comrade on the curb at Sea-Tac.

  With his heart in his throat, Marcus left for work at five and tried not to imagine Timur boarding his flight. Putting his carry-on in the bin. Taking his seat. Maybe hurting, maybe hating Marcus, probably both.

  And damn his timing, while Marcus was prepping his station for the night, he glanced at the Grey Goose clock above the back room.

  Five forty-seven.

  Assuming there were no delays, the plane was wheels up. Maybe even at cruising altitude by now.

  Timur was gone.

  Well. Ready to move on, Marcus? Find a new piece of ass and have casual sex with no strings whatsoever?

  Yeah, right.

  He tore his gaze away from the clock and went back to getting garnishes and well drinks set up for the night. The front door opened, letting in the blinding daylight as one of the bartenders or bouncers or whoever showed up. Marcus didn’t really care who it was. He didn’t care about much of anything.

  But out of habit, he glanced up.

  The door closed, and…that wasn’t a bartender.

  Well, Chris was there. But the man striding across the room, heading straight for Marcus’s station and looking like he was about to flip a table?

  That would be a certain ex-legionnaire.

  “Are you out of your fucking mind?” Julien snarled. “What the fuck are—”

  “Easy, Julien,” Chris called after him.

  Julien glanced back then turned to Marcus again, and when he stopped in front of the bar, he lowered his voice. “Are you insane?”

  Marcus exhaled. “What do you want me to say?”

  “I want to know why the fuck I put my best friend on a plane today without you there to even say good-bye to him.”

  “How much did he tell you?”

  Julien’s lips thinned into a bleached line. “He told me he suggested staying, that he finally admitted how he felt about you, and you bolted.”

  Marcus opened his mouth to speak, but Liam appeared beside him, eyeing Julien. “Is, uh, everything okay here?”

  “Yeah.” Marcus glanced at Julien. To his boss, he said, “You mind if I step out for a few minutes?”

  Liam’s eyebrows rose, but he nodded. “Just be ready when the doors open.” He clapped Marcus’s shoulder and added a gentle squeeze, as if to reassure him he was there.

  “Thanks, boss.”

  Marcus and Julien went out the back door into the alley behind the club, since customers would be lining up fairly soon and didn’t need to see any of this.

  Outside, with no one else around, Julien faced him, arms folded loosely across his chest and eyebrows raised. “You were saying?”

  Marcus gulped. “Look, Timur and I talked last night, and he was talking about wanting to stay here. To be with me. And I… We barely know each other.”

  “So what?” Julien inclined his head. “You’re just going to let him go?”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  Julien pinched the bridge of his nose. “You do realize…” He blew out a breath, dropped his hand and met Marcus’s gaze. Teeth clenched, he said, “Listen, it’s not like Timur is just going to another state or to some first-world foreign country. He’s going back to the Legion, Marcus. He’s going back to places you can’t even imagine. Do you know what kinds of diseases we picked up in some of those places? Or how close we came to getting shot or blown up?” He threw up his hands. “Do you want him to be—”

  “What do you want me to say?” Marcus glared at him. “Timur likes what he does. You liked it. You’ve told me the stories.”

  “I joined the Legion because I needed to escape the life I had before,” Julien growled. “And even though it saved my life, and I met a lot of men whom I consider my brothers now, don’t think for a minute it wasn’t hell.”

  “Of course it was.” Marcus swallowed. “It’s war.”

  “Exactly. Going back to that, Timur could easily…”

  “I know. But does that mean I’m obligated to—”

  “You’re not obligated to do anything.” Julien’s shoulders sagged a bit, some of the anger deflating. “I just… I can’t imagine why you’d let him go. You guys seemed…” He shook his head. “Whatever was going on between you two, it was so—”

  “I had t
o let him go, because I’ve done almost exactly what Timur wanted to do for me,” Marcus snapped. “And I don’t want him to resent me for that in a few years.”

  Julien drew back, eyes wide. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean…” Marcus cleared his throat to keep his composure. He raked a hand through his hair and started pacing, because he couldn’t stand still with all this nervous energy. “My ex-husband. He… I had an offer from one of the top restaurateurs in the world. Executive chef in a restaurant in Florence.”

  “As in, Italy?”

  Marcus nodded. “The money was amazing. The location?” He laughed bitterly. “I was going to live in Florence, for God’s sake. Plus, unlimited creativity. This guy, he wanted a chef who came up with new and unique dishes. He was extremely hands-off—the executive chef who was retiring, the guy I’d be replacing, raved about how amazing it was to work for this guy.”

  “But you didn’t go?”

  Shaking his head, Marcus sighed, the weight of that regret still pressing down hard on his shoulders, even after all these years. “Ray and I were already engaged at that point, but he wanted to open the place here in Seattle. He didn’t like the idea of moving over there. I thought…” he rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, “…I thought it was just because he wanted to stay close to his family.” Lowering his hand, he stopped pacing and faced Julien. “But I realized he wanted a place of his own. He didn’t want to work for anyone else, and he wanted me working for him. Going to Florence, that wouldn’t have happened. But staying here…”

  “Wow,” Julien said, “I’m sorry to hear how that worked out.”

  “Yeah. Me too.”

  “Honestly, the very fact that we’re having this conversation means you wouldn’t do that to Timur.”

  Marcus eyed him. “What do you mean?”

  Julien chewed his lip. “Look, I came here tonight to flip out at you because I thought you’d just tossed him to the wind. But, listening to you now, you do care about him. And you want him to be happy. Right?”