by Andrew Grey
“I’m sure it’s just a bad bruise, and it’ll get better with time.” It was hell getting older, but he sure wasn’t going to say that. The last thing he needed was to be reminded of the difference in their ages. It was becoming clearer to him that he could never keep up with Hans, no matter how much he might want to. He was a decade younger, had more energy, and was interested in things Malcolm would never be good at. He closed his eyes once they reached the highway. Hans drove, and Malcolm nodded off after a little while.
“I feel so bad. This should have been so much more fun for you,” Malcolm said when he woke from his little nap.
“It was a great weekend. Things didn’t turn out as I envisioned, but that’s okay. It wasn’t your fault you got hurt.” Hans seemed understanding, but Malcolm wondered how long that would last. Hans would eventually get tired of having to go at Malcolm’s speed.
Malcolm kept quiet, and when Hans pulled up to his house, he got out of the car and waited for Hans to open the trunk.
“I’ll get your bag. You go on in and put your feet up. I’ll be right behind you.” Hans was already getting his bag, and Malcolm slowly hobbled up to the front door and went inside. He took off his coat, draping it over the back of the nearest chair before sinking into his favorite one and slowly settling his feet on an ottoman. Hans came inside and went up the stairs. Malcolm groaned and felt like an idiot… an old, foolish one. Why in the hell would an active, virile guy like Hans want him?
“You don’t have to stick around, Hans. I’m going to crawl upstairs, try to take a bath if I can get myself down into the tub, and then just go to bed.” They had had a nice weekend, even with his injury, but Malcolm was quickly seeing that he’d been fooling himself.
“I put some hot water on the stove to heat, and I thought I’d make some tea.” He didn’t seem to have heard what Malcolm had said—or he was completely ignoring him. “I’ll also make you some dinner in a few hours.”
“Hans, you don’t need to do that.”
“Yes, I do. I took you skiing and got you hurt, so I’ll help take care of you.” Hans took off his coat and added it alongside Malcolm’s.
“I’ll be fine.”
Hans crossed his arms over his chest. “Do you want me to go? Is that what you’re trying to tell me? I thought we had a nice weekend, and I didn’t want it to end.”
He turned away, and Malcolm bit his lower lip. He did want Hans to stay but was afraid to say so. It was dangerous to want what wasn’t good for him.
“A quiet dinner would be nice.” Malcolm heard himself and nearly groaned. Now that they were back in his own house, the one he’d shared with David, the thought of bringing Hans up to the room and bed they’d shared was more than he could do. Dinner would have to suffice for now. The fact that they’d had sex while at the ski lodge was fine, but that wasn’t the same as upstairs in his house, and even if they didn’t do anything sexual because of his hip, the thought of someone other than David in their bed was too much. “I can’t offer anything more than that.”
“We’ve spent the last two days together, and I’ve seen as much of you as there is to see, tasted you, felt you tremble under me, and now you get shy?” There was a touch of heat in Hans’s voice, tinged with disappointment.
Malcolm knew he was probably being stupid, but he wasn’t ready to give up… what? He knew he wasn’t giving up anything, not really. “It’s just what I can do now.”
“Is this one of those ‘because you’re older’ things?” Hans asked.
“No. This is one of those ‘I lost my partner of twenty years’ things. I really need you to try to be patient. Certain things are hard, especially in this house.” That was a partial lie. The age difference seemed to be growing as an issue in Malcolm’s mind.
Hans saved him from a full explanation with a gentle nod and then left the room. He returned with mugs of tea and set one on the table beside him. Malcolm had closed his eyes and was trying to will his hip to relax, hoping some of the discomfort would subside.
It did no good, and Malcolm sipped his tea for a few minutes before leveraging himself out of the chair to limp into the kitchen. “I’ll help you,” Hans said, following him.
“The problem is, I don’t have much in the house at the moment.” Malcolm looked through his nearly bare refrigerator and an equally empty freezer and figured someone who delivered was probably their best bet for food.
“Go back in the living room and sit down. I’ll run out to get something and bring it back.”
Malcolm expected Hans to kiss him, but he just walked away, and Malcolm heard him getting ready and then leaving the house with the thunk of the front door closing.
Maybe this whole thing between them was a mistake. He had never been a guy who worried about his feelings. When David had entered his life, they’d been happy, and he’d understood what he was feeling and what he wanted. Most of his career, he’d gone for what he wanted. He knew he wanted Hans in his life, but he wasn’t sure if that was fair to Hans. He had no doubt there were things that Hans was going to want to do and places he would want to go that he would never be able to do or keep up with. In a nutshell, he was a quiet tax attorney, and his days of extreme sports were over. Not that skiing was that kind of activity, but he hadn’t even been able to do something relatively normal like that without getting hurt.
He had read Hans’s books, and he had little doubt that Hans had done a lot of the things that were described. Malcolm could never keep up, and it was only a matter of time before Hans became bored with him and wanted to move on. He couldn’t blame him. Hans deserved someone who could keep up with him and loved the same things he did. Not a guy who was more comfortable in an office than scuba diving.
“God,” Malcolm swore, clenching his fists. If David could have heard him vacillating like this, he probably would have punched him. Hell, he wanted to hit himself. He was acting like a worried teenager after a first kiss. He needed to get it together, and he wished he could. He knew things would change, but maybe he hadn’t been prepared for how much or how fast.
The house filled with the spice of Greek food as soon as Hans returned. “I thought we could have gyros.” He lifted the bag before striding through the room and back toward the kitchen.
Malcolm got out of the chair once again, his hip stiff and protesting. In the kitchen, he got out knives and forks as well as plates and sat across from Hans at the table. They probably needed to talk, but Malcolm wasn’t in the mood at the moment. He needed some time to think.
“I can hear the gears turning,” Hans said quietly.
“What?” Malcolm asked as he tried to focus his wandering thoughts.
“In your head. You’ve been quiet a lot.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“You know, it’s okay. A lot has happened in the past month or so. But I’ll listen if you want to talk about it.”
“Not yet, okay?” He felt talked out about what he couldn’t do a damn thing to change…. David was gone, and no amount of talking could bring him back. Malcolm was ten years older than Hans, and nothing could change their age difference or the fact that Hans was so much more active than he was. In some ways Hans made him feel younger again, but mostly Malcolm felt old. He took a bite of his dinner and figured it was best to concentrate on the food rather than the constant swirl of indecision that seemed to rule his head at the moment.
In the end, they ate in near silence—and not the comfortable, pleasant kind where energy and possibilities kept him on his toes. This was the kind of meal where he was so damned tired he nearly fell asleep at the table. Hell, even that made him feel older. By the time they were done eating, Malcolm had worked himself into a real funk.
Hans helped clear away the dishes, and then he pulled Malcolm into his arms, which was unexpected. “I know we went a lot faster and a lot further this weekend than you planned. Sometimes things happen, and I hope this silence isn’t because you’re freaking out over… I don’t know, starting to m
ove on a little.” Hans hugged him tight. “I’m patient, Malcolm, and I understand the need to heal.”
“Thanks,” Malcolm said, hiding behind Hans’s explanation because he wasn’t ready to offer a better one.
“I’ll talk to you soon.” Hans kissed him lightly and then let his arms fall to his sides before walking through the house. Malcolm followed more slowly, and once Hans had his coat on, Malcolm saw him to the door and watched as he got into his car.
Closing the door, he was even more unsettled than he’d been before Hans had left. Things felt out of sorts all around him, like his skin didn’t quite fit anymore and he didn’t know how to resize it. Maybe he’d feel better with some sleep.
Chapter 7
THE ENTIRE following week, it seemed like a cloud had settled around Malcolm and wouldn’t go away. He did his work, but tasks required a little more concentration or focus than they usually did. Sometimes he didn’t notice it, but when he was alone, that cloud got thicker, and the more he tried to puzzle it out, the more elusive and wispy the cloud became, so he just couldn’t grasp what was wrong with him.
“Jane, can you make him an appointment for next week so we can put this to bed?” Malcolm asked and set a file of papers on her desk as he headed out to yet another meeting.
“Certainly,” she answered and efficiently got right onto the task. “You okay?” she asked, holding the phone in her hand.
“Yes.”
“You won’t be,” Ellen said from her desk nearby. “Gary is on his way in. He insisted on speaking with you. I told him he needed to make an appointment, but he said you’d see him if you knew what was good for you.”
Malcolm had hoped to have five minutes in the conference room before his client meeting, but that had just evaporated, especially since Gary was storming his way across the office. “What do you need, Gary?” Malcolm asked. He motioned him inside what had once been Gary’s office and closed the door.
“I’m going to sue all of you,” he announced with bravado, “and I’m going to bring ethics charges against you with the bar association.”
“Sure you are,” Malcolm said as he sat in one of the chairs to get comfortable. Maybe this would be entertaining. “First off, if you really were, you’d have done it by now, so what’s all the drama? You decided to leave—we didn’t force you.” And things were better off without his chaotic energy in the office. “So come to the point.”
“You’re dating one of your clients,” Gary accused.
“No, I’m not. He was a client. Our business was concluded, and we met again separately outside the office.” That his brother had been a witness was a point in his favor. “What do you want, Gary? Did you think you’d share that bit of information and then use it to try to get something?”
“I want to return to the firm,” Gary said.
“So you thought you’d try to use some perceived leverage to do it?” Malcolm shook his head. “I don’t think so. First, you have no basis for any sort of charges, and second, you should look at the agreement you signed when you took your buyout.” Malcolm stood. “You agreed to a final settlement and stated that no issues or litigation were outstanding between you and the partners. In other words, you pretty much gave up your right to sue us.” Malcolm wondered how he could have seen Gary as a friend. He was a weasel and as self-centered as they came. “So what is this visit really about? You need a job?”
“Yes,” Gary answered after most of his cockiness had evaporated.
“There’s not much I can do for you. The firm won’t take you back.” Too many people had realized how much better the office was with Gary gone, and even his one-time supporters wouldn’t allow that to happen. “I suggest you start your own firm and hang out a shingle or really start looking in earnest with other firms.”
“I knew you wouldn’t help,” Gary groused.
“There’s nothing I can do.” At least that attitude explained why Gary had come in all guns blazing and trying to use whatever angle he thought he could work. He checked his watch and motioned toward the door. “I have to go to a meeting, and you need to figure out what you’re going to do. If there was something I could do to help, I would, but your bridges with this firm were pretty much incinerated when you left.” He waited for Gary to leave his office and followed him to the elevator.
“Call me directly if he tries to return,” Malcolm told the receptionist and hurried to his meeting. He had no idea why, but Malcolm had the feeling that Gary was going to show up again like some sort of bad penny. He wished he knew what his game was.
“MALCOLM,” JANE said when he returned to his office an hour later. “Hans called and asked if you’d call him back.”
“Thanks,” Malcolm said with a half smile and went right into his office, closing the door. Inside he organized his notes and then returned Hans’s call from his cell. “How is the writing going?” They hadn’t talked at all that week and had exchanged just a few texts. Hans had been buried in a manuscript, and Malcolm hadn’t wanted to disturb him. Apparently the ski trip had been very good for his muse.
“Great. The words have been flowing, and I think the book is going to be amazing.”
Energy flowed through the phone, and Malcolm felt himself getting swept along with it. The excitement was enticing, and it sent Malcolm’s mind and body racing.
“I was wondering if you wanted to get something for dinner. I’ve been here all week, and I’d love some company.” There was something in his voice that hadn’t been there before, and it sent a winter chill racing up Malcolm’s spine.
“Sure,” Malcolm answered before he could second-guess himself. He took a deep breath and firmed his resolve to do what he’d told himself all week had to be done. His rush of desire quickly gave way to the cold reality of what he knew he had to do. “Do you want me to make a reservation?”
“Sure,” Hans said. They agreed to meet at Hans’s house, and Malcolm asked Jane for a recommendation.
“I’ll see what I can come up with for you,” Jane said with a smile that faded quickly as she closed his office door. “All right, what act of stupidity are you about to commit?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Malcolm said and returned his attention to the papers on his desk.
“Yeah, you’re as innocent as the driven snow, and I’m the dominatrix from hell.”
Malcolm chuckled at her imagery as she stalked closer to his desk. Jane might work for him, but when she got like this, it was best if he let her have her head. She would have made a great lawyer, and one Malcolm would not want to meet on the other side in the courtroom.
“So what’s going on?”
“Why do you care so much?” Malcolm asked.
She rested her hands on his desk and leaned over it. “Because you’re the best damned boss I have ever had. You don’t try to look down my top or up my dress, and you treat me as an equal and a human being. You’re thoughtful, and you’re a good man. I care because for the last fifteen months I have watched the wonderful boss I used to laugh with go through hell and back, and just when you’re starting to come out of all that quagmire, I can feel you pulling yourself back, and I don’t know why. Up until this past week, you looked forward to things.” She leaned closer. “Don’t think I don’t notice the way you hummed to yourself when you thought you were alone. You used to do that before David got sick. You were happy, and now that stopped all of a sudden. This week you’ve been just like you were months ago, so I figured you’d either done something really manly—read, ‘stupid’—or were about to.”
“I can’t believe you just said all that.” He swallowed. “Or that I’m so transparent.”
“Only to those of us who care about you.” She sat down, and her posture softened. “Now what’s the deal? And be careful how you answer, because stupidity is going to cost you even more flowers.” She raised her eyebrows. “Lots of them.”
“I have an appointment in five minutes.”
“I moved it back until eleven t
hirty and told Ellen that we were having a private conversation and to hold your calls. Now talk to me. I’m not just your assistant, I’m your friend.”
“I like Hans,” Malcolm said, giving in and opening up.
“And you’re afraid of what David would think?” Jane asked, but Malcolm shook his head. “Good. Because he’d want you to move on. You know that.”
“He would. But I still can’t get my head around having someone who isn’t David in my life like that. But I will. It’s slow, but I can feel that I want to open up. That sounds stupid even to me, but I think you get it.”
“Is Hans pushing you?” Jane asked.
“No.”
“Then what’s the problem? Is it his age?” She’d hit the bull’s-eye. “That’s just a number, and it doesn’t affect who we love.”
“But he’ll get bored with me.” Malcolm let his fear slip out. “I can’t keep up with him.” He sighed like some lovesick teenager. “You didn’t see him on those slopes. He looked like he owned them, and he was so graceful and….” Malcolm clamped his eyes shut, and he could see Hans on that slope. “He goes diving and he jumps out of planes, for God’s sake. I went down a ski slope and got laid up sore for a week. I can’t keep up with him, and I never will be able to.” He shook his head because he was not going to let his eyes water.
“Malcolm, I….”
“There’s nothing you or anyone can do. If I could, I’d love to be ten years younger, but then I’d have David and almost everything I could want in the world.” He missed him so very much every single day. Everyone had said that time would heal his loss, but Malcolm wasn’t so sure about that. “I still miss him each and every day.”
Jane scoffed. “Of course you do, and you will for the rest of your life. But that doesn’t mean you can’t love again. I think that’s what’s happening, and it scares you.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Malcolm said weakly and way too fast.
Jane cocked her eyebrow and stared at him.