by Megan Derr
"Jordan has nothing to do with this," Shayne said.
"So you do know each other. I thought my secretary was mistaken when she said she saw you together. A shame, Jordan isn't entirely unbearable so far as hedge witches go." He flicked a cold glance at Jordan. "But I guess Shayne would make certain you knew how to get along well with me and my people."
"I didn't know," Jordan choked out. He wanted to run, hide, but he couldn't seem to make his feet move. Unable to bear looking at either one of them, he stared at the floor.
Vine made an impatient noise. "Stop stealing what belongs to me, Radcliff, or I promise you won't like the consequences."
"People aren't possessions. I'm fully within my rights to offer better work to the witches you treat like garbage. What's really pissed you off? That I've coaxed away most of your hedge witches, or that one of your elementals up and quit today to come work for me?"
Jordan looked up at that, startled, feeling sick because that elemental … surely not the one he'd mentioned to Shayne? The ice-elemental witch he'd just heard had quit, who he'd found crying the breakroom a couple of weeks before … Oh, god, had he been an unwitting spy the whole time?
Vine looked ready to hit Shayne again. It was bizarre, seeing his reserved boss so out of control. "Like any of them are going to stay long with a half-assed hedge witch who can barely afford to keep his store open. Is this your idea of revenge?"
Shayne laughed. "Is that what you think this is, Vine? How typical of your ego to think I'd wait for years after you dumped me to exact some sort of childish revenge—and by using other people to do it. Just because that is perfectly acceptable to you does not make it acceptable to me! If you honestly think I'm hiring away your staff for revenge—"
Jordan turned and slammed out of the office, unable to take hearing a single word more. Shayne and Vine were exes. Shayne … he thought about all the times he'd vented to Shayne about his job over the past two and a half months. All the other witches he'd mentioned, the ice-elemental witch …
He'd been feeding Shayne information for months. It was his fault that so many witches had left Cumberly & Pass, and all for what? Money? Revenge? He swallowed, hastening his step back to the office to gather his things because he was absolutely certain he wasn't going to have a job by the end of the day. There was no way Vine would retain him when it was clear he knew Shayne and, so far as Vine could tell, was the rat.
Shayne had stolen all of the others, but not him. Not once had Shayne ever offered him a job. He was always telling Jordan he could do better, but had never once offered … Jordan supposed he was way more useful as the gullible little idiot who kept feeding him information.
He waved to the security guards at the building reception desk, relieved when he got an empty elevator up to his floor. Ducking his head, he headed for his office and gathered up all his stuff, throwing it in a tote he'd gotten from one of his clients. Slinging the tote and his satchel over his shoulders, he bolted back to the elevators and, mercifully, made it out of the building without interruption.
He was halfway home when he got a single text from Vine telling him not to bother returning and they would mail his belongings and final check. Shortly thereafter, he got a call from Shayne. Turning his phone off, he shoved it into his bag and tried not to think about anything until he finally got home.
Jayden was humming some popular radio tune when he walked in, banging and dancing around the kitchen while he attempted to cook only god knew what. He turned, smiling, when he saw Jordan—but then the smile immediately fell away and Jordan was suddenly being hugged tightly. "Come on," Jayden said quietly and got rid of his bags before dragging him into the living room and pushing him down onto the sofa. Jordan had planned to buy a new recliner and coffee table to go with, but that was obviously never going to happen because he was a dumbass.
"Here," Jayden said quietly and pushed a lit cigarette into his fingers, one of Jordan's favorites: mint and fairy grass. After he'd taken a few drags and his hands had stopped shaking, Jayden draped an arm across his chest and leaned in to press his forehead against Jordan's temple, a gesture of comfort as old as they were. Jordan leaned in to him and felt a little better. Whatever happened, they had each other. No one had yet taken his brother away and like hell would they ever. "Tell me what happened," Jayden said quietly.
Sniffling, Jordan did, starting with how much he'd hated his job and going right up to the text firing him.
The room had grown darker as the sun moved into mid-afternoon and Jordan finally finished talking. Silence stretched on for a while, and he lit a third cigarette himself, half-tempted to go find the pixie rose ones— His stomach churned, eyes stinging, and he ruthlessly shoved unwanted memories away. No, pixie rose was a bad idea. It would probably be a long time before he felt like touching it.
"Okay," Jayden finally said. "Three things: one, fuck that stupid job and you're a moron for doing something you hate for so long just because of-of this crap." He waved impatiently at the couch. "Yeah, it's been nice and all, but I don't want it if it means you're depressed and miserable all the time. Two, I'm going to murder your ex-boyfriend. Three, you are giving me your phone and going to go play with your herbs for the whole weekend. You need to relax. Okay?"
"Don't murder anybody," Jordan said. "I don't want you going to jail. Just maim him a little bit."
"Yeah, yeah. Go play with plants. I'll bring home your favorite for dinner."
Jordan gave a soft snort and nudged him gently with an elbow. "I don't care if you still cook, doofus."
"No, no. I was just trying to be responsible instead of lazy for once since you've been working so hard and I definitely have not. But this is a great excuse to both spoil you and be lazy, which I am all for."
Laughing, Jordan shoved him up off the couch. "Fine, go then. I'm going to get a shower and then go play with herbs. My phone is in my bag." He gave Jayden a quick hug, then darted away to go shower off some of his misery. Clambering out fifteen minutes later, he pulled on his favorite pair of cargo shorts: dark green, faded and stained and patched from years of use.
He slipped through the house and out the creaky back door, across the freshly cut lawn to the large wooden shed in the back. Spinning the combination on the lock, he left the door open as he slipped inside. The smell of dozens upon dozens of herbs struck him, from the dried bundles hanging from the ceiling to the few fresh ones he had lining the edges where he'd cut windows to let in sunlight. There were jars and boxes and bottles with still more herbs and a wobbly little bookshelf he'd made himself, set on the table in the back right corner, that held all his notebooks.
The work table in the middle of the room was clean and ready for his next project, along with a small stack of papers that listed the stuff he was supposed to be working on for people around the neighborhood. Well, at least he wouldn't have to pack everything up and work on it in crappy diners anymore.
Ignoring the papers for the moment, Jordan went to the back tables and opened up the drawer where he stored his cigarettes and supplies—paper, the special herbs he didn't want just anyone coming across, and roughly seven small boxes, each containing a different blend. There was also a box that contained experiments, two or three of each blend to see if he liked them before he went to the trouble of making a full box.
He pulled out the box that contained the ogre leaf, clove, and anise blend and took one. Setting the box on the counter, he put the cigarette between his lips, lit it, and took two slow pulls of the potent, fragrant smoke. The clove and ogre blend made his lips tingle ever so faintly, made him feel hot and cold all at once, prickling along his skin before the anise came in at the end to smooth it all out.
Moving to the battered stereo in the corner, he put on his favorite radio station and then finally went to tackle the stack of word orders.
Lights kicked on automatically as it grew dark, something his brother had gotten done for him years ago as a birthday present and still his favorite part of the she
d. He reached up and pulled down a bundle of sage, setting it aside as he moved to fetch the hemp, beads, and horehound he knew he'd put somewhere though why he hadn't put it where it belonged, he could not begin to say.
He froze when he realized someone was standing in the doorway, backing up a step as he saw it was Shayne. "What in the hell are you doing here?"
"I wanted to apologize, for starters," Shayne said quietly.
"For what?" Jordan asked, slamming down all the equipment he'd gathered, picking up the cigarette he'd set aside in a clay ashtray made for him by a little cousin and taking a long pull. "For lying to me? For using me? For—" he broke off, set the cigarette aside, and started measuring out hemp. "How did you get back here, anyway?"
Shayne stepped just inside the shed, and the light fell across the cut on his left cheek, the surrounding bruise. Part of Jordan felt bad and wanted to go tend to him. The other part was happy to see Jayden hadn't lost his ability to throw a punch, though he could have also bothered to throw Shayne out. "I came to apologize for hurting you, which is the one thing I never meant to do. Your brother let me pass after he was done beating me—literally and figuratively."
It was the approval and admiration, the touch of wry amusement, that made Jordan pause. He looked away, finished measuring out the yards of hemp he needed to make a necklace for Mrs. Montgomery's youngest daughter. "Why didn't you tell me?" He tied off the end of the hemp and anchored it on a special hook, then sorted out the strands.
A hand fell lightly over his, stilling them. Jordan swallowed, pulled his hands free, and went for his cigarette again. "I don't understand why you—why you lied to me. Why you u-used me."
Shayne's hand fell on his shoulder, gently urging him around. Reaching up, Shayne pulled the cigarette from his lips and took a pull of his own. Jordan was pissed off for all of two seconds, but then he just felt sad all over again. "The first thing I need to explain is that I wasn't using you." He took another long pull of the stolen cigarette, and the hints of his jasmine cologne were strange mingled with the clove and ogre grass and anise. "I never used anything you said to me, even when it was useful. I've had an inside contact for months; he's the one who's been feeding me information. If I didn't get it from him, I didn't use it. I know you have no reason to believe me, but I promise I never used you."
"Who was your informant, then?" Jordan asked, wanting badly to believe him, but still feeling like a moron for being so easy.
"Michael," Shayne said quietly.
Jordan looked up, startled. "Michael? Haughty receptionist Michael?"
Shayne smiled fleetingly. "He isn't like that outside the firm. His best friend was burned badly by Vine and his cronies. He got the receptionist job and has been slipping me information ever since—about four months before you were hired. He's the one who told me you'd be perfect for my business and that you'd be in Ohio the same time and place as me. I meant …" he took another pull, then handed the cigarette back.
He started to brush his knuckles across Jordan's cheek, but then dropped it and backed away half a step. "I meant to talk you into leaving Cumberly & Pass, but I lost my chance—I thought—when my mother called to scream at me. I saw you again outside your motel room and every intelligent thought flew out of my head. I wasn't certain you were real, especially when you seemed to want me back. After that, I realized I'd sort of screwed up any chance of hiring you, but I also didn't care. I'd rather have you, not your talents. Every time I meant to bring up the whole mess, I lost my nerve or let myself get distracted. Then I ran out of time. I'm sorry—for everything. Not telling you, that you found out as you did, that I ever made you think that I'd use you—hurt you."
He did lightly brush his knuckles along Jordan's cheek then and leaned in as if to kiss him—but drew back and stepped clear away. Jordan stared at him, trying to stay angry because like heck did Shayne deserve to be let off the hook so easy. But all he really felt was sad and lonely as Shayne turned and walked away. He'd reached the door when Jordan finally blurted, "What the heck did you ever see in Vine?"
Shayne froze and turned back, a puzzled look on his face. "You want to know about Vine?" He shoved his hands in the pocket of his dark blue pinstripe suit. He looked so ridiculously handsome that Jordan wanted to punch him or kiss, and he didn't dare cross the shed to figure out which impulse won. "He was different when we were in school. Less ambitious, more obsessed with magic. Didn't always understand hedge witches, but didn't think we were scum of the earth, either. But money and power and popularity started meaning more, and he eventually became mortified of his dopy hedge witch boyfriend. Dumped me to date—and eventually marry—an earth elemental from an affluent family. Stole some of our other friends, too, and some ideas of mine. They all ported over to Cumberly and helped make it what it was, leaving me behind.
"I won't deny I was bitter about it all for a long time, but I moved on. Coaxing away his witches was about knowing exactly what kind of scumbag he is and not wanting to see them hurt. I never wanted to hurt you. I should have told you all of this forever ago. I'm sorry. I really, really am. I was so afraid of losing you, that eventually you'd wake up and realize you could do so much better … and I didn't want to take you from the money and connections you wanted …"
He tried to smile, but he failed miserably. "I also need to apologize for costing you your job. If there's any way I can help you get a new one let me know. I promise I'll do whatever is necessary." He lingered a moment, then was gone. "Take care."
Jordan managed to stay where he was and tell himself to act like an intelligent adult for about twenty seconds before he bolted after him, running across the lawn and up into the house. "Shayne!"
Whipping around just steps from the front door, Shayne stared at him, hope and resignation warring on his face. Jordan didn't stop until he reached him and could throw his arms around him. "I really, really want to kill you right now, you idiot jerk," he said, words partially muffled by Shayne's shoulder.
Shayne gave a shaky laugh, holding him tightly, Jordan's feet not quite touching the floor. "I wouldn't stop you."
"I wish you had just told me everything before it turned into this huge, ugly mess."
"I was still trying to figure out why you wanted anything to do with me at all," Shayne said, and Jordan didn't think he was imagining the lips that brushed softly across his cheek. "You're smart, talented, sweet, young, and beautiful. Not the kind of person who would ever have to settle for someone like me. It figures that in trying not to lose you I guaranteed it."
Jordan smiled against his cheek, feeling better than he had thought he would for a long time. "Maybe it's the ogre leaves talking, but I am at least ninety percent certain that our current arrangement indicates you haven't lost me yet." He gasped as the arms around him tightened almost to the point of pain, Shayne's breath hot against his skin, body shivering against Jordan's. "Shayne …"
"Don't—don't let me get my hopes up," Shayne said raggedly. "I know damn good and well I don't deserve anything. I came here tonight to tell you I'm sorry and goodbye. Don't—" Jordan cut off the pain-laced words with a kiss, tasting jasmine and anise, the lingering clove and ogre leaf tingling. His fingers slid easily through Shayne's soft hair, and he broke away with a startled gasp when his back abruptly met the wall right by the kitchen entrance. "Jordan …"
Jordan loosed his arms from Shayne's neck to trail his fingers across the lines of his suit. "Where's my brother?"
"He said he was going out," Shayne said. "I presume to let us talk. Why?"
"Because I'm totally going to con you into taking me somewhere fancy for dinner in apology, and you have to help me find a new job, but if he's not around then you can start making everything up to me in my bedroom."
Shayne stared at him a moment before comprehension flooded his face and his mouth curved in that same slow-burn smile that had first drawn Jordan in. "I'll take you wherever you want, and so far as apologies go … if there's a bed involved, that opens up a whol
e new range of extravagant apologies."
Nodding down the hall, Jordan said, "First door on the left," and laughed as Shayne pulled him close and carried him down the hall.
Fin
About the Authors
Sasha l. miller
Sasha L. Miller spends most of her time writing, reading, or playing with all things website design. She loves telling stories, especially romance, because there’s nothing better than giving people their happily ever afters. When not writing, she spends time cooking, harassing her roommates, and playing with her cats.
Website: http://www.sashalmiller.com
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Megan Derr
Megan is a long time resident of m/m fiction, and keeps herself busy reading, writing, and publishing it. She is often accused of fluff and nonsense. When she's not involved in writing, she likes to cook, harass her cats, or watch movies (especially all things James Bond). She loves to hear from readers, and can be found all around the internet.
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