by DJ Jamison
Trent winced. “That obvious, huh?”
She nodded. “Don’t look so worried that we know you’re gay. I know Ashe is a small town, but we’re not that backwards. Although, some of the patients who come in here …”
He waved a hand. “I don’t hide it. But I don’t want anyone to think something’s going on with me and Xavier. We just have history.”
“Oh?”
Way to go, Trent. Now, you’re starting a whole new round of gossip. Xavier’s going to be thrilled with that.
“Ancient history,” he added. “Please keep it to yourself. I want things to stay professional.”
She nodded and mimed zipping her lips. He hoped she’d keep her word, but he knew how much staff gossiped. He’d have to cross his fingers and hope he hadn’t given Xavier one more reason to be pissed at him.
He made his escape, his nerve endings still raw from all the adrenaline that had pumped through him in the last 20 minutes. First Xavier sent his blood racing, and then he made a fool of himself.
Trent wasn’t sure what he should do next. He thought briefly about putting his hopes for Xavier aside and actually going out. He was dressed for it, and he was tired of spending his nights alone.
The same loneliness had driven him to Club Eros last June. He’d moved to Ashe with realistic expectations about his ex. They had a huge fence to mend, and he knew it wouldn’t happen overnight. That it might never happen. That’s why he hadn’t chased down Xavier immediately. The move wasn’t only about Xav, but about Trent’s mental and emotional well-being.
He planned to settle into his new job, find his equilibrium, and then seek out Xavier when the time felt right.
One summer night, he’d gotten stir crazy, though, and fallen back on old habits. He’d thought about using Grindr to find a quick hookup, but he figured he’d have to go to Wichita to find anyone. Beyond that, he preferred to meet guys in person. If you wanted to avoid unpleasant encounters, it was easier to judge the vibe from a guy standing in a bar than from a photo on a screen.
So, he did a web search of gay nightclubs, chose Club Eros, and had seen one guy in person who hit all his buttons. Some buttons he didn’t even know he had. Jesus, but Xavier James was sexy as hell.
His ex-boyfriend had come a long way from the wholesome basketball player he’d dated in high school. And yet, there still was a wholesome quality to him. Seeing him in his nursing scrubs and with patients, Trent realized that Xavier had the perfect demeanor for nursing. He was a natural nurturer—had been taking care of his family for years— and he’d always had a big heart.
Running into Xavier by chance at the club had seemed like fate. Trent had come on too strong, and it had backfired majorly.
Just like today.
No, he couldn’t win over Xavier by inviting him home for a hookup or kissing him in a bathroom. Jesus, you really do keep it classy.
The final words he and Xavier exchanged returned to him, and he took the time to read between the lines now that he could focus on more than the sting of Xavier’s rejection.
I just want to make things right, Trent had said.
You’ll have to find a way to do that without sleeping with me.
That was his answer. Xavier hadn’t said it was impossible to make things right. Maybe he wanted to see that Trent cared about more than sex. Trent had come on strong both times they’d been alone.
It was time to change tactics.
He’d have to find a way to reconnect with Xavier in a meaningful way and earn his forgiveness.
He smiled grimly as he started up his Audi. He’d find a way to show Xavier he was a changed man, whatever it took.
Part of that, of course, meant actually changing.
No more hookups, Cavendish. It’s time to get reacquainted with your right hand.
Chapter Three
Xavier sank into a chair at the dining room table and wrapped his hands around the hot cup of tea Gran offered. He called up a tired smile. “Thanks.”
He closed his eyes, letting the heat from the mug soak into his body after the chilling work of shoveling and salting Gran’s drive. They’d had a snowstorm, a minor one, but the last thing Gran needed was a slip-and-fall. He’d seen how that ended for people her age, and it wasn’t good news.
Gran tsked. “You work too hard, honey.”
He glanced up at her, noting the stained apron she always wore when cooking Sunday dinner. Her blond hair had silvered elegantly, as opposed to the mottled color so many women fought with dye, and her blue eyes might be a bit foggier, but her mind — and tongue — were sharp as ever.
“You’re one to talk,” he teased. “You’re probably cooking up a feast in there. You know Twyla and I won’t mind if you take a Sunday off.”
“Pshaw,” she waved a hand. “It’s tradition. A family needs good traditions to keep it coming together. Don’t forget that.”
“You say that like I’m ever going to have a family of my own. I’m 30, Gran. I think that ship sailed a long time ago.”
Like when I was 18.
The thought startled him, and he pushed it down. He didn’t choose this family over the one he might have made with Trent. It was never meant to be a choice between two things at all. Trent had forced his hand.
Gran whacked the back of his head.
He jerked away. “Oww.”
“Don’t you talk that way, Xavier. You’re plenty young. Now, go wash up. Dinner will be ready soon.”
“Yes, Gran,” he said meekly, taken back to his adolescent days in the blink of an eye.
Xavier’s parents had married young. His mother—Gran’s daughter— had taken off one day with a new man, leaving her husband and children behind. She’d never sent so much as a birthday card, but Gran had been at the center of their lives even before Xavier’s father died from cancer.
Tyrel James worked hard all his life. He’d loved and supported his children, even after their mother abandoned them. And he’d let Gran be a part of their lives, even though her daughter had wronged him.
When he died, it was only natural Gran would be the one to raise them.
Being raised by a white woman had gotten him teased and criticized over the years. He was told he acted or spoke too much like a white boy. He was teased for sounding like some yuppy rich boy when he referred to his grandmother as “Gran.” He was told he didn’t understand what it was like to be a real black man— even though every person he met saw him as black first, despite him being biracial, and treated him according to their own prejudices.
At the end of the day, he could put up with the shit he was dealt because in his heart, Gran was the only mother he had. He’d be loyal to her until the day he died.
He gulped the remainder of his tea and went to the bathroom to wash up. On the way back, he yanked the earbuds from his nephew Beau’s ears. “Dinner. Get in there before Gran comes after you with a wooden spoon.”
Beau pulled the beanie off his brown hair and stood up, tall and lanky and taking after his father more than his mother. Then Xavier scooped up 13-year-old Maggie and tossed her over his shoulder, jogging into the dining room while she squealed and beat at his back.
He reached the table to find Twyla and Gran giving him reproving looks.
Xavier sat Maggie down, then took his seat. Beau watched, grinning, as his mother jabbed Xavier in the ribs. “You could set a better example.”
Xavier shrugged. “They’re kids. Let them have some fun.”
They settled in, passing roasted potatoes, rolls and chicken-fried steak with cream gravy around the table. Gran’s meals weren’t the healthiest, but they were tasty.
“How’s nursing school going?” Twyla asked. “You’re doing clinical rotations now, aren’t you?”
He swallowed a bite of roll and nodded. “Yep.”
“What’s wrong?” Gran asked immediately. “I can tell by your tone that something is bothering you.”
Xavier avoided her gaze, suddenly feeling like a schoolc
hild trying to hide a lie. He wasn’t deceptive by nature, and he’d always been terrible at keeping anything from his family.
“Nothing, just working hard.”
“Xavier James, don’t you lie to me.”
“Ooh,” Beau said. “Someone’s in trouble.”
“Hush,” Gran and Twyla chastised at the same time, and the kid ducked his head and shoveled in some more potatoes. Xavier wished he could do the same.
Gran cocked her head, reading something in his expression that softened her tone. “What is it, honey?”
He supposed it was a miracle he’d kept it from them this long. He’d been truly shaken when he saw Trent at that club a few months ago.
He cleared his throat nervously. “Trent is back.”
“Shut the front door!” Twyla exclaimed.
Ever since Beau got old enough to copy her foul language and sass her when being scolded, she’d been using alternative curse words. They always sounded lame, and a smile quirked Xavier’s lips.
Gran wasn’t amused. She also wasn’t surprised.
“I figured that when he came over here and asked after you,” she said matter-of-factly.
Xavier gaped. “When was this?”
Gran tilted her head, tapping her fingers as she thought back. “Oh, a couple months back at least.”
“Gran,” Xavier groaned, “why didn’t you tell me?”
Her lips firmed. “Because I know you, Xavier, and you’re too forgiving. I told that boy to watch his step with you. You were heartbroken the entire summer after high school because of him.”
Beau perked up, turning to watch Xavier curiously, though he was smart enough not to make a remark. Maggie was too busy sneaking peaks at the television in the next room to pay him any mind.
“It wasn’t that bad,” Xavier mumbled.
Gran harrumphed, and Twyla snorted. Apparently, he hadn’t gotten any better at lying.
“You getting back with him?” Twyla asked bluntly.
“No!”
God, why did he feel 8 years old again?
“He’s a doctor. We see each other at the hospital. It’s been strange,” he said. “Seeing him brought up a lot of old memories, that’s all.”
Gran’s eyes softened. “Trent seemed like a sweet boy when you two were together, but he lost his way. Just be careful. I remember how devastated you were, even if you want to pretend otherwise.”
Xavier pushed mashed potatoes around on his plate. “I know.”
“He’s just a privileged white man too stupid to appreciate a good thing when he has it,” Twyla said, anger in her tone that went beyond her feelings about Trent and Xavier. He was fairly certain it extended to her ex-husband, Justin, who’d stepped out on her and was now remarried. “I hope you at least gave him a piece of your mind.”
“I did,” Xavier said quickly, hoping the conversation wouldn’t devolve into a rant. Twyla still held a lot of anger, even all these years after her husband left her. Xavier didn’t have much room to judge; he was still pretty pissed at Trent, and they’d only been boyfriends.
Maggie leaned forward in her chair in an attempt to get a better view of the television and knocked her glass of milk across the table.
Twyla leapt up. “Son of a biscuit! Pay attention to what you’re doing, Maggie.”
“I’m sorry!”
Twyla turned her attention to getting a towel and mopping up the mess, and Xavier’s tension eased a fraction.
“So, this Trent guy was your boyfriend, huh?” Beau asked.
The kids had known he was gay since they were itty-bitty, and it was just a fact they accepted.
Xavier nodded and shoveled a large bite into his mouth to avoid talking further. He prayed for a change of topic and Gran delivered, chatting about the ladies she played cards with each week and her trip to the YMCA for water aerobics. By the time Twyla was done cleaning up, she’d simmered down.
Xavier really couldn’t blame her for her bitterness. Justin had been bad news, drinking too much and cheating on her before ultimately leaving her for another woman. His situation with Trent had been shitty but different.
Trent had cared about him. In all the years he’d been hurt and angry, he’d never really doubted that.
***
Trent spent the weekend alone. In sweatpants. In front of the TV.
Yep, you definitely turned over a new leaf. Not a very exciting leaf …
His life in Ashe was starkly different from his experiences in Kansas City in some ways and eerily similar in others.
Before the move, he would have gone out for drinks with friends, followed by clubbing and hookups at a gay bar. He wasn’t in the closet, but his friends weren’t all that interested in the scene, and he wasn’t that interested in giving them front-row seats to his sex life.
He’d wanted a big change when he came to Ashe, and he got one. Instead of clubbing, he now mostly watched television, read, and ate boring little meals alone. When he couldn’t bare another chicken breast for one— cooking for yourself was fucking depressing— he’d break down and eat junk food.
Even in Ashe, he was still alone, his life empty. That bit hadn’t changed, and seeing Xavier — not just sexed up at the club, but the real, everyday nurse — made him feel that void more keenly.
Trent shook off his melancholy and wandered into the kitchen for cola and a bag of jalapeno kettle chips. He glanced down at his bare chest, and decided to make a quick detour to his bedroom for a T-shirt. Living alone meant he could dress like a slob—or not at all— whenever it suited him. But potato chips in his chest hair didn’t sound appealing, no matter how down he was feeling.
Fifteen minutes and too many greasy chips into a disturbing but uplifting reality show about hoarding (hey, at least he wasn’t buried in his own obsessive shopping purchases), his phone rang.
He grabbed it, glanced at the display and winced. This wasn’t going to be pleasant, but he never rejected a call from Helen.
Trent and Helen had bonded over the loss of his good friend and her husband, Byron Ritter. He’d never really thought about how much his life revolved around his career — with no relationships or connection with his family — until Byron died. A surgeon like him, but one who had everything he didn’t, Byron had left behind a wife and two children. A whole life outside the OR.
And he’d done it by taking his own life.
The suicide note said Byron couldn’t handle the guilt of losing one of his patients, but Trent knew it was more than that. Byron had been burned out for a long time, but he couldn’t find it in himself to leave.
“People will say I’m selfish for not using my skills to save lives,” he’d told Trent one night over drinks. “And how would I explain it to Helen? She sacrificed so much while I was in medical school. She put off her own schooling and worked two jobs; we barely saw each other. I can’t leave. I just can’t …”
Until one day he did, just not in the way anyone would have wanted.
His death had been shocking, sad and eye-opening.
If Byron’s life, so full of things to live for hadn’t been enough, what did that say about Trent? He’d left the man he loved behind and never attempted to replace him. He’d let the chasm with his parents grow wider with every year. When Trent took a hard look at his life, he found it severely lacking. Hence, his rushed trip to Ashe to reconnect with Xavier and start building a new, more fulfilling life.
A bit early for a midlife crisis, maybe, but then Trent always had been ahead of the class.
He hit mute on the television remote and answered his phone. “Helen, hi. How are you doing?”
“Trent, I’m sorry to bother you,” she said, sounding sad and exhausted. “I just needed to hear a friendly voice.”
Guilt surfaced, as it always did when they spoke. He’d left town when she needed all the support she could get. Byron, Helen and the kids had been the closest thing to family or friends he’d had in a lot of years, and he felt a sense of responsibility f
or them now that Byron was gone.
“It’s no bother,” he said gently. “The kids doing okay?”
“It’s been hard,” she said. “Katy still asks me when he’s coming home. I’ve explained so many times—”
Her voice broke, and Trent felt his chest tighten.
“I’m sorry,” he said roughly. “I shouldn’t have left like I did.”
“No, don’t apologize. If Byron had left his job, it might have saved his life. If making a change in your life saves you the heartache he must have felt, you have to do it. Take care of yourself.”
Her words were kind, but they only served to make him feel selfish. Byron had died, and what had Trent done? Flipped out about his own life. Self-centered much, Cavendish?
“I wish I could be there for you,” he said. “I’m not sure what I’m doing here chasing an ex-boyfriend who probably wishes I’d just disappear back out of his life. But you didn’t call to hear about me.”
He could hear a smile in her voice when she spoke. “Byron would have loved this. He’d have pushed you to go after your first love if he’d known.”
“Which is why he didn’t know.”
She laughed. “Yeah. He was a bit pushy.”
Trent had told Helen about his past with Xavier only because she deserved to understand why he was leaving at such a difficult time. She’d been amazingly supportive, considering she was still grieving for her husband and trying to manage two devastated children.
“What’s it like being out of surgery?” she asked after a minute.
“Honestly? It’s kind of great. I get to see my patients while they’re conscious,” he joked. “Turns out they’re real people.”
“Imagine that.”
He did miss the OR, though he wouldn’t tell Helen. He mostly missed the feeling of fixing something. His job now called for diagnosing problems — also vital — but surgery was more hands-on. He also missed the sense of pride and power it had given him, but he wasn’t sure those were good for him. It was that need to prove himself that had led him to put his ambitions above all else, even his own happiness.