by Riley Hart
“So?”
“See, now I feel like an asshole.” Mason nudged him with his arm as they walked inside.
“Don’t. I did it because I want to. Plus, that was before.”
Mason quirked a brow at him. “Before what?” He knew exactly what Gavin meant.
“Before I was fucking you.”
Mason glanced over at Gavin and nudged him again. He crossed his arms but wouldn’t look at Mason. It didn’t surprise him, really. It was a nice gesture, but wasn’t really needed. “Just because we’re fucking doesn’t mean you have to buy my concert ticket.”
“Is it a problem that I wanted to?” This time Gavin did look his way.
It had been different with Isaac. Despite the fact that they’d been together for so long, they didn’t really do things like that. Sure, if the family went out to dinner he or Isaac might pay, but Mason could tell it was different for Gavin. It was new and somehow felt like more.
He thought for a minute as they made their way through the sea of people. The closer they got the louder they had to speak. “Nah, not a problem. I think I might like that you want to date me. Next time, it’s my treat.”
Gavin pushed a hand through his hair and gave Mason a small nod. “Yeah, okay. I can handle that.”
Funny, after all the shit that went down with him recently, the last thing Mason figured he would do was get involved with someone. It had been a little over three months since he and Isaac had permanently broken up. They’d cooled off when Mason moved to Blackcreek, which had made his lie about a break-up making him buy his bar easier. But since he told him they were over for good, just a quarter of a year.
This was easy, though. For some reason spending time with Gavin was easy. Mason could use a little of that.
“We should do this every week. Something fun…different.”
“Yeah,” Gavin replied. “I’d like that.”
***
“Listen to that.” Gavin grabbed Mason’s arm and pulled him close. He lowered his mouth to Mason’s ear as he spoke. “Do you hear that? Listen to the way the guitar and the piano sound together. It’s almost like they’re sparring, yet working together at the same time. Do you hear how one will ease off when the other goes for it, and vice versa?”
Gavin loved that, loved everything about music and how it made him feel alive. For most of his life, it had been the only thing to make him feel that way.
“I hear it,” Mason replied, close to his ear. But he didn’t hear it the same way Gavin did. If he had, there would have been more life in his voice.
“Close your eyes,” Gavin told him.
“What?”
“Close your fucking eyes. Come on, before it’s over.”
Mason frowned but did as he was told. Gavin ran completely off of instinct here, not sure why he needed so badly for Mason to hear what he did. He slid behind him, wrapping his arms around Mason. “Try and tune out everyone else and just listen.”
“Gav—”
“Shh. Listen.” Gavin drummed his thumbs on Mason’s chest, trying to match the beat of the music, tapping harder when the music went louder, and letting off when it went softer.
Before he realized it, his eyes were closed, too. He kept ahold of Mason from behind, and listened along with him. “Piano,” he whispered close to Mason’s ear. Gavin let the music filter through him, hoped he could make it filter through Mason as well. “Guitar,” he added when the guitar took the lead. He loved bands that played with a piano. It added such an incredible dimension to the music.
His thumb still played the tune on Mason’s chest. Gavin concentrated on the beat, tried to follow it, tried to make it sink into Mason. “Both of them here. This is the battle, where they both are going for it.”
Mason’s hard body leaned backward into him. They molded together, people all around them, touching them, but they were somehow alone, too.
“Hear it?” He asked.
He felt Mason’s words more than he heard them, felt the vibration through his hands that lay on Mason’s chest. “Yeah, I hear it.”
And then the song was over. Gavin dropped his arms but didn’t move away. Mason turned his head, tilted it up. Gavin dropped his head so his ear would be closer to Mason’s mouth. “Christ, that was sexy. I don’t think I’ve ever really heard music like that before.”
“That’s because you’ve never really listened to it before. You’re never alone if you have music.”
Hell, that sounded much more needy than he meant it to sound. “It’s not—”
“Let’s go, music man.” Mason grabbed his hand and pulled Gavin through the crowd. They kept going until they were on the outskirts of the open field. They could still hear the music but could actually speak without yelling, and there wasn’t a throng of people against them.
“Sit down,” Mason told him, and Gavin found himself doing what he said. He went down on the ground and then Mason sat between his legs. “Do that again. Make me feel the music.”
So he did. Gavin wrapped his arms around Mason. He kept his mouth close to the man’s ear, humming or whispering the beat of the songs. He tapped on Mason’s chest, playing the music on him. It was erotic as hell. It was something more than that, too.
He really liked this man, and he wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Mason had been putting off going to lunch with his family. When he first made what they all considered his temporary move to Blackcreek, he’d gone weekly. Whether it should or not, that all changed when he found out the truth of his adoption. Being busy with work was true, but it was also a good excuse.
It was strange to suddenly feel out of place in the environment that had always been his home. With the people who were his family. Yes, there were parts of him that never totally felt like he fit. Not unwelcome, or as though he didn’t belong—just different. But in other ways, home was the place he always felt welcome as well.
He was still welcome there. They wanted him there. The hang-up belonged strictly with Mason. He got that, but there was something holding him back. Something that made it near impossible for him to get over the fact that they’d looked him in the eyes and lied to him his entire life.
Considering it was Monday, his day off, and Gavin planned to make the trip home to see his family, Mason figured now was as good a time as any.
They’d talked about it in the car on the way home from the concert last night, and so he hadn’t stayed at Gavin’s, either. The second he’d gone home to his empty place, he’d second-guessed that decision. Why the hell would he want to stay home alone when he could spend the night with Gavin’s body wrapped around his?
But it’s exactly what they’d done, and now he pulled into the driveway of his parent’s oversized house with a knot in his gut.
For a minute, he sat in his SUV looking at the home he’d been raised in. He’d lived here as long as he could remember—since he was a child. Every memory he had in this home had been a happy one. They played games here and had dinner together every night.
He’d come out to his parents in this home, and they’d hugged him and said he’d always be their son, that they would always love him no matter what.
Did it make him a prick that he couldn’t help but wonder why they also didn’t love him enough to tell him the truth?
Before he spent the whole day out here feeling sorry for himself, Mason got out of the SUV and headed for the house. It had six bedrooms and three-and-a-half baths, when the most people who had ever lived it in at a time was Mason and his parents.
Before Mason had the chance to go in, his father opened the door. “Hey, son. Glad to see you could make it.” He reached out his hand and they shook. Shook fucking hands. It had been like that since he found out, when his dad had always been a hugger before.
“Hey, Dad. How’s everything going?”
“Good, good. The doctor has me exercising every day. I have to run on that damned treadmill for at least thirty min
utes a night.”
“That damned treadmill is good for him.” Mason’s mom came into the foyer. Unlike his dad, she pulled him into a hug.
“It’s good to see you,” she told him.
“It’s good to see you, too.” And it was. Maybe that’s what made it so hard.
Lunch was already on the table when he got there. Mason walked with his parents into the second dining room. They used the first for when they had company. It was more for show, while the second was more intimate.
The table only sat six. It was marble, with fresh flowers in the middle. They were replaced every few days. It had been like that as long as Mason could remember.
“I made salmon. I hope that’s okay.” His father pulled out the chair for his mom as she spoke.
And just saying “salmon” was an understatement. They had fish, rice, and asparagus, her butter cream sauce on the side. They also had raspberry walnut salad, as well as a bottle of wine.
For lunch. Mason liked to keep healthy, and he always paid attention to what he put in his body, but he couldn’t comprehend going through this much trouble for lunch. “You didn’t have to do all of this, Mom.” She must have spent half the morning preparing their food.
“Doing all of what?”
“Never mind.” He kissed her cheek and sat down.
They dug into their meal, mostly in silence. Mason couldn’t stop his eyes from studying them both. He used to think he looked like his dad, but now he knew that couldn’t be true.
It was a shock to his system—to always know where he came from only to find out he never really had. Only to find out that he had someone’s genes inside him, had a family he didn’t know.
What would they think of Mason? Would they enjoy sitting down in his bar for a beer, or would they not be able to accept who he was? Did he look like his mom or his dad? Have siblings who wondered about him?
He’d wanted that so bad as a kid, wanted brothers and sisters, and now he possibly had them.
“What do you have going on the rest of the day?” his mom asked about halfway through their meal.
“Nothing, really. Why?”
“It’s just…we miss having you around. Your father has to run an errand for the restaurant, and we thought you guys could spend some time together. You can help him take care of some business and then come back here, for dinner.”
It was then he realized they cornered him. Maybe that wasn’t the right word, but they had a very specific plan for today, only they hadn’t let Mason in on it until now. “Mom, I—”
“Please, Mason. I just…” She wiped her eyes and guilt immediately swam through him. Damn it. No matter what, he didn’t want to hurt them. What harm could one day make?
“Yeah, sure. That sounds like a nice day.” He felt like an asshole, because it didn’t at all.
***
“I have a surprise for you.” Gavin’s mom beamed at him from where she sat in her chair, knitting.”
“Oh yeah? What is it?” He set her mug of hot tea on the table beside her. Gavin had no idea how she could drink hot tea in the summer, but she always did. Sunshine, rain, snow, heat wave, it didn’t matter to her. She liked to drink her hot tea, and that’s just the way it was.
It’s one of the things he remembered so fondly from his childhood. Hot tea was her cure for everything. Any time Gavin was sick she made him drink tea, with honey and lemon.
“I spoke with Dennis from church. I explained to him that you’d left your job and have been looking for another one.”
Ice injected into his veins. Gavin hadn’t lost his job; he’d had no choice in leaving (though he could have fought it). And he wasn’t looking for a job. Not here, and not at her church. “I have a job, Mom. It probably won’t be what I do forever, but it works for now. I’m happy at Creekside.”
He sat in the chair across from her even though he knew this couldn’t possibly go well.
She set her knitting on her lap. “Gavin…you’re promoting sin. Pushing alcohol…it’s not…it’s not how we raised you.”
They hadn’t raised him to be gay, either, but he was.
“I know things are difficult right now, but I believe they’ll get better. You just need help getting on the right track. Move home. Come work at the church. You can start attending again with me, and see how things go. I—”
“That would never work. It’s important that I come home and help you more. I’m sure it’s a struggle, but I can’t move back. I can’t go to work at the church. I’m happy where I am. You should come see the house sometime. It’s a great little place, and Braden’s letting me rent it for cheap. There are a few things that need a little work, but Mason and I are going to start fixing it up a little so—”
“Who is that? Mason?” She already had knowledge in her voice. She had to know she wouldn’t want the answer.
“He owns the bar I work at. He’s a good friend.”
Shaking her head, she tried to stand but then went back into the chair again.
“Here, let me help you,” Gavin told her but she waved him off, tried again and made it up.
“I don’t understand you. I don’t. Think about what you’re risking. We only want what’s best for you. Is that too much to ask? We want what’s best for you and what’s best for the family.
She didn’t want Gavin to be who he was. “Mom—”
“No. I can’t do this right now, Gavin. Not with everything going on with your father. If you can’t…if you aren’t willing to do what’s best for yourself and this family, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
When she turned away from him, Gavin had no choice except to get up and leave. He wasn’t sure what made him dial his phone before driving, but he did. Maybe Mason would need him to work at the bar.
“Hello.” There was laughter in the background, the unmistakable voice of Isaac.
“Hey.”
More noise in the background. “I’ll be right back,” Mason said to the people who were with him. Gavin could tell he went to another room before he said, “Sorry about that.”
Anger ripped through him. He didn’t have a right to be angry but he was. “It’s okay. I’ll let you go. I just wanted to say hi.”
“No, it’s okay. How are things with your family? Do you guys have plans for tonight?”
Gavin had told Mason earlier that he might stay the night with his mom. He’d figured they could use the time together, but he guessed not. Not since she’d told him to leave.
“Mase, I want to show you something when you’re done.” Isaac.
Gavin’s anger skyrocketed. He probably wasn’t even mad at Isaac, but he felt like it.
“I’ll let you go,” Gavin said.
“No, it’s okay.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Have a good night.” And then, like a child, he hung up the phone.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Mason fought an internal war all day.
He laughed in all the right places and smiled in the right ones. He followed his father along as they took care of some business for the restaurants.
When employees approached him and told Mason they missed him, he returned the sentiment, because it was true. He missed the people. Missed customers that he’d seen weekly since he was a child, or chefs who spent their career working for his father. Even though they owned more than one restaurant, and even though they’d always been insanely busy, his father treated his employees like family. Mason had tried to do the same.
And he knew from the start that’s what this entire trip down memory lane was about.
They wanted him to see what he left behind. They wanted him to come back, even though they hadn’t asked yet.
“Should we go have a glass of wine in the garden?” his mom asked, once they finished dinner.
Mason shook his head. “I should probably be heading back.”
“Come on, Mase. Enjoy the evening with us,” Isaac prodded with a wink. The bastard. He knew exactly
what he was doing.
“It’s always so relaxing out there. We’ve always enjoyed our time in the garden, together as a family.” The hurt in her voice stung, ripped through him like the lash from a whip. Christ, he didn’t want to hurt her—didn’t want to hurt any of them—but the wounds were fresh.
“For a little while. No drink, though. I’m good.”
The gardens out back were his mom’s favorite place. As a child, Mason remembered sitting outside with her for hours while she tended to her plants. They often sat at the table as a family. The metal on it twisted and turned, making vines that mimicked the plants she loved so much.
“Mason and I checked in at Fourth St. and Highland today. Both of them look good. When’s the last time you stopped in to speak with Jeremy in Boulder?” Mason’s dad asked Isaac.
“Last month. I made a trip down there. We’ve spoken on the phone since. They had a bad month—low numbers; but things are picking up. We need to put some thought into a meeting with Bryce in Durango. I’m worried about how things are going down there.”
“Why?” Mason asked, and then immediately regretted the question. Durango was always harder for them because it was so damn far away. He’d always thought his parents should sell, but since his mom was born there, and it was the first restaurant they started, it had sentimental value.
“Money isn’t coming in like it should, yet hours are high. They’re busy, but the cash is going somewhere. We might need to let him go,” Isaac replied.
“How do we know it’s him? We need to figure out what’s going on first.” Which meant a trip to a city six hours away for who knew how long. There weren’t many options on who could do it—his dad, Isaac or Mason.
Only, he had the bar now. He couldn’t make a trip like that. “Shit.” Mason groaned, and rubbed his hand over his face. He couldn’t leave his family out to dry, either.
“We’ll figure it out,” his dad said as Mom nodded.
“Yeah, that’s enough work talk for tonight.”
Mason felt like he had a hand wrapped around his throat for the rest of the evening. He didn’t like the idea of his dad traveling for business. He wasn’t sure what made him feel it, but things were off where his dad was concerned. That left him two restaurants here and one in Boulder if Isaac went to Durango, and Mason didn’t like that, either. His dad looked more tired than he used to. He didn’t move around as fast.