by Lane Hayes
“A week? You’ve been squirreling away up here for a whole fucking week?”
“I think so. I don’t know.”
Rand raised his brow incredulously before standing. He moved to the windows and hit the remote control. The blinds rose slowly, flooding the room with light. It looked gray and cold outside, though. Not welcoming in the slightest. Rand gazed at the view for a long moment before turning to face me.
“When I came here, I had this crazy dream. I wanted to be the lead singer of the biggest band in the world. It was improbable, but something inside me couldn’t let it go. I knew there might be casualties along the way, but I figured if I kept my focus on the music, I’d be okay. I knew Tim and Cory felt the same way. And when you joined us, you did too. Fame, fortune… that’s nice, but music was everything.
“I think I was wrong. The guy who plays electric guitar probably knows better than most the way a single note can make you bleed…. Joy, sorrow. It’s a reflection of you. Sometimes it’s who you are. But not exclusively.”
“Where are you going with this?”
“I guess I feel responsible for you lying in a dark room, miserable and alone, while the guy you clearly love is back home in Pennsylvania making weirdass cookies with broccoli in them that no one in their right mind would eat. The press is hounding him. You’re hiding. My fiancé is more worried about you than his play, and I’m the one who sold you and my other best friends this bag of crazy in the first place. We can’t have normal lives anymore. I can’t do or say anything to wind back the clock. And I’m not sure I would either. I’m sorry.”
I squinted in the glare reflected on the glass coffee table and gave him the “what the fuck?” look he deserved.
“You said at least two stupid things, two surprising things, and somehow managed to wrap it up with a bullshit bow of apology. I don’t even know where to begin. Let me start with… you’re not responsible for me and music is everything. And fiancé?”
Rand grinned. “Yeah, I asked Will to marry me last night. Surprise! You’re the first to know.”
My smile was real this time. “Congratulations. That’s awesome.”
“Thanks. Look, I know you got more than you bargained for when you signed on with Spiral, but don’t give up, Ize. The press, the fans, the people in your past who let you down… don’t let them win.”
“I’m not giving in or giving up, Rand. I’m trying to figure out how to be a new version of me. That’s all. I wasn’t going to stay here forever. I just needed some time to think.” I leaned forward with my elbows on my knees and glanced up at my friend. “What was that part about broccoli and cookies?”
“I couldn’t make that shit up if I tried. It’s too gross.” Rand pulled out his phone. He handed it to me and pointed meaningfully at the small screen. “Read that, and if possible… stop it. That ain’t right.”
Adam McBride, Isaac Dalton’s boyfriend or possible ex, is back in his hometown of Springville, Pennsylvania. While in the midst of renovating his new bakery, Mr. McBride has set up a table outside the storefront with samples of some rather unusual treats for passersby to try. Most notably his broccoli, banana, and chocolate cookie. It’s surprisingly tasty. But not to worry! His chocolate chip cookies are available for those less adventuresome types….
Broccoli, bananas, and chocolate ice cream.
“What’s he thinking? People in Manhattan will try anything, but I don’t know about—where are you going?”
I shoved the phone back at Rand and hurried for the door. “Home.”
THE SIDEWALK in front of the Natural Bakery was crowded. A new sign had been erected to replace the old candy sign. It was circular and understated, with bold print in a typewriter font. The crisp black awning made the newly painted red door pop. A small crowd was gathered around a table in front of the large window. They looked like mostly schoolkids, which made sense. It was three o’clock.
I hadn’t wasted any time. After I kicked Rand out, I organized my flight to Harrisburg and arranged to take a helicopter into Springville with Omar. In a perfect world, I would have made this trip alone, but Ed would have had a heart attack.
“Would you like me to contact Mr. McBride inside the store?” Omar asked, pointing toward the activity across the street. “We haven’t been followed, but there’s a crowd on the sidewalk. Though they look like they’re ten years old.”
“Yeah. I should be able to hold my own. Stay here or come with and grab one of those broccoli cookies before the kids eat them all. I’m going inside alone.”
I opened the car door and stepped into the chilly February afternoon. Grungy melting snow lined the sidewalks up and down Pine Street. The sky was dark gray, and tiny flurries of snow had begun to fall. It was curiously pretty against the dark backdrop. It brought back memories of catching snowflakes on my tongue and hoping enough would fall so I could stay outside to play in it. I smiled at the thought as I stepped onto the curb and made my way to the table in front of the Natural Bakery.
“Are those any good?” I asked, pointing to the flat cookies with bits of green sticking out.
A round-faced kid with chocolate on his cheek looked up at me and shook his head solemnly. His thick navy coat was littered with crumbs, so I figured he was a cookie connoisseur of some sort.
“I dunno. They’re green. I’m not eating ’em,” he said with a horrified expression.
“Should I?” I picked up a cookie and broke off a piece.
“You have to now. You touched it.”
I nodded and popped it in my mouth. It was… interesting. “It’s pretty good. You should try it.”
“No way!”
“I’ve got to get the recipe from the chef,” I exclaimed, knocking on the shiny red door.
“Technically Adam’s a baker,” a small woman standing next to the kid teased. “Hi, Isaac. I’m Terri Starlinger. This is my son, Jack. I’m not sure if you remember me, but we went to high school together. I was in Adam’s grade, so you might not—”
“I remember. Nice to see you again.”
“You too. Welcome home. I’m—we’re all very proud of you. And Adam too. You make a nice couple and… well, I wish you the best.”
“Uh… thanks.”
The door opened behind me a moment later, and thoughts of how strangely nice her greeting was vanished at the sight of the beautiful man standing in the doorway.
Adam smiled at me, a beautiful sunburst kind of smile that made everything else blur and fade. He was all I could see. His ensemble screamed sexy construction worker, from the snug-fitted green-plaid work shirt to a familiar pair of worn jeans I knew had a hole in the back pocket. Instead of wearing a sturdy pair of construction boots, he was wearing his old red Converse sneakers. Fuck, I’d missed him. He was the fantasy man of my youth with twinkling eyes and a lovely welcoming grin. The one I never dreamed could be mine. But here he was. I had a chance to make this right, and I was going to do my best not to blow it.
He said a brief hello to Terri and her son and a few other bystanders before ushering me inside. Neither of us spoke for a long moment. Adam glanced at the curious faces on the other side of the window, then gestured for me to follow him into the back of the store.
“It’s coming along,” I commented, looking up at the rows of shelves he’d built in the kitchen area.
“It’ll be a couple more months, but I’m hoping to be open for business by springtime.”
Truthfully there wasn’t much to see. The appliances weren’t in, the walls were whitewashed, and the floors were covered with drop cloths. The bakery was a construction zone. But things were underway. He’d put his plan into action, like he said he would months ago. I’d always liked that about Adam. He was true to his word. He could be silly and self-deprecating, but he knew when it was time to make changes, and he wasn’t afraid to go for it.
It was time for me to do the same.
“What brings you here?”
“This.” I eyed Adam cautiously bef
ore lifting the cookie to my mouth and taking another bite. “I wasn’t sure about this combination, but… it may be the best thing I’ve ever had. I want the recipe, and if possible, I’d like to have them for life.”
“Cookies for life?”
“You. I—you said this… was a code.” I held up the cookie and was mortified when my voice trembled. “You said whenever I thought of this very specific but totally improbable combination, I’d remember there was one other person out there who knew what it meant. You said it was like a key. Or a sign I wasn’t alone. That there was someone out there who knew me. And I… I really miss that someone.”
“So you came here because you miss me?”
“No. Yes, but… I came to apologize. I’m sorry I pushed you away. I was afraid of hurting you, and if I’m totally honest, I was afraid of getting hurt.”
“I wouldn’t hurt you, Isaac.”
“I know. I trust you. I always have.” I licked my lips and took a deep breath. I’d rehearsed my lines on my way here, but I was more nervous than I’d ever been while playing guitar in front of thousands of screaming fans.
“When I was a teenager, I fell in love with music and it loved me back. It gave me what my parents couldn’t, and it taught me lessons I’m not sure I would have learned otherwise. Lessons about friendship, family… and love.”
“I thought you didn’t like that word,” he said gently.
I caught the trace of humor in his voice and clung to it like it was a buoy in rough water. I shrugged but didn’t bother denying it.
“It scares me almost as much as a broccoli cookie. I never trusted it. Maybe I have great reasons not to, but then you came along and nothing felt the same. You’re not just my friend’s brother anymore. You’re not my roommate. You’re my best friend, my lover… the guy who reminds me to laugh because life is too fucking serious sometimes. I want to do jigsaw puzzles and play in the snow with you. I want to argue about silly things like chocolate chip versus carob chips. I love the way I feel when I’m with you. You’re more real to me than anything else in my life… even music. I knew all along it was real. I don’t doubt you or the way I feel about you. I was afraid to say it out loud because I was afraid to lose it. But I know what it is… it’s love. I love you, Adam. It’s not a ‘for a while’ kind of love. It’s the forever kind and—”
Adam pulled me against his chest in a crushing embrace. He loosened his hold to capture my face between his hands and cover my mouth in a glorious kiss that proved I was right a million times over. I could feel it in the sensual slide of his tongue as his fingers traced my features and his warmth surrounded me.
He nudged my nose when we broke for air, and gave me a crooked grin. “I love you too. The forever kind.”
We shared a smile. It was simple, hopeful, and full of promise and possibility.
“How are we going to do this? Do you want me to move here?” I asked, unable to keep my grimace to myself. “To Springville?”
Adam chuckled lightly and kissed my forehead. “We’ll figure it out and we’ll make it work. Do you trust me?”
“Always.”
I did. Implicitly. He was my new beginning who’d been there all along. Home was anywhere he was. It wasn’t a place. It was a feeling. A beautiful, liberating feeling that gave me wings and somehow made me believe anything was possible.
Epilogue
“A man travels the world over in search of what he needs and returns home to find it.”
—George Moore, The Brook Kerith
THE GARDEN was beautiful. I tuned out the real estate agent’s sales pitch about the fragrant pine trees, expansive acreage, and guaranteed privacy, and wandered toward the tall sunflowers at the edge of a bluff overlooking green rolling hills. Adam was friendlier than me any day of the week. But he also seemed genuinely interested in the spiel about soil quality and where we could find the best deal on a lawn mower should we decide to purchase this monolithic dwelling on the outskirts of Springville. I ran my fingers over the giant head of the dying flower and wondered at the oddity of actually looking for a home here. If anyone had suggested the possibility a year ago, I would have laughed outright. Or maybe cried.
Yet here I was. Actively house-hunting with my boyfriend, partner, or whatever label the residents in town or, hell, all over the world had chosen for Adam and me. His parents referred to us as fiancés, but that was a whole other story. We knew who we were to each other, and that was what mattered. We were best friends and lovers, and soon enough we’d be joint property owners in our hometown.
“What do you think?” Adam asked, bumping my shoulder. He snatched the sunflower out of my hand and made a faux comic effort to remove the giant stem from the ground.
“I think you’re losing your marbles. Leave it alone. I love sunflowers,” I scolded. I glanced curiously over my shoulder. “Where’s the agent man?”
“In the house. He wanted to give us a chance to ‘wander the garden alone,’” he said with air quotes. “I think he figured I needed some alone time to work a little persuasion.”
I barked a quick laugh and waggled my eyebrows lasciviously. “What kind of persuasion?”
“Keep your mind out of the gutter, Dalton. If we’re really going to live here, even part-time, it’s better not to begin by making headlines in the local rag for indecent exposure.”
“True.” I let out a deep sigh before pivoting to face the back of the large recently remodeled Colonial. It was far more room than we needed, but it was perfect in every other respect. “I like this one.”
“You’re sure?”
I cocked my head and narrowed my gaze. “We’ve looked at ten houses, Ad. I think it’s time to make a decision. If we’re going to jump off the ledge at some point, we may as well do it now.”
“Yeah, but—”
“What is it?”
He squinted toward the house before stuffing his hands in his back pockets. “It’s a big deal. I guess I want to be sure you’re okay with this.”
My smile was slow, but it widened ’til it hurt my cheeks. I snaked my arm around his waist and laid my head on his chest for a moment before stepping back and giving him a mischievous wink.
“You think I’ve been playing with you, McBride?”
“Nah, I know you love me. I just don’t want you to feel tied to this town or—”
“Tied?”
“You know what I mean.”
“Hey, we can’t keep staying in Ned and Megan’s carriage house. I need a studio and you have to be close to the bakery. We need our own place. Besides, I think we’re doing a pretty decent job making the Springville-Manhattan commute work.”
Dividing time between two cities wasn’t easy, but we agreed it could work as long as we put us first. That meant actually sitting down and discussing in detail what we needed and how we felt. Communicating. In the beginning the thought made me squeamish. I was a novice here. I’d spent years on the sidelines avoiding emotional entanglements, afraid I’d end up repeating my parents’ mistakes. But Adam was right. There were no guarantees in life. The best we could do was give “us” everything we had and not allow outside distractions, like building a new business or being in a rock band, to interfere. We wouldn’t let fear dictate or derail us.
Fortunately we had a ton of support. The entire town came out in droves for the grand opening of the Natural Bakery last spring. My friends flew in from New York City, along with a host of celebrities, journalists, and of course paparazzi. Even my mother and Leo made an appearance. Springville was at its most beautiful in May. It had been the perfect time and place to showcase a new beginning. Our new beginning.
“We’re doing an awesome job,” he gushed theatrically.
I rolled my eyes as I slipped my fingers into his belt loop and fiddled with the buttons on his shirt. “Then let’s go for it. Tie me to the house or the four-poster bed we’re going to buy for it… but yeah, let’s do this.”
Adam’s wide, earnest grin made my pulse ra
ce and my heart skip a beat. “Can I tell you something?”
“You can tell me anything.”
“I love you.”
I swallowed hard. “I love you too. There’s no one I want to be tied to more than you.”
“Are you asking me to marry you?” His twinkling eyes made it clear he was joking, but I didn’t take the easy out.
“Not today with a random real estate guy as our witness, but you know… I like the idea.”
Adam tilted my chin and planted a quick kiss on my mouth. “Me too. Come on, Ize. Let’s go buy a house.”
He laced his fingers through mine and squeezed my hand before pulling me with him. This feeling would never get old. Maybe because it was unexpected. Whatever the reason, I wouldn’t take this for granted. Love came in many forms, and the cynic in me didn’t think all of them were positive. I’d witnessed love used as a weapon.
But now I also knew love was the purest form of beauty, joy, and hope. Adam reminded me to laugh and to dream and to give even when I wasn’t sure I’d receive anything in return. He reminded me that kindness and gratitude were the best forms of currency, and friendship was the ultimate gift. I was infinitely grateful for a new beginning with an old friend and a chance to build our own kind of home.
More from Lane Hayes
A Kind of Story
Rand O’Malley dreams of superstardom. He hopes to one day sing the blues like a rock god. Moving to New York City and hiring a new manager are steps to make his dreams a reality. But nothing moves as fast as Rand would like, and everyone has opinions, for example that he should keep certain pieces of himself quiet if he plans on making it in the Big Apple. Like his bisexuality.
Will Sanders is a gifted musician who dazzles Rand with his ability to coax gorgeous notes from an electric guitar one moment and play the piano like a professional the next. He’s a geek, but Rand isn’t concerned about Will’s pressed exterior clashing with his tattoos. His focus is music. Yet there’s something about Will that makes Rand think there’s much more to the quiet college student than he lets on. As Rand’s dreams begin to materialize, he’s forced to reconsider his priorities and find his own kind of truth. One that might include Will.