Dreamspinner Press Year Eight Greatest Hits

by Brandon Witt

  “You two don’t seem that surprised. Although I’m not sure how long ago you heard it, I guess.” God, he hated this, hated having to discuss his personal life. This was his sex life, kinda.

  Patsy and Glen exchanged a look, a silent conversation passing between them. When they returned their attention to Travis, the beginning of a grin played at the corner of her wrinkled mouth—a grin, an actual grin. “I’ve known for about twenty years or so.”

  Travis’s face fell, and he nearly dropped his sandwich. “What?”

  Glen just nodded, looking uncomfortable, and the expression on Patsy’s face was no longer just a hint of a smile.

  Then Travis did put down his sandwich and leaned toward them, the weight of his elbows making the table groan. “What?” He couldn’t seem to make his brain form any other thought.

  “Shannon told me during one of your breakups, a bit before you got married.” Though her smile didn’t completely fade, she didn’t quite meet his eyes. Nor did she look at her husband. “She asked me to keep it secret. I didn’t even tell Glen until recently. When people started talking.”

  Glen leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “I can’t say I was expecting that. Or that I appreciated the secrecy, either.”

  Travis tried to form a thought, a reply, something. But nothing came, other than complete astonishment. Patsy had known? This whole time? And Shannon had told? He didn’t think there was anything Shannon had kept from him.

  It took a moment for Travis to realize what the feelings were that began to curdle in his gut. He was hurt, and kinda angry at Shannon, his dead wife, which then added a shot of guilt to the party as well.

  She’d told.

  Reading his expression, Patsy placed one of her paper-thin hands over Travis’s suddenly clenched fist. “Don’t be mad at her, son. Shannon needed to talk, to figure it out. She needed her mother.”

  Travis met her eyes then. “What did you tell her?”

  Patsy laughed, her smile returning. “Oh, you know Shannon, and I’d learned long before that little announcement that she didn’t need or want to hear what I thought she should do. She just needed to talk and have her mother listen. So that’s what I did.”

  Travis suddenly wondered about the miscarriage. They hadn’t told anyone, or at least that’s what he’d thought. He almost asked. God, he wanted to ask. He needed to know it had been their secret. He opened his mouth to ask, but stopped.

  He thought there had been a whisper, but it had been so soft he might have imagined it. But, maybe.

  Shannon had loved him. She’d loved him so much that she’d accepted him for exactly who he was, even when he couldn’t really do that for himself. She was the strongest person he’d ever known.

  Travis met Patsy’s pleading gaze and thought of his mother’s fear-filled eyes from the day before. He unclenched his fist and placed his other hand over Patsy’s. “I’m so glad Shannon had you.”

  A tear spilled down Patsy’s cheek.

  Travis looked over at Glen, not releasing Patsy’s hand. “Both of you.” He suddenly felt like he had to explain, like he had to convince them.

  “I loved Shannon. I loved your daughter with all of my heart. She was my best friend, and I still ache for her.”

  There were tears, then, on all three faces around the table.

  “I still love her.”

  In a rare affectionate move, Glen placed his hand for a moment over the top of the tower of Patsy’s and Travis’s hands before pulling it away once more. “We know, son.”

  TRAVIS LEFT Shannon’s parents’ home with a strange mix of sorrow and relief. Shannon had given him the world. She’d even given him her parents.

  Maybe his own would come around. Maybe they wouldn’t.

  On the way to his house he texted Jason, telling him he wouldn’t be at bowling that night. Jason didn’t text back, and Travis shoved that particular hurt from his mind.

  Tonight he needed to be with his family—with his and Shannon’s children, Wendy, the dogs, and the stupid rabbit. He needed to be with Wesley.

  All of them. Together.

  Without giving himself time to reconsider, he called the Popes less than five minutes after leaving their house.

  If the family was going to be together, they needed to be there too.

  THE COVERS had worked their way off Wesley’s back at some point during the night. The faintest hint of sunrise crept through the slit in the curtains, highlighting a strip of soft golden skin. It was an act of strength for Travis to keep his fingers from reaching out to trace the glowing section. Even without the contact, his body responded, demanding he end Wesley’s sleeping.

  It had been a short night. After being with the family, waiting for the kids to fall asleep, then the extended rounds of sex, you would have thought he’d been gone for a lot longer than one night. He and Wesley hadn’t fallen asleep until the wee hours of the morning.

  What little sleep he’d gotten had been filled with dreams, a constant shifting of faces—his parents, Wesley, Shannon, the kids. Every fucking face in El Do. He’d given up sleeping nearly half an hour ago.

  This was better.

  Though he wasn’t allowing himself to touch, this was better.

  Wesley was beautiful. So blond and tan. Such a strange mix of masculinity and beauty.

  The swell of his muscles, the glow of the red stubble across his cheek. His gentle temperament, his soft laugh, his almost mothering nature.

  He’d known he was in love with Wesley, known it was too late to back out and avoid more risk of loss.

  The events of the past two days had cemented the fact. There were no longer aspects of his feelings for the man that were abstract or fuzzy. If he let his mind try to wade too deep into the future, terror began to take over. But maybe that was normal. He tried to believe it didn’t mean things were destined to shatter, that Wesley wouldn’t leave, wouldn’t get sick.

  He tried to believe it didn’t mean that he, himself, wouldn’t get freaked out and flee.

  That fear was easy to dispel, easier than the rest. He wasn’t going to leave. The hard part was over. People knew. The shoe had dropped.

  “You gonna hold me, or just lie there staring creepily and breathing like a stalker on the phone?” Wesley didn’t move.

  Travis chuckled, embarrassed at being caught. “Thought you were sleeping.”

  “Hard to sleep when someone’s drilling holes into my back.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” Still he didn’t move. “So, you gonna hold me or what?”

  Wordlessly, Travis slid over, eliminating the space between them, wrapped his arms around Wesley, and pulled him closer so his back was flush against Travis’s chest and stomach.

  They both let out involuntary sighs at the contact. Then laughed.

  “Man, you feel good.”

  Wesley arched his back, making his ass push against Travis’s erection, eliciting a groan.

  “Feels like you didn’t get fully satisfied last night.”

  Travis wrapped Wesley tighter with one arm and let his other hand slide down to encircle Wesley. “Kinda feels like that for you too.”

  “I don’t think I’m ever gonna get my fill of having you inside of me.” Wesley placed his hand over the arm Travis had wrapped around his chest, giving it a little squeeze. “I so want to be enough for you.”

  The sound of fear in Wesley’s voice more than the words themselves cut through Travis’s growing arousal. He paused, ceasing the stroking motion over Wesley’s length that he’d involuntarily begun. “What?”

  Wesley let out a forced laugh and shook his head against the crook of Travis’s arm. “Nothing.” After a moment, he halfheartedly pushed his hips forward against Travis’s cupped hand. “Keep going. That was heading to promising places.”

  Travis pulled his hand away. “Hey. Look at me.”

  Wesley didn’t. “No. Come on. It’s nothing. I wasn’t trying to ruin the mood. Just keep going.
”

  He scooted back a bit, making room, then tugged gently on Wesley’s shoulder. “Wesley, look at me.”

  After another moment’s hesitation, Wesley sighed and shifted, causing the sheets to tangle as he twisted to his other side. He looked at Travis for a second, then glanced away.

  Travis didn’t like what he saw. Maybe not all the shoes had dropped. “What is it?”

  Another shake of his head. “It’s nothing. You know me. I tend to overthink things.” Wesley leaned in and kissed Travis’s lips.

  He placed a hand on Wesley’s face before pulling away. Then he waited until those warm brown eyes finally looked at him again. “Wesley, talk to me.”

  For a moment it looked like Wesley was going to cry. He didn’t. Nor did he speak.

  “For fuck’s sake, Wesley. You’re freaking me out here.” He didn’t want to say those next words, but he couldn’t stop himself. “Are you getting ready to leave?”

  The pause before Wesley spoke didn’t help matters. “No. No, Travis. I’m not thinking about leaving. That’s not what I’m worried about.”

  “You’re worried about me leaving?”

  Wesley’s mouth opened like he was getting ready to speak, but then he closed it. He nodded slightly.

  “Why the fuck would I do that?” Even Travis couldn’t deny the panic in his own voice.

  A bitter laugh escaped Wesley. “Why wouldn’t you?”

  “Are you kidding?”

  Wesley pulled back, putting space between them as they lay facing each other on the bed. He pulled the sheet up, partially covering his chest. “Am I kidding? You’re losing everything. Your parents. Your best friend. People are talking about you all over town: big, strong Travis Bennett fucking that pansyass faggot.”

  Anger filled Travis at the tone in Wesley’s words and the shame he could hear as Wesley spoke that last word. He was going to kill his parents. Jason. Everybody.

  Then guilt flared and consumed him.

  That had come from him. He’d called Wesley a faggot. He’d asked Wesley to butch it up.

  “Wesley….” What the fuck could he say? How was he supposed to fix the damage he’d done? “I don’t give a fuck what anyone else says. And I don’t want you to change. I love you. I’m so sorry that I—”

  “I’m not Shannon!” The words burst from Wesley, nearly a yell.

  Travis flinched. “What?”

  Wesley seemed to cave in on himself; it was agonizing to watch. His voice was barely audible. “I’m not Shannon, Travis. I never will be.”

  He wanted to reach out to touch Wesley again. He didn’t. He tried to keep his voice calm, tried not to panic, tried not to get angry. “I know that. I’m very aware that you’re not Shannon. I’m not asking you to be.”

  “Really?” There was no accusation in Wesley’s tone, just sadness.

  Travis did reach out then and wrapped his fingers around the fists clenched tight over the sheet. “No. I’m not.”

  Tears ran down Wesley’s cheeks, heavy and slow. His eyes fixed on the pillow under Travis’s head. “Maybe not. Maybe not in words. But you need me to be her. Even if you’re not asking it.”

  He searched Wesley’s face, trying to understand. He tried to figure out the right reaction, the right thing to say. He waited for a whisper. Something.

  He waited too long.

  “I’ll never be Shannon, Travis. I can’t be everything she was. I can’t make her come back.” Wesley’s gaze finally met his again. “She’s always going to be here. You’re going to be constantly looking for her. I won’t ever be enough.”

  Still no whispers, but Travis suddenly understood. This wasn’t the first time he’d had this conversation.

  He was finally able to get his hand between Wesley’s, still in their tight grasp. “When Shannon was pregnant, the first time. Before the miscarriage….” His throat closed up suddenly. He’d never spoken of this, not even with Shannon. It had been said aloud that one time, then done.

  “It’s okay, Travis. You can’t help—”

  “No. Let me finish. Just wait, okay?” Travis refused to look away, or to let go of Wesley’s hands.

  Finally, Wesley nodded.

  Travis took a couple of deep breaths, then tried again. “We’d just gotten back together after she’d caught me fucking some guy in my dorm room. She’d gotten mad and had some fit, for the billionth time that week. Not that I blame her. She kept saying she wasn’t going to be enough for me. That I was… she said I was bisexual.” He forced himself to not look away. To stay grounded on Wesley. “I hate that word.” Travis took another breath. “She said I wouldn’t ever be able to love her completely because part of me would always be wanting something else. Wanting a man.”

  He waited for Wesley to nod, to smile. To get it.

  He didn’t.

  “Don’t you see?”

  Wesley shook his head. Though lessening, the tears still fell.

  “This is the same. Just the opposite. You know I loved Shannon, that I love Shannon with everything in me, right?”

  Wesley nodded. “Of course. That’s what I’m—”

  “I do. I always will. But do you think my desire to fuck guys ever went away when I was with her?”

  Wesley didn’t respond, but the look in his eyes seemed to alter.

  “It didn’t, Wesley, and she knew it. And I know it hurt her. Sometimes a lot. Other times, it was just what it was. It was just me. Just my shit. We’ve all got our shit.” Travis unlocked his fingers from Wesley’s hand and pressed his palm against Wesley’s cheek. “I will always love Shannon. She will always be a part of me. And, Wesley, without her, I don’t think I would have ever had the courage to love you. Because of her, I know that what I feel for you isn’t going to leave. Even if you do.”

  He was crying now. The truth of his own words cut Travis’s heart and filled him with surety of his feelings for Wesley and terror of the truth of it.

  “Even if you get out of this bed and leave, I will love you for the rest of my life. Shannon left. And I’ll never quit loving her.”

  Travis could no longer see Wesley clearly through his tears. “I will never stop loving you, Wesley. Not ever. Even if you leave.”

  He sniffed, a snotty, disgusting, broken sound, but he forced himself to look at Wesley once more. “Please don’t leave. I can’t lose you both.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  FEBRUARY BROUGHT more cold and ice.

  It brought a frigid midnight house call to check on a mare quarter horse that’d gotten a laceration across its flank from an exposed nail.

  It brought another visit to the Holy Church. Travis couldn’t believe Wesley was going back and adamantly refused to consider attending. With Pastor Carver preaching, Wesley found the sermon much more palatable. Still, he wasn’t sure he would keep going. It was probably worth it every once in a while. It gave him another chance to bond with the kids, and two of the church people had become clients, the quarter horse being one.

  It brought a solitary rose and a box of chocolates from Travis on Valentine’s Day. Wesley hadn’t thought Travis would even think about the holiday, and hadn’t wanted him to feel bad, so he hadn’t done anything. He’d more than made up for it when Travis came over late that night.

  It brought decisions.

  He was going to buy Cheryl’s. At the risk of putting the cart before the horse, Wesley decided it was time to leap, time to live. It was time, even if it seemed too soon. He also decided he was going to keep the name. It had been Cheryl’s willingness to give him a chance that had brought so much good into his life. It seemed wrong to cut her out of it.

  His mother nearly had a conniption—a gay man owning a veterinary clinic named Cheryl’s in that Podunk town? Her son had to be insane.

  She was probably right. However, he wasn’t insane enough to have the families meet. Not yet. Soon, maybe, but not yet.

  SOMEHOW MARCH brought even more ice and snow than February. The weather wasn’t al
l that different from the weather in Kansas City, a mere two hours away. Still, it all seemed so much more drastic in a small town, more limiting.

  It was a Saturday in the second week of March that the sun broke out from the mattress-thick layers of clouds. The afternoon was actually warm, at least compared to previous weeks. There’d been no scheduled appointments at the clinic, so Wesley had left his contact information on the door, in case anyone needed him, and had gone to The Crocheted Bunny to honor a long-standing promise to help Wendy set up a website, both for her store and for a new business of the same name, a line of crocheted stuffed animals she’d been creating. The website looked great, and was nearly ready to go live and start accepting orders. It had taken some convincing to make her increase the prices, but he knew some rich Kansas City housewives who wouldn’t look twice at designer stuffed animals unless they had the price tag and the label to match. Wendy was talented enough that she could make her label worth it.

  It seemed the warmer weather was not only keeping people from stopping by Cheryl’s but also keeping people from shopping at The Crocheted Bunny. By three in the afternoon, Wendy decided she’d had enough of website design, would do a little more paperwork, and then close up shop. She sent Wesley over to the park to entertain Avery and Mason so she could move quicker.

  Truth be told, Wesley was still somewhat nervous when it was only him and the twins. When Caleb was with them, he stepped into the father role and Wesley could just follow his lead. However, Caleb and Dolan were somewhere romancing Ashley Mei-Lien, so Wesley was on his own.

  It wasn’t as challenging as Wesley kept worrying it would be. All he really had to do was let Avery do her thing, and he and Mason just went along for the ride.

  Today Wesley and Mason were sidekicks as Avery reenacted every Disney heroine she could think of. Actually, that was every day. One moment Wesley and Mason were two of the three bear brothers to Avery’s Merida. The Brave character was Avery’s favorite because of her red hair. Similarly, Avery often pretended to be Ariel. It was only a matter of theme if she wanted her two gentlemen servants to be friendly Sebastian and Flounder or villainous Flotsam and Jetsam. However, on this afternoon, probably due to the patches of ice here and there over the playground, Mason was reduced to Olaf the snowman and Wesley was to be Sven the reindeer.