Something Magic

by Justine Taylor

  His dad had looked pale and defeated, terrified even. Caleb thought that he would have been pleasantly shocked to find him cleaning of his own volition, or hell, that he would he would even be suspicious of him, thinking that he was trying to butter him up for something. He never expected that he would react in this way, like a man who was about to lose everything he has all over again.

  “Dad, I’m gay,” he blurted out, needing to fill the silence, needing to say something, anything, to stop his father from looking that way.

  He blinked once, then again, eyes finally focusing on Caleb before breaking into a huge smile, followed quickly by a soft glare. “Jesus, Caleb. You scared the hell out of me. I thought something was really wrong,” he groused before wrapping him up in a hug.

  Relief flooded through him as his dad patting him hard on the back as he relaxed into the embrace, wondering exactly when he got tall enough that the sheriff’s star on his chest no longer dug into his face when they hugged. Probably around the same time he stopped hugging him.

  It had been just the two of them for a few years at that point, but that was the first time it had felt like they were still a family.

  Taking a lesson from his high school self, Caleb decides to be forthright and honest with Mack about what he’s learned. He’s not sure how Mack will react to his totally-not-but-definitely-kinda-sorta stalking of him, but he’s pretty sure that Mack is the kind of person who’d be more upset about a lie than some industrious googling and a minor felony, so Caleb is going to be upfront and honest.

  After at least a dozen deleted drafts, Caleb sends Mack a text asking if he’d like to go out for dinner sometime. He leaves his phone on the coffee table, determined not to check it every other minute, and goes to clean the bathroom. He doesn’t even get halfway there when his phone buzzes with a new text.

  How about tonight?

  8

  When living with Leo in college, their idea of hospitality was to offer any guests the first toke on a fresh bowl. Caleb is pretty sure that’s not the tone he wants to set here, so he’s kind of at a loss at what to do when Mack, who he asked to meet him at his place before dinner, steps into his apartment. But all his worries about being a good host fall away when Mack reaches for his hand and pulls him in for a hug with a soft whisper of hello against his neck. Caleb just smiles and mumbles something that sounds like hello, but he’s too lost in the rush of emotion and the way Mack’s back feels under his hands to do anything other than melt into him.

  “Come in,” he says finally, reluctantly pulling away when even he has to admit that the hug has gone on unreasonably long. He leads Mack into the living room, where he walks to one of his bookshelves and scans the titles, reaching up to run a hand lightly over the brightly-colored spines of Caleb’S dozen Vonnegut novels.

  “Vonnegut is one of my favorite writers,” Mack says, a tattooed finger tapping against Cat’s Cradle. Caleb stands close behind him, tilting his head up to rest his chin on Mack’s shoulder, another of so many gestures of intimacy that come naturally when he's with Mack, making it feel like they've been together for years. It's disorienting, like his very understanding of time itself is expanding.

  “Mine too…obviously,” he answers, smiling. And then, a little softer, “he was my mom’s favorite, too. These were all hers. Sometimes I re-read them just to see her handwriting in the margins.”

  Mack pulls Caleb' arm up and around him to place a kiss on the back of his hand. “I do that too. I don’t…I don’t have much of my parents’ things. But I do have my dad’s copy of Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. He underlined all of his favorite quotes. Sometimes I just flip through it and read those parts, trying to figure out what he might have been thinking when he read it or what he liked about it.”

  Mack turns to face him, and there’s a ghost of that broken boy from his memory in his expression. Before he can talk himself out of it, Caleb lifts a hand to cup his heel, pressing his fingertips into the soft dark shadow of his beard, tracing the line of his hard-edged jaw.

  The kiss is gentle at first, a gesture of comfort more than anything. Mack’s lips are even softer than Caleb imagined, as is his beard, which tickles against his skin in the very best way. Mack wraps an arm around his waist, hands settling against his back to pull him closer, and deepens the kiss, tongue gently pressing against his lips, tentative, like he’s asking permission. Caleb opens his mouth for him, eager enough for the both of them.

  The hot burst of arousal that sparks through him when his tongue meets Mack’s makes him completely lose track of everything that isn’t the electric and eager pulse of those gorgeous lips against his own. At first he’s not quite sure how he’s still standing, but then Mack wraps those giant arms further around him, pulling him even closer into his rock-hard body, holding him up.

  It goes on and on, but it still feels too soon when Mack pulls away, nibbling lightly on Caleb’S lower lip as he does. “Wow,” Caleb whispers. Trembling, he leans his forehead against Mack’s chin.

  “Yeah,” Mack whispers back, trembling too. A gentle nudge of his hips to guides him toward the couch, and they sit together in a much more comfortable version of how they had entwined themselves in the photobooth that fateful night. Mack buries his face in his neck again like he did that night, and this time presses a soft kiss just behind his ear.

  “Mack,” Caleb manages to breathe. “As much as I want this, and God, you have no idea how much I want this,” he says, voice low and husky in a way he’s never heard before. “I was hoping we could talk about some stuff before we go to dinner.”

  “Of course. I’m sorry.”

  “Dude, please. Never apologize for kissing me, like ever, okay? That was amazing. More than amazing…that was...well, I actually can’t really think of a word to describe how incredible it was, so please just trust me when I say – “

  “Caleb.”

  “Yeah?”

  “It was amazing for me too. More than amazing.”

  “Yeah?" Caleb’s pounding heart mellows a bit, relieved. “Good.” He takes a deep breath, steadies himself by thinking of his Wolf, and goes for it. “I want you, Mack. I want to be with you, to date you, to see what this could be, what we could be.”

  Mack’s smile is blinding. “So do I.”

  Caleb smiles and lifts Mack’s hand to his mouth, planting a kiss across the intricate lines of his tattoo. “Good. So if we’re going to do this, we’re going to do this right. Total honesty, okay?”

  Mack stiffens immediately, his tension growing more palpable the longer Caleb searches his face. He catalogs the twist of fear he sees there here, his heart aching for putting it there. “Honesty is good,” Mack finally says, cautiously.

  “Good." He glances away from Mack towards the bookshelf, stalling because he's not quite sure where to begin. He eyes the row of Vonnegut novels and smiles. “I think we share a karass."

  Mack smiles and nods. “I think you’re right.”

  “You do? Are you just messing with me? Humoring me because I think we’re cosmically linked in a meaningful way according to the tenets of a religion invented by one of the greatest writers of the twentieth century?”

  “No, I’m agreeing with you because we're both from Lighthouse Cove, and I don’t believe in coincidences.”

  Caleb feels his eyes bulge a bit and his mouth fall open in surprise. “You know that I'm from Lighthouse Cove too?"

  “Yeah.” Mack looks a little sheepish, and Caleb remembers that he’s supposed to be the one confessing something here, but Mack keeps talking. “Yesterday, when you said that you were from a small town in northern California and your dad is a sheriff and that your mom was an English teacher... plus this, connection that we feel…I pulled the paperwork you filled out at the shop to find out your last name. That’s when I knew for sure.”

  “You knew my parents,” Caleb says. “My mom.” It’s not a question, but a quiet, pained whisper of hope, of awe.

  Mack squeezes his hand
and pulls him forward to kiss his collarbone, resting his forehead on his shoulder for a moment before he responds. “She was my favorite teacher,” he says. “I had her as a freshman, and again as a senior. She’s the reason I love Vonnegut. We read Slaughterhouse Five in class and I loved it so much she gave me Cat’s Cradle to read on my own. I used go to school early to talk to her about it. That’s why…that’s why…”

  Mack’s voice is so soft Caleb can barely hear him as he drifts off, his heart pounding so loud he thinks Mack can probably hear it. Is Mack telling him that his mother was the reason Mack escaped the fire? That’s…that’s so much more that he feels capable of understanding. He takes a deep breath and holds Mack’s gaze, not caring that his eyes are welling with tears.

  “I know, Mack. About your family. About the fire. I, um, I looked you up.”

  Mack smiles, his eyes still sad. “I figured you did.”

  “And that’s not all. I know it wasn’t right and it was a violation of your privacy, but I…I was able to get access to the sheriff’s file…I know about Diana. I’m so sorry to bring it up, and I know that if you want to talk about this it should be on your terms, when you want to, and fuck, Mack. I’m sorry. But I read the file and I couldn’t stand the thought of me knowing and you not knowing that I know, you know?”

  “Miraculously, I do.” Mack gives him a sad smile and leans his head against Caleb’s chest and runs his hand up his side, resting it over his thumping heart. “I’m not upset with you. I understand. I was going to tell you as soon as I knew for sure that you wanted…something with me. I want you know what you’re getting yourself into, with someone like me. It changed me, what happened with her, with my family. Made me a difficult person to love. Maribel said that once when we were fighting about my refusal to go counseling.” He tries to sound unaffected, tries for a wry smile, but Caleb can see the effort it takes.

  I love you, Caleb thinks, biting his tongue so he doesn’t say it, at once terrified of the intensity of the feeling and utterly and completely sure of it. “She’s wrong,” he says instead. Then, “I saw you. The day of the fire. I was there, at the sheriff’s station. I was standing in the hallway outside my dad’s office and I saw you...do you remember?”

  Mack closes his eyes and nods, breathing heavily before he answers. “That was you?” He asks, awed. “I remember thinking that I wished I could be you,” he says finally. “Young. Innocent.”

  Caleb doesn’t know what to say to that, so he just holds Mack against him, hand around the back of his neck, fingers tangling into his hair. “You can tell me about it, if you want,” Caleb offers quietly. “Or not. Whatever you want.”

  “I’ve never told anyone all of it. Not even Maribel. She knows something, tried for years to get me to tell her, but I haven’t.”

  “I understand. You never have to tell me if you don’t want – “

  “I want to. I need you to know, Caleb. Need you to know what I’ve done, how I’m damaged, so you can decide if you really want to be with me, because once you say you do, I won’t let you go.” Mack’s so intense and earnest, his eyes wide and imploring, so utterly beautiful. There’s a tender vulnerability there, but just under the surface Caleb senses something else, a thrum of strength that belies the aching look in his eyes, something resolute in him that has allowed him to survive what he’s gone through mostly intact; a powerful grace that, oddly, reminds him of his Wolf.

  “I already told you. I want you. I want us. There’s nothing you can say, absolutely nothing you can tell me about yourself that will make me change my mind.”

  Mack raises an eyebrow as if to say don’t speak too soon, but he tells him anyways.

  “She approached me after baseball practice, after everyone else had left,” he starts. “She said she was a scout for university baseball teams. Had a business card and everything – fake of course. Beautiful, charming, flirted with me. I was…I hadn't had the best luck with relationships. My first girlfriend Lizzie…it didn’t end well, and after her I dated this closeted guy who was a total asshole and treated me like shit, and fuck, Diana was…nice. Complimented me like crazy. Made me feel special.” He shakes his head, exasperated, despite the years between him and his younger self. “Fuck, it was so stupid. I was so stupid.”

  “Mack, you were young. Vulnerable, naïve. She took advantage of you.”

  He continues as if Caleb hadn’t spoken. “I was hooked. She took me out to expensive dinners, flattered me, told me that schools would be at each other’s throats to sign me, that I was the complete package, all that bullshit. I ate it up. She also made me promise to keep our relationship – that’s what she called it, that first day we met, a relationship – a secret. She said that technically, it was too early to be recruiting me, but that she wanted me so badly she was willing to break the rules. Of course I agreed.”

  “It wasn’t long before were sleeping together. She told me she loved me. I thought I loved her. She asked me a lot of questions about my family, about my mother and…her work with the environmental groups. Said it was routine, that schools like to learn about a recruit’s family, looking for red flags and potential publicity problems. I told her whatever she wanted to know. I brought her to our house, when everyone was gone, of course. Fucked her in my childhood bedroom while she was probably memorizing the layout of the place.”

  “A couple of days before the fire, I told her that I wouldn’t be able to get away to see her for a few days because we had a lot of family visiting. She seemed really interested to know more about them, and I told her. It had started to seem weird, her interest in my family, in our house, but I ignored it. I had this…instinct, that something was going to happen…but…I wanted so badly to believe that she really loved me, so I ignored it. Pathetic. After the fire...I figured out who she really was. She…her family had a history with my family, had made threats against my mom because of her work.”

  Mack’s silent for a beat, and then: “She murdered my family, and I helped her.”

  It breaks Caleb’s heart. “Mack, you didn’t. She took advantage of you. You were just a kid. It wasn’t your fault. None of it was.” Caleb hates his ineffectual words that ring like hollow assurances in the echoing chasm of Mack’s pain and guilt.

  “I know that, rationally,” Mack says. “But it’s hard to really believe it. It's gotten better in the past few years. Maribel and Liam and the rest of the pa – my friends, having them close helps too. It’s been better – everything’s been better – since I met you.” Mack smiles again, soft and sweet, and his eyes are still sad but Caleb thinks he might see something like hope there too.

  “For me too,” he agrees, kissing Mack’s temple. God, he could spend the rest of his life just like this, covering Mack with kisses, exploring him with his mouth and hands and heart. “Everything. I’ve never felt this way about anyone, ever. I don’t know how to explain it, it’s just like – “

  “We belong to one another. A duprass, maybe. A karass of two.”

  Caleb laughs lightly, relief bubbling through him. “I’m so happy to hear you say that. I was worried that you didn’t feel it, that I might have been alone in this.”

  “No way. You’ll never be alone again, if that’s what you want. If you’ll have me.” Caleb answers him with a kiss, passion surging forth to prove that Caleb would never consider not devoting himself to Mack.

  Mack breaks the kiss after a minute. “There’s more,” he says. “More I need to tell you. But I’m not ready right now. Is that okay?”

  “God, Mack, yes. Of course. Take all the time you need.”

  “Thank you.” He cups Caleb’ jaw, kisses his temple, and then stands, pulling him up to his feet with him. “Let’s go to dinner,” he smiles. “I’m starving.”

  Back at Caleb’S apartment after dinner, Mack presses Caleb up against the door the moment they get inside, his mouth urgent and insistent. Caleb gives as good as he gets, and soon they’re stumbling into his bedroom, pulling at each other’s cl
othes.

  Mack has him pushed back against the wall across from his bed as he bites and sucks a hickey into his neck, Caleb not giving a damn about, welcoming enthusiastically, in fact, the mark he’s leaving there. Caleb wants it there for days, wants his whole body to be marked forever by his kiss. He moans, a pleading sound, not really sure what he’s asking for, only sure that he wants whatever Mack’s willing to give him.

  Mack spins him around then, quickly but carefully, notching his hips into the curve of his ass he leans into him. Caleb leans his forehead against the wall, his cock, already hard, jolting with need as he feels the firm, generous length of Mack’s against his ass through way too many layers of clothes. Mack keeps his hips locked against him but leans back to run his hands up Caleb’ back, across the snug pull of his shirt. “I haven’t seen it, you know,” he whispers, one big hand settling on his back over the freshly-healed tattoo. “Zoey told me about it, but I still haven’t seen it.”

  Mack sounds needy, and if Caleb didn’t know better, he’d think his voice was shaking. Caleb strips off his shirt, no hint of the hesitation he felt in the shop the day they met. He hears a harsh intake of breath behind him, then feels Mack’s warm hands glide up his back, fingers tracing the lines of his Wolf, gentle and cautious, as if he might scare him away. The touch sends a thrill of excitement through him, enlivening him in a way he’s only felt while dreaming. He gasps with the power of it, the surge of emotion and pleasure and pure bliss that courses through him as Mack’s fingers trace the Wolf on his back, reverent and tender and urgent, all at once. It feels like his skin is on fire in the best way, like sparks of magic are snapping off Mack’s fingers and into his heart, lighting him up. “Mack,” he moans again when his mouth finds his neck once more, one hand cradling his shoulder blade and the Wolf, the other circling around his waist to press against his stomach, holding him close.