by A. M. Arthur
“No,” a soft voice, probably George, said somewhere in the apartment. “Please, let him go. It’s over.”
Unwilling to push away his neighbor by going against his wishes, Derrick stepped aside so the bearded man could stomp down the stairs. Derrick stepped inside the apartment, a little surprised by the lack of furniture, the place as bare bones as Derrick’s had been when he moved in. The futon had been knocked over backwards, and he found George on the floor behind it, cradling his left elbow in his right hand.
George looked up, his haunted eyes pleading with Derrick but Derrick didn’t know what they were asking. The boy was the spitting image of his brother, if a bit skinnier, and he had a split lip that oozed blood. “Fuck, did that asshole hit you?” Derrick asked.
George didn’t respond, only stared at Derrick, and then at Slater when he hobbled over with a paper napkin for his lip. “Sorry to be a bother,” George said. “You don’t have to stay.”
“Who was that guy?” Slater asked.
“No one.”
Derrick seriously regretted not calling the police before that asshole got away, but George had to know who he was if he’d invited the man inside. Then his thoughts swirled back to what the stranger had said about Orry selling his ass, and he couldn’t help wondering what sort of operation these two secretive brothers had going on up here.
George wasn’t talking, so Derrick and Slater set the futon to rights, and Derrick helped George stand. Guided the kid to sit on the futon. The breaking sound from earlier was a framed photo that had fallen off the wall and shattered. Derrick peered down at the photo, which had landed upright. The twins were easy to spot, along with a smiling man and woman. Their parents, maybe?
Footsteps thundered up the stairs, and a few seconds later, Orry barreled into the apartment and went straight for his brother. “Jesus Christ, G, what happened? Morgan said some guy with a beard stormed out a few minutes ago. Why did you let him in?”
“I don’t know, I’m so stupid,” George said as he collapsed against Orry’s chest and started crying.
“Hey, you’re not stupid. I’ve got you.” Orry wrapped his arms around George and rocked him gently. “I’m here.” He looked over George’s shoulder at Derrick and Slater, his eyes asking silent questions.
“We’d just got home from a date and heard two loud thumps and a crash,” Derrick said. “We came upstairs to check on you guys, and a man with a beard told us to mind our own business. Said some nasty stuff about you two. When I said I wanted to let the police sort this out, George said no and to let the man leave, so I did.”
And he really regretted that now, seeing how scared George was—and that he’d been hit at least once.
“Thank you for paying attention and caring,” Orry said.
“Who was that asshole?” Slater asked, venom in his voice.
Orry whispered something to George, who sat up straighter. Wiped his runny nose and damp eyes on his already blood-flecked T-shirt. “He was my figure skating coach,” George said. “I was good, until I quit right before I was supposed to skate for my first national title. Adrian was furious, and he’s obviously still furious.”
“Why did you quit like that?”
George dabbed at his cut lip with the bloody napkin. “I guess I had a nervous breakdown of sorts. I refused to leave my hotel room and wouldn’t let anyone in for hours, not until Orry got there. I just couldn’t do it anymore. I was anorexic and bulimic, and Adrian encouraged that so I’d stay slim and light and skate faster, and I missed my high school friends and Orry, and it was just too much fucking pressure to be the best. I couldn’t handle the pressure of winning, much less losing.”
No wonder George is so reclusive.
“Our parents were furious,” Orry said, taking over the story, and it was eerie how much they looked and sounded alike. “They treated George like an investment and not a son. It was all about the money they’d put into him over the years and not his feelings, or the fact that he could have died from his eating disorder. So we moved in with our grandparents until we were able to get solid jobs and live on our own.”
George whispered something that made Orry groan. “And before you guys start wondering, I’m not a prostitute. Back in high school, I got so pissed about all the attention our parents showered on George and his skating that I ran away for a few months. Did what I had to do to survive until I got my head on straight and went home. Right in time to be there when George needed me most.”
“We won’t gossip about this,” Slater said. “Thanks for trusting us, though.”
“Thank you for caring,” George replied. “It’s nice having friends.”
“Well, you definitely have two. Plus, Dez and Morgan from downstairs are pretty awesome, too. Us tenants need to stick together.”
Us tenants. Does Slater even realize what he just said?
“I have to admit I’m curious what you guys do for a living,” Derrick said. “Tell me to butt out, but I never see you coming or going, George.”
“I don’t.” George blushed to the roots of his blond hair. “I, uh, transcribe closed-captions for online video content providers.”
Nothing embarrassing about that, but okay. “Orry?”
“I do a couple of different part-time things right now that keep me busy, like delivering food for a phone app and bartending. It’s why I’m all over the place with my hours. I like being flexible in case George needs me.” Orry tugged at the curly ends of George’s hair, the pair’s affection for each other so clear in how they still sat with their arms around the other’s waist. “I wish I’d been home tonight so you didn’t let that jerkwad inside.”
“I don’t know why I did. When he used the intercom, he said he wanted to make amends and fix things, apologize for how he treated me. But when he got up here, all he did was start yelling about how our family had ruined his reputation and ruined his life, blah blah. Same shit, different year.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to get the police involved?” Slater asked. “Him hitting you is assault, period, and if he comes at you again, you’ll have a record of his behavior.”
Derrick tried to hide his surprise at Slater wanting to get someone else arrested for assault. Slater still looked keyed up and angry, but he was also being gentle with the twins. Derrick had no idea how old they were. At least twenty-one if Orry bartended.
He’s a parent. Of course he’s being protective of these guys.
Part of Derrick fell for Slater even harder.
After the twins conferred quietly for a few minutes, George agreed to call the police and report the assault. It wasn’t how Derrick imagined spending his Friday night, talking to police officers and repeating what he’d seen and heard. But it was still time with Slater, and in the end, everyone felt safer.
They didn’t return to their own apartment until close to midnight, each with Orry’s number in their cells in case of another emergency, and Derrick was exhausted. It had already been a long week at work, and now this drama?
“This wasn’t how I saw our night ending,” Slater said as he hobbled right toward the bedroom. Derrick trailed after him, and they went through their familiar evening routines in the bathroom. Slater still usually showered at night but he was drooping around the edges, so they’d have to take turns in the morning.
It was Saturday, anyway. They could sleep in and be lazy, especially after tonight’s excitement.
“On the plus side of things,” Slater said as they settled in bed with the lights off. “We finally got to befriend the twins. I’m glad they talked to us.”
“Same. Hopefully, that creepy coach doesn’t become a bigger issue.”
“Yeah. I feel so bad for George. For his parents to put so much pressure on him...they broke their own kid.”
“Thank God we had good parents.”
Slater let out a long sigh, and D
errick didn’t have to ask why. He reached across the bed to brush his fingers against Slater’s shoulder. “You’re trying your best with Rachel. You can still be a good parent to her. Needing our parents doesn’t stop when we turn eighteen.”
“True. Thanks for tonight. I had a great time while we were out.”
“So did I. I’d like to do it again. Maybe not spending a hundred dollars on dinner, but the dinner and a movie part.”
Slater chuckled. “Me, too.”
Every muscle in Derrick’s body wanted to roll over, cover Slater’s body with his and kiss the man breathless. To truly thank him for the wonderful date, and for being a wonderful human being. But he didn’t. Derrick knew that if he had just one kiss, he’d need another and another, times infinity.
I am so screwed.
* * *
They’d both been too exhausted last night to get it up, so when Slater woke Saturday morning with a raging boner, he didn’t try to hide it from Derrick. Derrick had matching wood, so Slater spread his legs for a long, sensual frotting session. He kind of loved this position best, Derrick heavy above him, moving with deliberate shifts and grinds while he mapped Slater’s neck with his mouth.
Slater had been so close to breaking his no-mouth-kisses rule last night, while they stood outside the apartment door. Chatting on the stoop like any couple on a first date would, each probably hoping the other would initiate the kiss. He didn’t regret the interruption, though, because they’d befriended the Thompsons and that was a huge win. Everyone needed a tribe around them, even grumpy loners like Slater, and he couldn’t wait for the twins to get to know Dez.
And a shocking thing happened around noon, when he, Derrick, Dez and Morgan all settled in the foyer with pizza and board games—George and Orry came down and joined them. No one commented on George’s bruised lip or what happened last night. George didn’t talk much and mostly watched the rest of them play, until he complimented Dez’s blouse, which she’d sewn herself, and then out came her phone. They even paused the game for ten minutes so Dez could show George her apartment and all her various projects.
When they returned to the group, Dez said, “I even turned Slater over there into a master cross-stitcher. He’s really good and even designs his own patterns.”
“Really?” George said. “That’s cool. You don’t look like someone who’d sew.”
Slater laughed out loud, genuinely amused by the comment. “Trust me, I know, but I needed something to keep me busy while my ankle healed, and I surprised myself with how much I enjoy it.”
“You just like stitching cuss words on things,” Derrick teased.
“That’s true.” Slater showed the twins a few pictures of his work.
“I saw you’re out of a cast and into a boot,” Orry said. “How much longer before it’s healed?”
“It’ll take at least three more weeks in the boot, then more PT to get the muscles used to movement again. This boot is a pain in the thighs, but it’s way easier than crutches.”
“I bet.”
“Oh!” This had been in the back of Slater’s mind to mention all week, and he’d completely forgotten every time he was around Derrick. Might as well include his friends in the invitation. “So next Friday is July Fourth, and the ghost town attraction where some of my friends work is having its second annual celebration. They’ll have live music, riding demos, crafters selling stuff and all kinds of food. I wasn’t able to go last year, but I saw a lot of pictures and all the ranch guests who went had a blast. Anyone up for a road trip?”
“I’m in,” Derrick said immediately. “I don’t work because it’s a holiday, and you know I love visiting the ranch and ghost town.”
Will you visit me when I go back? If I go back?
“You have friends who work at a ghost town?” George asked.
Slater gave him a brief explanation of Clean Slate Ranch, Wes’s discovery of the town’s remains and Mack’s restoration. “The ranch is where I busted my ankle two months ago.”
“Wow.”
“Busted his ankle saving a little kid’s life,” Derrick added, then told that story. Slater wasn’t a fan, because he was no one’s hero, but he enjoyed the pride in Derrick’s voice.
“Anyway,” Slater said, “unintentional heroics aside, anyone else want to come? It’s about an hour’s drive so it’ll be an all-day trip.”
“I make my own hours, so I’m in,” Dez said. “Honey?”
“Sounds like fun, I’ll work it out,” Morgan replied. “Guys?”
The twins seemed absolutely flabbergasted they were being included. “Can we let you know?” Orry asked after several seconds of silent eye contact with George.
“Definitely,” Slater said. “Derrick’s car is big enough for all six of us to ride together.”
“Cool.”
“Perfect.”
Slater settled in to keep playing, stupidly excited about this trip. He hadn’t been back to the ranch since the day he got out of the hospital, and he missed it. He couldn’t wait to see his fellow horsemen, who’d likely be up at the ghost town with that week’s ranch guests, and to have Judson’s barbecue again. And Shawn’s cheddar biscuits. Shawn had cooked for the guesthouse for a few months last winter, and the guy might be quiet, but he was a great cook.
And two more people here knew about his needlepoint and they thought it was cool. People loved his patterns, and he was even considering posting a finished piece for sale next week. Just to see what happened. He felt kind of rotten for not telling Derrick about his online store, but it was just an experiment and could still fail. So he’d wait and see.
Like everything else about his life with Derrick, he would wait and see.
Chapter Sixteen
The first week of July passed too damned fast for Derrick, and he wasn’t sure why. Was this what happened when couples found a simple, domestic routine and settled in? Days breezed by on the calendar? That’s definitely what was happening lately. He slept with Slater every night, and they occasionally had sex. Breakfast and dinner together every day. Fun weekend routines with their friends. Slater’s stockpile of craft stuff had grown to three full plastic tubs, and he’d even set up a small craft table in the corner of the living room by the big window.
Sometimes he’d work there in the evening if he was creating a pattern, or he’d cross-stitch a project on the futon beside Derrick while they watched TV. They were everything a committed couple could possibly be—except a committed couple.
Two more weeks until the boot came off. Two more weeks until Slater had to make a decision about staying here with him, or going back to his old life at Clean Slate. As much as Derrick wanted him to stay, he’d never ask. This had to be Slater’s decision alone. He was the one uprooting his life, changing his career and to what? Sure, Dez made a living off her work but Slater was a hobbyist.
Two more weeks of bliss that could blow up in his face and leave Derrick heartbroken. So he refused to acknowledge the still, small voice inside him that kept whispering, “I love Slater.” And he absolutely kept those words to himself.
By the day of their road trip, the twins had agreed to go. But they all realized that because of Morgan’s size, they weren’t all going to comfortably fit in one car. So the twins agreed to ride with Derrick and Slater, and Morgan and Dez would follow them. Derrick found the small town of Garrett with no fuss now that he’d been here enough times. Orry and George stared at the landscape the entire drive up the bumpy road to the ghost town. The lot was already packed, and they still had twenty minutes until the town officially opened for the day. A length of chain prevented folks from crossing the barrier from the parking lot yet, so guests stood around and waited, some dressed up in period costumes, but most not.
“This is so fucking cool,” George said as their group waited in a small huddle. “I’ve never been to a ghost town before.”
“You know, I’ve never tried anything from the saloon,” Slater said.
“Oh, then you are definitely ordering a buffalo burger. By now, the chef has a cult following for the sauce on that thing. Mi-m-m-Art Milo refuses to tell anyone the secret ingredient.” Derrick was glad he’d caught himself. The saloon chef Miles had used a pseudonym initially to hide here from a stalker ex, but now that the ex was cooling his heels in state prison, Derrick wasn’t sure what to call him.
Better to stick to what was still on the website.
Eventually, Mack Garrett himself appeared by the entrance and welcomed everyone to their second annual July Fourth celebration. The crowd cheered, and so did Derrick, and then Mack pulled the chain barrier away. Their group moved with the swarming crowd, and when Mack spotted them, he came over to shake hands and introduce himself to the Thompsons.
As they wandered, Derrick spotted more men in Clean Slate Ranch polos, and most of them came up to chat briefly with Slater about his recovery. When would he be back to work? Things that made Derrick uncomfortable, so he tuned them out and enjoyed the festiveness of the town. Patriotic bunting hung off buildings. The streets were lined with vendors. A mobile barbecue unit was set up near the saloon, and Judson already had the thing fired up with real wood. No charcoal for his meat.
And everyone was smiling. So many bright, cheerful faces this holiday weekend. Folks out in the heat to enjoy their day, eat good food and just have fun. Dez and Morgan split off to do their own thing, but the twins stuck close to Derrick and Slater as they wandered up and down Main Street.
“Maybe you should set up a table of salty samplers next year,” Derrick teased Slater as they browsed the craft tables.
“Salty samplers, huh?” Slater pinched his ass and didn’t seem to give a shit who saw. “Maybe I will. Who knows, right?”