Reaping Havoc

by AJ Rose

  He shivered in the cold. His second thought was to call Mitch. They hadn’t seen each other for a couple of days while Mitch did bookstore duty, opening and closing the store to make up for taking an unexpected weekend off. Maybe he was free for lunch, or they could set up a celebratory dinner.

  He briefly considered calling his parents, but they’d only use the information to find him, and that was the last thing he wanted. He wasn’t hiding, exactly, but he didn’t want to make it simple for them. While his mother was more likely to fret at the potential danger of him continuing to ski after his sister’s accident, his father would probably berate him for shirking his responsibilities to the family and causing his mother unneeded stress at an already difficult time. Nate knew there was a grain of truth to the accusations, but without a doubt, following his parents’ wishes would crush his soul. If Tate’s death had taught him nothing else, it was how short life was, how he needed to grab on and ride while he could or get buried under the weight of mediocrity.

  Nate didn’t need accolades or trophies. He no longer even wanted Olympic medals and glory. But he didn’t think it was too much to ask that he get to live his life as he saw fit, and while he could be called selfish, so could his parents.

  Chapter 10

  Lessons of Multiple Kinds

  “See? I told you I’m a lost cause,” Mitch said, pulling himself out of the snow for what felt like the twentieth time. He tested his right knee, which had given a twinge when he fell over, but it was fine. Either his super-healing had kicked in, or he hadn’t done damage to it in the first place.

  Nate laughed. “No you’re not. You’re thinking too hard. Name one thing you’ve learned in your life that came easy.”

  That was a no brainer. “Reading. I just got it.”

  “Why do you think that is?”

  Mitch’s skis whispered over the snow on their trek back to the lifts to take them to the top of the beginner slope named Butter Run for another go. “My parents read to me a lot when I was a kid. I picked it up in a way a kid picks up language. Just being exposed to it constantly.”

  “Makes sense. Now when you’re at the top of the hill looking down, don’t plan where you’re going, which turns you’ll make or how you’re bending your knees. This time, see if you can’t listen to the story the skis are trying to tell you.”

  Mitch made a face. “How very philosophical of them.”

  “Yeah, okay, that was cheesy,” Nate admitted. “But give it a try anyway. Listen to the skis. See if they don’t give you hints the way words did when you were learning to read.”

  The resort had been open four days, and while Mitch had agreed to have Nate teach him, they’d decided to wait until after the weekend rush of locals hurrying to make first tracks. Most of the tourists still wouldn’t arrive for another week, since travel plans made it more difficult to take advantage of the early opening, but people from all over Colorado had come over the weekend. Even Mitch had noticed the town’s restaurants and bars and yes, even the bookstore, had been crazy busy. It was a promising start to the season.

  “All right, skis. I want a nice, easy romcom,” Mitch told them, winking at Nate. “No thrillers. No explosions or crazy chase scenes. Tell me a good, benign story.”

  “Dork,” Nate said, his eyes fond.

  “You’re the one who started this shit show,” Mitch murmured.

  They got into position with Nate to Mitch’s left, ready to push off half a second behind him so he could offer pointers on Mitch’s technique. With a deep breath, Mitch shoved with his poles and watched the tips of his skis angle down the slope.

  Instead of concentrating on keeping his knees bent and his core centered, he followed the ski tips, giving them nudges for the one gentle curve Butter Run offered. Before, he’d turned his upper body in an attempt to point the right direction but had only managed to twist his lower half the wrong way, sending him dangerously close to the trees, where he’d had to bail or risk a painful hello with a pile of branches. This time, he simply leaned his body to the left and followed the path with an ease that surprised him. The rest happened naturally, like riding a motorcycle.

  “Okay, straighten up now, but keep your knees bent,” Nate called from a few feet behind him. “You don’t want to turn too sharply. And lean back a little. Not too far, or you’ll speed up. You just don’t want to squat.”

  It was exhilarating, as if his body had suddenly clicked with the skis. What had been cumbersome and weighing his muscles down now seemed like an extension of himself. It felt like flying, the world whizzing by as if it were trying to keep up with him and not the other way around. Even though it wasn’t the steepest or tallest trail, Mitch had conquered the mountain. The blood sang in his veins, and he knew the smile on his face was goofy and alive.

  And he no longer had Gary Williamson trailing behind him like a macabre helium balloon. Nate still toted Soul Girl, but she seemed less obtrusive than ever now, sort of a fixture Mitch was kind of coming to like. She was almost content, giving a smile here and there at a story Nate told, or sometimes a thumbs up in encouragement when Mitch flirted. But for the most part, she hung around, not being terribly obvious about it but not kicking up at being stuck for days with her reaper.

  Mitch didn’t let himself dwell on it, trying to stay in the moment. There was peace in the exercise, the cold air, the purity of the snow he surfed, and the nature around them. Not that he had many dates to catalog, but this one was quickly rising in the list of his favorites.

  “Snowplow!” Nate called as they reached the bottom.

  Mitch aimed the tips of his skis toward each other in an effort to slow down, and his right one caught an edge, shooting forward faster than the left, which unbalanced his center of gravity. He hit the powder with his right shoulder and ate about a gallon of snow by the time he came to a halt.

  “Are you okay?” Nate asked, skiing to a perfect stop beside him, careful not to spray him.

  Mitch could only laugh, staring up at the cloud studded sky. So much for conquering the mountain. “That was amazing!”

  “You’re not hurt?”

  Mitch got to his feet and shook the snow from his hair in Nate’s direction. “Not a bit. Let’s go again.”

  They spent the afternoon on the green trails until Mitch got his snow legs under him enough to try a blue. That proved too difficult, so they hit one last green run to end on a high note before going to the lodge to retrieve their belongings from the locker Nate had rented.

  “When’s your start date?” Mitch asked, taking off his boots. He couldn’t help the groan that escaped his lips, wiggling his toes and rejoicing in the freedom to do so.

  “Uh,” Nate said, licking his lips and looking away. Mitch watched him carefully, noting the knowing smirk on Soul Girl’s face. “Thursday is the first day I have lessons. I have to come in tomorrow for orientation and to get a badge, parking tag, and set up my insurance.”

  “Excited?” Mitch laced the word with innuendo and enjoyed the way Nate’s cheeks heated. Normally, Mitch was the one blushing. It seemed spending time with Nate clipped his shyness in the bud.

  “Yeah. I’m ready to do something aside from sitting around my apartment watching Netflix or reading.”

  “You’ve been doing more than that the last couple weeks.”

  “True. I’m not looking forward to seeing you less when work starts.”

  Mitch stood, feeling weird in his sneakers. He’d wear his regular shoes as long as he could get away with it. After nature-made snow hit, he’d be living in boots.

  His legs held onto the muscle memory of gliding rather than walking, and his body felt odd, as if he were moving too slow. “My dad doesn’t care when I work as long as we can keep up with inventory and customers. It’ll work out.”

  “I know it will,” Nate said quickly, as if he were trying to backpedal on the admission of wanting to spend so much time with Mitch. “I’m just having a lot of fun. Call me a hedonist, since I’d rathe
r play than work.”

  “Really?” Mitch asked, partly serious.

  Nate lowered his head, shielding his face while he tied his shoes. “Nah. I never did well sitting still unless I had a good book. A life of leisure isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

  “What, is your family secretly rich?”

  Nate grabbed his skis and boots and turned toward the front of the lodge, and Mitch had to scramble to get his gear and catch up. A piece of Nate’s puzzle fell into place. The conversation in the car about Nate’s competitive training, as well as knowing he’d not been particularly passionate about his major, and the fact he’d gone to an Ivy League school made it pretty obvious the guy came from money.

  Well, he used to have money. I wonder why he left his family? He could guess Nate’s parents forcing him into school had something to do with it, but frankly, it wasn’t his business.

  He tried to turn it into a joke to make Nate laugh. “You’re not, like, the secret love child of the President of the United States, are you? Because if you are, I think we should try to get into the White House and fuck in the Oval Office.”

  It worked, because as they approached the Jeep, Nate burst out laughing. He set his boots in the backseat and stood on the Jeep’s floor in the open door to secure his skis to the rack on the roof.

  “Though we wouldn’t be the first,” Mitch carried on, mock disappointed. “That room has probably seen more action than the Red Light District in Amsterdam.”

  Nate jumped down and shut the door. He grabbed Mitch and pinned him against the side of the Jeep.

  “The ideas you have.” He nuzzled the side of Mitch’s face, nibbling on his earlobe. Mitch swallowed and looked around the parking lot to see if they had an audience.

  “I wonder if the Oval Office ever saw Jackie O’s o-face.”

  “You’re terrible.” Nate’s breath was hot on his neck, and he closed his eyes and tilted his head so Nate had more room to play.

  “Terribly repressed, you mean.”

  “Oh, well, maybe we should work on that.”

  “What’d you have in mind?” Mitch hoped it was going back to his place and pissing off his upstairs neighbor the way they’d done the other night. She’d stomped her foot on her floor several times when he’d gotten Nate yelling the f-word over and over.

  “Does Sadie do okay in other places overnight?”

  Mitch blinked and pushed Nate away enough so he could look him in the eye. “That’s a weird segue. She’s usually fine wherever I take her. Why?”

  Nate ducked his head, looking almost shy. “I just thought it’d be nice if you would come stay at mine tonight, but we’d have to sneak her in. My lease doesn’t allow pets.”

  “Are you sure?” He bit his tongue on asking if it was wise should Nate’s friend Wes see them. He made a point never to ask about Wes.

  “Yeah. Of course. We can get a pizza and watch a movie or something.”

  “Okay.”

  They picked up Sadie, and Mitch made sure to grab her favorite rubber bone and fill a plastic bag with kibble. He debated taking her food bowl with them but decided against it. It was one night; they weren’t moving in together.

  When he and the dog returned to the Jeep, Nate gave her a good scratch behind the ears and let her jump in the backseat. She sniffed where Soul Girl sat demurely behind the driver’s seat, and Mitch smiled somewhat sadly when Soul Girl mimed scratching Sadie’s ears, too. Nate laughed when Sadie licked the air where Soul Girl’s hand was.

  So he can see her. Mitch had honestly begun questioning if his assumption of Nate’s reapership was correct, but now he knew the guy was really selling his obliviousness to keep the secret. He eyed Nate fondly, then spoke. “I hope you don’t mind, but I brought a movie we can watch if you’re okay being geeky with me.” He held up the Blu-ray copy of his favorite Halloween movie, Practical Magic. “Halloween’s over, but I didn’t get my fix.”

  “Perfect. It’ll go well with my apartment.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Nate looked uncomfortable as he pulled out of the parking lot. “Just a feeling sometimes, like I’m not the only one there. I haven’t had any doors open or close on their own or heard anything weird.” He swallowed and fidgeted with the radio.

  Mitch’s admittedly limited knowledge of souls-turned-ghosts was that unlike the people he dealt with after death, they could manipulate their surroundings, but it was rare. Most of the “hauntings” he’d heard of had been faked. Still, he eyed Soul Girl for a brief moment in the waning twilight. She didn’t appear to be paying the conversation any attention.

  She’s a soul, though. Ghosts are untethered.

  “If you do have deathly company, that’ll just make the movie better.” It came out woodenly. Mitch tried to make it clear with his expression if Nate wanted to talk about it, he was receptive.

  “Call for pizza delivery, and we’ll be able to eat sooner. I’m starving.” Nate passed over his phone. Apparently he didn’t want to discuss it.

  To Mitch’s delight, he discovered Nate hated pepperoni as much as he did. When they both said, “Heartburn,” they laughed and shuddered melodramatically.

  Sneaking into the building with Sadie wasn’t difficult, since Nate used a side door on the far end of the parking lot. Climbing to the fourth floor on spaghetti legs after being on the slopes all day made Mitch feel tired in a good way, and he hoped he recovered enough for some acrobatic sex later.

  “God, do your legs hurt?”

  “Not really,” Nate said, sympathetic. “But I’ve been skiing since I was a small fry. I also jog in the off-season. Keeps me from having as much trouble when the season opens again.”

  “I thought you just had a death wish.”

  “Not likely,” Nate said, his face shuttering.

  Mitch stopped a moment, trying to decipher if that meant what he thought it did, which made him wonder if he could drop a hint about his reapership so maybe Nate would know he understood. As much as the subject had come up in just the last fifteen minutes, Mitch felt Nate was all but screaming to let his secret out. Hell, if they got it all out in the open, maybe Mitch could help Nate figure out why Soul Girl wasn’t moving on, if she was the one responsible for the apartment’s occupied feeling. Maybe they could research her on the Internet together to find out what was holding her back.

  Stupid. He’s probably already done that. Besides, his dad once told Mitch he’d had a soul that hung around for a month before he figured out the guy wanted to make sure his beloved cat had gone to a good home instead of a shelter. As soon as Charles managed to get inside the home of the man’s oldest daughter on the pretense of selling a fancy alarm system, he made small talk about the cat, at which point she said she was keeping it. The man had gone through his door then and there. As far as Mitch knew, Soul Girl was only a couple weeks old.

  The pizza arrived shortly after they took quick showers, and Sadie lay on the rug in front of the picture window, happily gnawing on her bone, her belly grumbling in contentment from her dinner. Nate popped the DVD into the player and they got comfortable on the couch, feet kicked up on the coffee table. After they’d eaten their fill, Nate pulled him close to snuggle. Mitch sighed in contentment even as a warning voice ribboned through his mind, asking what he thought he was doing, getting so close to someone. He shut it down quickly though.

  We’re not falling in love, for fuck’s sake, he fought back. I’m enjoying myself. I know what I’m doing.

  The voice slunk away but not without a skeptical chuckle, and he slammed the mental door on it so he could concentrate on Sally and Gilly and their magic hijinks. The fingers Nate ran through his hair, combined with the full belly and the day’s exertion, made him sleepy. The fourth time he yawned, Nate chuckled.

  “Tired?”

  “Trying not to be,” Mitch admitted. On the screen, Jimmy, the dead villain, taunted the US Marshall sent to track him down.

  Nate put a finger under his chin and lifte
d his face to press his lips to Mitch’s. “We can go to bed if you want. We don’t even have to do anything if you’re not up for it.”

  Mitch sat up abruptly, smacking his cheeks to wake up. “No way. I conquered a mountain today. I get my hero’s welcome.”

  “Mm, and what form does this welcome take?” Nate slipped a hand up the back of Mitch’s shirt, walking his fingers up his vertebrae. Mitch looked coyly over his shoulder.

  “Maybe I’m the one who wants to be conquered now.”

  “Lead the way, oh mighty warrior.”

  Mitch stood and stretched, batting Nate’s hand away when he tickled his exposed happy trail. He moved toward the hallway he assumed led to the bedroom, walking backward as he shed his shirt, which hit the floor before he toyed with the button on his jeans.

  Nate followed, a predatory look on his face as he pulled off his sweatshirt and the t-shirt beneath. Mitch had to slow down to wiggle out of his jeans, but he left them on the floor, too.

  “Which door?”

  “End on the left.”

  As he went through the doorway, he shucked his underwear, hanging them on the knob and shutting the door. Nate laughed when he saw them, twirling the bright red briefs around his finger as he came into the room to find Mitch on his back on the bed, legs splayed and one hand toying with his balls.

  Nate shed his jogging pants and underwear in one smooth motion, his erection bouncing when the waistbands caught the tip.