“Bedroom, maybe?”
“Uh-uh,” Craig said without stopping. “Living room sex.”
“Dirty boy.”
Craig blew a raspberry on Tom’s abs.
AFTER SHOWERING together, they dressed in comfortable silence. When they were done, Tom took Craig in a tender embrace.
“This feels so right,” Craig whispered.
“Yeah,” Tom said. Then, “Where do you want to go for lunch?”
“Right here.”
“You just won the Georgia Lottery, and you want to scrounge in the fridge for American cheese slices and lettuce way past edible?”
“My first check doesn’t come until a week from today.”
“Maybe. But there’s not a place in town that wouldn’t give you a tab. Everybody for a hundred miles knows you now.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Tom checked his wallet. “Look, I’ve got enough to get—” Craig took his wallet away. “Hey!”
“They know you too.”
Tom smirked sheepishly. “I guess they do, don’t they?”
“How about you just call Chuck’s and ask if they’ll run a couple of pulled pork sandwiches to us?” Craig said. “No handshakes, no pats on the back—”
“And no ‘you lucky dog’ catcalls.”
Craig washed breakfast dishes while Tom ordered lunch. “What’s so funny?” he said when Tom entered the kitchen.
“Sharon—the girl at Chuck’s? You’d have thought I was the King of England, the way she was sucking up. What?” he said as Craig looked him up and down.
“More like the Queen of England, maybe.”
Tom swatted at Craig and missed. He followed him to the couch and started to kiss him but stopped.
“What?”
“Um….”
“What?”
“Don’t get mad, okay?” Craig leaned on the back of the couch. “I just— How the hell did Bernard…. I mean, you’re not dumb, Craig.”
Craig hesitated. “Everything happened so fast,” he said slowly. “First, I was pretty sure after what happened the night before, you’d never want to talk to me again, so I was totally upset. I couldn’t think straight.” Tom cocked an eyebrow. “And I’d just won the frickin’ lottery, for Pete’s sake. That would bumfuzzle anybody.” Tom smirked. “And Bernard,” Craig continued, “he was totally professional. At first, anyway. You’d have thought he was Goldman Sachs himself.”
“Geez,” Tom said. “I take it back.”
“What?”
Tom grinned. “Just go on.”
“Everything he said made perfect sense. He knew how to protect my money, set up good investments, and charities I want to support….”
“So when did you suspect something was wrong?”
“When he took my phone away at the hotel.”
“So that’s why you hung up on me.”
“Not me. Bernard.”
“How much would he have gotten if you’d signed his second agreement?”
Craig sighed. “I don’t know, and I don’t really care. All that matters is that he’s gone and I’m back with you.”
“Yeah,” Tom said. “Isn’t it funny, though? That winning the lottery could drive us apart?”
“Wrong,” Craig said. “Money is the number-one thing people fight about. The amazing thing is that we didn’t let it drive us apart. We overcame it, even when each of us thought the other had given up.”
“So it’s like….” Tom smirked again. “Love over lotto?”
Craig groaned. He grabbed Tom and pulled him close. They rolled onto the couch and smothered each other with kisses.
JUDE DUNN writes gay romance and erotica that grabs your heart and takes it for a ride you won’t soon forget. Readers say things like “left me breathless” and “eye-popping” and “wowsers.” (Well, that last one’s from his cat, who’s generally amazed that Jude can write at all.) At the same time, there is a warmth to Jude’s writing that can touch your spirit with hope and gratitude that the world isn’t all bad, that sometimes people do good things and find love.
Jude edits music and textbooks for a specialty publishing house by day, but his passion is telling tales that entertain and inspire his readers. He lives in Chicago and enjoys a number of pastimes from gourmet cooking and sampling a variety of wines to listening to jazz and performing his own music as a local pianist. His cat, who has yet to answer to any of the myriad names Jude has tried, keeps him company in between his always anticipated and passionate visits to Toronto to spend time with his husband of ten years and counting.
Jude’s works are sometimes subtle, sometimes fiery, but always entertaining and satisfying reads. He is proud to publish with Dreamspinner Press and share his tales with its many readers.
You can reach Jude here:
Website: www.judedunn.com
Twitter: @jude_dunn
More Than His Scars
By Jana Denardo
A Kept Tears story
Facing the anniversary of the day he lost his arm while serving in the Middle East, Aaron is understandably depressed. It’s up to his lover, Rhys, to plan a special day to help Aaron see how amazing he really is.
OPENING THE front door, Rhys hesitated, his mouth drier than the Mojave. Corrine stood on the step, her expression so somber it made him shiver. He stepped back to let her in. His stomach flipped at the idea she was here because something had happened to Aaron.
Before he could open his mouth to ask, Corrine said, “You haven’t been answering your phone.” She brushed past him and into the foyer.
The gut twist worsened. “Is Aaron okay?”
“Not as such.” Corrine sat on the steps of his split-level home, looking up at him accusatorily.
Rhys gritted his teeth. “Don’t be cryptic, Corrine. Sorry I was out of touch. I was at a conference.” He lied, but he couldn’t tell her the truth. He’d been in the Fey lands dealing with his royal duties, and while Corrine believed many things, Rhys doubted she’d believe him being a Tylwyth Teg.
She drummed her fingers on the stair. “Next week it’ll be the anniversary of the day he lost his arm. Aaron withdraws. His mom usually is here to help, but her sister broke her leg and needs help. She wants us to keep him safe.” Corrine’s voice shook. She paused to take a deep breath. “Rhys, Aaron is one of my best friends, but it’s you he loves. Tell me you’re going to be around this week.”
Rhys’s gut unclenched a bit. She didn’t need to ask. He bobbed his head. “Of course. I didn’t know. He never said when the attack happened.” He licked his lips, remembering the pain in Aaron’s eyes whenever they spoke of his time in the war. “He doesn’t like to talk about it for the obvious reasons. I don’t push him.”
“We need to keep him… I don’t know, occupied, I guess.” Corrine shrugged. “Help him to get past all this. I don’t think he’d do anything tragic. Aaron’s a fighter, but it has to be easier to have someone help keep your spirits up, right? You’re not leaving again, are you?” Her lips wobbled a bit. He’d never seen her so worried.
“I’m not going anywhere.” He hoped. With his job keeping the area safe from magical beings meaning harm, he could get called away. He’d call his twins, Bryn and Bran, as soon as Corrine left. They could take over for a few days, either keeping the area safe or watching over Aaron. They always managed to make Aaron laugh. “Thank you for telling me, because I don’t think Aaron would have.”
“You know how men are.”
Rhys rolled his eyes. “Private.”
“Not the word I’d have chosen.” Corrine stood, dusting off her butt. “Between us, Aaron will know he’s not alone.” Her voice sounded almost normal again.
“That is the one thing he never is,” Rhys said, touching her shoulder. “Not anymore.”
“You’re definitely the best thing ever to happen to Aaron.” Corrine kissed his cheek. “And no doubt the handsomest.”
“You’re a shameless flatterer, my dear.”
�
��And I like the man bun instead of the braid.” She jutted her chin toward him. “Not that the braid was bad.”
Rhys touched his hair. He hadn’t taken the time to braid his hair today and had tied it into a topknot. “Thanks. Let’s see what Aaron thinks of it.”
Giving him a suggestive look, Corrine said, “Have him over and wear nothing but the bun, and I’m sure he won’t protest.”
Rhys laughed. “You’re awful, and also, great idea.”
“I’m full of them.”
Once she drove off, Rhys contacted his sons and solicited their help just in case some bad guy chose the worst time possible to pop up. That task done, he sat down to try to think of what he could do to buoy Aaron’s spirits—not an easy task. Aaron had good reasons to be sad. He didn’t want to cheapen what Aaron had been through by making him do silly things that probably wouldn’t make him happy anyhow. His plan would take considerable thought.
AARON CUT through the water, wishing he felt less awkward. He’d mastered swimming with just one arm, but it didn’t mean he had come to terms with it. Hearing a splash behind him, he turned, then put his legs down, his toes brushing the shallow end’s floor. Here, with the water’s support, his bad leg didn’t hurt so much. It was one of the reasons to be grateful Rhys’s home had the small pool. It was great exercise. The splash had been Rhys joining him. Aaron watched him glide under the water. Rhys surfaced next to him, slinging water from his long hair.
Rhys stood up, brushing a hand along Aaron’s arm. “Did you get in a good workout while I was on the phone with the twins?”
Aaron nodded, reaching for one of the pool floats. He held on, kicking his legs slowly. Aaron hated the slowness. He wanted what had been stolen from him, even though he knew that would never happen. He had to keep convincing himself he felt hot because of the sun beating down on him and not because he was burning from the attack that had torn his arm from him. Just the thought of it made his arm flare with pain so severe Aaron nearly lost hold of the float and went under.
Rhys swam alongside him, concern written on his face.
Aaron tried to pull himself out of the abyss, asking, “How are the twins?” He’d take any sort of distraction at this point.
“Annoying as always.” Rhys caught hold of the float.
“What a way for a father to talk.” Aaron smiled, almost feeling it. Rhys always managed to help Aaron up just by being himself.
“Your mom calls you a brat at least once a conversation.” Rhys splashed him.
Aaron snorted, slapping the water with the stump of his arm. It wasn’t a particularly impressive splash, but it was accurate. Thankfully, the pain in his arm had gone as fast as it had overtaken him.
Rhys reached over, cupping Aaron’s face. “But you’re all my brats.”
“And you are our king.” Aaron leaned into Rhys’s touch as a crow landed on the wooden fence surrounding the backyard. Aaron liked crows, always considering them borderline supernatural. Maybe they were. He’d have to ask Rhys when he was in a better mood. With Aaron’s luck they were supernatural, and their supernatural powers would be as dark as the inside of his mind right now.
“So I am.” Rhys traced the line of Aaron’s jaw. “So, anything you want to talk to me about?”
Aaron tightened his jaw. He’d suspected Corrine would clue Rhys in on the upcoming anniversary, and if not her, then his mother. He wasn’t sure he wanted to talk about it. Aaron couldn’t say why. Rhys was his lover. He accepted Aaron’s broken body. Hell, he was a soldier too, losing wife and child to the wars that plagued the Fey lands. Rhys understood the hell Aaron had seen. Still, sharing his pain didn’t come naturally. Even though Aaron knew Rhys wasn’t likely to reject him at this point, the fear lurked deep inside him. Sometimes the fear of rejection over how he looked now consumed Aaron, much as he tried to fight against it.
Aaron opted for the safer path. He pointed down with his truncated arm. “I figured you wanted to be serious when I saw you wore trunks instead of your usual nakedness.”
“I didn’t want to distract you with my overwhelming physical beauty.”
Aaron laughed, nearly slipping off the float.
“Made you laugh!” Rhys patted Aaron’s shoulder.
“Thanks. Try not to drown me!” Aaron kicked free of the float and swam to the steps. He limped up out of the water. “Let’s go inside if you want to talk.”
“Sure.”
Aaron dried off and changed on the back deck, glad there were no close neighbors. Even if there were, the high wooden fence—now spotted with half a murder of crows—would block the view. He was shy and Rhys the exact opposite. Rhys followed him into the house, having changed into bright Hawaiian shorts that hid his shapely ass. Pity.
“I don’t want you to talk about it if you don’t want to.” Rhys slipped an arm around Aaron, pulling him toward the couch.
Aaron sat down with him. “It’s not that I don’t want to talk about it with you, exactly. It’s just… I don’t know.” He sighed, leaning against Rhys. “I have my battle buddies to talk to about this sort of stuff, and my therapist. I have outlets. But I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”
Rhys caressed Aaron’s arm. “Like I said, you don’t have to tell me about it. You know how I feel about you. Nothing you tell me about then is going to change that. I know what war’s like, but it’s different for you. I feel almost embarrassed about that.”
Aaron studied him. “How so? The magic healing?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s nothing to feel weird about. Yes, I wish I could have had your magic to heal myself, but I’m not resentful you do.” Aaron kissed Rhys lightly. He needed Rhys to believe that.
“I’m glad.”
“And I’ll tell you about it someday. It might not be this year. It might be in the middle of the night when I wake up screaming again.” Aaron dragged in a ragged breath.
Rhys squeezed his hand. “Or never, if you don’t want. On a different tangent to the topic, you do know Corrine plans to keep you occupied to help keep your spirits up.”
Aaron nodded. “She wants to do Kennywood in a couple of days, me and you, her and Kevin.”
“I’m good with that if you are.” Rhys cocked his head. “I don’t want you to do this because you think you’re making us happy. If you’re not in the mood, then we don’t have to. I’m in unfamiliar territory here, love. I don’t know if you’ll feel her plan cheapens what you’re feeling or if you want to be occupied.”
“Honestly, I want to be kept busy. It helps, but if I’m not up to it when the day comes, I hope everyone understands if I break,” Aaron whispered.
Rhys pulled him closer, caressing his back. “You can break on me, know that. I will ride it out with you.”
Aaron closed his eyes, shivering a bit. “You don’t know what that means.”
“And you know Corrine will worry if you cancel, but she won’t hold it against you.”
“I know.” Aaron straightened up. He tried to find the light inside him. Failing that, he reached for the light outside of him, his friends who were determined not to let him fall. “I’m looking forward to Kennywood. It’s been so long!”
“Can you wear your arm on the rides?”
Aaron shook his head. “I’d be afraid it’d get damaged. You may have to cut stuff up for me if we go out for dinner.”
“No problem.”
Aaron tried to hide his embarrassment over that reality. He hated needing help. He focused on other things. “There are coasters at the park I’ve never been on. That’s exciting.”
“Coasters?” Rhys widened his eyes to nearly comical limits.
“Love them.” Aaron nudged him. “Scared?”
“Damn straight!”
Aaron chuckled. “You can do all kinds of magic, and you’re afraid of a little coaster?”
“I’m not insane like you adrenaline junkies, that’s why.” Rhys ran a finger along Aaron’s neck. “But for you, I’ll go on them.�
��
“I’m a lucky man.”
“You are. As for me, I’ll take you anywhere you want to go. We can roam Pittsburgh, take a magical journey to Rome or London, or back to the Fey lands.”
Rhys sounded so conciliatory, it nearly broke Aaron’s heart. He didn’t want Rhys to ache for him, but maybe that was part of love. “I’ll think about it. I’m content right here on the couch at the moment.”
Rhys stole a kiss. “Good. Would you like a ginger beer? I could go for one.”
Aaron tugged on Rhys’s Hawaiian shorts. “I think this print is turning you all tropical.”
“Complaints? Because I can take them off.” Rhys grinned.
“Hold that thought until after we have the beers.”
“Consider it done.” Rhys sauntered into the kitchen to get their drinks.
Aaron stared after him, lost in the gracefulness with which Rhys moved. That made a nice distraction from his melancholy. Satisfied Rhys would be a minute, he took his phone off the coffee table and texted Bryn, one of Rhys’s twin sons. He enjoyed Bryn and Bran’s company, and they usually made him laugh.
Rhys is going to Kennywood. Want to come?
Bryn replied almost immediately. He’s scared of coasters.
Bet he screams like a 5 y.o. girl.
Bryn texted back a smiley face, a thumbs-up, and We’ll be there.
Aaron replied he’d call later with details, then blanked his screen as Rhys returned with the beers.
He handed one to Aaron, settling back next to him. “You’ll be okay, Aaron.”
“I know.” Aaron wished he was as sure as he tried to sound. He wasn’t good, but he wasn’t terrible either. He’d take that as a win.
“THE FLAW in this plan to keep me distracted is huge.” Aaron wiped sweat off his forehead, nearly getting trampled from behind as someone pushed closer to the food counter. The Potato Patch’s low, squat building had been queuing up long lines for decades.
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