Dreamspinner Press Year Three Greatest Hits
Page 68
Miller wanted to tell Danny that it was all worth it, that everything he’d given up was nothing compared to Danny’s life. But he was nursing his own wounds; he didn’t know how to heal Danny’s too. He’d never been good with offering comfort, always the first to look away from other people’s suffering. “What are you going to do?” he asked instead.
“I don’t know.”
“Is it over, Danny, between us?”
Danny didn’t answer, just leaned forward and kissed Miller’s eyebrow, his cheek, the corner of his mouth, his trembling lower lip. “I love you,” Danny whispered and then he was up and gone. Miller sat on the cold park bench and, for the second time in his life, watched Danny walk away. Only this time, he understood exactly what he was losing.
“MATTHEW?”
“No.”
“Jacob?”
“Uh-uh.” Miller shifted against Danny’s body, drawing Danny’s arms tighter across his bare chest. He’d never thought that two men could fit together so easily, had always assumed only a woman could be cradled the way Danny was holding him now. But it wasn’t true. His back molded itself to Danny’s chest like they were two halves of the same whole, his head resting comfortably on Danny’s shoulder, Danny’s breath sighing against his temple.
“Just tell me your goddamn middle name. I’m never going to come up with it,” Danny said, pushing against Miller’s naked thigh with his own.
“Quitter,” Miller mocked. “Keep going.”
“Bernard?” Danny guessed, chuckling under his breath.
“Jesus, my parents weren’t that cruel.”
“Hard to tell, judging by your first name.”
Miller barked out a laugh, rolling over quickly to pin Danny against the bed, using his hands as gentle shackles over Danny’s wrists. “Asshole. It’s Edward. And Miller was my mother’s maiden name.”
Danny smiled, his slow, sexy grin full of white teeth, the grin that made Miller’s stomach fall so hard he felt almost sick, the one that made him crazy with wanting, like some teenage boy mooning over his first love.
“Miller Edward Sutton,” Danny said quietly. “It’s a good name.” He raised his head off the bed, arms still pinned next to his pillow, and kissed Miller. Softly at first, then with more pressure, his tongue sliding hot and wet, taunting a little, pulling back whenever Miller pushed forward until Miller caught that teasing tongue with his own.
Miller released Danny’s wrists, bringing his own hands down to run across Danny’s chest, thumbing his nipples lightly, then flicking them with his tongue. His own breath hitched at the way Danny moaned, lifting his chest off the bed to get closer to Miller’s mouth.
Miller moved lower, his tongue forging a wet trail. He laid his cheek against Danny’s stomach for a moment, just breathing him in, rising and falling with Danny’s exhales, Danny twining lazy fingers in his hair.
“I’m hungry.” Danny’s words were punctuated by a stomach rumble, loud in Miller’s ear.
“You’re always hungry,” he noted, resting his chin on Danny’s stomach. “I thought we were about to do something besides eat.”
“I think I need food first.”
“All we have is peanut butter and jelly.”
Danny gave a noncommittal grunt.
“I take it peanut butter and jelly is not your favorite,” Miller said dryly.
“I should have reminded you to get something else when you were out yesterday.”
“I had other things on my mind.” Miller’s eyes skated over to the box of condoms on the bedside table.
Danny grinned. “At least you’ve got your priorities straight.” He paused, pinching Miller’s earlobe playfully. “But seriously, would it have killed you to pick up some turkey?”
Miller tipped his head downward, his laugh muffled by Danny’s belly. “Christ, I’ve never met anybody who bitches about food the way you do.”
“What do you mean?” Danny craned his neck to look at Miller.
“You complain about the sandwich selection, my cooking skills, the pizza, the cereal, those stale crackers from the hospital.” Miller tried to sound disgusted, but he couldn’t help smiling.
Danny looked at him without speaking.
“What?” Miller asked, suddenly self-conscious.
“You remember all that stuff?”
Miller stared into Danny’s eyes. “Yeah,” he said. “I do.” He wanted to make a joke, but he couldn’t back away from what he saw in Danny’s eyes, couldn’t make light of what was real and alive between them.
“Come here.” Danny tugged on Miller’s arm, moving him up to cover his body, his legs braiding their way around Miller’s. Danny’s hands clutched at Miller’s ass as they rocked against each other, one finger sliding into the cleft, pushing lightly.
Miller stiffened up—not out of fear exactly, just overcome with the knowledge that this was one more place he was opening up to Danny, giving over another piece of himself to the man beneath him.
“Can I?” Danny whispered.
“Yes.” Miller hitched his body upward, giving Danny more room to explore.
Danny’s finger slid in smooth. It didn’t hurt, the way Miller expected it might. He felt pressure and stretching, but nothing that he would describe as pain.
Danny groaned, moving his finger slowly in and out. Miller curved his back, arching down to kiss Danny with a probing tongue, matching his movements to the thrusts of Danny’s finger.
Danny pulled back a little, looking at Miller as he pushed his hips up and his finger deep at the same moment, Danny’s question—Someday?—clear in his eyes, and Miller’s answer—Yes—clear in his own. He’d never in a million years thought he’d open his body for another man, but for Danny? Yes, he’d do that; he’d do anything.
Danny wrapped his legs over Miller’s shoulders as they made love, his head tipped back on the pillow as Miller thrust hard. It was the first time they’d done this face-to-face, and Miller growled through his pleasure, not wanting it to end too soon, wanting to savor every second, every expression gliding across Danny’s face, every sound he made, and the way his green eyes flew open wide as he came, allowing Miller to see all the way inside.
When it was over Miller slid out slowly, collapsing onto Danny’s body. “Why,” he panted into Danny’s neck, “why’s it so goddamn good?” He was surprised at how full his voice sounded, so close to overflowing its steady banks.
Danny stroked his hair, his lips warm against Miller’s cheek. “Because it’s us, Miller,” he whispered. “Because it’s us.”
DENIAL. MILLER recognized it easily enough, had seen it on the faces of countless suspects, their spouses and children, parents and friends. He’d seen it in the eyes of fellow agents when a jury shuffled back into the courtroom with a “not guilty” verdict, erasing years of work in an instant. And God knew he’d made its personal acquaintance, hiding behind his own mask for a lifetime. So he knew what he was feeling as he turned a slow circle in Danny’s empty apartment, furniture cleaned out, a few scraps of crumpled newspaper all that was left behind of Danny’s life.
“Did he….” Miller cleared his throat. “Did he say where he was going?”
The apartment manager shrugged, her manner bored and slightly put out. She’d hemmed and hawed about letting Miller inside until he’d told her he was with the FBI, which wasn’t technically true while on administrative leave. Given his larger transgressions, he didn’t think playing fast and loose with Danny’s landlady was going to get him in water any hotter than he was boiling in already. “I heard him say he had a long drive ahead of him, so I’m assuming outside the city. But more than that, I have no idea.”
Miller had called Danny every day since Danny had walked away and left him alone on the park bench. Fifteen calls, and the machine had picked up every time. Miller never left a message; he had no idea what to say to make it right again, didn’t know what words Danny needed to hear. Then yesterday when he’d called, a familiar electronic voice came o
ver the wire, telling Miller that Danny’s number had been disconnected or was no longer in service. Miller had wanted to travel through the telephone and strangle the voice speaking words he could not accept.
And now here he was in Danny’s apartment, finally getting off his ass and making a move, and it was too late because Danny was gone. Cleared out and vanished into the world. The ache settling under Miller’s ribs, sending its tentacles into his stomach and lungs, sprang not from the fact that he couldn’t find Danny. That could be accomplished easily enough. It was because Danny had gone without a word, leaving Miller without even a good-bye. And Miller understood suddenly that Danny’s “I love you” on the bench had been his farewell, a final good-bye present.
Miller felt a strange kind of nakedness, not knowing where Danny was or what he was doing. For so long he’d been aware of Danny’s every move—what he wore each day, who he saw, what he ate. And then Miller had gained even more intimate knowledge—how Danny tasted, how his skin felt, the way his face softened during sleep. And now it was all gone. Miller’s focus for so long had disappeared, had slipped through his fingers when he was looking the other way.
“Can I have a minute?” Miller asked.
“Sure,” the woman said. “I’m going back to my office.” She handed Miller the key. “Just lock up when you’re done and bring the key down.”
Miller walked slowly across the living room, the winter light filtering in through half-open blinds. Danny’s apartment was housed in an old mansion in the central part of the city, near the art museum. It was considered an up-and-coming neighborhood, charming with just a hint of leftover seediness. The apartment itself was large, lacking the high ceilings of Miller’s own place but made airy by the big windows and clean, white paint. Miller wandered into Danny’s bedroom and his bathroom just beyond. The medicine cabinet opened with a startled squawk of metal, Miller’s heart racing loudly in his ears in the following silence. The cabinet held only a roll of dental floss. Miller cupped it in his hand, slipping it into his pocket without knowing why.
He leaned his hands against the pedestal sink, head hanging low, and counted to ten, willing himself back to neutral. He didn’t know if he’d ever hurt this badly before or felt this diminished by loss. Danny had left, moved on, and maybe that was what Miller should do as well—forget about the life that had almost been his and try to be content with the life he’d had before Danny Butler had entered his world.
Miller tried to imagine instead living that new life Danny had shown him—walking through the world as a gay man, not pretending anymore, turning away from his career, loving a man who would probably never outrun his demons and whose face would always remind Miller of his own dark places. He let the fear wash over him, the strong urge to duck away from those truths surging through his blood. And then he thought of Danny. Stepped back from all the heaviness surrounding them both and just conjured up the man—the way he smiled and smelled, the way he laughed and let Miller be, never wanting anything more from him than who he really was. Danny, whose body made Miller forget the world and whose soul, even marked with shadows, made Miller believe in something beyond the stars. Danny… who had traded his life for Miller’s without a second thought.
You have to decide the man you want to be from here on out. How long ago had Danny said that to him? And he still hadn’t decided. Still had Rachel marooned out in no-man’s land, wondering what the hell had happened to her plans for the future. His career still poised on the brink, and he didn’t even know if it was worth pulling back. His own darkness hung over him like a guillotine, and time was running out for him to make peace with his choices.
Miller slammed the medicine cabinet hard, eyes like gunmetal in the mirror. They both had to clean up their lives; that’s what Danny had told him. Miller didn’t know if he had the strength to do that, to face Rachel and Colin with an open heart, to look without flinching at what had become of his life. But cleaning up his mess was the only gift he could give Danny, and he would do it with the hope that, wherever he was, Danny was doing the same.
“YOU PLANNED this, didn’t you?” Griff huffed as he staggered through the door with an armful of boxes.
“What are you talking about?”
“Planned this move for when your arm was still in a cast, just so you wouldn’t have to help with any of the heavy lifting, you fucker.”
Danny laughed, scooting boxes against the walls with his feet. “Is that it?”
“Yeah, that was the last load.”
“Well, sit down for a little bit; you’ve been working like a dog.”
“Nice of you to notice.” Griff glanced around the living room crowded with boxes. “Where?”
“Just push that shit off the sofa.”
Griff cleared a small space and flopped down on the sofa with a groan. “If you come across the cooler, pass me a beer.”
“I already put them in the fridge. The pizza guy was here while you were downstairs. It’s in the kitchen too.”
“I’ll get some in a minute,” Griff sighed. “Too tired right now.”
Danny cut through packing tape with his Swiss Army knife, kicking boxes through the doorway into the kitchen or down the short hall to his bedroom, where they belonged. This apartment was half the size of his old one and in a less-than-ideal area of Chicago, but at six hundred dollars a month it was the most he could afford.
“So, tell me more about this job,” Griff said when Danny returned to the living room. He handed Danny a beer and gestured toward the greasy pizza box he’d opened.
Danny shrugged, lowering himself to the floor at Griff’s feet. “I don’t know much. It’s at Legal Aid. Sort of a runner, I guess. Just helping them with whatever needs doing.”
Griff threw Danny a skeptical glance. “And they know your record?”
“Yeah. My probation officer was the one who told me about it. He recommended me for the job and they interviewed me over the phone. It was all pretty casual.”
“So you work for the whole office?”
“Yeah, but I have a primary attorney I help out. Jill Ward. She seemed nice enough when we talked. I think they’re desperate. The job doesn’t pay for shit. It’s part of a grant, some rehabilitation project”—Danny rolled his eyes—“trying to keep us ex-cons out of the pokey.”
“You’re going to starve,” Griff pointed out.
“I’ve got some money left. And I sold my bike. I’ll be okay.” Danny paused to stuff half a slice of pizza in his mouth. “What about you? What are you going to do in St. Louis? Live with your brother?”
“Yeah, Owen said he had room for me and could help me get a job.”
“Are you sure hanging around your brother is such a good idea?” Danny asked carefully. Owen Gentry made Griff look like a small-time crook, having spent more of his adult life in prison than out. It made Danny nervous to know Griff was going to be living with the man.
“Sure, I like St. Louis.” Griff grinned, knowing that wasn’t what Danny meant.
“Yeah, but you know Owen’s going to want you to get mixed up in—”
“Danny, stop worrying. I’m a big boy.”
“Okay,” Danny nodded. “Okay.”
“Besides, not all of us are meant for a life on the right side of the law.”
“Griff.” Danny shifted his position so he could get a better look at Griff’s face, wincing as he moved.
“You still hurting?” Griff asked, sliding off the couch to sit next to him.
“Nah, it’s nothing,” Danny said, waving him off. “Just sore.”
“You’ve got to take better care of yourself, man,” Griff said, his face inches from Danny’s. Danny saw the feeling in Griff’s eyes and wished—God, how he wished—that he could love this man. When Griff left, he would be alone with regret that was eating him from the inside out, with pain he was trying to stifle by keeping busy, by moving his body, moving his life, so that he wouldn’t have to face the empty spot where Miller used to stand.
“Stop,” Griff said, untangling himself, giving Danny a gentle shove. “Stop. I’m not him, Danny.”
Danny saw the conflict in Griff’s face, understood what it cost Griff to turn him away. “God, I’m sorry,” he choked out. “I’m sorry.”
Griff took a long swallow of beer, his eyes on the ceiling.
“How did you know?” Danny asked. “About Miller and me.” Even saying his name hurt, a direct hit to the heart.
“I suspected something when he came to interview me. He was jealous; it was written all over him. He could hardly stand to look at me. Then, when I talked to him that night at the hospital, I knew for sure. And your face, when I told you he’d been there….”
“I’m sorry,” Danny repeated. “That wasn’t fair to you.”
Griff blew out a short breath. “People can’t help what they feel, Danny. If they could, I would have been over you a long time ago.” He gave Danny a rueful smile. “What happened between you two?”
“It didn’t work out for us,” Danny said. “He deserved something more than being stuck with me and my shitty past for the rest of his life.”
“He didn’t seem too worried about your shitty past that night outside the hospital.”
Danny shook his head. “He did something for me, something that he’s not going to be able to live with.”
“Was he forced to do it?” Griff asked, confused.
“No.”
“Well then, it was a choice he made, wasn’t it? So that just means he loves you more than doing the right thing all the time.” The words looked like they hurt Griff as they left his lips, his eyes reading Danny’s face as easily as Danny had read his. “You’re always putting people up on a pedestal, Danny, people who have more education or better jobs. Shit, don’t you ever watch the news? Seems like every day some big-shot head of a company is going to prison because he fucked over his employees and they lost their life savings. Everybody’s got a dark side. It’s nothing that wasn’t already there in Miller.”