Change of Address

by Jordan S. Brock

  “Evening,” she said cheerfully. “Are you ready to order, or do you need a few minutes?”

  Josh froze, glancing at the menu. Michael had made it clear he wasn’t worried about the prices, but still . . .

  “What do you say?” Michael asked while Josh was wavering. “Want to split the crab and lobster?”

  There was no way Josh could resist Michael’s hopeful expression. Smiling, he relented. “Sounds great.”

  “Crab legs and the lobster,” Michael told the waitress, eyes bright.

  The server nodded, grinning. “What sides did you want?”

  After glancing at Josh, who shrugged, Michael said, “Surprise us. Everything’s good here, right?”

  “That it is . . . Are you a regular?” she asked, head tipped to one side as she studied Michael. “I don’t recognize you—or your dog there.” She ducked a bit to look at Kaylee.

  Michael nodded. “I was, over ten years ago.”

  “Ah, got it.” She picked up the menus. “I’ll get your food right out to you. If you need anything, just give a yell,” she said before bustling away.

  Once they were alone again, Michael glanced down at their clasped hands and asked, “I guess you’re out?”

  “Yeah. Dad was disappointed for about thirty seconds. Not that I’m bi—just, he wants grandkids.” He grinned. “It took him that long to remember I’m adopted. Now it’s like he’s got twice as many people to try and set me up with.”

  Michael laughed, fingers curling around Josh’s. “At least he’s okay with it.”

  Aha. Either Michael’s family didn’t know or they weren’t okay with him being gay or bi or whatever. Poor guy. Trying to keep his voice casual, Josh asked, “How about your family? Do they know?”

  Michael’s fingers twitched. “No. Well, my sister does. And, uh . . . I guess there are people down in DC who know. While I was in therapy—before I could take Kaylee out—I, uh, went to a lot of nightclubs. Gay nightclubs.”

  There was an odd significance to how he said that, as if he felt guilty, but Josh couldn’t imagine why. “Was it not . . . fun?” he finally asked.

  Michael groaned quietly and leaned back in his chair without letting go of Josh’s hand. Under the table, Kaylee’s collar tags rattled. “It was . . . I went a lot. Three or four times a week for a few months.”

  Josh couldn’t keep from raising his eyebrows. He wasn’t exactly one to judge a person’s social life, but that sounded excessive.

  “It was a bad coping mechanism.” Michael sighed. “A really bad coping mechanism. I mean, I was always safe, but . . . I couldn’t tell you any of their names.”

  Oh. Oh. Josh glanced out at the river, hoping the firelight wouldn’t show how his face had surely gone red. “That’s—”

  “It’s not—” Michael said at the same time. When Josh nodded, he said, “It’s not something I do anymore. I was . . . right out of the hospital, and Kaylee was still in training, too green to come out with me, so it was that or just . . . sit at home, all the time. But that’s not what I want. Going to nightclubs and . . . you know. Not, um, anymore.”

  Maybe Josh hadn’t had the most exciting sex life to date, but he understood. Michael must have been alone in DC, with all of his military friends back wherever he’d been deployed. Fresh out of the hospital, barely off death’s doorstep, without even the dog who’d become what Josh suspected was his only friend . . . Josh couldn’t blame him for looking for any distraction, any scrap of affection or connection, even from strangers.

  Josh gave Michael’s hand a reassuring squeeze and quietly asked, “So what do you want?”

  “Someone who understands me. Someone who wants to be with me.” It came out quickly enough that Josh knew Michael had thought about it. A lot, in fact, considering he didn’t hesitate or stumble over his words.

  “Then can I ask you something?”

  Michael shot Josh a nervous glance. “Sure.”

  “What you said, about me not understanding what you might say, if something”—he couldn’t remember the technical term—“upsets you . . .”

  Michael’s shoulders eased a bit, as if he’d expected a more difficult question. “It’s called anomic aphasia. Sometimes I use the wrong word, but I don’t know it. What comes out might be something similar in meaning or sound, or the complete opposite of what I meant to say.”

  It sounded like a rehearsed answer, but considering the potential for misunderstanding, Josh understood why he would’ve memorized it. And it explained some of the strange things Michael had said, especially when flustered.

  So Josh smiled reassuringly and rubbed his thumb against Michael’s hand. “I’ve done pretty well understanding you so far, right?”

  Michael’s lips parted, and he looked shyly down with a quick little nod. “Yeah. I guess you have.”

  Between Kaylee’s leash, the keys to the SUV, and the to-go box of fries and steamed vegetables, Michael had his hands full, but Josh stuck close to his side anyway, close enough that their shoulders bumped with every step. He only moved away when they reached the door, so he could hold it open for Michael.

  “Go through,” Michael told Kaylee, smiling at Josh. “Thanks.”

  “No, thank you.” Josh followed them out and took his place next to Michael again, as if he belonged there. “That was fantastic.”

  “Better than I remembered.” Michael twitched the to-go box and offered, “You’re sure you don’t want this?”

  Josh shook his head and patted his stomach. “I can’t eat another bite. And Kaylee deserves a treat, doesn’t she?”

  Michael grinned, warmed by the affection Josh had for Kaylee. She’d been Michael’s whole world for so long, he couldn’t imagine being with someone who didn’t like her. “Yeah. Here,” he said, drawing Kaylee and Josh off to the side of the walkway so he could put down the box for Kaylee. She was too well-behaved to nose at it. “I don’t like feeding her in the car. Sometimes food ends up under the seats. Take it,” he told her, opening the lid.

  As Kaylee dove into the food, Josh took hold of Michael’s free hand. “I’m really amazed at how good she is. The way she didn’t even flinch when I dropped my fork on her . . . Any other dog would’ve freaked.”

  Michael tried not to laugh, but it was a losing battle. “You stabbed a crab shell.”

  Josh snorted and looked away, failing to hide his smile. “I’ve never had crab in a restaurant before. Just the beachside shack. Place like this, I figured I’d need proper table manners.”

  Without looking away from Kaylee, Michael turned his hand so he could lace their fingers together. “She’s a rock. Without her, I don’t think I’d be here.”

  Josh’s hand tightened. “Good girl,” he said quietly.

  Kaylee finished her treat, but Michael let her lick the Styrofoam container all the way to the edge of the walkway, where it got caught against a bush. He picked it up with his free hand, and when he stood up, he glanced at the night sky. The light pollution here was almost nonexistent compared to DC, which made for great stargazing but ominously dark roads.

  He walked toward the trash can by the parking lot and threw away the to-go box, assessing his current state of mind. The date had gone better than he’d imagined, so far. He was relaxed and calm, completely in control of himself. Safe.

  But as he headed for the car, unlocking it with a press of the key fob, he frowned up at the sky again. It was dark, and he hadn’t driven these roads for a decade, and he wasn’t alone in the SUV. He had Kaylee to worry about. He had Josh to worry about.

  “So, uh . . . The ambush. The shooting, I mean. When I got shot.” Usually, he didn’t know when he was misusing his words, but he couldn’t even put his thoughts together coherently. He took a deep breath and glanced at Josh, who was just watching him, patient, not trying to fill in the words. That helped Michael say, more steadily, “It happened in a heavy dust storm, in the desert. Sometimes, when it’s dark . . . I don’t like driving.”

  Jos
h nodded, still holding on to Michael’s hand. “Want me to drive home, or are you okay?”

  Relief stole Michael’s breath. “You’re—” He shook his head. “You don’t . . . You don’t think that’s weird?”

  “You were shot,” Josh said quietly. When had he stepped closer? Michael could almost feel the warmth of his body. “I’d think it was weird if you weren’t . . .” He waved a hand.

  “All fucked up?” Michael suggested wryly.

  Josh laughed. “You said it, not me. But yeah. You were shot and in a coma and in the hospital for ages, but you’re here now. You made it.”

  Michael’s laugh was a bit hysterical. He hung his keys over one finger so he could run his hand up Josh’s arm. And when Josh closed the distance between them, it was as natural as breathing for Michael to pull him into a hug.

  “Do you want me to drive?” Josh asked, barely above a whisper, breath hot against Michael’s shoulder.

  “I’m okay.” If Michael was reading the signs right, this would be the perfect time to kiss Josh, but . . . what if he was wrong? Josh wasn’t one of Michael’s one-night stands. And after telling Josh about that period of idiocy . . . No. He’d let Josh make the first move. Or, well, second move, if holding hands now counted as the first.

  “Okay.” Josh rubbed the small of Michael’s back, then stepped away, putting an inch of space between their bodies. It was an inch too much. “If you change your mind, let me know. I drive the delivery truck for catering gigs, so I won’t run over any trees or anything.”

  Michael laughed and pressed the keys into Josh’s hand just for the excuse to touch him. “Then you drive.”

  Josh took the keys but also caught Michael’s fingers, holding him in place. “You’ll be okay if you’re not driving?”

  Michael let out a breath and looked down at Kaylee. “The thing is . . . if I see something—something innocent and normal, like tree branches in the wind or a piece of paper on the side of the road—sometimes it . . . it doesn’t look so normal. During the day or when it’s bright out, like in DC, it’s fine. I just— That’s why I didn’t drive up here. I took the train.”

  He met Josh’s eyes, expecting a look of calm understanding, but Josh was frowning in confusion. “Something Innsmouth?” Josh asked.

  Shit. Michael fumbled for the right word. He’d thought he knew what he said, but now it wasn’t coming to him at all. “Something . . . not harmful. Not guilty.”

  “Innocent?”

  Michael nodded, jaw clenched, though he was angry at himself, not at the smooth way Josh had guessed such a common word. “Yeah. It’s safer if you drive,” he said in a rush, hoping Josh wouldn’t say anything more about the momentary slip.

  “Okay.” Instead of pulling away, Josh laced their fingers together again. “But, uh, it might be a little weird if I brought you home with me. I don’t know if I told you, but I still live with my dad.”

  Was that a hint for Michael to invite Josh back to the barn? It was damned tempting, but the thought blurred the boundary between his life in DC and his new life here. Josh wasn’t a quick, easy fuck, and while Michael wanted him, the waiting—the anticipation—was a new pleasure he wanted to savor.

  “That’s all right,” he said, rubbing his thumb against the back of Josh’s hand. “I, uh . . .”

  “It’s not that I’ve never brought someone home,” Josh said quickly. “It’s just, Dad will want to talk. Ask questions about dinner and stuff. I haven’t dated anyone for a while, and he’s kind of a pain in the ass about it.”

  Michael laughed. “Keeping away from your dad. Got it.” Conscious that they’d been standing in the parking lot for what felt like ages, he stepped back and went for the passenger side of the SUV.

  Instead of circling around to the driver’s side, Josh followed. “Hey, Michael?”

  Michael opened the back door for Kaylee. “Yeah?”

  “Can I just—” Josh reached out, sliding his hand around to the nape of Michael’s neck. Shivers raced down Michael’s spine, and he opened his mouth, only to have Josh press in close, stealing his breath and thoughts. Josh’s lips were soft and hot, and though the kiss was brief, it left Michael dazed.

  “Uh,” he managed. And then, “Yeah.”

  That earned him another kiss, this one a quick brush of lips and a huff of laughter. “Sorry,” Josh whispered, just an inch away. “The parking lot isn’t exactly romantic, but if we did that at my house . . .”

  Michael grinned. “Your dad?”

  “Mm-hmm.” Josh grinned back at him. “With my luck, he’d take pictures and send them to my aunt as proof I’m finally in a relationship.”

  Michael blinked. “You’re not serious.”

  Josh’s laugh was a little bit ominous. “If you stick around, you’ll see. Never underestimate an aunt from Brooklyn when it comes to her unmarried nephew.”

  “Consider me warned,” Michael said. Then he leaned in and gave Josh another kiss, reveling in the knowledge that he could.

  The next day, Josh practically danced through the lunch rush at Bagel End, lips still warm from the memory of that last quick kiss, soft as a falling leaf. When he’d parked outside his house, and he and Michael got out of the SUV, he’d considered trying for another kiss, but no. He hadn’t wanted to ruin the memory with a kiss that would’ve been full of self-consciousness and the awkward suspicion that his dad was probably watching through an upstairs window.

  Not that he was exempt from all teasing. Dee’s shift started at the same time as Josh’s, and he endured all of ten minutes of “Well?” and “How’d it go?” and “When’s the next date?” before he retreated to the kitchen to check on the soup for a catering order, only emerging when the front of the shop was packed and nobody had time for idle chatter.

  He lost himself so completely in the chaos of greeting customers and taking orders that he didn’t recognize Lizzie at first. “Welcome to Bagel End! Can I take your order?” he asked her.

  She tipped her head and gave him a knowing smile. “Hey, Josh.”

  “Hey.” He blinked, then sheepishly smiled back. Was he so caught up in last night’s kiss that he’d forgotten about his ex-girlfriend-turned-accountant? Apparently. “Oh, hey. Is it one thirty already?”

  “In about two minutes, yes. I’ll just wait for you?” she offered, glancing around at the barely thinning crowd. “Want me to wait in back, or did you want to go somewhere else?”

  “Uh . . .” Josh hadn’t thought their meeting through. He was used to going over the shop’s monthly accounts, which involved little more than plugging numbers into spreadsheets. That, he could tolerate while surrounded by the staff. This was the business plan meeting, though—as in, the business plan he hadn’t begun to write.

  Before he could think of an answer, Dee bumped into his side, grinning like a fiend, eyeing Lizzie. “Another hot date? You go, Josh! You’re on a roll.”

  Anger flared, hot and sudden. Teasing was one thing, but this—as if he’d go out with someone else the night after his date with Michael, and Dee saying it in front of his ex-girlfriend from a million years ago . . . “Take over,” he snapped at Dee, dropping the order pad and pencil on the counter for her. “Lizzie, let’s . . . I’ll meet you outside.”

  “Sure.” Lizzie gave him a curious look, then headed for the door.

  Josh wrestled out of his apron, ignoring Dee’s concerned frown. He dropped the apron in the back, then rushed out front without looking at anyone behind the counter—not Dee and especially not his dad, who was too sharp-eared to have missed how Josh had snapped.

  Outside, the air was thick with humidity and the threat of rain. Josh sighed and told Lizzie, “Sorry about that. Dee’s a little . . .”

  “Jealous?”

  Josh blinked at Lizzie. Flaky, maybe, or overenthusiastic. But jealous? “What?”

  Lizzie shrugged and gave Josh a nudge to start him walking toward the corner. “What, what? You’re a great catch.”

  “I— We�
��” Josh stammered, face going hot. He glanced away under the pretext of checking traffic. There was no way in hell that Lizzie was hitting on him. Not two years ago, not six months ago, and certainly not now, the day after a fantastic date with Michael.

  “No, not ‘we.’ We were awful together,” she said, rolling her eyes. “But that doesn’t mean that I can’t see you objectively as someone who’d be a fantastic boyfriend-husband-whatever. I’m an accountant. I’m professionally objective. Diner?”

  “Yeah.” Josh snorted and nodded, turning to cross the street. “And thanks. I think.”

  Lizzie shrugged her laptop bag higher onto her shoulder and threw an arm around Josh’s waist, giving him a quick hug. “So who is she? Or he? Anyone I know?”

  “He, and no.” Josh knew his smile was a bit goofy, but he couldn’t hide it. “Former tourist turned townie, after being away for like ten years.”

  “Former tourist?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “You sure he’s good enough for you?”

  Josh laughed, knots in his chest finally easing. “He’s great. And Dee’s a pain-in-the-ass gossip.”

  “She’s a shift manager. Number three in command, after you and your dad.”

  “Yeah, that too,” Josh admitted as they started across the green. “Still a pain in the ass.”

  “Are you just saying that because your dad—”

  Josh smiled wryly at her. “Hasn’t changed? Yeah. If Michael and I go out on two more dates, Dad will be picking china patterns and booking a hall.”

  “Michael, huh? Is he Jewish?”

  “No, but Dad seems to like him anyway.” Josh rubbed the back of his neck, trying to ease the tension building up again. “Not that they’re ever going to talk to each other without me there to supervise.”

  Lizzie let go of his waist. “Be nice. Your dad’s awesome.”

  “Yeah, uh . . . speaking of,” Josh began, eyes fixed on the diner. He couldn’t help but scan the parking lot for Michael’s SUV, but there was no sign of it. “You’ve gone through a lot of our papers. Have you ever seen Dad’s business plan from when Bagel End opened?”