Change of Address

by Jordan S. Brock

  “Uh-huh. See if I take you on a date to the town museum.” Josh rolled his eyes, nudging Michael’s foot.

  And that was a perfect opening for Michael to suggest going back to his place tonight. He’d spent last night a wreck, curled up with Kaylee, barely daring to sleep for fear of nightmares. Even if sex wasn’t on the table—or in the bed, as it were—he wanted the intimacy of having Josh close, of falling asleep to the sound of Josh’s breathing, of waking to his smile.

  But before he could get up the courage, Josh spoke again, asking, “What happened yesterday?”

  Michael sighed, looking down at their hands. Josh’s presence had him so relaxed that Kaylee didn’t respond to the faint spike of anxiety that shot through him. “Everything went wrong from the start,” he said quietly. “They tried to say I couldn’t bring in Kaylee. They said she wasn’t a real service dog because she’s not a golden retriever or Labrador, and wanted to see her certification. They didn’t, um, believe me when”—he took a deep breath, trying to corral his racing thoughts, to find the right words—“when I said there’s no such thing.”

  Josh hadn’t stopped his soothing massage. “But you got in eventually?” he prompted.

  Michael nodded. “A volunteer saw what was happening and got someone who was in charge. Someone who knew better.” He shifted to the edge of the chair, focused on watching Josh’s fingers move. “Then it was just paperwork. Trying to get a local doctor and dentist, updating my contact information, getting authorization for local specialists . . .”

  “Specialists?” Josh asked worriedly.

  Michael darted a quick look at Josh, who was frowning. “Someone for, you know, PTSD. A physical therapist. A—” He stopped as the word slipped right out of his grasp. It started with an n, but all that came to mind was necromancer, and he knew that wasn’t right. “A brain doctor. Nerves. Nerve-ologist.”

  “Neurologist?”

  Frustrated with himself, Michael nodded. “Yeah. That.”

  Josh’s hand went still, and there was tension in his voice as he asked, “Is there something . . . wrong?”

  Michael shook his head, then shrugged. “Maybe. I mean, probably not. I’m still getting migraines, and they want to make sure it’s not from . . .” He gestured at the scar under his bangs.

  Josh’s eyes tracked up, and he touched Michael’s face with his free hand. “I hate even thinking about it,” he admitted quietly.

  “If it hadn’t happened, I wouldn’t be here. I never would’ve left the Air Force.”

  “Yeah, but you wouldn’t have been hurt,” Josh protested.

  Michael turned, pressing a kiss into Josh’s palm. “I wouldn’t have met you.”

  “I’m not worth getting”—Josh hesitated for a heartbeat—“shot.”

  “But you’re here, and I’m here with you,” Michael said, leaning closer. Even in this public setting, he felt safe with Josh, as if the world outside didn’t matter. There were people chatting, laughing, eating dessert, and taking selfies, and not one of them mattered to Michael. Only Josh did. “This is exactly where I want to be. With you.”

  It was Josh’s turn to look down, color rising in his cheeks. “You know, yesterday, with your text . . . I thought that was you breaking it off. I mean, this. Between us.”

  “No. God, no,” Michael insisted when he caught his breath. “Josh . . . All I wanted was to come home to you, but I couldn’t drive. I couldn’t talk to call you.”

  But he’d tried. He’d tried so hard, but he hadn’t been able to make the words come, not even to talk to Kaylee. Hell, he’d had to use his phone to write out his order at the fast food place last night, which had confused the hell out of the drive-through clerks.

  “Maybe next time,” Josh said softly, “I can come with you to start?”

  Yes, Michael thought, though he said, “No. Josh, you don’t—”

  “Don’t say ‘have to,’” Josh warned with a gentle smile. “I want to. I may not be good with paperwork, but I’m pretty damn stubborn, especially with anyone trying to give you shit.”

  Michael knew he should refuse. Stand his ground. He was a grown man, one who’d once navigated the convoluted, shadowy world of government paperwork and the subtle currency of debts and favors. Just because stress stole his ability to speak in coherent sentences didn’t mean he needed a babysitter.

  But that wasn’t what Josh was offering.

  Choosing his words with exquisite care, Michael asked, “Is it too soon to tell you how much you mean to me?”

  Josh’s eyes widened a touch, and his lips parted. Slowly, he smiled, and he freed his other hand to cup Michael’s face in his palms, his touch light as a feather. “Only if it’s too soon for me to say the same thing.”

  With a soft laugh, Michael leaned in, allowing Josh to guide him, to pull him forward, into a deep, heartfelt kiss that said everything they had left unspoken. For now.

  The library hovered on the border between outdated and antiquated, which explained the air of desperation hanging over the fund-raiser. The multimedia lab had two blocky computers, old CRT monitors, and a notice hanging nearby warning patrons that wi-fi was down. One corner of the reference area had suspicious stains on the ceiling and wall. And Josh’s brief tour ended near the restrooms, next to a water fountain with an Out of Order sign, well away from the gathering. Michael would’ve welcomed the private, quiet moment if not for the odd odor filling the hallway.

  He pushed it out of his mind—and lungs—and pulled Josh into his arms. “So, do you have to open the store tomorrow?”

  Josh gave a theatrical sigh. “Three more days, yeah. I swear, when Dad comes home, I’m going to sleep for twelve hours straight. I’m not getting out of bed until noon.”

  God, that was tempting. Michael slid his hands down Josh’s back until he could hook his fingers into Josh’s belt. “Want some help with that?”

  The way Josh’s eyebrows shot up would’ve had Michael backpedaling if not for Josh’s encouraging blush. “I think . . .” He smiled, resting his hands on Michael’s hips. “I think I’d like that. It’d have to be at your place, though. You know. Avoid the weirdness.”

  “Your dad’s got to have figured out we’re dating,” Michael pointed out. “How many times have I driven you home at night?”

  “Oh, not that weirdness.” Josh dismissed it with a shrug. “The weirdness of him calling Dee to open the shop instead so he can make you breakfast and interrogate you about kids and converting to Judaism.”

  Michael choked back a laugh. “Yeah, let’s build up to that,” he said, pulling Josh closer for a kiss. “Maybe we could start tonight?”

  Josh inhaled, eyes widening a bit. But then he shook his head, face falling, and insisted, “You need to sleep.”

  It was Michael’s turn to shrug. “I don’t have to sleep alone, though, do I?” he asked, just as Kaylee tugged on the leash wrapped around his wrist. He took a step back, glancing past Josh as a tall, familiar black woman entered the hallway. In her jeans and T-shirt, she looked like a model trying to go incognito. Her smile was so friendly that Michael gestured Kaylee back, stopping her move to intervene.

  “Hello, Josh,” she said, and her British accent triggered Michael’s memory. This was Dr. Miller, wife of the other Dr. Miller.

  “Hey, Doc.” Josh turned but didn’t let go, ending up with his arm around Michael’s waist. Kaylee’s head was trapped between them, but she didn’t seem to mind.

  Dr. Miller smiled, eyes sparkling as she darted a glance Michael’s way.

  Josh took the hint. “Oh. Uh, Dr. Miller, this is Michael Baldwin.” He turned to Michael, adding, “She’s on the town board.”

  Dr. Miller extended her hand to Michael, saying, “Please, call me Sharon.”

  He shook her hand with a genuine smile. “It’s nice to meet you. Your wife recommended the town veterinarian for Kaylee here.”

  “She’s lovely.” Dr. Miller smiled down at Kaylee, but she didn’t try to pet her. “Baldw
in . . . Are you by chance related to Governor Baldwin?”

  Michael felt Josh stiffen, and his own throat closed up. He had a horrible vision of Dr. Miller trying to pull him into local politics because of his connections. She was a politician. Just because she seemed nice didn’t mean she was. Hell, in Michael’s experience, the nicer the politician, the more dangerous they were.

  But she was waiting for an answer, and Michael couldn’t think of any way out, other than honesty. “He’s—” It came out a raspy croak, and he paused to gather his wits, conscious of how Josh’s expression had turned into a concerned frown. “Yes. He’s my father.”

  Dr. Miller nodded, and Michael braced for the realization that she’d stumbled upon a political prize. But instead of seizing the moment, she looked back down at Kaylee and asked, “Have any of our businesses challenged your right to bring her in?”

  Michael had been holding his breath; it came out in a rush of relief. “No.” He gave Josh a squeeze and added, “Your wife said to let her know if I had problems with that.”

  “Once again, she’s confused ‘surgeon’ with ‘elected official.’ But her heart’s in the right place. Only a few years ago, the town wasn’t in compliance with accessibility laws. We still have a ways to go.” She looked back up at Michael. “If you do have any difficulty, stop by my office.”

  “I’m, uh . . .” Michael took his arm from around Josh’s body and leaned down to unzip the center pouch on Kaylee’s vest. Bending over made him dizzy, though, and he caught himself against the water fountain, which creaked and wobbled ominously. Was the entire library falling apart around him? He took out an ADA reference card and offered it to Dr. Miller. “This covers federal statutes in the Americans with Disabilities Act. We’re supposed to call the police if we’re challenged.”

  Dr. Miller flipped the card, skimming both sides, and nodded. “This is very useful. May I keep this? I’d like to show it to our police chief to ensure all of our officers are properly aware.”

  Oh. Michael smiled and nodded, wrapping his arm around Josh again, both for comfort and for balance. “Sure. The phone number at the bottom is my training school in DC. You can call them if you have questions or anything. I think they offer classes for businesses too.”

  “Thank you.” She slid the business card into her back pocket and told Josh, “Lunch was delightful, as always.”

  Josh grinned proudly. “Two-bagel day,” he said, which made her laugh.

  “My wife will be jealous,” she answered slyly. “A pleasure to meet you, Michael.”

  “You too.” Michael shook her hand, then watched her walk off into the ladies’ room without another word about his father. Not that he was out of the woods yet. He turned to Josh, braced for a confrontation all over again, but Josh was looking at the water fountain.

  “Uh . . . We might want to move,” Josh said, pulling Michael away from that side of the hall.

  “What? Why?”

  “There are mushrooms growing down there.”

  Michael ducked his head so he could see the water pipe under the fountain. Sure enough, tiny white mushrooms had sprouted right out of the wall. “Okay, that’s it,” he said, taking hold of Josh’s hand.

  “What’s ‘it’?”

  Michael headed for the reference desk. “This library isn’t just in need of donations. It’s a health hazard.”

  “We had a really wet spring,” Josh said, as if that were an excuse. “You’re not going to volunteer, are you? Do you even know plumbing?”

  “Not even close. But I can donate.” Michael stopped on the far side of the reference desk from the librarian who was wrangling the forms and turned to Josh. “You didn’t answer me about tonight,” he said a little nervously. It was one thing to date a random tourist-turned-townie; it was something else entirely to date the governor’s son.

  Josh nodded thoughtfully, biting his bottom lip. “Okay. But I’ve got to clean up and drop the truck back at the shop. And I should make sure things are going okay there.”

  Relieved, Michael said, “I can follow you back there, then drive you to my place. Maybe we’ll stop and pick up a pizza or something?”

  With a sly smile, Josh asked, “This isn’t your way of trying to get me to cook a private dinner for you?”

  Michael laughed. “I was thinking breakfast.”

  “I’ll grab some bagels, then. And oh! In the chaos this morning, I completely forgot.” Josh’s smile turned bright and hopeful. “I’ve got some prototype dog treats for Kaylee to try. You did say she’d help me perfect the recipe, right?”

  “Absolutely.” Michael squeezed Josh’s hand, then got moving again, heading right for the librarian.

  Tonight. Josh had no idea what would happen tonight—if Michael was awake enough for anything more than kissing and cuddling and an early bedtime—but they were going to spend tonight together. They’d wake up together tomorrow morning. And it had been Michael’s idea.

  Josh threw some assorted bagels into a bag and picked up the box of dog bagels he’d stashed under the register in the misguided hope he’d remember to give them to Michael.

  “You’re sure you’re okay with closing tonight and opening tomorrow?” he asked Dee.

  She looked past Josh to the front window, where Michael’s SUV was visible. “When’s the last time you went on a real, honest-to-God date?”

  Josh groaned and checked the bag, wondering if he’d picked the right types of bagels. Eventually Michael would get sick of the two extremes—plain and everything—wouldn’t he? “I’ve been dating, even if half those dates have been— Aha! Laptop.” He dropped the bag on the counter pass-through and headed for the office.

  She followed him into the kitchen, scolding, “I’m not talking about you two hunched over a laptop at the diner. I mean a real date.” A wicked gleam came into her eyes as she added, “You know. A slumber-party date.”

  Josh couldn’t outrun her. He went into the office and snatched up his backpack. “You did not—”

  Dee laughed and leaned against the office door. “Your dad called to check on the catering order, make sure everything was okay. And he said that if you felt like taking advantage of having the house to yourself, you should.” As soon as he had the backpack in hand, she took hold of his arm and tugged him out of the office.

  Dad’s just trying to help, Josh reminded himself. It could be worse. Dad had never been anything less than a hundred percent supportive of Josh’s bisexuality. He’d never once hinted at “date guys, but marry a girl,” despite how much he wanted grandchildren. But that didn’t make it any easier for Josh to put up with Dad’s incessant matchmaking—especially not if Dad was now dragging outsiders into it.

  Caught up in his thoughts, he let Dee steer him through the kitchen to the counter pass-through, where he picked up the bagels. He slung the pack over his shoulder, feeling the weight of the laptop. Should he leave it behind? Dee was right. After too many working dates, it was time for Michael and him to focus on each other, just like that night in Portsmouth. Their first real date. Their first kiss.

  But Michael seemed genuinely interested in helping Josh with the business plan. There was a definite appeal to working on it at a cozy kitchen table over breakfast. And then going right back to bed for the rest of a warm, lazy morning.

  Yes. Practically bouncing on his toes, he headed for the door, saying, “Call if you—”

  “If I need anything. Yeah, yeah,” Dee said, shepherding him out. “Don’t forget condoms.”

  He almost tripped, he turned so quickly—just in time for her to shut the door in his face, which was becoming a habit. He was tempted to go back in and have a talk with her, but the greater temptation was just a few feet away, so he surrendered with grace. He didn’t run around the front of the SUV, but he did jog, and seconds later, he was in the passenger seat, leaning over for a kiss from Michael and a friendly nudge from Kaylee.

  As the kiss ended, Josh murmured, “So, uh . . . Tonight, are we . . .?”


  Michael drew back enough to meet Josh’s eyes. After a heartbeat, he asked, “Do you want to?”

  Yes. Josh swallowed the word and tried to go for casual and cool instead. “If you want. I mean, you’re probably still tired.”

  “Not that tired.” Michael pressed his fingers against Josh’s nape, pulling him into another kiss that sent tingles of anticipation through Josh’s whole body.

  By the time Josh pulled away, he was dizzy with desire. “We should—” He stole another kiss, this one fast and light. “Condoms. You know.”

  “I have, at home.”

  They were doing this. They were really doing this. Josh dropped the backpack between his feet and fumbled to put on his seat belt. As Michael pulled away from the curb into a U-turn, heading for the pizza place, Josh scrambled to come up with something to discuss other than sex. The backpack shifted, reminding him of the laptop. “Lizzie emailed me—” he said, just as Michael said, “About tonight—”

  Josh’s heart gave a lurch. Was Michael changing his mind already? Or was this where Michael confessed to something like an STI?

  “Sorry, go ahead,” Michael said, flashing Josh a quick, faint smile.

  Josh shook his head and swallowed. “No, you go.”

  No longer smiling, Michael glanced over at Josh, then looked resolutely at the road ahead. “I, uh, have issues with my balance. Sometimes it’s okay, but sometimes . . . there are things I can’t do.”

  Josh hadn’t anticipated this sort of health concern. He opened his mouth to ask if Michael was all right, but the answer was obvious. No. He wasn’t. Instead, after a moment’s consideration, Josh asked, “What kind of things?”

  Michael shrugged, hands tight on the steering wheel. “I can’t stand up if things are too”—he let go of the wheel and waved his hand— “intense. I can’t be on top for more than a few minutes.”

  He fell silent. Josh waited for the other shoe to drop . . . but Michael remained silent. Finally, a little puzzled, Josh said, “Okay.”