by Peter Styles
But that didn’t mean Jeremiah was entirely innocent in this. “You could have told me. Ages ago.”
“I didn’t understand,” Jeremiah admitted.
And that was good enough. How would any man be expected to understand what was going on if he didn’t know any better? And that was a two-way street. Jeremiah hadn’t known any better about Markus, and Chris hadn’t known any better about Jeremiah. If he had, he might have understood better why the other man always seemed so surprised to be treated so gently. Of course, Jeremiah had said no one ever treated him like that but Chris assumed that meant there was no one steady in his life before, not that he had been emotionally neglected for…
“How many years did you date Markus?”
“Three.”
Three god-awful years of briskness and silence, being constantly pushed to the side and humiliated—for Chris knew now that the silver glitter suit was Markus’s idea. Three years of low-grade hell.
Damn.
“I really do have feelings for you, Chris. I really do. I meant what I said before.”
Chris set his hands on the other man’s shoulders, holding him at arm’s length. “I know you did,” he said, gently. “I understand. But the thing is, I realize now there’s a whole lot you don’t have experience with.”
Jeremiah waited, not understanding. His eyes were frightened. Chris sighed and released his grip. “I’ll explain but not right now.”
“Why are you in the hospital?” Jeremiah finally asked, after a silence that dragged out for almost two full minutes.
Chris opened his mouth to explain, and then figured that could come out with the rest later on. They would be done with it in one fell swoop. “I guess this is my secret. My secret to everything. You’ll finally get to know, won’t you?”
“You said you didn’t really have any business secrets.”
Chris shrugged. “I guess we all hide the truth sometimes.”
Jeremiah flinched. Chris didn’t apologize. He had forgiven him but he didn’t know how he felt in regards to anything else. Only time would tell how that sorted itself out, and he had a feeling he was going to have an awful lot of time to think in the next couple of days.
Just then, a door near the waiting room opened and a matronly nurse poked her head out. “Mr. Chris Finley?” she grunted.
Chis looked over at the other man. His lover. Ex-lover. He didn’t know. “I’ll text you when,” was all he said. Then, he turned his back on Jeremiah and walked through the door after the nurse.
She led him down a series of short, tight hallways to a long room full of beds. The beds were screened off from each other to allow for a modicum of privacy. During busy hours, Chris suspected those screens provided even less privacy than they already seemed to; now, with all but one or two empty of occupants, he was struck with a feeling like that of an office after hours, cubicles abandoned.
The nurse led him to one in particular, though he could have easily found the way on his own.
“Hi, Dad.”
There was no response, only a steady rattle of old lungs being force-fed by a breathing tube. The nurse left him there without a word, and Chris sank down into the visitor’s chair to wait for the old man to open his eyes… if he would.
Chapter 17
Jeremiah sat on Chris’s couch with his hands dangling down between his knees, waiting for the other to speak. But of course they couldn’t simply get right down to talking. That was too much like simple business, and nothing was ever simple for Chris.
Jeremiah still ached from being invited into the house like he was nothing more than a guest; a passing acquaintance. Chris had offered him a seat and then moved off to the kitchen to make tea for the both of them as a proper host would.
He returned, carrying two steaming mugs. “Here,” he said briskly, and offered one over.
Taking it, Jeremiah pressed his palms around the source of heat and tried to guide it into his chilled body. He waited for something to be ignited in his cold, numb chest, but nothing was.
Chris perched on the chair nearby and sipped at his cup of tea, steam curling around his face. His eyes were closed, lashes dark against the background of paler strands of hair tumbling from his forehead. He looked like a man who feels dirty and wishes nothing more than to spend an hour, thoughtless, in the shower. Having done just that, Jeremiah knew the cleansing power of such an experience. He scrubbed and scrubbed at the dirt and sweat coating his skin and emerged a slithering pink thing. Refreshed and reborn, he was only tired. Tired and accepting of what might be coming to him for what he’d done.
“You know, I hated tea when I was a kid.”
Jeremiah started, hot liquid sloshing up over the rim of the cup and onto his hand. However, the tea wasn’t technically hot anymore. In fact, it was very lukewarm. How long had they sat there in silence, both waiting for the other to speak?
“You did?” Jeremiah asked, prompting Chris to continue. He thought it was pretty self-explanatory. Depending on how it was prepared, he could see a normal kid disliking tea.
“Yeah.” Chris took another sip. “See, my mom always made tea whenever there was a problem. If she was feeling down, or if I had a bad day. I guess it was good tea. It’s what I’m drinking right now actually, but when I was a kid it tasted like nightmares and unhappiness. I hated the kettle, mugs… Anything associated with tea.
“And then she was gone and the first thing I did was make tea, and I finally understood why she did it: it’s something to do when everything else is untouchable.”
Jeremiah considered that, looking down at the cup in his hands. The steam coming up from the cooling tea had a soothing scent to it, although he didn’t really appreciate the taste of it plain. It needed cream and sugar. “Is this something untouchable, Chris?”
Chris flashed a tired smile. “I have a suggestion of what to do about us.”
Oh.
“The untouchable thing is the reason for everything. My secret. You’re finally going to have your answer, Jeremiah.” Chris tilted the mug up all the way to completely drain every last drop, and then he began. “My mom loved me. My dad loved me. He was a college professor, renowned across certain circles. He’d published some essays, written a book. He had a following and he knew how to get along with damn near everyone. He was a good man, and that’s why I can’t fault him for having a belief that ran counter to mine.”
Jeremiah knew where this was headed.
“The old man hated gays. He was pretty religious, I guess.” Chris abruptly stopped and turned his head to the side, clearing his throat.
“Satan got your tongue?” Jeremiah blurted out.
Chris flashed a tired smile before continuing. “I never really outwardly told him that I was gay… but I never talked about girls either, so he knew. At least, he suspected. My mom was my cheerleader. She died of a sudden heart attack. Some untreated defect from childhood. I remember she went to the doctor a lot when I was young, but they never did anything about it because they said her weird heartbeat was just anxiety.”
“It finally caught up to her and she dropped at the dinner table. I was 17; just graduated.” Chris’s voice caught on itself, stumbling before becoming righted again. “Dead in an instant before the ambulance ever arrived. Dad sued all the doctors she had spoken with in the past ten years. He won every single case. Medical malpractice payouts are pretty big, so suddenly we had more money than we knew what to do with.”
“Except, Dad knew what to do. He gave me a chunk of the money and told me I was to leave his house. So, I did.”
“How soon after your mother died?” Jeremiah demanded. “That’s heartless!”
“Stop.”
He stopped.
“That doesn’t matter. What matters is I made something from it, dammit. Instead of kicking other people out of their own homes, I help them find a new one.”
It all makes sense now.
Chris let out a sudden bark of laughter. “Imagine my surprise when th
e old man suddenly entered back into my life and apologized for everything he’d ever said to me. I couldn’t believe it. I told him hell no when he offered to build me a new office but he went behind my back and did it anyway. I felt obligated to deal with him, then. But… I guess we really did reconnect again. Probably not a moment too soon.”
Jeremiah’s heart lurched. The call at the movie theater, Chris being in a hospital waiting room…
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
Chris turned his head to the side and tried to shrug it away. “It’s been coming for a long time. Cancer’s rough. It’s a slow killer, but it’s just about caught up. The doctors aren’t giving him much longer.”
“Chris, I…” Jeremiah’s eyes glazed over with tears. He tried to reach out to the other but found himself only grasping air as Chris leaned back.
“I’m not done yet. That secret of mine, Jeremiah? I’ve been consulting my dad for his opinions. He tells me what he thinks, based on what he knows, and I take his advice very seriously. When he dies, I’m down the most important member of my team.” A pause. “I bet Markus will be real happy about that.”
No.
Chris jerked his head up, teeth clenched together. Trails of hair hung in his face, falling across his narrowed eyes. “Wouldn’t you like to do that?” he growled, half-rising from his seat. “Wouldn’t you like to return to that bastard and tell him everything about me? My personal life? The feel of my mouth when I…”
That was enough. Jeremiah couldn’t take any more of this. He rose with Chris and wrapped his arms around the other man’s shoulders. Chris resisted, tugging away with a snarl, but Jeremiah let himself be pulled along; his grip tightened, hands locking together behind that smooth back. His head fit neatly against the graceful curve between shoulder and neck, resting there as he whispered. “Thank you for telling me all this.”
Chris was a statue.
“I won’t tell anyone. Your secret’s safe with me.”
If anyone else were to find out, it would be from Chris’s own mouth. Jeremiah wasn’t about to even whisper a single word, and especially not to Markus.
He stayed where he was, holding onto Chris in silence. He offered no platitudes, and he didn’t stroke or caress the other man. All he did was wait.
Slowly, almost painfully slow, Chris’s head came to rest against his. Burning tears dripped, and that sculpted chest heaved slightly. Then, Chris wrapped his arms around Jeremiah and held on as hard as he could.
And still they didn’t say anything until the moment when Chris stood abruptly, nearly sending Jeremiah flying across the room. “I’d say it’s time for bed,” he said.
It was 5 p.m. in the afternoon, but Jeremiah didn’t dare be stupid enough to say so out loud. He nodded. “I guess I’ll get going.” If he’d been expecting an instant reply, he was to be sorely disappointed. Chris didn’t say anything until his reluctant feet had already carried him halfway to the door.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“An alleyway,” Jeremiah replied as he turned around. His voice was deliberately light. “I need to go dumpster diving for my dinner.”
Chris stood there, holding out one arm. His hand was palm-up and steady, fingers gently crooked. Staring at that hand, Jeremiah needed only a moment to think—and he wasn’t even thinking of himself. He just wondered if Chris was ready for this. If either of them were.
The moment passed and he reached out, grabbing onto the offered hand. Warm fingers closed around his, and he let out a soft sigh as pure contentment raced through his veins. Here, right here, was where he should have been the whole time.
Chris held his hand and studied him for a moment. “You know,” he said, voice still husky, “we should be thankful for Markus. He’s the whole reason we were able to meet.”
“Maybe.” Jeremiah was grave. “But that era is over now. We have to move on.”
“Yes, your majesty,” Chris replied, gently tugging Jeremiah down the hallway and into the bedroom. Just as they had last time they were here, they stripped down naked and climbed into bed together. However, this time, there was nothing carnal about their actions.
Warmth pressed up behind Jeremiah as Chris spooned him, tangling their legs together. His heart pattered and then stilled with the knowledge that this was where he belonged. He’d gone about it in quite a roundabout way but at last he’d ended up where he needed to be.
“Good night, Chris.”
“Good night, my little unicorn.”
Jeremiah stiffened. Flashes of silver glimmered in front of his eyes. “Unicorn?”
Chris laughed breathily against the back of his neck, cuddling even closer. “That’s all I thought of you that first night when you were in that majestic suit.”
“Please let me forget about that.”
“Nope.” Chris’s chest began to move slower, his breathing evening out. His voice already trailed away as sleep descended hard upon him. “It’ll be the first story I tell at our wedding.”
After all this, Jeremiah had no idea whether or not he still wanted marriage. However, that was something else to figure out at a different time.
Chapter 18
Eyes on him, burning into his soul.
Even before he was fully awake, Jeremiah knew someone was watching him. It couldn’t be Markus; that man hadn’t ever really stopped to look at something his entire life. If the devil was in the details, then that made him a saint.
Come to think of it, these sheets didn’t feel like the thin, silky ones that always covered Markus’s bed at all times. These were thick and warm, like a modest cloud never to be admired for its appearance but noticed all the same. The mattress was also softer. So he’d slept in someone else’s bed.
Jeremiah opened his eyes. At some point in the middle of the night he must have rolled over. Chris’s face was right in front of his, all the tension of the past days torn away by deep sleep. His lips were slightly parted, and one hand curled childlike against his cheek.
Heart aching in his chest, Jeremiah wondered why he had thought he was being watched. Maybe paranoia, or his subconscious had registered Chris’s face turned in his direction and substituted the rest. Either way, he was awake now and there wasn’t much else to do except watch the sleeping man.
Unless… Unless he could return the favor Chris attempted to give him, of being woken up by being sucked on. That might be presumptuous, however. Just because they spent the night in the same bed it didn’t mean that was an automatic all-clear for sex. Plus, he reminded himself, Chris hadn’t exactly said what he thought about their relationship or the course it would take from this point.
“I can’t decide if this is sexy or creepy.”
“Oh!”
The other man was awake, blinking sleepily. Jeremiah reached out and slid his fingers through messy, unkempt blond clumps. Chris relaxed under his hand, letting himself be caressed for a minute before slowly pulling away and sitting up. “Were you sleeping with your eyes open?” he teased.
“No, I just…” Jeremiah blushed and pushed himself up onto his elbows. The blankets over their bodies were thick enough to hide the bulge between his legs, but not so thick that he felt completely hidden. “I was just admiring you. You’re really cute when you sleep.”
“So are you,” Chris said. He smiled, hazel eyes glowing faintly with his amusement. “That’s before you stab me in the eye with your dick.”
“The pirate look really suits you, I’m telling you.”
“My board disagrees. Speaking of them,” Chris looked over at the clock on the wall. Jeremiah followed his gaze and automatically winced. It was only 1 a.m. He’d mistaken the glow of the alarm clock for the faint light of morning. “They aren’t terribly happy with me for skipping out on so many things.”
“I’m sorry.”
Surprise flickered across the other’s handsome face. “It’s not your fault.”
Jeremiah shrugged. “I can still be sorry. If I take the blame, then
there’s someone concrete to be angry at. Being angry at the world sucks.”
“Be that as it may, I refuse to let you do that,” Chris snorted, reaching across the few inches of space between them to take Jeremiah’s face in his hands. “You’re used to having to take the fall, but from now on, you’re only allowed to apologize for something you’ve done.”
“But that’s not the only usage for the term.”
Chris glared playfully. “Don’t argue semantics with me. You don’t have your literary whatever degree yet.”
School.
Jeremiah put his head in his hands. All his textbooks, his note supplies, his tuition… all of it belonged to Markus. “At this rate, I never will be.”
“Nonsense,” Chris said, briskly. “We’ll figure that out. We’re going to get everything figured out.”
“How?”
“Through the power of not asking so many damn questions so early in the morning,” Chris growled, playfully. He looked over at the clock again. “I really doubt I’m going to be able to go back to bed right away.”
“So then, what do we do?”
“I guess we talk.” Chris’s shoulders were a discouraged slope, not proud and squared as they had once been. “I know you’re wondering what I think about us.”
His heart in his throat, Jeremiah couldn’t speak to answer. He would be an uncaring moron to not wonder!
Suddenly, Jeremiah was on his back. “Oof!” A grunt exploded from between his lips, and his jaw clenched hard before relaxing. Every part of him relaxed all at once because of what he was seeing. Chris Finley, the dreaded rival, the secret-keeper, the rude and cold businessman, straddled him with his legs spread wide apart. His dick lay straight between parted thighs, and his back was as straight and proud as a cowboy’s. And his eyes were open and wide, earnest and deep. Jeremiah stared into them, knowing that he could get lost in that rainbow of color. He felt warm, almost overheated under that gaze.
Then Chris moved on top of him. His firm ass cheeks rubbed on Jeremiah’s stomach, making his blood start to pump faster. Rising up from underneath, Jeremiah’s cock pressed against Chris’s rear; likewise, Chris’s organ also began to swell and stand to attention.