by M. L. Rhodes
They returned home just a little before sunset, ate dinner, and by dark Nick found himself back in exactly the same position he'd been in the night before--stretched out on the couch, absently channel surfing, with his mind lost in thoughts of Rafferty, wondering what his friend was doing, what he was thinking and feeling, and wishing he could make all this damned hurt go away for both of them.
When his cell phone rang, it startled the hell out of him, causing his pulse to skyrocket. He'd pulled it out of his pants pocket when he first sat on the couch, and it lay on the coffee table. It rang again, and with his heart in his throat he reached for it. Was it Raff? Finally?
But the caller ID said no, and with a sinking disappointment he answered.
"Hi, Mary Jane."
"Hey, Nick!" The bubbly, twice-divorced, free-spirited high school math teacher lived in the house on the large lot next door. "I saw you working out in your yard today, but what are you doing home on a Saturday night. Shouldn't you have a hot date?"
"Yeah, since I have hot dates so often on Saturday nights."
He heard her making a tsking sound. "What the devil's wrong with you, Nicholas Tucker? You've got to get out there, live it up, find yourself a hot stud to bring home to bed."
He'd long ago told Mary Jane he was gay. He'd had to...when he'd first moved in, she'd made it her passion in life to find him a woman. After a few subtle attempts to dissuade her, he'd finally had to tell her he was gay to put an end to it. So then she'd spent the next several months trying to set him up with men, until after about ten refusals on his part to meet any of the guys she'd picked out, she'd finally backed off. But she'd never given up on him finding someone and, in her own humorous, good-natured way, made a point of working it into conversations whenever possible.
Her diatribe pulled another half-hearted smile from him. "Mary Jane...if you put as much energy into your painting as you put into trying to set me up, you'd be rich by now." She was an artist in her spare time and was always trying to sell her seascape oil paintings in local galleries.
Another good-humored tsking noise came over the phone line. "Now, now, no need to get testy. But I'm telling you, lying on your couch flipping through TV channels in the dark--which is what I bet you're doing right now--isn't going to get you a man."
Nick blinked guiltily at her accurate description of him.
"You should at least be out doing something with your partner. At least that gets you out of the house and maybe to places where you might meet someone. That's never going to happen if you have no social life, Nick."
"Mose keeps me company just fine."
"Yes, but as much as I love that big, slobbering galoot, he's not going to get you a date. And speaking of your partner...too bad he's straight. Now there's a hunk of a man if ever I saw one. Mmm, mmm, mmm. "
Nick's heart seemed to lodge in his throat at yet another mention of Rafferty.
Damn it, Raff. Why won't you talk to me? We could be so good if you'd only give us a chance.
But to his neighbor he tried his best to hide his angst. "Is that yet another roundabout way of trying to get me to set you up with him? You've been doing this ever since you found out his divorce was final."
Mary Jane chuckled her full-bodied laugh. "Well, a girl's gotta try."
Sorry, Mary Jane, but I can't do it 'cause, you see...I'm in love with him.
"Is there some other reason you called besides to harangue me about my social life and try to weasel a date with my friend?" he asked lightly, loving Mary Jane to pieces, but feeling the desperate need to get off the phone so he could go back to wallowing in his silent despair alone, without having to listen to her bubble over about how wonderful Raff was and how she'd like to jump his bones, when that's exactly what Nick wanted so badly right now it was a physical ache.
"Oh! Yeah, there is. When I was putting away groceries in the pantry today, I realized I still had Mose's leash here from when he slept over last weekend while you were gone."
"That's okay. I have a spare. That's why I hadn't asked about it."
"You want me to run it by?"
"Nah, you can just hang onto it if you want and then it'll be there the next time he comes for a 'sleepover.'"
"All right then. Give my boy a big smoochie from his Aunty Mary Jane."
Nick huffed out a soft laugh. "I will."
"Big smoochies to you, too. And, Nick--"
"Don't even start again."
"I was just going to say, have you tried the internet? You know...for dating?"
"Mary Jane," he growled in warning.
She laughed. "Okay, okay. Zipping my lips now. Have a good night with your TV. And for God's sake, at least turn on a light so you don't go blind from watching in the dark."
Nick rolled his eyes. "Yes, Mother."
"You're such a smartass sometimes. Of course that's probably why I love you." He heard the smile in her voice. "'Night, Nick."
"'Night."
The forced smile he'd had on his lips faded the moment he pushed the off button on his phone and threw it back onto the coffee table. He'd never even roused himself to a sitting position when he'd been talking to Mary Jane, and he went back to his mindless channel surfing.
But it was truly mindless, and with a sigh, he clicked off the remote, letting the room fall into utter darkness, except for the chilly autumn starlight shining through windows and the nightlight that always burned in the kitchen.
This distance from Rafferty was killing him. They had to talk. There was no way things could continue on like this without imploding, and Nick was afraid the longer it went on, the harder it would be to fix the problem...fix them.
That night on the boat had been nothing short of amazing. They way they'd kissed, touched, fit together like they were made for one another. It made him hard all over again just thinking about it. But it hadn't just been the sex. He'd never felt closer to anyone in his life, and had thought Raff felt the same. Had been certain of it, in fact. But obviously that hadn't been enough.
Raff had admitted he'd been thinking about Nick, had wanted him for a while, but that he hadn't thought beyond the sex. So, as much as Nick loved him and wanted so much to have something lasting with Rafferty--not just as work partners and friends, but as lovers and partners in all things--it was possible that was something Raff had not only never thought about, it was something he simply didn't want. Maybe the night on the boat had been Raff working out his ya-yas over the whole gay sex thing, but now that he'd done it, he wanted to move on. Or maybe the sex hadn't been everything Raff had hoped it would be.
No. Remember how responsive he was? There's no way to fake that. The sex was everything and more than he'd expected. And remember when he said he hadn't wanted it to end?
That had been sincere. Rafferty's gut-wrenching honesty about it at the time had left Nick speechless.
Then, with a sinking feeling in his stomach, another possibility hit Nick. Just as he'd thought all this time Raff was straight, Raff had thought the same about him. He knew Raff had been surprised when he'd admitted he'd been with another man, but recalling their conversation the next day, Nick remembered Rafferty asking if he'd only been with a man once before.
Was that part of what was bothering Rafferty so much? Maybe he'd thought the sex between them would be "safe" because it would be only a one-time deal between two straight men who'd had a moment of overwhelming passion, but then they'd be able to slide back into their regular lives with ease because they weren't really "gay," they'd just been exploring. But when he'd found out Nick was actually gay, had only ever, in fact, been with men, that's when Raff had begun to back away. As if Nick's gayness had suddenly put pressure on him in a way that thinking they were straight guys merely exploring fantasies might not have.
Nick scrubbed his hands over his face. He'd just shaved this morning, but already felt a scratchy scruff forming on his cheeks and chin.
"God, could I be any more miserable? I can't do this anymore. We have to ta
lk."
But how?
Maybe the best thing to do would be for Nick to go over to Raff's duplex right now and, assuming the man was there, have it out once and for all. For better or worse.
And if he's not there?
If he wasn't there, then Nick would keep trying until he caught him. Rafferty had to come home sometime.
* * * *
The drive to Raff's felt like it took forever, although Nick knew intellectually it was the same fifteen minutes as usual. Whereas he lived on the coast on the northern edge of the bay, Raff lived in a community of duplexes inland.
He was half-expecting not to find Rafferty at home after this week, and was surprised to see him when he drove up. Each of the duplexes had its own attached garage, and when Nick pulled up and parked in the driveway, it was to see Rafferty in the open garage with the light on, working on his Mustang. He had the hood up and Nick could see him bent over it looking at the engine.
Trying to keep his racing heart steady, he slid out of his 4Runner and approached. "Problems with the 'Stang?"
Rafferty didn't look up right away, which told Nick Raff had seen him coming and he hadn't startled him. "No, just checking the oil and belts."
Nick stood by, not pushing...yet. But he did silently will Raff to talk to him. He leaned up against the edge of the molding around the garage door with his arms crossed over his chest, hoping he gave off the impression he was here until they sorted this out.
Finally, Rafferty looked up at him. His eyes were shuttered, but Nick could feel the whirlwind of emotions lurking just beneath Raff's surface.
"I was going to come see you tonight."
That news caught Nick by surprise. "You were?"
Raff swallowed hard. "There's something I wanted to tell you."
The expression on his face caused Nick's heart to stutter. Rafferty looked like, at some point over the past two days, he'd pulled away even farther from Nick, had made a decision of some kind, and was about to tell him as much.
Oh, God.
"I'm leaving. There's a job opening at the Portland PD. I found out about it this week when I was down there. They've offered it to me and want me to start in two weeks. I'm going to call them Monday and tell them I'm accepting it, and I'll give my notice here at the same time."
The pavement beneath Nick's feet seemed to shift, and he stared at Rafferty, the air leaving his lungs, his chest crushing.
"You're what?" he whispered.
"It's for the best. I...I'm not ready to move forward with this new aspect to our relationship. I'm not sure I'd ever be able to move forward with it. And at this point I don't think we can go back to what we had before. Too hard. Too much...stuff between us now."
"I thought last weekend was incredible," Nick said, struggling to get the words out.
Rafferty nodded, slowly. "It was." His voice was hoarse. "It really was. But I've rushed into a relationship before based on an incredible weekend...and you know how well that turned out. And this is different anyway. This...between us...it's different."
"Why? Because we're two men instead of a man and a woman?"
"Yes," he whispered.
"Because you're not allowed to have sex with and fall in love with a man, is that it?"
A pained grimace slid across Raff's face and he looked for all the world like he either wanted to cry or have the earth open up and swallow him. But, damn it, Nick was beyond censoring his words at this point. He loved this man, and thought his heart was going to fucking choke him it was so far up in his throat.
"I don't know how to do this, Nick. I'm too old to be changing sides. I..."
"You're thirty-fucking-five years old, not a senior citizen. But even if you were, since when does age have anything to do with love?"
"But is it love?" he asked, lifting his head to meet Nick's gaze. His brown eyes swam with confusion and barely restrained emotion.
"What would you call it? Do you think this was just some quick fuck, a fling based on sex? I've got news for you...I don't play around. I never have, and nothing that's happened between us has been a fling, Rafferty. You can hide all you want, pretend, deny...but this thing between us is the real deal. You're just too damned scared and stubborn to open your eyes and see it for what it is."
Rafferty's gaze skittered away again. His hands clutched the hood of the Mustang so hard his knuckles bulged white. "I just can't do this."
"So you're going to throw away a kick-ass partnership on the job and four years of friendship? Not to mention I think you know as well as I do there's something damned special going on between us here. But you're willing to throw that away, too, without ever giving it a real chance? Do you care that little?"
Rafferty dragged a hand through his hair. His eyes, as his gaze met Nick's again, welled with pain. "I do care, damn it. I do fucking care, all right? Too much. That's...that's the problem. And I can't deal. I don't know how to deal with it. I'm not like you, Nick. I haven't had years to come to terms with this. I never felt anything about any man, ever, until you. And then it's like I was slammed with this huge shit storm of sensation and emotion all at once that have tossed me hard and fast from one extreme to the other. I'm...I'm drowning here. And I just...can't...do it. It's too much."
"Then let me help you, Raff. Do you think I haven't been there? I know, I remember how difficult it can be to come out, even to yourself. You don't have to deal with this alone."
"That's the thing...come out... I don't know if I ever can or if I'd ever want to. I don't know if I'm like you, Nick. How do I know this isn't just some phase I'm going through? I can't start something with you, risk my career and everything else in my life, only to find out a few weeks or months down the road I've changed my mind and want to be with women after all."
Nick hadn't thought his chest could crush any worse than it already was, and yet it did. "You think I'm a phase?"
"I don't know. I just know I can't live this way, all torn up inside. So it's best for both of us if I leave. Then we can both get on with our lives."
"Jesus, Raff--"
"I've made up my mind, Nick."
"What about your mom?"
"I'll still see my mom. Portland's not that far away. And if it becomes a problem, I'll move her to a facility closer to me."
"But this is your home. You grew up here. You love it here. You'd give all that up because you can't face me?"
"I did grow up here, which is probably why it's time for me to go. It's time for me to not be so rooted to this place, to see what else is out in the world."
"Raff...don't do this." Nick's throat was tight with hot emotion. He felt it stinging in his eyes as well.
"It's time to move on. For both of us." His face was a mask of utter misery that looked exactly like what Nick felt inside. "I think it's best for you to leave now. I...I have some things to do inside."
He slammed down the hood of the Mustang and, without looking at Nick again, disappeared through the door into his duplex.
Nick stared at the closed door, struggling to breathe and finding it damn near impossible. And then a longing so intense it doubled him over crashed through him. A longing for what he wanted more than life itself but now knew he was never going to have.
Bent over, hands on his knees, he struggled for air, but only found the wet heat of tears.
Chapter 9
* * *
Nick wasn't sure how long he'd stood there in Raff's driveway, bent over, torn apart by the storm of heartache. Wasn't, in fact, sure how he'd finally gotten in his SUV and driven home. It had all been one big blur of sickening agony for him. He'd somehow managed to get through his front door, find his bed, and collapse on it.
On Sunday, he called in at work and said he'd come down sick and wouldn't be in on Monday and maybe not the next day or two either.
He was sick. It hurt to move, hurt to think, hurt to breathe. And he couldn't be there on Monday when Raff came in to give his notice. Wasn't sure he could be there at the same time
as Raff from here on out until he moved to Portland.
Monday he spent the day on the couch in the living room. But he was beyond even trying to pretend with the TV at this point. It sat dark and silent, as lonely and morose as Nick felt. The only sound to combat the silence all day was the steady fall of cold rain that drummed against the house. Occasionally Mose would let out a snuffled snore from his spot under the coffee table, reminding Nick something in the house was alive, but mostly he let the silence and the rain fill him.
Around dark, he'd begun to get hungry but couldn't seem to find the energy to care enough to get up off the couch. He couldn't find the energy to care he was sitting in the dark once again either.
By now Rafferty would have told everyone at work he was leaving and he was probably home now, packing boxes that he'd just recently unpacked, getting ready for his move.
The phone rang, but he ignored it. He knew it was Mary Jane again. She'd called yesterday several times, and when he'd finally answered, the first words out of her mouth had been, in a whispered, horrified tone, "Oh, God, who died?" Nick guessed he must have sounded that bad. He'd told her he was sick, and when she'd immediately switched into caregiver mode, wanting to bring him chicken soup and some herbal concoction she swore by, he'd refused, telling her he was pretty sure he was very contagious.
Another gnawing twinge of hunger hit him. He'd fed Mose earlier, but supposed he was going to have to find something for himself. It hardly seemed worth bothering with, but then, he didn't have anything better to do with his time.
He was just about to rouse himself off the couch when the doorbell rang.
Mose let out a soft woof, but didn't leap to his feet and run for the door as he had when he was younger. Now he was content to stay put unless there was a problem.
Sighing, Nick dragged himself to a sitting position, then to his feet. He was certain it was Mary Jane...probably tired of him not answering the phone and determined to make him well with or without his cooperation.