by Carol Lynne
Jon hugged his grandpa. “Do you remember that? When it was time for dinner, Grandpa came up to get me only to find the room still messy but empty of his wayward grandson. They were both frantically calling me inside the house then outside, while I sat on the roof laughing watching it all.”
“Yeah, I think you deserved a spanking for that.”
“I did, but it wasn’t the spanking that taught me a lesson. It was the tears running down my grandpa’s cheeks as he administered it.” Jon wiped at his own tears as he remembered. “That was the last time he ever did it.”
Van kissed Jon’s neck but said nothing.
“I wasn’t exactly an angel after that, but Grandpa quickly figured out that grounding me and putting me to work was a pretty good deterrent when I got out of line.” Jon took a deep breath before launching into another story. He had plenty of them. Most of his memories centred on his grandparents and he hoped to remind his grandpa of as many as he could before he took his last breath.
* * * *
Two days after Bill’s funeral, Van drove Kai and Quade to the airport. He’d appreciated the support of his friends more than he could ever express, but it was time he and Jon figured out what was next.
Van arrived at the farm to find the house empty. He knew Jon was expecting a visit from Bill’s attorney, so his love was around somewhere. After checking the barn and gardens, Van headed to the creek.
As he’d expected, Jon was sitting on the bench his grandpa had made. “Hey,” Van said, announcing his presence. “Mind if I join you?”
Jon scooted over. “Did you get Kai and Quade off okay?”
“Yeah.” Van noticed the paperwork clutched in Jon’s hand and assumed it was Bill’s will.
“Grandpa left the farm to me on one condition,” Jon began.
“Okay.” Van waited for Jon to continue.
“I have to sell it.” Jon looked at Van for the first time since he’d sat down. “It doesn’t make any sense.”
Although Van didn’t know Bill as well as Jon, he thought he might understand him. He swallowed around the lump of emotion in his throat. “Bill didn’t want you to hang onto the farm out of obligation. He knew you came back because of him, and he didn’t want you to stay after his death for the same reason.”
Jon threw the papers on the ground. “Why should that be his choice?”
“Because he knew you were meant to be more than a break-even farmer. I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with working with the land, but he knew you weren’t passionate about it,” Van tried to explain, hoping like hell he got it right.
Jon gestured to the creek and surrounding trees. “But this is where my memories are. This is where I feel closest to them. How can I just walk away from it?”
Van thought of his own home and all the reasons he’d refused to tear it down and build something nicer in its place. He bent over and picked up the papers. “It says that you have to sell it, but it doesn’t say I can’t buy it and give it back to you.”
“You would do that? I didn’t think you liked working in the garden.”
“Honestly? The only part I like about it is being with you, but vegetables isn’t what this is about, is it?” Van didn’t feel the connection to the farm like Jon did, but he was sure Jon wouldn’t feel as connected to the shack as Van did. Compromise was key in their situation if both of them would be allowed to hold onto homes they loved. “We can split our time between here and Oahu if you want. I’m not sure that I want to spend the entire summer here working the gardens, but I’d last a few months until it got really hot.”
“Better yet, maybe we can lease the land to one of the farmers around here and just keep the house with access to the rest of the land,” Jon offered.
“I like that idea even better,” Van admitted.
Jon took the will out of Van’s hand and dropped it to the bench before moving to straddle Van’s lap. “Can I make a confession now?”
Van adjusted Jon to a more comfortable position. “Sure.”
“I can’t wait to move to Oahu.”
“And I can’t wait to share my home with you,” Van whispered before leaning in for a deep kiss.
Epilogue
Jon lifted the reusable grocery bags out of the back of the Jeep. He carried them into the house, stopping long enough to shake the sand out of his sandals before he entered. After setting the groceries on the counter, he put away the perishables before going in search of Van.
In the month that he’d lived with Van, Jon had become accustomed to the laid-back lifestyle enjoyed by Van and most of the other island residents. He’d managed to find a job working four hours a day for a small radio station. The job allowed him to not only make enough to live on but also give him plenty of time for his other passions, namely sex with Van and learning to surf. He still sucked at the surfing, but he’d already become a pro at pleasing Van in the bedroom and anywhere else they ended up.
It took Jon two seconds to spot Van through the back window. Stretched out naked in the hammock, Van was revelling in the cool ocean breeze as he swung back and forth. Jon dropped his shorts, tied a sarong around his waist, and reached for the bottle of lube he kept in one of the kitchen drawers. “You need a drink?” he called through the window.
“Water’d be nice,” Van replied, his hand reaching for his cock.
Jon grinned as he lubed his hole. Fucking in the hammock had quickly become one of their favourite pastimes and they indulged often. Ready, he grabbed two bottles of water out of the fridge and carried them outside.
Although the beaches on Oahu weren’t private, Van’s remote and secluded property rarely saw outside visitors. Even if the occasional tourist or native walked by, they didn’t seem to care whether or not Jon and Van were wearing clothes. Jon still wasn’t sure if that was because they’d grown used to Van and his father running around naked or if it was another lifestyle choice the islanders embraced. That said, the two of them had yet to be caught fucking, and he intended to keep it that way.
Jon handed Van a bottle and stared down at the erection in Van’s hand. “Is that for me?”
“No one else.” Van took several gulps of his water before twisting the cap back on and setting it on the table beside the hammock. “Why’re you covered up?”
“I saw a couple of people walking down the beach on my drive home.” Jon set his bottle next to Van’s before stretching out to lie on top of the man he loved. “What’d you do today?”
Van flipped the back of Jon’s sarong up and began to finger his lubed hole. “Watched footage of Kai’s last tournament. He asked us to meet them in Portugal for the next one, but I told him we’d have to pass this time.”
“We can go if you want.” Jon wiggled his ass, silently begging for more. He loved the easiness of their lovemaking.
Van complied with Jon’s wishes and added another finger. “I’m enjoying myself right here. Besides, they’ll be home right after the tournament. The last one’s here in Oahu before the winter break begins.”
Jon sighed. He often wondered if Van would start to miss coaching, but he’d made it clear to Van that he’d support him in whatever he decided. Although to be honest, he didn’t really like the thought of Van working with a young stud. If there came a time when Van wanted to get back into it, Jon had decided to urge Van to challenge himself by coaching females. “In,” he mumbled as the warm day began to sap his energy.
Van chuckled as he removed his fingers and replaced them with his cock. Their afternoon hammock sessions weren’t as much about getting off as they were feeling connected to one another.
“Perfect,” Jon groaned. The hammock swung back and forth just enough to remind him that he was stuffed with Van’s cock but not enough to keep him from dozing off. It was their way, the easy way, the island way.
Also available from Total-E-Bound Publishing:
Brookside Athletic Club: Soul Restoration
Carol Lynne
Excerpt
; Chapter One
“Hey, Pete, John wants you to head over to the Wilson job after you finish here,” Brent barked, shoving his cell phone in his pocket.
“Sure thing,” Pete Braxton answered. He opened the last bag of coco shell mulch and sprinkled it around the freshly planted fountain grass. It was almost five, which meant he’d get overtime for making the trip across town. Cool. He could use some extra cash. With a leaking water heater and his truck payment overdue by a week, anything beyond his normal six hundred a week was gravy.
After quickly cleaning up his supplies, Pete climbed behind the wheel of the company truck and took a left out of the driveway. When the local news came on the radio, he reached for the knob to change the station but stopped when he heard his brother’s name.
“In overnight news, Shawnee Mission Parkway was the scene of a deadly head-on collision. Both drivers, Braxton Investments owner and CEO, David Braxton, and Wayne Potts of Lenexa were killed instantly.”
Pete slammed his fist against the knob, effectively breaking the radio and splitting his knuckle open. “Fuck.” He shook his hand while looking for the nearest place to pull over. Despite their estrangement, he’d always hoped there’d be time to make up, to become brothers once again. That wouldn’t happen now. It was over. He was well and truly on his own. Coming to a stop in a grocery store parking lot, Pete searched through the glove box and finally came up with a couple of drive-thru paper napkins.
What now? What was a brother who wasn’t wanted supposed to do? Pete felt lost, like he was adrift without a boat. Which didn’t make any sense since he’d been on his own for almost ten years, but having a brother who didn’t want him was different than having no brother at all.
How can I be mad at a dead man?
Pete’s phone rang, startling him. He glanced at the caller ID before answering. “Hey.”
“Where’re you at?” John, Pete’s boss and the owner of the landscaping company, asked. “Brent called and told me you left, but that was over thirty minutes ago.”
Pete looked at the clock on the dashboard. Jesus Christ, how long have I been sitting here? “Sorry, I just heard some bad news,” he mumbled.
John cleared his throat. “So you heard. Sorry, man, that’s why I wanted to see you. The police called looking for you, but I didn’t want them to get to you first. News like that…”
“Yeah.” Pete swallowed. “So, am I supposed to call the police or something?”
John paused. “David’s body’s already been identified by his secretary. I think the police were just looking to inform the next of kin of his death.”
Pete nodded to himself. It felt weird to hear himself referred to as David’s next of kin. Sure, technically, he was, but David had readily gone along with his father’s wish to have Pete out of the family and their lives. “Okay.”
“They told me if I saw you to have you call David’s lawyer. I’ve got a number right here.”
“Miller, Cambridge and Stone, right?” Pete recited the name of the law firm the Braxton family had used for years.
“No, actually, it’s a man named Matthew Field. He’s got an office out in the ‘burbs somewhere,” John corrected.
Matthew Field. “I’ll give him a call.”
“You need a few days off?” John asked.
“Not sure yet. I’ll give you a call as soon as I figure it out.” Pete knew he hadn’t processed the news of his brother’s death because he still wasn’t sure how he was supposed to feel about it. Was it callous to hate someone who’d just died? “Thanks, John.”
“Call if you need anything,” John said before hanging up.
Pete took several calming breaths before heading home, back to the one bedroom house he shared with Cheddar, a huge, long-haired orange cat.
The minute Pete stepped into the house the cat was there, waiting for him. Cheddar’s favourite means of getting attention was to headbutt Pete’s calf until he got what he wanted. “In a minute,” he said, ripping the napkin from his hand. The cut to his knuckle had dried, but he’d need to get it cleaned up eventually.
He opened the old console stereo he’d bought at a second-hand store down the street and withdrew the yellow-paged phone directory. While searching the attorney section, he was continually assaulted by Cheddar. Pete ripped out the page with Field’s phone number. “Okay, dinner, got it,” he told the cat.
Cheddar let out a mew that sounded more like a cuss word.
Pete rolled his eyes and stuck the page to the fridge with a take-out menu magnet. “Technically, it’s not even time for you to eat, so don’t get all snippy with me.”
Nonplussed by the admonishment, Cheddar sauntered over to his food bowl and plopped onto his side. He stared up at Pete and yawned, evidently trying his damnedest to exert his dominance over the situation.
“Fine, for that, I’m not even going to wash my hands before I get your dinner.” Pete retrieved a can of cat food out of the cabinet and used the easy-open pull. His odd relationship with Cheddar had been his lifeline for years.
Pete filled the chipped pottery food bowl and rubbed his companion behind the ears. “Okay, I’m not mad anymore.”
Cheddar didn’t bother looking up from his dinner, obviously unconcerned with Pete’s mood when he had a bowl of flaked tuna and cheese in front of him. Cats definitely weren’t meant for people who suffered from low self-esteem. Pete loved Cheddar, but other than the occasional purr and rub against him, his beloved pet rarely gave more than a sympathetic ear. Well, two, but most of the time Pete felt Cheddar was only half listening to him.
“So, my brother died last night,” Pete informed his furry friend while getting a beer out of the fridge. “I haven’t seen David in…hell, nearly eight years.” He glanced down at Cheddar. “It was before you came along, so no need for you to feel jealous. I saw him at a restaurant on The Plaza. I looked up from my twenty-first birthday celebrative steak dinner to find him standing five feet away from my table. At first I thought he was glad to see me, but just as quickly, he shut down and turned away.”
Pete upended his can and walked to the living room, leaving Cheddar to finish his dinner in peace. The recliner he’d picked up on Craig’s List fit his ass perfectly. It was an ugly gold colour and beyond its prime, but it was his. He grabbed the remote and turned on the local news. As a landscaper, the most important segment had always been the weather, but he barely heard the teaser the meteorologist gave at the top of the hour about the chance of precipitation coming up in the extended forecast.
When a publicity picture of his brother came on screen, Pete sat transfixed. Older. David looked so much older, like the life—the vitality—had been sucked right out of him. Is that what running a multi-million dollar investment firm did to a person, or could it have something to do with trying to live up to his father’s demands? Not that dear old Dad was demanding much since his death three years earlier.
Pete had also heard that tidbit on the news. Although he hadn’t gone to the funeral, he’d hoped that David would reach out to him. Of course, that hadn’t happened. It seemed their father hadn’t been the barrier between them after all.
Instead, Pete had briefly mourned the loss of his father before moving on with his life. His millionaire father had thrust him into the world of the working poor only a month after Pete’s mother had died. As a college freshman who had never before held a job, it hadn’t been easy for Pete to take the five thousand dollar check he’d been given by his dad’s attorney and start a new life, but he’d done it.
Looking around the living room, Pete studied the cracks in the ceiling and the walls that could use a fresh coat of paint. It was nothing like the 1920’s mansion he’d grown up in, but he’d bought it with his own money after saving for over five years. He’d always referred to his six hundred and thirty square foot bungalow as the house that desperation built.
Cheddar jumped onto his lap and began making an imaginary nest for himself. Pete ran his hand down Cheddar’s back, so
othing his huge companion into settling down. The day he’d closed on the house, a matted ball of orange fur had been waiting for him under the front porch. It had taken Pete a good two hours to discern where the mew was coming from, but using a flashlight, he’d finally found the kitten and had lured him out with the only thing he’d had on hand, a slice of cheese. It hadn’t been cheddar cheese, but cheese was a stupid name for a cat. Of course, most people thought Cheddar was just as dumb, but the moment he’d held that kitten in his arms, the name had come to him and had stuck.
“And here you are.” Pete grinned. If anyone had told him he’d turn into a cat lover, he’d have punched them, but Cheddar totally had control of the largely unused organ that had been shredded by people who were supposed to love him. “You love me, don’t you?”
Cheddar didn’t bother to open his eyes at the question. Despite the cat’s current indifference, Pete knew Cheddar loved him. Several months earlier, Pete had come down with a wicked case of the flu, and for nearly a week, Cheddar hadn’t left his side, even forgoing his daily prowl of the yard.
The phone rang, prompting Pete to mute the television. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t watching it anyway. “Hello?”
“Peter Braxton?” a deep voice asked.
“Yeah.”
“This is Matthew Field.”
“Yes, John told me to call you,” Pete answered. “I found your number in the book, but I figured I’d just call you tomorrow.”
“Yes, and under normal circumstances, I would’ve waited at least a week to contact you, but unfortunately, David left you everything.”
“I’m sorry, Mr Field, but that doesn’t make any sense. David hated me.” Saying it aloud stung, but Pete had to level with the man.
“Call me Matthew. And David was very specific when he came in and drafted his will. I know this may be hard for you to understand, but I think he was trying to right some wrongs.”