by Mia Downing
Jordan’s grin widened and became something very dirty and sexy, all at the same time. “Then I’ll take my chances until later.”
****
Later that morning they rode out to the waterfall in silence, the only sounds those of the horses snorting and brushing through the vegetation, island noises, and the faint sound of rushing water. Jordan couldn’t bring himself to say much. Blake’s ashes were in front of him, in Trigger’s saddle bags.
Trigger was also getting used to island life. The solution to a spooky horse was to give him something else to think about, Ryan informed him. So Trigger had been put into boot camp, slaving like a mine pony for his feed. It was working, because the golden horse had only half-heartedly spooked once at the pokey plants slapping his rump in one section.
Jordan knew how Trigger felt, coming to the island, scared as shit only to find himself settling in and liking it. The people were friendly, the food was tasty, the humidity was a bitch but there was usually a breeze to take off the edge of the moist heat. The scenery was beautiful, especially Ryan’s ass in the saddle ahead of him, swaying along with the horse’s walk.
Trigger had found himself a good owner, a kind man, one with a huge heart open to whatever life tossed his way. In so many ways, Jordan wished he were Trigger. He frowned, and swatted at a bug, not sure where his mind was going with that thought.
They rode on through the jungle, both wearing Hawaiian shirts Blake would love, baseball caps of opposing teams and jeans, Jordan’s softer since he’d tossed them in the wash at Ryan’s. He hadn’t done laundry since college, and the act of washing his jeans to wear them to bury his best friend was mundane but earthy. It reminded him he was alive, here, and he had something to be thankful for.
“Did Blake ride?” Jordan called forward, feeling stupid that he never knew and hadn’t asked as of yet. Actually, he hadn’t asked as much as he wanted about Blake, because, though he felt Blake everywhere around him, asking was too close.
Ryan glanced back over his shoulder. “Yes, he learned. He liked tearing down the beach.”
“What did Blake not like about the island?”
“The spiders.” Ryan shot him a shit-eating grin. “He was terrified of them. Had nightmares. That’s why he slept at the hotel.”
“He didn’t want to be your roommate.”
“We would have killed each other eventually. He was even more relaxed than I am about most things. It drove me nuts.” Ryan shifted again, his hand on the back of the saddle. “He thought I was uptight.”
“You? Uptight?”
Ryan tugged his baseball cap over his eyes with a grin. “Yep.”
“I miss him.” Sadness hit Jordan square in the chest, locking down his lungs. “I didn’t know how I could live without him, yet I’ve been doing it for three weeks. Somehow.”
“He’s still with you, Jordan. Here, New York. He wouldn’t abandon you.”
“Yeah.” But Jordan did feel that way, like some orphan left on the side of the road, wishing Blake would come back and pick him up, laughing that it was all a joke.
“Have you lost anyone before?” Ryan asked.
“Nope. A grandmother, but she was ancient, and she lived in California. I think I met her twice. And Blake’s parents. That’s it.”
“I felt abandoned after Mark died,” Ryan admitted. He pulled Trigger to the side and Brownie inched up next to them so they were side by side, Ryan a little taller in the saddle since Trigger was taller by a few inches. “Mark died, and even in a crowd I felt alone, insignificant. Small. I hated it, because I never felt that way before Mark.”
“That must have been a huge blow, to lose Mark and now Blake.”
Ryan nodded. “Losing Mark made me take stock in my life. He had wanted to do so much, go so many places. He didn’t, because duty called. He lived life around his job.” Ryan adjusted his reins. “We were planning on a trip here when the headaches started, our first real vacation, here, as a couple. That was big for him. He went to the doctor, and they gave us the news. Brain cancer.
“Mark told me I had to take the trip out to see Blake, without him, but I didn’t go until after Mark had passed because I was terrified. I’d never been on a plane myself, never to an island, never to the Pacific. I got off the boat here, everyone was yelling bula, and I remember this really obnoxious Hawaiian shirt parting the sea of brown bodies at the dock, teeth flashing white, Blake’s skin a lighter tan. And for the first time, I didn’t feel abandoned anymore.”
Jordan loved that about Blake, too. “You said you fell in love with the island at the waterfall.”
“I did. But it began at the docks. The waterfall showed me where to sign on the dotted line.” Ryan gestured ahead. “You ready?”
Jordan took in a deep breath. They’d top the ridge and be there. “No.”
“No?”
“I want to go back in time, right now. Is that childish? Because if wishes or money would make it come true, I’d do it in a heartbeat.” Jordan’s heart raced faster, and he felt like a fool for wanting something so stupid. But it was how he felt. For once, it felt good to say what he felt, not what everyone wanted to hear.
“I feel the same way sometimes.” Ryan shrugged. “Going back wouldn’t change anything.”
“I’d go back with what I know, and I’d get on a plane the first time Blake invited me here. The three of us would be here, together.”
“The three of us are here,” Ryan said softly.
“Not all of us, alive.” Jordan’s throat tightened. He didn’t want to cry. He hadn’t cried when they told him Blake was gone, couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried. But he didn’t want to cry in front of Ryan. That was for damned sure. Fuck Blake for not wanting to be dumped off a dock or off a balcony at the hotel or under a plant in the woods.
Ryan reached out, his fingers light on Jordan’s arm in a gentle caress. “Anything that happens here stays here. It’s like Vegas, only prettier.”
“Yeah?” Jordan swallowed again, the sadness ebbing.
“No judgment. No boundaries, no limits. That’s what Blake was all about.”
“Yeah, he was.” That reminder was enough to put Jordan at ease. “Then let’s go.”
They cleared the ridge and the waterfall was across the valley again, just as beautiful, streaming down to the crystal clear pool below. This time Jordan’s heart thrummed like a toothache in his chest, and he understood Ryan’s desire to sign on the dotted line. Timeless beauty, the stuff dreams and wishes were made of, stretched out before him.
The horses got them to the bottom, and they dismounted. Ryan removed the bridles and showed Jordan how to secure Brownie to the hitching post with a halter and lead rope. Then they untacked, removing the saddles so they could set the two horses free in the little makeshift corral. They filled buckets from the pool of water and then turned to assess their surroundings.
“Well?” Ryan asked, hands in his pockets.
Unfortunately, Jordan knew exactly where Blake would want to be set free—that damned lover’s leap outcrop at the edge of the waterfall. There were two, one lower, hanging over the falls, another higher up, off to the side. Blake would want the highest one, because that was Blake. Go big or go home. “Fuck. You know where we have to go, right?”
Ryan shielded his eyes from the sun and studied the waterfall. “Blake loved the outlook at the top of the waterfall. Crazy bastard dove off the lower outlook into the pool. I wouldn’t let him go from the top. Way too risky.”
Blake was all sorts of fucked up in a lovable way. It was what Jordan loved best about him. “Is there a path?”
“Actually, yeah.” Ryan removed the box that held Blake and tucked him into a backpack. He added two bottles of water along with it and shrugged the straps over his shoulders. “It’s a short hike up, and the view is worth it.”
“Then let’s go.”
Twenty minutes later, they reached the top, Jordan panting for breath, dizzy at the height, the roar of
the waterfall just shy of deafening. “My God,” he yelled. “This is incredible.”
“Take that path.” Ryan pointed into a depression in the jungle foliage. “The outlook is up ahead. It won’t be so loud there.”
They trudged for a few moments more and arrived at the group of rocks nestled into the side of the volcano. The roar of the waterfall wasn’t as strong here, and Jordan marveled that it was farther away than it looked from the bottom.
Jordan went to the edge and surveyed Ryan’s domain. Below them was the pool, crystal clear and deep. The jungle stretched out over the small ridge, deep green and full of the pokey plants Brownie hated. Behind them Krakatoa Jr. loomed, just as green and lush as the surrounding forest, her sheer size a silent warning for impending doom. “I would think this place would be swamped with hotel guests.”
Ryan nodded. “I keep the nature preserve signs up to warn people away, and we open the trail on Fridays for riding tours and hiking. The volcano is open on the other side at the beginning of the week. It seems to keep things quieter.”
“So…” Jordan swallowed. “How do we do this?”
“However you want. You can say a few words, or I can, or we both can, or you can just say, ‘later, dude’ and chuck him off.” That was Blake’s farewell. He didn’t do goodbye, ever. “There’s no right or wrong way, Jordan. You did as he asked. He’d be pleased as punch.”
Another Blake-ism. “Get him out.”
They opened the box, and the tin enclosing him. Jordan closed his eyes, unable to bear looking at what was left. “The wind is okay?” he asked, not wanting Blake to blow back. God, Blake would find that fucking amusing as all hell.
“Perfect.”
Jordan took a deep breath, the ache in his ribs having nothing to do with the humidity and heat. “Then buddy, here you go, home at last. Later, dude.”
“Later, dude,” Ryan echoed. “Thanks for giving me paradise.”
Jordan dumped and then opened his eyes. Blake’s remains floated on the breeze, shimmering, some taken by the waterfall, some landing in the rocks, all of him settling home, where he wished to be.
That damned tear that Jordan had fought earlier surfaced, squeezing out as if unable to bear being in his body any longer. Fuck. He loved Blake, his brother and friend more than an uncle. Jordan smoothed the dampness away, grateful to see Ryan was doing the same.
Somewhere, out there, happiness waited for him. A part of Jordan wanted to jump, to join Blake, to float and find his place, just like the ancient lovers Ryan had told him about. But they hadn’t found happiness at all. A tiny voice told him happiness was right here, sitting next to him.
As if he’d voiced wanting to jump aloud, Ryan grabbed his wrist, holding fiercely. “Stay with me.”
“You feel it, too.”
“I always do when I’m up here. The feeling I can fly free, that I’m invincible. Today…more than ever.” Ryan glanced at him, his blue eyes turbulent. “It’s peaceful, though, this sadness. Knowing he’s here, anytime I need him… It helps.”
“Kiss me?” Jordan asked hoarsely, unable to string more than those two words together. But he needed the contact, to keep himself sane, to remind him that happiness was here on Earth.
Ryan leaned in, and his lips claimed Jordan’s, soft and gentle. Jordan sighed and opened his mouth, wanting more, needing Ryan’s tongue to stroke his, that level of intimacy the only thing that would prove he was alive and vital and loved. Fuck, how he wanted to be loved. Needed it.
Loved.
Jordan stiffened, because either he was crazy or that sounded just like Blake. He was crazy, because he knew he only heard that voice in his head, so soft, so gentle, just like Ryan’s lips.
“What’s wrong,” Ryan asked against his mouth.
“I…” Jordan closed his eyes and tentatively opened his heart, listening to what Blake wanted him to hear and see. Blake wanted him to be loved. Pure and simple. He had hoped Jordan would find it here, on Bendura, either in Ryan’s arms or someone else’s or in the hearts of the villagers shouting bula. And the knowledge made his breath catch in his throat, heart pounding. “I don’t know.”
“You okay?”
“I don’t know,” Jordan whispered, scared as fucking hell. He trembled, hating Blake for doing this to him. There was nothing wrong with his life. He didn’t need love to be happy. Love made people miserable enough to do stupid things, like jump off precipices. “Maybe I’m wrong.”
Ryan studied him for a long time, his hand tucked at Jordan’s nape, his fingers drawing lazy patterns in his hair. Finally he said, “Then let’s go back down, okay?”
“Yeah.”
****
Ryan had no clue what spooked Jordan at the top of the waterfall, but whatever it was, was powerful. Strong enough for Jordan to lie about the issue that made him tremble. They hiked back down in silence, the waterfall soothing background noise for minds that had to be churning. If Ryan’s mind was turbulent like the water at the base of the falls, then Jordan’s had to be twice as bad.
“You okay?” Ryan touched Jordan’s elbow as they reached the horses.
“Yeah. I was just overwhelmed, I think.”
Ryan could see that, but sensed it was more. But as he’d said earlier, this was like Vegas but prettier. He’d let Jordan have his thoughts. “So we need to have a little ceremony, something that Blake would have wanted us to do. I thought we could have a little lunch and ceremony on the rocks, then a swim if you want.”
“Okay. Sure.” Jordan didn’t look sure though. He looked like he wanted to bolt. He stared at Ryan with huge eyes, unsure, rattled, and scared as hell.
“Come here,” Ryan commanded and drew Jordan into his arms. Jordan stiffened but sank into Ryan’s arms, allowing himself the comfort. “It’s going to be okay.”
“I’m a fucking pussy.”
“You’re human, Jordan. That’s all. Sometimes, strong guys are struck with fucking pussy moments. It happens.” Ryan kissed his neck, his heart going out to him. He slapped Jordan on the back and pulled away, keeping his face neutral. Jordan didn’t need to see how much this affected him, too. “Let’s eat something, and then you’ll feel less like a pussy and more like a man wanting to be fucked senseless.”
“Yeah?”
“Unless you want to fuck me senseless. A good orgasm takes care of everything.”
“Yeah.” Jordan sounded more sure, more himself. “Blake would approve of that.”
Ryan hid a grin. Yes, Blake would have approved.
They gathered the cooler bag and a thermos and took them to sit at on the rocks at the edge of the pool. Ryan handed Jordan a sandwich, and they ate, sharing the silence. It wasn’t uneasy, just comfortable, in the way of old friends.
Then Ryan opened the thermos. “Ready for the sevusevu?”
“And that is?”
“An island ceremony where you get together and drink kava.”
“Kava.”
“It’s a root important to the island, used in ceremonies, greetings, to patch up disagreements. They make it into a drink sometimes called grog. But kava is all over the place, even in soft drinks out here.” More importantly, Blake loved it.
“Okay.” Jordan dusted off his hands. He sat cross-legged, his expression expectant but almost aloof, not open like he had been the day before. “What do I need to do?”
“I have to warn you first, this has mild narcotic effects—legal. But along the lines of pot or alcohol. You know Blake smoked weed, too, right? Not my thing.” It was the only thing Ryan hadn’t enjoyed about Blake, but he hadn’t judged.
“Yeah. Not my thing, either.”
“Well, he discovered kava as a legal alternative. And it doesn’t leave one hungover. It opens the mind and relaxes the partaker, but it’s not the same feel as being high by pot or booze.” Ryan didn’t add that it was also great for sex. “Still want to try?”
“Blake would want me to do this.” It wasn’t a question. “So how does the cere
mony start?”
Ryan poured some of the liquid into a ceremonial bowl made from a coconut shell. “Okay, so first we clap.” He clapped once, cupping his hands so the noise was hollow-sounding. “Then I say bula and then drink.” Ryan drank, hating the taste, but hey, it was for Blake. He set the cup down. “Then we clap three times again.”
“What’s it taste like?” The aloofness fled and Jordan stared with open fascination.
“Muddy, peppery water.”
“Shit.”
“Shit would probably taste better.” Ryan chuckled. “If you can get around the taste, the relaxation benefits are worth it.” Ryan poured into the bowl and handed it over to Jordan, expectant. “Your turn.”
Jordan repeated the ceremony steps, drank, grimaced as he wiped his hand across the back of his mouth, and finished the ceremony. “Fuck, that’s bad.”
“Yep.” Ryan laughed, unable to help himself. Jordan probably didn’t eat or drink bad anything in his privileged life. This had to be a first.
“I’ll get high off this shit?”
Ryan shook his head. “Not really high. Relaxed. Your lips and throat will turn numb. Once your nose has a tickling sensation, drink one more cup and stop, or you’ll be useless for sex.”
“Hit me,” Jordan said, holding out the bowl again. He repeated the steps and his grimace wasn’t so bad this time after drinking. “It’s sort of biting, like Scotch.”
“I guess.” Ryan finished his second cup and then peered into the thermos. “I think there’s enough for a cup more each. Maybe two.”
“Would Blake drink a whole thermos?”
“I don’t know. He brought supplies and ground the root himself, but we didn’t have time for it today. I had one of the villagers make me some.”
“You didn’t drink with him?”
“Not here. We did ceremonies in the village, for special occasions. I don’t like the stuff enough to want to drink it all the time.”
Jordan nodded, staring out at the falls. “Did you ever have sex after drinking this?”
“Nope.”
“Then this will be the first time for you.” Sadness lined the creases around Jordan’s eyes. “God knows I’ve had enough firsts this weekend.”