by Kaje Harper
Don’t Plan To Stay
Kaje Harper
Copyright © 2017 by Kaje Harper
Edited by Jerry L. Wheeler
Cover design – Karrie Jax Cover Design – karriejax.com
Cover photo – Dan Skinner Photography
Formatting by Beaten Track Publishing – beatentrackpublishing.com
All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission of the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
Image/art disclaimer: Licensed material is being used for illustrative purposes only. Any person depicted is a model.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Content warning: For adult readers over the age of 18 only. This book contains explicit sexual situations between two men.
At eighteen, Donnie Kagan’s plans for graduation, and maybe even college, were derailed by a beer, a stoplight, and a fatal crash. Now he’s twenty-four, out of prison, and bitterly determined to start over. But with the holidays approaching, he can’t resist a quick trip home to Tallbridge, North Dakota, and the man he left behind. Just a fast look, to make sure Adam’s doing all right, before Donnie starts his new life. He doesn’t plan to stay.
Adam Lindberg’s been waiting six years to get closure with Donnie. He missed that chance after the accident, fighting for his life in a hospital bed as Donnie pled guilty and disappeared into the justice system. Without so much as a letter back from Donnie in all this time, Adam’s tried to move on. And yet, he never found another guy he cared about the same way. So when Donnie shows up in Tallbridge, Adam’s ready to fight for more than three words of goodbye. Of course, Adam’s brother and dad don’t want Donnie to stick around, but it’s the busy Christmas season at the family store. If Adam asks for Donnie’s help, maybe he’ll stay long enough to finally talk about the future, and the past.
Acknowledgements
A big thank you to Eric and K for the excellent beta reading, and to Deb for once again fitting my last-minute formatting into her busy schedule. And thanks to all my readers who pick this one up, amid the many choices this time of year. May your holidays be peaceful, warm, and bright.
Contents
Acknowledgements
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Three Months Later
About the Author
Other Books by Kaje Harper
Chapter 1
Donnie
Six years is a long time.
It was long enough for the podunk town I grew up in to have shrunk in on itself. The bus station had shut its sandwich shop and become a dusty, hollow space. The storefronts looked shabbier, even with holiday decorations up. A crust of snow lined potholes in the roads.
Six years was long enough for a new headstone in the graveyard. They’d told me at the grocery store that Adam’s mom had died. I went to the cemetery first. I’d thought I might talk this out with her, but when I looked down at that stone – Beloved wife and mother – all I could do was wish I’d told her even once how much she was a mom to me too. In the end, I gave her the roses and walked away. They were cheap flowers, six bucks a dozen at the grocery store, no doubt frozen and dead in an hour. But she’d loved the yellow ones back when I’d known her, six years ago.
Six years was also plenty long enough for Adam to have moved out and moved on.
This is stupid.
But I pushed open the glass door of Lindberg’s Garden and Crafts and went in. And there he was behind the counter, showing some woman the timers for holiday lights. He looked damned, fucking good. His hair was really short, but he was hotter than ever, filled out a bit in the chest and shoulders. He laughed, teasing the woman, getting her to add a silly ornament to her order. December was the busy season at the nursery gift center, a good season. The scent of the pine wreaths, the gingerbread of the craft ornaments, the musty earthiness of the poinsettia pots, hit me in the gut. This had been everything to me once.
I didn’t know why I was there. Why I came back.
I knew I didn’t belong anymore.
When they let me out of prison, I’d planned to head out West. I was going to Seattle or maybe L.A., somewhere warmer and gay-friendly. I’d figured I’d work in Fargo for a while, save enough for the bus and a bit in my pocket, and start a new life. But when I finally had the fare and stepped up to the kiosk at the bus station, carols were on the radio and somehow my fingers tapped in “Tallbridge, ND.”
I’m stupid sometimes. And those are my good days.
Behind me, a laugh tugged at my memories, the faint echo of something I once knew. I turned and looked. An unfamiliar man with a full beard was bending to listen to the babbling of a small boy. After a moment, he swung the boy up on his shoulders. The kid giggled, crowing like a rooster, and tugged on the guy’s hair. “Go, Daddy! Horsie!” When the man tipped his head around, holding the boy’s legs secure against his chest, I suddenly saw it. Holy shit, that was Adam’s big brother.
A rush of crazy mixed feelings went through me, seeing Nate healthy. With a beard and a kid and, I guess, a wife. And a life. I tried to stomp on my flash of anger and envy, and think good thoughts. Nate was okay. Adam was an uncle. I hoped his mom lived long enough to see the rug-rat born.
A voice behind me said, “Can I help you?”
I didn’t turn. I didn’t even breathe.
“Is there something you’re looking for?” Adam said patiently.
You.
Without letting him see my face, I said as gruffly as I could, “No.” Then I added, “Thanks,” because I was back in the real world, and it wouldn’t kill me to be polite.
I’d changed in six years, too. A lot. My voice was deeper, and I didn’t look the same or stand the same as when I was the hot, bad boy on the block. Back before I got a lot of the attitude beat out of me. But all it took was two little words from me, for Adam to whisper, “Donnie?”
I wanted to walk away, but my feet were glued to the floor right there beside the damned teddy-bear-ornament tree. My vision sparkled. I think my fingers went numb.
Adam eased around me, moving like someone stalking a deer. When his face came into view, his eyes were huge. Maybe he was the Bambi. “Donnie? Is that you?”
I took a deep breath, then snapped, “Well, I ain’t fucking Marie, right?”
“Not unless you’ve changed teams.”
When our eyes met, it was almost like six years didn’t happen. It was me and Adam, together, me supplying the attitude and the straight lines, and Adam doling out the punch lines and the smiles. For a moment I almost grinned at him, but then the little kid laughed behind me and I remembered that time didn’t really stand still. I looked down. Adam still had feet the size of canoes in his work-boots. “I was just going.”
He grabbed my sleeve. Fast as a snake, I hit his grip off my arm, harder than I meant to, my other fist coming up. Adam flinched back, his empty palms held out. “Sorry! God, Donnie, I’m really sorry, just don’t go yet. Please!”
I dropped my fist a
nd whirled away to hide the water in my eyes. I almost hit Adam. First time I saw him in years, and I about punched him. “I’m the one that’s sorry. It was a reflex, that’s all. Just, um, don’t grab me.”
“I won’t.” His voice went soft and slow. “I just want to talk to you. A few minutes, an hour. I want to know you’re okay. I’ve missed you so fucking much!”
Adam was always braver than me. I muttered, “Yeah.” Me too.
He paused, like he was deciding what was safe to ask a wild man like me. I stared at the tree. There was a big teddy underneath it with this round little mirror on its stomach. I could see a warped view of Adam, half his face, looking at me, his gaze steady but his lips pressed together uncertainly. After a moment he said, “When did you get out?”
“Six months ago.”
“You didn’t tell anyone?”
I shrugged. I didn’t want anyone to see me walk out those prison gates an ex-con.
“What did you do?”
“Looked for a job. Found one after a while.” Crappy job, cleaning public bathrooms. Me, a couple of illegal aliens, and a guy who was usually stoned. Right at minimum wage. “Saved a little money.” Mostly by squatting rather than paying rent, eating at free kitchens. My pride went, somewhere in that long, hard first year. Now I was all about making it through by whatever worked.
“I’d have come—” He stopped, cleared his throat. “No. It was your choice. I have to respect that.”
I choked a laugh. “Sounds like something your mom would have said.”
“You know she— she’s not with us anymore?” His voice had gone rough.
“I went by the graveyard.”
“Ah.” It was more a breath than a word.
I still didn’t turn.
“After I woke up in the hospital and got to where I could think about things besides the broken bones, I tried to get in touch with you. A bunch of times. I know Mom tried too, right from the beginning. They always said you didn’t want to see us, wouldn’t take our letters.”
“No point.” I hadn’t wanted what happened after I was arrested to touch them. Adam and his mom, even his brother and dad— they were special. Clean. By then I was pretty damned dirty.
“Of course there was a point!” In the little bear-tummy mirror, I saw Adam run a hand over his close-cut hair. “Well, anyway. At some point, Mom said we had to respect your choices. She said I could send a letter now and then, so you’d know I hadn’t forgotten. But it was up to you to decide if you wanted to write back or let us in.”
“I’m so sorry. About your mom.” My throat tightened so much I had to force the last word out, like a grunt. How classy.
But Adam stepped a little nearer. “She thought about you a lot, even at the end. She would say she hoped you were all right, or she wished she had enough time to wait for you to get out.”
“Fuck. Don’t tell me that.” I blinked hard, because if I wiped my eyes, he’d know. “How old is the munchkin? Your brother’s brat?”
“He’s two. She got to have some time with him.”
Figured Adam would understand why I asked. I nodded a bunch of times. “Well. That’s good. I should go.”
“Can’t we talk? I want to know what you’re doing next. Where you’ll be staying. I want to tell you about my life and the stupid shit I’m doing.”
“I don’t need to know about your shit.”
“You were all up in my shit once.”
“Jesus, Adam!”
“Donnie!” He mimicked my tone, then softened again. “We were best friends and boyfriends and more. That didn’t go away for me because you were driving drunk and got in an accident. Or even because you pled guilty to a bunch of charges and served time. I was drunk in the same damned car, remember?”
“I pled guilty to fucking criminal vehicular homicide, Adam. Not just DUI or open bottle.” Well, those too, although the open can of beer under my seat had been his. I wondered how much he remembered. Probably not much, given that he was in hospital for months afterward. Him and Nate both got hurt. It was a wonder their mom didn’t curse my name.
“You’re all healed up, right?” I asked. I had nightmares about what I’d done to Adam. Even after I finally opened one of his mom’s letters, just to know for sure, and she said they were both good now.
“Yeah. Everything healed fine. It’s you I want to hear about.”
“I did time. I’m a con. I did shit inside I’m not fucking proud of. You don’t know me anymore.”
“I want to.”
“You don’t.”
“The hell I don’t. You get to speak your mind, but you’ve got to respect my opinion too. I’ve been waiting to see you again, Donnie.”
“I call bullshit. You gonna tell me no-one else has been in your pants in six years?” It was fucking stupid that I held my breath in some illogical brain-freeze of hope.
Stupider that the breath left my chest when he said, “Of course there has. I’ve dated a couple of guys, messed around with a few more.”
“Me too,” I grunted. “Without the dating part. So—”
“Donnie. None of those guys were you. Not one of them stopped me from wondering what you were doing, how you felt, what was happening to you, pretty nearly every day.”
That what-was-happening shit was stuff I was never gonna tell him. But his words were a little flame in my cold body. “Oh.”
He moved closer. “I want to get to know you again. So we’ve both changed? That doesn’t mean we can’t be friends.”
And more? I hadn’t wanted to fuck anyone in a long time, but my whole body came alert at the thought of naked Adam. The buzz was great for a moment, but then it got swamped by nausea. I gritted my teeth. As right as Adam had been for me once, he was dead wrong now. But the idea of having him back as a friend was more damned seductive than sex. “I could maybe hang around for an hour.”
“Good! God, that’s great. Just wait right there, okay? Don’t move. Promise?”
“Um. All right.”
“That’s a promise?”
“Yeah.”
He hurried off and I stood there like a dummy. It was my chance to get lost for good, but I didn’t, because I’d never once broken my word to Adam.
I heard him return after a moment. “Here.” He moved up close behind me, slowly, but not stopping until I could feel his heat through the worn denim of my jeans.
“Here, what?” I stared down at the mirror on the bear, even though Adam was hidden behind my warped reflection.
“Here. A Christmas present.”
I didn’t move, deliberately speaking rough. “I ain’t got nothin’ for you.”
“Don’t be dumb. I don’t need anything. Put out your hand.” He stood close enough for me to feel his breath on my neck, his chest against my shoulder as he sneaked an arm around me, holding something in his closed hand.
I didn’t want to take anything from him. It was too much, too hard. But it’d been six years since I’d got a gift. Unwillingly, I raised my arm, opened my hand. He dropped something into it, a cool metal shape with a tangle of bits. I looked more closely.
The basic part was a Swiss Army knife, a good one with all the attachments. I knew the very one. The week before everything went to hell we’d been looking at online catalogs, picking out good shit. I’d seen this, with everything from a saw blade to a pair of tweezers, and wanted it, even though there was no way I could’ve afforded it.
I turned it in my hands. It had a little loop at one end, to hang it by. Attached to the loop were a bunch of random things, like a lumpy tassel of charms.
Adam murmured, “You said the knife was perfect. That a guy could get out of just about any tight spot with that. I bought it for you, the first year, when I thought I could still visit you for Christmas.”
I snorted loudly to cover the ache of that. “Dumbass. They’d never let you give a guy in prison a knife.”
“I know that, Dumberass. I thought I’d show you a picture, like a pr
omise. And give you that.” He reached into my palm, and ticked one of the little charm-things with his finger tip.
“What the hell is that?”
“A four-leafed clover. A real one, inside liquid plastic. An Irish one. They promised on the website. For luck.”
“You believed a website? It’s probably from China. Probably a mutant Chernobyl clover.”
“Chernobyl’s in northern Ukraine, not China.” He flipped another of the charms, a silver shape. “That was for your nineteenth birthday. It’s Navajo, with a sun and an arrow for luck.”
It was a little tarnished, like real silver. I swallowed.
“Now, this one is Chinese.” I heard a smile in his voice. “A jade coin.” He tapped the others. “A rudrakesh nut, a new penny, the nail from a horseshoe, a sprig of rosemary.” He leaned in closer, his head alongside mine. “I made the little cover for the rosemary from a stamp case. Then here— an actual ancient scarab. A freaking mini rainbow unicorn, because I saw it when we were ordering ornaments for the store last year. I wouldn’t have brought that to a prison, though.”
I closed both hands over the whole thing, hiding it, holding it. “No rabbit’s foot?”
“Not very lucky for the rabbit, is it? Nope, no dead feet.”
“Oh.” I could feel all the little edges and corners pressing into my palms. “Thanks.”
“Merry Christmas, Donnie. I’m glad I finally was able to give it to you. Whatever comes next, that’s how much good luck you deserve.”
“I don’t fucking deserve anything.”
“How much luck I want you to have, then.”
Wouldn’t that be something different? I slid the knife with the charms into my pocket.
Adam’s voice was like smoke in my ear. Soft, almost unnoticeable. “Will you stay? At least for a while? Let me get to know you again and make sure you’re going to be okay? You’re welcome at the house—” He must’ve felt me shiver because he went on smoothly, “—or you could use the room behind the office here. The heating still sucks, but at least the floor has a carpet now. The couch is still the same one.”