by Kaje Harper
“Yeah. Pops says she’s sick. She might need some kind of surgery.”
“That sucks. Like what?”
“A stomach thing. Pops says not to worry, but he sounded like crap.”
“Can’t you Skype?”
“I did. She said she was fine, and she told me to stay put, but she looked worse than Pops sounds.”
“Not much you can do, though.”
“I need to go see her. I wanna go.”
He had another six months of parole here in North Dakota. “They don’t like parolees going AWOL.”
“I know. It’s not fair,” he whined, like a child protesting the unfairness of the world. You’d have thought he’d know better by now, but he managed some kind of innocence despite everything.
“There’s probably a way to petition for a hardship exception.”
“Who do I ask?”
“I’m no lawyer. Ask your PO.”
“I won’t see him for four days. And I’m no good at saying that shit. You should come help me say it right.”
“I’m in fucking Tallbridge, Leon. I’m not putting me and my dog on a bus back there to help you talk to your own PO.”
“You have a dog?”
“Do now.”
“Well, you owe me. I ain’t asked for nothing big before. You gotta help me.”
I sighed. I did owe him, but this was nuts. “Your PO won’t listen to me. Tell you what, I’ll get online, look up how you can request compassionate permission to travel while on parole. I’ll let you know. Okay?”
“They’ll have to let me. Right?”
“Depends on how sick she is, I guess. I don’t know. They’re not in it for charity.”
“Fuck them.”
“Word.”
He sighed loud enough for me to hear it. “When’re you coming back, Donnie?”
“Coming back wasn’t the plan, remember?” I’d done my full time. They had no hold on me. This was just a detour on my way somewhere better.
“It ain’t the same without you around.”
“Still not coming back. Look, you can only do what you can do. Hopefully your mom will be fine. Six more months, and you can shake this state off your boots and head home.”
“What if she’s not? Not fine?”
I didn’t have an answer to that. Shit happens. He wouldn’t thank me for saying so. “Listen, I gotta go. I’m working, and I have to get back on the floor.”
“You’ll look up that petition shit for me?”
“Sure. Promise. Later, dude.”
“Bye, Donnie.”
I tapped out of the call but took a moment to regroup before opening the door. I owed Leon big time. Life and death time. But talking to him pushed me back into survival mode. I hadn’t realized how far I’d moved out of that until I had to go back out into the store and smile at people and sell Christmas shit, and be in the same space as Adam. The Donnie who could do that wasn’t the Donnie I’d been for six years inside.
I leaned on the sink, pretending to tidy my shaggy hair in the mirror. All the while, I pushed thoughts of me and Leon and the weight of unfair law into the right box and shut it. Strapped it down. Done. I tried a smile. That’d frighten a shark. The thought made me laugh enough that the next smile looked okay. Good enough anyway. Time to go back out and pull my weight in a world where there was still kindness and trust to be had, if only from one particular guy.
Chapter 8
Adam
Four days since Donnie showed up, and he still hadn’t kissed me. The closest he’d come was patting snow off my ass at the tree lot. He was jumpy at times, reminding me of Willow although he was more likely to snarl than roll over and pee. I didn’t want to know what was going through his mind at those times, except as long as I didn’t know that, I didn’t know this new Donnie.
Across the store, I saw his dark head bent toward some little old lady as she sorted through a stack of holiday placemats. She smiled at something he said. He might claim his strength was in the heavy lifting, but he’d always been able to turn on the charm.
I was clearly still a sucker for it. I let my gaze linger a moment before going back to ringing my customer up.
He was probably right, making us go slow. The teen guys we’d been were still inside us, but we had a whole lot more layers now. Didn’t change the fact that he was still sex on legs, of course. I twisted for another look at him and saw Pam coming in the front door with little Tommy.
“Hey, Nate,” I called toward the back hallway. “Your better half is here with your excellent child.”
Nate popped out of the hall door, a box of garlands in his arms. His eyes lit up at the sight of Pam and the rugrat. I took the box from him. “Say hi to your family.”
He didn’t argue, just hurried down the aisle and kissed Pam, then lifted Tommy up in a happy flailing circle.
“That’s his wife, huh?” I jumped, and Donnie steadied the box in my arms. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”
“That’s okay. Yeah, Pam, and his son Tommy. Best thing about the last couple of years.”
“Kid’s cute.”
I glanced at Donnie. He was staring at Nate and his family, his expression almost angry. I knew he didn’t like Nate anymore, but that was oddly intense. When he caught my eye, he went blank and expressionless.
“Hey, why don’t you take your guy home for dinner for a change?” I called to Pam. “Donnie and I can close.”
“You’re sure?” She came our way, holding out her hand. “You must be Donnie. Nate said you were helping Adam out for a few days. I’m Pam. Good to meet you.”
“Yeah. Thanks.” Donnie shook hands fast and dropped back a step.
“I should be thanking you. I wasn’t expecting to get Nate home at dinnertime for ten more days.”
Nate came up behind her, holding the kid on his hip. “Are you sure? I could come back after we eat.”
“Are you kidding?” I balanced the box in one arm and reached out to tweak Tommy’s nose, making him giggle. “Read the squirt a bedtime story for once. Donnie and I will be fine.”
“You’ll close out the register yourself, Adam?” Nate’s emphasis on the “you” parts of that were clear enough that a shadow crossed Pam’s face.
“Since you haven’t let me touch it yet,” Donnie said behind me, “let alone learn the details, he fucking has to do it.”
Nate put his hand over the kid’s ear and frowned darkly.
“Sorry, ma’am.” The words rasped out of Donnie’s throat. “I’m not around kids much.” He nudged my elbow. “Gimme those garlands. I’ll put ’em on the display.”
I let him take the box. When he’d crossed the store to the hanging racks, I whispered, “What the heck was that, Nate?”
“He said F-U-C-K around Tommy.”
“Like you’ve never slipped. And that’s not what I meant.”
Nate looked at me, daring me to say it out loud. Half a dozen customers were within earshot. This was not the time for an argument.
“Remember.” I kicked his foot, not gently. “Donnie’s the guy getting you a night off and keeping us afloat. The guy that has Dad actually getting up early, walking outside, and making real meals.”
“That’s the dog.”
“Donnie’s dog. Ah, hel—heck, go home and have a nice meal. Donnie and I will take care of your precious store just fine.”
Pam glanced back and forth between us, but clearly also decided discretion was the way to go. “Come on, hon. I have pork chops in the fridge. I can have them on the table in half an hour.”
Nate softened as he returned her gaze. “With fried apples?”
“If you’re good and eat all your broccoli.”
Tommy laughed. “Brocc’i is icky.”
“Broccoli is wonderful,” Pam corrected.
Nate hefted his son. “Apples are wonderful.”
“Apples!” Tommy hugged him around the neck.
“Go on, git,” I said.
Nate nodde
d. “Thanks, Adam. I’ll see you in the morning.”
As he and his family headed toward the hallway door, I was buttonholed by a young woman looking for figure skater ornaments. After that, I located the last church in the ceramic village set for an older guy. When I had time to glance up, Donnie was busy with another customer. So I let my frustration with Nate go.
Working with just Donnie was fun. I hadn’t realized how much silent tension lay between him and Nate until it was gone. He was a different guy, showier, funnier, teasing the customers into buying things the way I did. Only he was even better at it. I mostly manned the register and let him do the running around. A couple of times the line of folks waiting got a bit long, while he had to ask me for help finding things, but we did okay.
At nine eleven p.m., I ushered the last customer out the front door and locked it. “Whoot. Survived another day.”
“Yeah. Not too shabby.” He leaned against the wall beside the door. “Do you think the store is doing all right? Making enough money, I mean?”
“Hard to say.” Once the customer had pulled out of the lot, I switched the outside lights to security and flipped the sign to Closed. “Depends on what they were buying. We were as busy as ever. Maybe even better than last year, since the Kmart closed up. But if they bought three-dollar ornaments instead of ten-dollar rugs and twenty-dollar lighted wreaths, then we still come out behind.”
“How bad are things? Didn’t you used to hire seasonal help?”
“It’s tight,” I admitted. “Nate’s the finance guy, and he says we can make it if we have a good holiday. I don’t know if that’s true or he just doesn’t want to worry Dad.”
Nick frowned. “What about your dad? He used to be in here. I remember him juggling ornaments to amuse some kids. Your mom about scalped him.” He faltered, maybe from what he saw on my face. “Sorry.”
“That’s okay.” I remembered that, too. Dad used to keep four glass balls in the air in a simple fountain, making the children wide eyed. It was one of his things. People came to us instead of driving all the way to Target because they’d heard of us. They knew us. Back when we were an us instead of this scatter of individuals, two of whom were trying to make the store still work.
What did Donnie ask? Oh, yeah. “Dad’s having a hard time with the holidays this year. They were so much Mom’s thing. He’s been too out of it to work here.”
“He doesn’t seem that bad to me.”
“He’s better since you came. Well, since Willow, mostly.”
“Yeah, he only tolerates me for my dog.” He nudged my foot when I flinched. “I’m joking. I’m glad he’s willing to look after her. She’d be a mess in here. And if it’s good for him? Win-win, right?”
I didn’t like him thinking he was barely tolerated. “I’m glad you came back for yourself. No mutts need apply.”
He reached out and brushed my chin with one finger, then headed back toward the counter. “I’ll tidy up, if you’re doing the precious till.”
“I’ll help tidy first.” I usually hated straightening up at the end of a long day, but I wanted to lighten the mood. I grabbed a pair of headband antlers and slipped them on. “Hey, call me Prancer.”
Donnie turned. “Only if you dance for me.”
I twerked for a moment to get him to grin.
The smile lit up his face. “Ack, enough! I can’t unsee that.”
“I’m an excellent dancer.” I hung the headband back up and refolded a holiday T-shirt.
“You always had two left feet.” He picked up a basket and began walking around, gleaning misplaced items.
“I grew into them.”
He turned the corner of the aisle, just as I pivoted to go back. We met, chest to chest, separated by a few inches of space. My breath caught, and his face flushed. Neither of us moved. I knew I should wait for him to take the first step, but it felt like I’d been waiting forever. I leaned forward, keeping my eyes open. He didn’t pull back. A fraction of an inch from his mouth, I paused. He has to close that last gap.
His mouth landed on mine. “Damn it, Adam,” he murmured against my lips. “I never could say no to you.”
I kissed him, fast and light. “Do you want to?”
“Nope.” He set the basket down, held my head between his hands, and kissed me.
I’d been kissed by plenty of guys by now. None of them kissed like Donnie, hungry, but gentle. Fast, and then slow, coaxing rather than demanding. Finding all the ways my mouth could take his. By the time he paused for breath, I was clinging to his wrists. The most coherent thing I could come up with was, “Hi there.”
“Hi.”
I expected him to pull me in again, but he held me still and leaned his forehead against mine. His breaths came ragged and fast between parted lips, puffing across my chin. He closed his eyes.
“That bad?” I asked, just to say something.
“Fuck you.” He eased back. “But not here.” Throwing a quick glance around, he let go of me and took a step. “We should probably finish cleaning up—”
“Later.” I had a feeling if he had time to worry about it, he’d worry himself right back to a safe distance. “Door’s locked. We’re good. Come on, Donnie, there’s an old couch with our name on it.” I held out my hand.
After a long look, he took my fingers between his own and led the way, tugging me off balance like he used to sometimes do. It gave me an excuse to bump into him and laugh, over my rising mix of heat and anxiety. Did I push too hard? Does he want this too?
When we ducked into the break room and shut the door, he shoved me against it hard enough to be reassuring. He leaned on me, and this time his kiss was all about taking my breath and getting his tongue into my mouth. Our lips mashed together. I grabbed his shoulders for balance as I kissed him back. He was solid under my hands, the fabric of his shirt sliding over serious muscles. The taste of his mouth was tinged with the salami sandwiches we’d ordered in for dinner, but somehow that helped make it all feel real.
Yes. More. I was already rock hard. I dug my fingers into his back, then worked down to grab his ass. He gasped into my mouth and tensed. Anxiety flooded me and I let go quickly. “Sorry.”
“Fuck, no.” He grabbed my wrists and set my hands back on his ass. “I just don’t want to come before either of us is naked.”
“Oh. Good.” But the spell of just mindless wanting had been broken. “What do you want? I’m easy.”
He chuckled and nuzzled my neck, biting at my earlobe. “Yeah, you always were.”
“Not as bad as you.” I tipped my head back as he scraped my throat with his teeth.
My head hit the door, and he slid his hand behind to cushion me. “Don’t break that fancy brain of yours.”
I kissed him, bit at his lower lip, and paused. “No, really. What would you like?”
He shrugged, shifting under my hands. “I’m not fussy. Kinda lost the taste for giving blow jobs, but anything else. Pick something, before I jizz my last clean jeans.”
I slid to my knees, looking up at him. “How about receiving blow jobs?”
He stared down at me, pupils wide and dark, then touched the side of my face. “Got no problem with that. What-so-ever.”
I let go of his hips and reached for his button, then his zipper. His dick was a hard ridge under the denim, and I pulled the tab down carefully. His faded boxers were dark over the tip. His breath hitched as I leaned forward and kissed there lightly, tasting salt. Which reminded me. Dammit.
“I tested after my last boyfriend,” I said, making it about me. “Just once though, eight months ago. All negative. Safe enough for oral, not enough for bareback.”
He nodded. “I tested when I got out and a couple months later. Negative. And no fucking since. So, same deal.”
I tried to be subtle about letting out the breath I’d been holding. “That’s good. I want to taste you.”
He shuddered— a whole body shiver— while his cock visibly strained against his boxers, and the
n he put his hands on my head. “Won’t say no.”
I was torn with wanting to slow things down and relearn every part of him, and the need that was making my breath short. Time for slow later. I hope. I tugged the waistband of his boxers down, pulling jeans and shorts toward his thighs until his dick sprang free.
I had a flash of familiarity. Donnie’s was the first hard dick I’d seen that wasn’t mine. He was smaller than average, but perfect down to the little forward curve that fit me just right. I nuzzled into the dark curls at the base for a second, then ran the tip of my tongue up the underside ridge, lapped at the slit, and swallowed him down.
He grunted sharply, and his fingers twitched in my hair. “Jesus fuck!”
I hummed, relaxing my throat. Then I sucked hard as I pulled back and off.
He tightened his grip on my head, keeping me from going back down. “I won’t last that way.”
“So?” I’d practiced a raised-eyebrow, head-tilt invitation thing. I tried it on him.
He snorted. “Your funeral. Go for it.”
That’s my plan. I put my hands on his hips to steady us and did exactly that. At fifteen, I’d been enthusiastic, but gaggy and clumsy. Better by our last time, but I’d had practice since then. I gave him everything I liked, licking with the flat of my tongue, probing with the tip, fast hard deep sucking until he was breathing roughly, and then a sudden stop and change of angle. I raked the edge of my teeth lightly along his shaft, catching the little harp string below the head. He groaned and bucked deeper, sliding against the roof of my mouth.
I could taste the sweet-salt of his pre-cum now, and the pulse in his groin raced under my thumb. I glanced up to see his eyes hooded, staring down, laser-focused on where my mouth met his shaft. My own jeans were getting painful, but I didn’t want to take my hands off him.
I’d never fully conquered my gag reflex, but Donnie was perfectly sized. I switched back to deep strokes, relaxing my throat past the discomfort, urging him on. He gripped my hair, panted and swore under his breath, but he let me control the motion. I closed my eyes and focused only on the shape of him in my mouth, taking him as far and hard and tight as I could. Spit ran down my chin. The trickle of his taste became a wash over my tongue. He started thrusting, fast and shallow, and I fought to meet him right. My jaw ached, lips burned. More. Harder.