by Jules Dixon
“Looking forward to your party tomorrow night.”
“What party?” He crossed his arms and smirked.
“Um…”
Shit!
“Sage and Rahl are throwing me a surprise birthday party, right?”
“I’m sorry. No one told me it was a surprise.”
Jude clasped my shoulder again. “Not a problem. I’ll still act surprised. I figured my fiancée was up to something. She hasn’t offered much information about what we’re doing this weekend. Kind of had me suspicious.”
“Thanks, Jude. Then I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
“Are you sure there’s nothing else going on, Ollie? Sorry to poke, but you seem kind of just not you.”
“Relationship stuff that you really don’t want to hear about.”
“I think you’d be surprised.”
“I’m bisexual.”
“And?”
That was totally a Jude answer. Give him a little insight and he wanted to know more about a person, but there was no judgment. His sculpted trainer body aside, his girlfriend Presley was a lucky woman. I imagined he actually listened to her. Not to bash on my gender, but that was hard for any dude to do. Distraction was everywhere and our hormone-fed brains made that “thinking about sex” hundreds of times an hour impossible to push aside.
I turned toward the front door and he walked beside me. “I asked someone to do something he wasn’t ready to do. I pushed too hard and I lost him. I’m having problems letting go.”
“Then don’t.”
“Don’t what?” I switched my bag to the other arm.
“Don’t let go. I’ve seen one too many of my friends decide that it’s easier to leave than to stay and work through disagreements and problems. Don’t be that guy.”
“Kanyon?”
“Yeah. Thank God Willow gave him a second chance. At least apologize for what you said and did and try to have some closure, but might be a second chance for you, too, Ollie.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
On my way to my car, I texted Sage. I assumed I already knew the answer to what I was going to ask, but the question seemed like a good lead-in for discussing other things with her.
I paused at my car. Did I really want to be bringing a woman to Jude’s party when what I really wanted was only one man? The morning was still cool and my skin rolled with a shiver, but it wasn’t from the temperature.
Rory, hope you’re looking for a friend.
I texted Sage.
Ollie: Is it okay if I bring someone along tomorrow night?
I showered at my apartment and made my way to work. Walking through the doorway, my phone buzzed.
A head leaned out of a cubicle as I passed. “Hey, Oliver, can we discuss the specs on that project next week?”
“Sure, Jake. Let me put my bag at my desk, then let’s work in the meeting room.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
I lifted my phone to read the message.
Sage: Of course! The more the merrier.
Ollie: How are things going today with you?
Sage: Good, but I get the feeling you know something.
Ollie: I’ll talk to you tomorrow afternoon, but I want you to know I’m here for you.
Sage: No. I want to be clear right now. The decision to marry Rahl is mine and mine only. Although I love you, your opinion isn’t needed or going to be helpful. If you mention the M-word even once, you will be asked to leave. I’m sorry for being bitchy about it, but it’s stressing me out and I don’t need that.
Sage wasn’t one to get bitchy. I imagined her getting stressed, and I gritted my teeth for leading her into the exchange. I stretched my back out as this morning’s workout and the thoughts of Sage being upset settled into my muscles.
Stop being a jerk, be a friend.
There was another time when I pushed someone too far. People should be able to decide when they’re ready. I needed to learn when to step back.
Ollie: Sorry, Sage. I only want you to be happy. I won’t mention it. Promise.
Sage: Thank you for understanding.
Ollie: Rahl loves you and only wants to make you happy, too.
Sage: You said you wouldn’t mention it!
Ollie: I said nothing about the M-word.
Sage: You promised!
Keep this up and I’ll lose Sage from my life, too. Stop.
Ollie: No more. Take care of yourself and those babies.
Sage: I’ll be home after lunch to start preparing for tomorrow.
Ollie: I’ll be there. Love you, Sage.
Sage: Love you too.
I met Jake in the meeting room and focused on the assignment for a couple of hours. The distraction of my job helped, I liked VSI, and my coworkers and the work was both physical and mental.
As I was walking back to my desk, Breigh stopped me in the hallway. Crazy that I hadn’t ever decided what Breigh’s best feature was. Wasn’t that I didn’t look, just didn’t make a permanent conclusion. Even crazier was that coworker Bryson and I had an agreement that neither one of us would ever sleep with her. The fact that Rahl would probably castrate both of us if we tried anything was a major factor, but doing multiple-hour surveillances with someone who had seen and hopefully enjoyed my penis, sounded about as comfortable as watching my grandma in a porn. Uncomfortable. And repulsive to even think about.
“Ollie, can I ask you a question?”
“Shoot.” I leaned against the doorway.
“How do you tell if a guy is interested?”
I laughed. “And you’re asking me because?”
She pursed her lips. She wasn’t normally this timid. “Well, you kind of see it from both sides, as the interested guy and the guy a guy might be interested in.” Her eyebrows rose like she’d said something offensive.
Not offended, kind of flattered.
“I guess that’s true. Okay, give me a little more information.”
“I met this guy and I kind of asked him out and he said ‘not right now’. He was really cute, and Ollie, I’m dying.”
“What?” I reached out and rubbed her arm.
She raised her eyebrows even higher and stepped closer, dropping her voice to a whisper. “Sex. It’s been months.”
I tried to stifle my laugh, but it didn’t work. “I’d offer up my services—”
“Yeah, that’s not going to happen.” Her face cleared of emotion and she shook her head.
“All right. What’s this guy like?”
“I don’t know how to describe him and do justice. He’s this blend of smokin’ hot guy and sensitive man that just doesn’t really happen all that often. You and Bryson are the only two other guys I’ve ever met that are able to pull both off. Bryson more of the sensitive, and you more of the hot guy, but you do it. Usually guys only have one or the other, this guy had both down to a capital T and he had this sexy Southern drawl that was like verbal vajayay lube.”
“Verbal vajayay lube?” I chuckled. “Nice. First, I think I’ll take all of that sensitive and hot guy stuff as a compliment, so thanks. But out of curiosity, why not me or Bryson?”
Just have to know.
“I thought about going the Bryson route, but he and I are too good of friends. I can’t ruin that, and even if he is so hot that I want to be the bad girl that I’m not, I won’t. And you, Ollie, you’re hung up on someone and a girl can tell when a guy is thinking of someone else during sex, at least I can.”
“I’d still do you.”
She laughed. “Nope, not gonna happen, Aston, so don’t even try.”
“Doesn’t matter, Bryson and I have a ‘no touch’ pact when it comes to you.”
She crossed her arms and the valley of her breasts became more prominent.
Don’t look. Do. Not. Look.
“Really?” She seemed both touched and a little irritated.
“Breigh, you’re beautiful, and believe me, I didn’
t sign on the dotted line with Bryson happily, but after drinking one night, we got it out on the table. We both understand how sleeping with a coworker almost always ends up a mistake, but sometimes we guys can be convinced to break our honorable code when it comes to a gorgeous girl.”
She rolled her eyes. “Okay, I guess.”
“Now, Jake, he’s the one you should worry about.”
“I can handle Greenstein.”
“All right, but you ever need someone to handle him for you, you call me.” She nodded and smiled. “Okay, back to your sensitive and hot guy. You have this verbal lubricant’s number?”
“Yeah, he’s the new hired hand on Sage’s grandparents’ farm. They have some beautiful horses.”
“Call him up and ask if you can go for a ride.” I rethought that statement. “A ride on a horse, of course.”
“Ollie!” She slapped my arm. “I already asked, he said he needed to test them out to make sure they’re okay with riders.”
“Okay, so he basically turned you down twice?”
“Yeah, I guess he did.”
“He’s probably gay.”
Breigh stepped back. “You think?”
“You got his number?”
“Yes, the only thing he agreed to.”
“Text him that you’re having a bad week and need to relax. That’s girl code for I need a good fu—”
“I got it!” She held up a hand and then used it to push on my shoulder.
“If he makes a lame excuse, then you know. No hetero or bi-guy is going to turn you down, Breigh.”
Her tan skin glowed with a blush. “Just to hear his sexy Southern drawl of my name during sex…” She sigh-moaned, which had its own effect on me.
“Yeah, on that sound, I’m gonna go back to my desk. Good luck.”
She laughed and turned toward her desk.
Southern drawl? That is the best way to hear your name said.
Back at my desk, my thoughts slid in and out of the mistakes I’d made with my Southern drawl guy when it came to our relationship. As far as I was concerned Rahl hadn’t made a mistake. He’d only done what his heart told him to do. Choices and decisions often come with regret. My biggest regret in life affected one special person, and I hadn’t heard from him in months. I’d hoped there would be a second chance, like Jude had suggested.
While staring at my computer screen, I dreamed back to the night when I was going to tell Holt what was in my heart. We’d been together for four months, and I’d waited for him in his room. I shouldn’t have, but I’d picked up a letter from his mother that went on and on about some girl back in Montgomery and how she’d told his mother she couldn’t wait for him to get home because she’d had surprises waiting for him. When he got to the room, I’d turned on him for his dishonesty. I allowed my jealousy to fuel my words. I’d given him an ultimatum to tell his family about us … about him. And he’d calmly replied that he couldn’t.
After fuming from his room, I’d turned on myself. I invited not one, but two—less than special, but totally willing—female colleagues back to my place, and when Holt came to talk things out, he found the three of us making out on my bed. An Ollie sandwich that wasn’t very filling.
The heated words that had followed told me how Holt had really felt about my bisexuality. We’d both let go of demons we’d held in. We’d never been fully honest with each other, and our relationship was damaged.
With our volume of voices, and the screaming girls, everyone knew about him and me. In two weeks, I was sent back to the States and eventually discharged. Holt was too valuable to send home. After I was out, I’d e-mailed him a couple of times, but when he didn’t return the connection I’d stopped.
That was months ago.
“Ollie! Oliver!” Rahl’s voice cut through my daydream haze.
“Yes, sir, sorry.”
“I need to see the specs and budget for next Monday’s assignment today.”
“I have it ready. I’ll e-mail it right now.”
“Everything okay, Aston?”
“Not really, but it will be. With time.”
You need a shovel for that load of crap?
“You still coming to Jude’s party?”
“I’ll be there. Bringing a girl I met at Triple R this morning.” I ran my hands through my hair and pulled my short Mohawk into a peak.
Rahl’s brows furrowed deeper than normal. “Maybe you need some time away from dating and have a night with only friends? No pressure? Maybe you need to examine what you really want.”
“Would I want things to be different? Sure. But I haven’t heard from Holt in over a year. I’d say he’s moved on. Plus, I wasn’t exactly truthful with you, Rahl. I hurt him before I left Afghanistan.” I dropped my gaze to the floor. “He probably wouldn’t want to see me anyway.”
“Hurt, like how?” Rahl asked slowly.
“I wanted him to come out to his family. I retaliated when he said he couldn’t, and he caught me in a ... situation.” I cringed and kept my eyes down. I didn’t need to see the disappointment that was already inside of me.
“I think I can imagine what kind of situation.” Rahl leaned against the cubicle doorway but kept his voice low. “Hopefully, Holt would forgive you. Since I haven’t gotten up the courage to tell Sage yet about her father, and I’m not sure she’ll forgive me after, I understand what you’re feeling. But, I still believe Sage will forgive me because that’s what we do for the person we love.”
Holt and I’d never said that word to each other. We’d kept lots of things bottled inside.
“Maybe. I’m going to take the afternoon off tomorrow to help Sage get ready for the party.”
“That sounds like a good idea. I’m going to go visit Dave, see if he’s interested in talking to Sage about being her dad before I present the news to her.”
“Probably a good idea, too.”
Rahl straightened his back. “Aston, back to work. Things will work out for both of us.”
Well then, I need to make an effort to work things out.
I turned back around and opened my personal e-mail account. After typing out a simple message, I hit send and hoped for a response that would open the road to communication.
Holt, just a chance, that’s all I ask.
Chapter Seven
Holt
I finished harvesting the remaining field of soybeans. Vern helped by driving his grain truck after the Whitemans’ truck broke down in the morning. I’d have all winter to put effort into rebuilding the grain truck’s engine and performing maintenance on the other equipment, too.
Omaha was turning out better than I’d hoped. The people were friendly, it was easy to get around, and I’d developed a good routine, which was priority to effectively run a successful farm. While completing daily tasks, I was building up the nerve to contact Oliver. The memory of our final interaction and what we’d said to each other played like a skipping record, fear and caution the underlying horrible melody.
And lots of hurt.
We both had issues. He wasn’t able to accept that I hadn’t come out to my family, and his bisexuality concerned me. If Oliver’s instinct were to run to a woman when things got hard, he’d never truly be mine. He’d just be shared. Then there was Suzanne. Honestly, that crap storm from my past swirled like a hurricane in my head. How would I explain it to Oliver?
After feeding the horses and cats, I pulled my phone from my pocket. Leaning against the back of the barn, I watched a beaver going between a small downed tree and the pond to make his habitat sturdier with a few of what he deemed the appropriate reinforcements. The beaver seemed to work harder than most humans.
I typed out a text to Drexel.
Holt: Hello. I’m done in the fields, have a little extra energy today. Was wondering if you could suggest a gym?
Drexel: Hope the truck is working out. Run-Ride-Rock Gym. Planning on going there tonight. Maybe grab dinner after?
Holt: Sure.
Dr
exel: Gym’s on the corner of 204th and F Streets. Not far from the farm.
Holt: I’ll meet you there. Around 6?
Drexel: That works. Later.
Keeping my options open, in case Oliver was already in a relationship and it truly was time to move on, had me wondering more about Drexel. He was attention-grabbing with his Nebraska clean-cut-and-yet-a-little-rough-around-the-edges good looks, and he was intelligent, able to hold a conversation with some humor, and was kind to his friends. Seemed like a caring person, and I craved company, even if his was only friendship. But he was never going to be the guy running through my thoughts and walking through my dreams that often seemed like nightmares.
I rubbed my face and realized I hadn’t shaved in days. It wasn’t just stubble. It was a beard in the beginning stages.
“Holt! Holt Jamison, you in here?”
The voice was easily recognizable, and for an instant, I thought about evading him around the side of the barn.
How’d he even find me? Mama.
I stepped into the barn. “Cade.”
“Brother.” His boots kicked up dust as he crossed the barn floor. He pulled me into an embrace, and I slapped his back. “Damn, been too long, Holt.”
“Three years, plus.”
My youngest brother stepped back, and I viewed what was an actual beard.
I tugged on the tangled mess. “You look like a goddamn Bigfoot.”
He petted the mass of untidy course hair dangling from his chin. “I got comfortable in my own skin. There was no one to mind what I looked like, or at least no one who wanted to tell me to change it. Kind of that way when you don’t put down roots anywhere for too long.”
“I imagine.” I brushed past him and took long strides toward the house.
His genetic Jamison long legs scuttled his boots across the dirt floor onto the rock outside to follow. The sound made me chuckle. Just like old times when he was always on my heels.
He caught up with me. “How’s your new gig going?”
I scowled. “Gig? I’m not a hippie singer on tour, Cade.”
“Well then, how is the professional hired hand position you recently accepted, dear brother?” He pulled his baseball hat off, his long hair falling onto his neck, and put the cap over his heart in emphasis of his sarcasm.