by Riley Hart
“In Max’s defense, I’m sure this is a difficult time for him as well. He lost his father.”
“Actually, it’s not. He spent eighteen years of my life tormenting me—calling me names: weak, sissy, disgrace, and when that didn’t work, he banged my head into the wall, shoved me, hit me, whatever he could do to show his power over me. I’m not mourning his loss at all.”
His mom gasped. “How dare you put our private family business out there like that! He changed. He wasn’t the same man. He tried to make amends but you ignored him and when he died, he died of a broken heart.”
Ignored him? What the hell was she talking about? “And I’m supposed to feel sorry about that?” Van shouted. “He hit me, Mom. He hit me and he made me feel like I wasn’t worthy. Like there was something wrong with me and you didn’t do a damn thing about it!” It was like his chest was the epicenter, the earthquake inside him spreading out from there.
He thought about his day with Annie. His time with her yesterday. The way she looked at Shane and talked about Shane and truly wanted what was best for him…and they would never have that. He saw it now. There was nothing he could do. “I can’t do this anymore.” He threw his arms up and let them fall again. “I can’t do this anymore, Mom. It’s just not going to work.”
Van turned and went for the stairs. He packed up the few things he had that hadn’t made its way to Shane’s and then went back downstairs. When he got there, Jonathan was gone. His mother was the only person still standing there.
“I’m signing away my rights to everything he left me, and I’m doing it without your help.”
“I loved him,” she said softly, her back to him. “I loved him so much. He saved my life.”
“How?” Van asked. “How did he save your life?” He didn’t know much about his mom’s past. She never wanted to talk about it and she hadn’t had any other family that Van had known of.
Her shoulders shook, and she cried but she didn’t answer him. Didn’t turn around. Van waited, hoped. He made it to the door before he finally said, “I know you loved him, but I guess I always hoped you’d show me that you loved me too.”
Without another word, he walked out of his house for the last time. He looked up and saw Jonathan in the driveway, waiting by his vehicle.
“Why didn’t you ever tell me? Jesus, Max. We were best friends.”
“I didn’t tell anyone.”
“Shit, man. I’m sorry. Your parents were always like a second mom and dad to me.”
And they had been. Jonathan had been the kind of son they wanted. “It’s over now. It was over the day I left here.” The thought pulled at his heart. He didn’t want to hold a grudge against this place, the town he’d grown up in. Not when he had people like Shane, Annie, and Libby in it.
They said their goodbyes. Van tossed his bag in the back, climbed in and then rolled the window down. “Do me a favor. Call me Van.”
Jonathan nodded. “Van,” he repeated. They would never be friends the way they had been, even if Van stuck around. They were too different. Underneath it all, he knew Jonathan thought himself better than most people, better than people like Shane. And if they didn’t have the history they did, he’d still think he was better than Van too.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Shane managed to get out of the shop on time. He got the Wells’ car finished, locked up, and drove home.
He still couldn’t get over the fact that Van had taken his mom to Portland—that Shane had let him. He wasn’t used to letting anyone help him. He wasn’t used to anyone offering.
But Van had, and the truth was, it didn’t surprise Shane. That’s just the way Van was. He was kind and generous. He liked to laugh and had an addictive smile.
Shane had fallen for him. Fallen in a way he never thought would happen for him.
And Van was leaving.
He was both surprised and not surprised when he pulled into his driveway and saw Van’s car there. He knew Van had gone to help his mom after he came back from Portland, but it wasn’t as though that ever went as planned.
He couldn’t imagine it, having the kind of relationship with his own mom, that Van had with his.
Shane got out of his truck and went for the house. When he opened the door, Van was in the dining room, working on the painting he’d started the day before.
Shane studied it as he got closer. The men now looked as though they were made of stone. There were small cracks and dents as though their skin was armor that had taken a beating.
“It’s us,” Shane said. He’d thought so last night but knew for certain now.
“Cocky.”
“Be real.”
“It is.” Van put his paintbrush in a container of water and swirled it around. “I should have told you I would be here.”
“You know I don’t give a shit about that.”
“I know.” He set the container down and gave Shane a smile. “Let’s go out tonight. I want to go out with you.”
A small twinge of excitement sparked at Shane’s nerve endings. He could use that. He thought they both could.
“Yeah, okay. Ryan actually asked about grabbing a beer tonight but I wasn’t sure what you wanted to do.” His words sounded so domestic…so committed…when he knew he and Van couldn’t be.
“I’m game. Call and invite him.” Van stuck his finger in gray paint and walked over. When he reached Shane, he swiped it across Shane’s forehead.
“What the hell?” Shane jerked his head away but his cheeks pulled back in a smile. “What are you doing?”
“Marking you as mine.”
Shane rolled his eyes but at the same time his palms got sweaty and his heart ran wild, like it had been locked up for his whole life and was finally free.
“I’m serious, Shane. I want to try and find a way to make this work. If it doesn’t, at least we know we tried.”
He didn’t see how it could…though there was a small echo in his brain that said, try, try, try. He opened his mouth to reply but Van put a swipe of paint on his cheek this time. “Shh. We’ll talk about it later. Tonight, we’re just going to have a good time.”
“You’re getting awfully bossy all of a sudden.”
“Does it get you hard?” Van waggled his eyebrows.
Shane held up his hand and used his thumb and first finger to mark an inch. “Maybe a little.”
“Guess I’ll have to try harder.”
Shane washed his hands while Van cleaned up his paint and then the two of them made a quick dinner. It wasn’t anything special. Just some fried chicken and a salad. They washed dishes then showered together. Van’s mark on Shane disappeared, and he found himself oddly sad by that.
It was around nine that night when they walked into Round Table, and the place was packed. Music flooded the speakers and bodies flooded the room. There was dancing and laughing. “I think everyone in town somehow knows when you’re going out and they make sure they’re here too,” Shane said close to Van’s ear.
“Long as you’re here.” Van shrugged.
“You’re being awfully sweet tonight.” He had a feeling he knew why. That Van would be leaving soon. That he didn’t have a reason to stay. Maybe it was their goodbye.
“I’m always sweet.” Van reached for Shane’s hand and then pulled back, probably because he wasn’t sure how Shane would feel about it in Last Chance.
But the truth was, he didn’t give a shit. He was so fucking tired of not having what everyone else in this town had a chance to have, and he was going to grab on to it.
He threaded his fingers through Van’s and led them up to the bar. Ryan was there and, amazingly, had two seats by him open.
“Hey.” He nodded at Shane, then Van. “Glad you guys could make it.”
“I really fucking needed it,” Van told him and Shane frowned. He should have asked Van how things went at his mom’s. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t.
He put his hand at the back of Van’s neck and leaned in. “You goo
d?”
Van nudged Shane’s cheek with his nose. “Yeah, I’m good. We’ll talk later.”
Van ordered them all a round of shots. They drank and laughed. Libby showed up unexpectedly with her husband and joined them at the bar. Van gave up his seat for her. Shane hooked his finger in Van’s belt loop and tugged so he stood between Shane’s legs, leaning back on him.
There were a few stares around the bar—people shocked mostly, but no one said anything. He just continued to laugh and talk with his friends.
“I can’t believe we were able to get a babysitter! This is the first time we’ve gone out together in six months! Neither of our parents are real hands-on grandparents,” Libby said after burning through her first shot.
“Hey, I don’t mind helping out if you need it, Libby. You just ask.”
“Oh my God. I love you, Shane Wallace,” Libby replied.
“I think I love you too,” her husband Trace added and they all laughed.
“Shane’s babysitting service? Has a nice ring to it,” Ryan teased before taking a slow swallow of his beer.
“I’ll bring your ass with me. It’ll be part of the job description.”
It continued like that the rest of the night. Shane had lived there his whole life. He spent more time at Round Table than he could remember, but none of those times felt like this. Because of Van, yeah, but Ryan, too. And Libby and Trace. Why didn’t he try to make more friends? Why was he always satisfied just being the helpful mechanic who always had a smile for everyone but didn’t count anyone as a real friend?
When another song started Libby set her drink down on the bar. “I want to dance, Trace. It’s been too long since I danced.”
“Then let’s do it.” He set his drink down too before leading his wife to the small dance floor.
Shane knew Van would turn before he did. Knew Van’s mouth would get close to Shane’s ear before it did, too. “Do you feel comfortable dancing with me here?”
“Yeah,” Shane replied, his voice raspy with need. He wanted to dance with Van here. Wanted to mark Van as his, even if it was only for a short time. Van set his beer down. Shane had stopped drinking a while before to make sure he was okay to drive home when it was time.
Van pulled away from Shane and stood up. He nodded toward the dance floor with a cocky, little grin and was like a magnet, drawing Shane to his feet. “I’ll be back in a minute,” he told Ryan, but then added, “You’ll be okay,” when he suddenly felt guilty.
“Um…yes? Why wouldn’t I be okay?” His brows drew together, making Shane feel silly.
He let Van lead him to the dance floor. Van wrapped his arms around Shane and Shane did the same as they moved together to the slower country song.
“You feel good.” Van ran his hands up and down Shane’s back.
There was a couple who gave them a dirty look before walking away, but Shane ignored it. Didn’t give a fuck what they thought. This was his life and this was where he lived and he wouldn’t quietly hide that for anyone anymore. “You feel good too.”
They danced like that through two songs. It was close to the end of the second one when Van’s nose nudged his neck, when he nuzzled there and then put his mouth to Shane’s ear again. “I want you to come to LA with me.”
Shane froze. His spine went straight and he tried to pull back but Van wouldn’t let him.
“Why would you say that? You know I can’t leave.”
“I’m not asking you to move with me. I’m not saying it has to be right now. I just want to know it’s a possibility. That you visiting and spending time with me there is a possibility. I’m not ready to walk away from you. I can come back and see you and you can go to LA to see me. Just a weekend here or there.”
“Van…” discomfort tied Shane’s stomach in knots. “Let’s go outside.”
He worked his jaw in frustration. He was pissed at Van for asking. Pissed at Van for doing it there. Pissed at Van for having to leave. Pissed at Van for making Shane want to say yes. Pissed that he wanted more.
Shane worked his way through the crowd, Van beside him. Shane sucked in a deep breath when they got outside, but didn’t stop moving. Not until they were at the back of the building where it was quiet and they were alone. There was an alley behind them and a light there as well.
“You know I understand your situation, Shane. Jesus, I respect the hell out of you for who you are. But you deserve a life too. And your mom wants that. Come once, and if you hate it you don’t have to go back.”
“What about my mom?” he asked. Did Van forget she might need him?
“You know there are people who will help. Her knitting friends. Hell, there are three people in that bar we just left who I know would help too. I’m not ready to walk away from you,” Van said again and Shane cursed.
He wasn’t ready to walk away from Van either.
“What happened today? With your mom?” Because something had changed. It had come on too suddenly for there not to be a reason.
Van shrugged. “Nothing and everything. I went in and signed papers with the lawyer. I just can’t keep trying. I deserve better. She’ll never accept me for who I am. She will always believe he did the best he can by me and…I can’t keep trying, Shane.” He laughed and said, “I like saying your name.”
Which was ridiculous and made Shane’s heart go fucking crazy at the same time. “I like hearing you say my name.” He sighed, pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans, and said, “I don’t know if I can do it.”
“Just don’t say no. All I’m asking is you don’t say no.”
“Okay,” Shane replied. Because he wasn’t ready to say no yet, either. He wanted possibility. Needed it just as much as he needed his next breath.
Van stepped closer. He fingered Shane’s hair. “Jesus, you’re beautiful.”
“No, you are.” Shane grinned playfully.
“We both are.”
“Kiss me,” Shane told him and Van did. He tasted like tequila, beer, and happiness. He smelled like paint and musk. Shane pulled his hands out of his pockets and grabbed onto Van’s waist.
They kissed like it was the last time they ever would.
Like they had to get their fill.
Like they were the only two people in the whole fucking world.
When they pulled away, Van pressed his forehead to Shane’s. “I’ve had a lot of men, Shane. I’ve done a lot of things. I’ve made my dreams come true, but none of it feels quite like being with you. I know it sounds like bullshit—movie shit—but it’s true. It hasn’t been very long and hell, maybe we’re just too drunk on each other right now and we’ll realize in a week, it’s not what we want. But I think we should give it a try. I still wanna talk to you every day and make plans for you to come see me. I want to try.”
Shane sighed, wrapping his arms around Van tightly. “God help me, but I want to try too.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
It was only a couple days later that Van left.
He’d spent all of them with Shane. At Shane’s.
He’d said his goodbyes to Annie first, and now he stood outside his parked car, packed with his shit, and looked at this man who’d turned his world upside down.
“I feel like we’re in Dirty Dancing,” Van said with a grin.
“What?”
“When Baby and Johnny get caught and Johnny has to leave. When they’re standing by his car saying goodbye. That makes me Johnny. I wouldn’t mind being Baby though.”
Shane shook his head, softly chuckling. “You’re crazy and I can be Baby.”
“Shh.” Van touched Shane’s lips. “I hear the song in the background.”
And then they laughed again and Shane kissed his forehead. “Drive safe, yeah? I checked everything in your car and filled the fluids.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You should fly next time.”
“I will. Needed the drive to sort my thoughts this time.”
“Get out of here.” Shane nodded
toward the car. “Keep in touch.”
Van got into the vehicle but didn’t close the door. Christ, this was harder than he thought. “I left the painting for you. It’s in your closet. I didn’t want you to know I was leaving it. Get your ass in your studio more often. I expect an update on all the shit you’re making.”
“Yes, sir,” Shane echoed.
“Talk soon,” he replied, closed the door and drove away.
It took everything Van had in him not to turn around and go back.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
One month later
“Hey, you,” Van said and watched Shane grin back at him. He could feel the damn thing through the computer screen.
“Hey right back at you. How was your day?”
“Pretty good. I had those two photoshoots I told you about.”
“Is that normal?” Shane asked. “Two in one day?”
“No. I actually don’t shoot as much as I paint but it just happened to fall that way this time.” Van shook his head as he adjusted the laptop that sat on his thighs while he leaned against his headboard. They’d talked on the phone practically every day since he left. Usually at night when their days had calmed down. He told Shane what he was working on and Shane would tell him about new cars he got in. They’d chat about his mom, or Libby, or going out for beers with Ryan.
He learned more about Shane too—like he hated strawberries and was allergic to bees. His favorite color was gray, and when he was a kid he wanted to be an astronaut because he wanted to explore somewhere so much bigger than Last Chance. Somewhere that was infinite.
Van told Shane he loved poetry, his biggest fear was drowning, and he didn’t understand how anyone in the world couldn’t like strawberries.
They’d talk through the night sometimes. He felt like a giddy kid, crushing on someone for the first time. Only Van had had a hundred crushes and he never did this so there was a good chance this was more than a crush, which he’d honestly known since before he left.