by TJ Nichols
What would he do with fame? That was nothing but an ego stroke.
He didn’t want what was being offered, so he smiled.
“Love,” the voice whispered, silken in his ear.
Love couldn’t be written into a contract. He didn’t want to be with anyone who had to be compelled to be with him. That wasn’t love. That was obsession.
What he wanted was a second chance with Will—a proper second chance without gods and demons and everyone else sticking their noses in. And if it didn’t work out this time, they could at least say they’d given it a proper try. He’d give it a real chance instead of treating their relationship as an experimental summer fling.
It had been that, but it had also been more, and if he hadn’t been so terrified of people finding out, he’d have realized that he loved Will. He didn’t blame Will for dumping him. Twenty-five years later, he still wasn’t as comfortable in his skin as Will was, but he’d make it up to him if he got the chance. He’d never held Will’s hand in public, kissed him where people could see. He’d never told anyone that they were dating. This time around, he’d do all the things he should have done then.
The voices hissed in his ear and made his blood run cold. “Ask for something!”
His fingers curled and his nails bit into his palm. He wouldn’t move, he wouldn’t speak. He had to wait and not fuck this up, so he concentrated on the pain in his palm and his breathing and began a list of things he wanted to do with Will.
The door opened. No one was there, but beyond the door was a room that hadn’t been there before. There had been a corridor—he was sure of it. He stood, his legs protesting from sitting on the floor for what had been longer than he thought, and he walked through the doorway.
A fire with white flames burned in the center of the other room. Three figures stood on the opposite side. On his left, William was in chains next to Lucifer, who glanced at Tom and gave him a small nod. Did that mean it was all going well? He still wasn’t sure exactly what his part would be. On his right was a man dripping in gold and gems, as though he’d robbed a jewelry store on the way there and was wearing all of his ill-gotten gains. A suited man stood next to him. Neither man looked impressed.
“Can you state your name for the court?” Lucifer asked.
“Thomas Peter Langford.” This seemed like the time to use his full name.
The fire burned brighter for a moment but didn’t change color.
“We know who he is, but not why he is here,” the gold man’s lawyer said.
“To fix the regret,” Lucifer said, as though that were obvious.
“That is not how it works,” the man in gold said.
“No? Is it not also the case that no interference is to be made with regards to the contract holder’s free will or the named regret’s free will?”
“We know the rules,” one of the three judges said. “Make your point.”
“My point is that there were repeated attempts by Plutus to ensure that William and Thomas never met. Once they did meet, there were repeated attempts to separate them or scare Thomas off. When you show someone angels, you can’t expect them not to ask questions. Thomas wanted to know the truth, and William merely confirmed Thomas’s suspicions. He also told Thomas what would happen if he were to reveal more, but that warning was enough to split his tongue. The interference trampled on the free will of both men and made a mockery of your own rules regarding the regret clause.”
“We are entitled to defend our contract,” Plutus shouted.
A bell chimed. Tom couldn’t see the bell, and no one had moved to ring it. There was something else the room with them. He wasn’t entirely sure what Lucifer was arguing or why Tom even needed to be there. It wasn’t a place for humans.
Until that moment, Tom hadn’t considered what would happen to him if Will’s bid for freedom failed. Now the thought that he might somehow be tricked and trapped pressed against him and made it hard to breathe. Lucifer had brought him. Lucifer had better get him out.
“You are entitled to prevent William from attempting to break the regret clause. You are not entitled to stop the person named in the regret. Refer to Aphrodite vs Paolo, 56.”
The opposing lawyer thought for a moment. “Acknowledged. Your argument doesn’t change the fact that the defendant broke his NDA, thus the punishment of being shadowed still applies.”
“Ah, but he told only his named regret, and he only told him after he’d asked. He did not do so willingly or recklessly, nor did he mention the details of the contract with Plutus.”
Plutus whispered to his lawyer, and the lawyer nodded. “That doesn’t change the fact William failed to exploit his regret clause.”
“Because you brought William here so he couldn’t take that step. You knew the contract would be broken, and that’s why you repeatedly interfered.” Lucifer sounded confident, which gave Tom hope.
“I did not,” Plutus said.
The fire flickered gold.
The judges grumbled.
The mood shifted. Lucifer smiled, and even Will’s lips had the slightest of curves.
“This is a mess.” The female judge leaned forward. “Regret clauses where a person is named are usually never fixed. Though I am starting to wonder if there shouldn’t be a review. We concur that the NDA was breached, but it was done as stated and with no risk to the god. William McLeod should never have been brought to trial. However, he has been, so we must find a solution. Approach.” She beckoned.
Lucifer and the other man went over to the judges, and Tom watched as they spoke in quick, clipped sentences that he couldn’t quite hear. The god, Plutus, fiddled with a ring and glared at Will and Tom. After several minutes of conversation, the lawyers returned to their clients and conferred. What the hell was going on?
“We offer a twenty-four-hour grace period where the defendant can seek to exploit his regret clause. All wealth gained under the contract will be erased regardless of the outcome.”
Twenty-four hours…. Nothing they’d done so far had broken the contract, but twenty-four hours without shadows and angels was better than nothing. It was a chance.
“We accept the twenty-four-hour grace period but seek monies equivalent to top human earnings in William’s field.”
“Unacceptable. He used my gifts and now seeks to run,” Plutus said.
The fire deepened in color.
“We find the defendant’s offer acceptable. Or we could give you a fine equaling the same amount… but I’m sure you’d prefer to be seen as generous in the documentation of the case,” the judges said.
The god’s face twisted in anger, and his lawyer whispered to him. The lawyer then spoke to everyone. “If the defendant is unsuccessful, we ask that he be shadowed for the length of time that he would’ve served if he’d become staff.”
Will closed his eyes as the color drained from his face.
“That is far too harsh,” Lucifer said.
“Refer to Nuadu vs Bron, 245 BCE,” the lawyer for Plutus countered.
Lucifer winced. He turned to Will, and Will nodded. “Very well.”
That didn’t sound good, but twenty-four hours was a long time. They could find a way to break the contract. Couldn’t they? They had to.
“We also request that the named regret have memories of all godly dealings erased before leaving.” Plutus’s lawyer smirked.
It took a moment for Tom to realize they meant him. They wanted to take away his memories of everything Will had told him. That would make it almost impossible to break the clause.
“No.” The word slipped past his lips before he could stop it.
Lucifer had brought him here for a reason, and it sure as hell wasn’t to have his memories stripped… or at least it better not have been. He glanced at Will and the devil.
“Unacceptable,” Lucifer said. “You have meddled with their free will enough.”
“Strip the memories if I fail.” He wouldn’t want to remember if he failed.
&
nbsp; The bell rang again. The female judge beckoned to Tom.
He walked around the fire and stood in front of the three of them. They weren’t very substantial. He could see through them. It was like an alcohol-induced dream, but he knew it was real. He could feel the heat of the fire on the backs of his legs, and he was aware of the poisonous stare from the god.
“Do you understand what is happening?”
“Mostly.” They had kind of gotten Will free but only for twenty-four hours. He couldn’t fail.
She leaned closer to him. “Were you honest when you offered your memories of godly events to be stripped should you fail?”
“Yes.”
The judge wasn’t looking at him, she was looking over his shoulder. She nodded. “Very well. The court finds that the defendant will have twenty-four hours to exploit the regret clause. Should Plutus or any minions of any designation interfere, all monies will remain with the defendant or his estate. In the event that he is successful, one tenth will remain his, the rest returns to Plutus. If he is unsuccessful, he will be shadowed for two hundred and fifty years, and his named regret will have godly events stripped from memory. No further action will be taken by Plutus or minions of any designation in retribution.”
The bell chimed.
That was it.
He turned to face Will and was back in the penthouse apartment.
Will was out of chains but didn’t look happy.
Tom swallowed and blinked. He wanted to reach out and touch the walls and floor to be sure they were real. “When does the twenty-four hours start?”
“It’s started.”
Tom looked at his watch. It was a little past 2200. He set the timer so he’d have a countdown. “And where is Lucifer?”
“He can’t interfere either.”
“Right.” Tom’s mind drew a big fat blank on what to do next. “Fuck.” He stared at Will, who was rubbing his thumb in the bloody star Tom had made, his eyebrows drawn together as though he were thinking. “You know what? Fuck them all. We’re going to have the best twenty-four hours ever.”
“It’s not about best or worst. It’s about the one thing that will break it.”
“They didn’t tell us that, but maybe we’ll hit on it by chance.” He drew Will to him and kissed him. His tongue dipped into Will’s mouth, and he pulled back.
“Your tongue is still….”
“I don’t think that’s going to change.” He stuck out his tongue and the two parts wiggled independently. Will smiled and his gaze lowered. “I can think of at least one thing to do.”
Tom’s breath caught. They could spend the next twenty-four hours in bed. But that was all they’d done before. “As tempting as that would be.” Will’s tongue had always been good at working over his dick. He kissed Will again. “We should go out. Do it right. I want to be seen with you. No more hiding. That’s it, isn’t it?”
“Are you sure?” Will murmured against his lips. “I don’t want to waste what time I have left with you chasing the impossible.”
No, he wasn’t sure, but he was tired of hiding half of who he was. He was forty-three. If he was lucky, his life was only halfway over, and he didn’t want to spend the second half pretending to be someone he wasn’t. Things had changed since they were in high school. “Yeah. We’re going to date and everything in twenty-four hours. I’m going to be the best boyfriend you’ve ever had.”
Will ran a hand up the front of Tom’s shirt. “It’s after ten. We can start in bed.”
Tom gave in, knowing he couldn’t win that argument.
Summer
Twenty-five years ago
TOM COLLECTED his mail. His family had sent him one letter two weeks ago and he’d tossed it. He didn’t need a reminder that they were expecting him to fail.
He had one letter today. His name was written in very familiar handwriting. No number, but it had still found its way to him. He hadn’t given Will his proper address at ADFA, so he must have made an effort to find out where to send it. He wasn’t sure he wanted to read this either.
He shoved it into his pocket, where it stayed until the end of the day and he couldn’t put it off any longer. While the rules were strict and he wasn’t allowed off the base yet, he was enjoying it. He missed the heat of Perth, his friends…. Will.
The memory of the hurt in Will’s eyes was still too great. He knew he’d fucked up, but he didn’t know what he could’ve done differently. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to do anything differently, although he’d never meant to hurt Will and he wished he could change that.
“Grow a set, Langford,” he muttered to himself. Then he tore open the envelope. It was one page in Will’s neat handwriting.
The words blurred, and he had to blink several times before he could even read them.
Tom,
I hope it’s going well. I know we never said goodbye, so I just wanted you to know I don’t hate you. Maybe one day we’ll drink top-shelf whiskey in my penthouse and be able to look back fondly, but at the moment, it hurts too much.
I wish I could regret that first kiss. Instead I regret not having a last kiss.
Next summer won’t be the same.
William
Tom balled up the letter and then smoothed it out and read it again, even though the letters wobbled.
It was never going to be the same. They couldn’t recapture what they’d had, but in that moment, Tom would’ve given anything to be back in Perth, to be able to kiss Will one more time.
To tell his father to go to Hell and invite Will around to dinner.
He’d kept Will a secret from his friends and family, but not because he was ashamed of him for having no money. He was ashamed of himself for liking a man, and he wasn’t ready to be judged for that.
He put the letter back into the envelope and hid it. If anyone found it, they’d tear strips off him. He heard the way some of the third-years talked.
Will was braver and more confident than he’d ever be.
Chapter 9
WILLIAM FINISHED his coffee and took his credit card and receipt out of the book. They’d gone out for breakfast at one of his favorite places that didn’t have godly influence. It was a very late breakfast. They’d spent so much time in bed that there was less than twelve hours left. While Tom was in the shower, William had rung his mother.
He didn’t want to make it sound like a goodbye call—he could do that later, just before time ran out. He just wanted to talk to her and tell her he was giving Tom another chance. She was glad. She’d always like Tom, except for those few months when William was completely devastated and hadn’t wanted to discuss him at all, but even then, he was pretty sure she only railed at Tom because that was what he wanted to hear.
While Tom wanted to fight to the last second, William had decided that he should make peace with his last few hours. He was out with Tom, and Tom had held his hand in public. And while his heart had leaped, it hadn’t broken the contract, and he had to stop hoping.
Tom put his phone down. “Shall we go?”
“What’s next on your list?” Tom had made his own list and refused to show him.
Tom considered him for several heartbeats. “Two things. The first is super dull and just paperwork. The second I should’ve done a long time ago.”
William frowned. “I don’t think we have time for secrets.”
He wanted one last surf or, if the water was flat, a walk on the beach.
Tom looked at him and nodded. “Fine. You said something about proving that I wasn’t ashamed. And I think you’re right. I want to be able to say we’re together.” He paused. “But we don’t have time for me to work up to that, so I think we should go all in and put in the paperwork to get married.”
“And if that breaks the contract, you’re stuck with me.” William was sure marriages had been made on less, but Tom and he didn’t have a great track record.
“What, you’d rather be a….” He lowered his voice. “A shadow for two hundred and
fifty years instead?”
“I didn’t say that, but it’s rushed.” And not the proposal he’d been hoping for from Tom or anyone.
“Yeah, well, the court wasn’t exactly generous.”
“We’re supposed to fail.” And while the extra time was nice, William wasn’t hoping for a miracle. They cost too much.
“I know. I’m just refusing to accept that reality right now. We have ten-and-a-half hours. So let’s get moving.” He stood and offered William his hand.
After a second, William took it, but Tom didn’t let him go as expected. He pulled him closer and kissed him. Tom tasted like too-sweet coffee. His tongue danced over William’s lip, and even though he knew he should step back, he didn’t. He had hours left, and he didn’t care. Tom deepened the kiss, and William’s toes curled. It wasn’t the first time William had been kissed in public, but it was the first time Tom had kissed him in public, and he was doing a good job of it. William closed his eyes and waited for the contract to release him, but nothing happened.
“So that was item number two?” William murmured against Tom’s lips.
“Not even close, though I have wanted to do that for so long.”
A few people were staring, but they watched with human interest.
Tom turned, noticing. He smiled. “He’s agreed to marry me.”
They got a few polite claps, and then people went back to their meals. A few people looked like their food was rancid, but that was their problem.
“Did I agree?” Why was he arguing? He should just go with it. He could enjoy being engaged for a few hours.
“Did it change anything?”
William shook his head. He glanced away. “Don’t do it just for that.”
“I’m not. I want you. I haven’t been able to keep a relationship with anyone together. Maybe it’s me, or maybe I was never meant to be with them and I was meant to be with you.”