by Kaje Harper
But he still kept catching himself looking, thinking that this one wasn’t as muscled up as John, or that one didn’t move with the same grace. It was like probing the space where a tooth had been pulled. He knew it wasn’t there, but he kept testing his reactions, kept pulling up images of John next to these guys. And remembering that kiss.
Talk about zero to sixty in two seconds flat. He’d always liked kissing. He’d never been one to fuck a woman’s body like the rest of her didn’t exist. But he’d also never had a first kiss happen like that. Like someone poured liquid heat between his lips and took over his breath and his heart and his groin, until all he could think about was getting more.
John had obviously put all that behind him. Ryan had started out being really careful. He’d avoided being around John for anything too comfortable, too emotional. At the same time, he’d tried to act like nothing had changed.
Thanksgiving dinner had been weird. By some unspoken mutual consent they’d bought all the fixings, chicken and stuffing and pie, and shared it at the small polished table. But no cooking together, no wine, nothing that put them side by side in the kitchen. The meal had been pretty silent.
John seemed a little depressed. He’d made one or two comments, but drifted off staring into space again and again. Ryan figured he had to be thinking about how different this was from family holidays in the past. He’d have had his wife and kids, maybe other relatives, his father, or in-laws. Old traditions, old arguments, who knew? Something more than this.
Ryan had dug around on the remains of the chicken for a few last morsels, and then worked the wishbone free. He sucked it clean and forced a laugh. “At least you only had two kids. Four of us at home and one wishbone made for epic arguments. One year Mom made two turkeys, just so there would be two wishbones. We ate leftover turkey for a month.”
John seemed to come back from wherever his thoughts had been. He gave a crooked smile and then reached out to take one end of the wishbone. Ryan shifted his grip to the other end. For a second they eyed each other. John’s hazel eyes were shaded to dull gray, giving nothing away. He glanced down for a second, and then wrenched on the small bone. It snapped cleanly, with the bigger half in Ryan’s hand.
John’s smile became warmer. “Yours. Don’t tell me what you wished for or it won’t come true.”
Ryan looked blankly at the stub of bone in his hand. He’d forgotten to make a wish. Did it still count if he made it now? He could wish for things to go back the way they were. He could ask for this new uncomfortable awareness of John to disappear. Hell, he could wish for his leg to be healed while he was at it, if he wanted to pretend it was that magic. I wish I knew what I wanted.
Two weeks later and he still didn’t know. He missed the easy way they had been together before… before he kissed me. Except that was unfair, because even if John had made the first move, Ryan could still feel the slip of the man’s silky hair in his fingers, the press of his hard body. And the way Ryan’s own had responded. The way he’d kissed John back.
He thought that if someone offered to turn back the clock and give him a do-over, he would probably take it. Except… except he’d never felt as alive as he had the past two weeks. Sounds were louder, lights were brighter. It wasn’t just the girls, and the guys, that he was noticing more.
He saw the lace of frost on a window in the morning, fascinated by the way the curls of ice spread in fractal patterns across the glass. He heard the drum of a woodpecker on the dead tree down the street, in syncopated time. Coffee…God, coffee tasted like heaven.
It was like someone turned the amplifier on his life up a notch. The smell of a bakery as they passed filled his mind with donuts. The smell of formaldehyde was sharp in his nose. He could identify his lab partner at ten feet by her floral perfume, and a couple other people in the class even farther from the hit of their heavy chosen scents, as they walked past with perfume or cologne set on stun. He could smell John’s shampoo and clean skin down the hallway in the evening, after he’d showered.
Ryan shook his head hard, and stepped out the door of Bradford Hall, into the clean, cold outdoors. The air promised snow. A hint of smoke hovered, like a touch of autumn past. He had been here just three months. And somehow, he was a different man from the one who sat in that welcome-to-med-school lecture, so short a time ago.
****
Late December meant that there was less outdoor work on campus, at least until the snow came. John’s crew was down to the two permanent members. The campus plantings had been put to bed, even the hardiest annuals dug up and the beds mulched, now that a hard freeze had come and gone. They were erecting snow fences where the wind might cause drifting. Wrapping the tenderer bushes, and planning for next spring.
Which left time for a bit of exploring. John lengthened his stride down the next hill. He was pleased that he was breathing easily, despite the steep climb up the back of the ridge. He was getting into amazing shape these days. Yeah, running away from your problems will do that. Although mostly he was just trying to wear his problems out.
He and Ryan had fallen back into their familiar routines. Ryan still got up first and started the coffee. John still gave him a lift to campus most mornings. They still shared meals sometimes. They’d even managed a kind of Thanksgiving dinner with a roast chicken from the supermarket. For a few days, Ryan had retreated to the privacy of the parlor to study in the evenings. But now, without comment, he’d returned to spreading his books out on the kitchen table. John made a point of wandering through at the end of the evening, and grabbing a drink or a snack. Ryan would give him a nod or a smile. He’d give Ryan a hard time about whatever wimpy caffeine-free beverage the guy was drinking after ten p.m.
It was just like it had been. Except it wasn’t. There was that edge of tension that never went away.
In the past, he might have bumped up against Ryan if both of them headed for the fridge at the same time. Or he would have put a hand under Ry’s elbow, if some move shifted Ryan’s weight awkwardly onto his bad leg. Because the stubborn bastard refused to use his cane around the house. Now, though, there was a careful few inches of space between them at all times. Yet he was always aware of exactly where Ryan was. And of wanting him.
He’d thought about that kiss. Hell, he’d obsessed about it. All that first Tuesday before Thanksgiving, walking around campus, Ryan had been the only thing on his mind. And he’d decided not to lie to himself. It was no freak impulse, no one-time emotional overload, that had put his mouth on Ryan’s. It had been a long time coming, as inevitable as the onset of winter.
Gay or not, he realized he’d been aware of Ryan from the very first moment. He could remember everything from that day— the color of Ryan’s eyes when they blinked open, as he lay on the steps in pained confusion; the softness of his hair as John’s fingertips cleaned his cut scalp; the muscles of his arm; the bump of hip against hip. And every day since then, in growing intensity, he’d turned to Ryan like steel to a magnet.
By the end of that Tuesday, he’d worked himself up to a panic, wondering how he could persuade Ryan not to run away. He’d figured out his preemptive strike. Before Ryan could open his mouth to say, maybe I should find another place to live, John had taken it all back. He’d played the friendship card. The I don’t know what happened but it will never happen again card.
And it worked. Ryan was still there, in his house, in his life. All it took was pretending that he didn’t care.
He’d tried to make it true. He’d gone out a few evenings, and deliberately chatted up women. He’d immersed himself in soft flowing hair, and rounded curves and sweet perfume. And never taken it further than that, because it was empty. One thought of Ryan, and he came to attention, and the woman in his sights faded. And while he was willing to bend himself into pretzels lying to Ryan, he wasn’t fooling himself. So he stopped fighting it.
He admitted that all he wanted was Ryan. But he also decided half a loaf was better than none. To be comfortable again,
Ryan needed John to back off, to be cool, to be a friend.
He could do it. He could ignore the way Ryan’s hair smelled when it was wet, the way his eyes lit up at a bad joke, the way he licked the excess butter off his fingers after preparing his morning bagel. Well, okay, maybe not ignore that. But he could wear loose shirts over his jeans and try not to watch. He could get himself so tired out that by evening he basically just wanted to crash. Because he wanted Ryan around as a friend most of all.
If there was ever going to be anything more, it would have to be Ryan doing the asking. Ry would have to make the first move. Probably it would never happen. Ryan seemed pretty certain of his heterosexuality. But every now and then, John thought there was a spark between them that wasn’t just in his mind. He’d catch Ryan’s eyes on him, lingering without reason. And so he hoped.
Wearing himself out with physical work had the side benefit of getting to know the campus better than he’d managed in the past two years. The property was big. There were parts of it he’d never visited. Most of it was left wild, but he was making plans for more hiking trails and paths.
He’d found an amazing field of wild raspberry bushes, the scant remaining fruit dried on the branch now, but worth a visit next summer. There was a stream that ran down the other side of this ridge in a series of steps, pretty pools with waterfalls between them. There were wild roses growing south of campus. And…
He paused, staring more closely. In a hollow near the bottom of the slope, there was a big cluster of dead bushes. True, it was December. Most deciduous plants looked pretty dead anyway. But hell, he was a trained professional, and those bushes did not look natural.
Grabbing at the close-growing poplars for support, he slid down the steep incline. By the time he reached the bottom, he could see the cut ends of the small trunks. Someone had brought a dozen scrubby bushes and dumped them here. Which made no sense. He moved closer.
Whoever it was seemed to have tried to uproot them first. The ground had been dug out underneath. But then they’d just cut and piled the brush. In the loose dirt he could see raccoon tracks. But no coon could do that kind of damage. Beavers, sure, but the marks of their teeth were nothing like those straight cuts.
The raccoons had been digging, though. He bent and looked closer. They had brought some food, the remains of a small animal, to eat here and… No.
He turned away, gagging. Then he forced himself to look again. Those fine, gnawed bones weren’t the leg of a mouse. At one tip, there was a flat oval nail, with just a hint of polish. Emerging from the dirt were the tips of other fingers, flesh still clinging to them. And through the dirt beside them, the glint of a woman’s ring.
Okay. Stop and breathe.
There was no hurry. That burial hadn’t happened in the past hour. Or even in the past day. Despite the creeping feeling at the back of his neck, no one would be out there watching him. Oh hell. He spun around, staring through the underbrush. He was alone. He knew he was alone.
He fumbled out his cell phone. One bar was good enough. He pulled in a long breath to steady his voice, and dialed 911.
It seemed to take forever before he heard voices approaching through the trees. Thank God for GPS. He wasn’t sure he could’ve found this spot again without a lot of searching. Coming toward him through the underbrush were two town cops in uniform, and Benson from campus security. John walked a few steps to meet them.
“She’s under there,” he said, pointing. “I tried not to mess up the ground, once I realized…” He swallowed. “She was buried, but not very deep. It’s her hand sticking out.”
“You’re sure there’s a body?” Benson stepped around him. “Not just some kind of animal bones or twigs?” He headed for the mound of dirt.
“I’m sure.” John turned to the female cop who’d stopped a little ahead of her colleague. “There’s fingers with nail polish.”
“Okay.” She looked past him and yelled, “Hey you, Benson, don’t mess up my crime scene.”
Benson had knelt down to look more closely. Suddenly he turned aside and vomited.
“Oh hell,” muttered the woman. “There goes the forensics.” She turned to the other cop. “Mike, call it in, request backup, the coroner, everything. At least we don’t have to worry about crowd control out here.” She looked back at John and narrowed her eyes. “So. Two hundred acres of wild land, and you just happened to stumble over her?”
“Not exactly. I mean, yes, basically that’s what happened.”
“I think,” she said, “that you’d better start at the beginning.”
****
Last anatomy lab before finals, and half a dozen students were still finishing up. Ryan was among them, working late because yes, once again, Kaitlyn had managed to dissect at half speed and yet totally miss the path of the blood vessels they were after.
At the next table, Anita was staying late because… well he wasn’t sure. It might just be his ego saying that she was hanging around waiting for him. He hoped he was wrong. He wasn’t sure what she saw in him. She was wicked smart, and very pretty. There were plenty of better-looking younger guys in the class eager to put a move on her. And yet she seemed fixated on him. This time, she brought over her anatomy-lab text and asked to look at his dissection.
Since he was pretty proud of the way he’d isolated the main artery and its branches, he let her look. Then he stepped back as she accidentally-on-purpose brushed her ass against him, bending over. Not that it wasn’t a world-class ass, but he just wasn’t interested.
They were all stressed and short of sleep, and once upon a time he might’ve considered sex a good antidote, too. God knows, he’d used fast sex to decompress after a shift, plenty of times. But not now. She was too young for him. Too demanding. Too something.
As he casually circled to the other side of their cadaver, on the pretext of getting a better view, their classmate Ron wandered over to join them. He gave Anita a wolfish smile. “Hey, pretty lady, want a strong guy to walk you home after you’re done with lab?”
She gave him a scornful look. “Which strong guy? Do you see a strong guy? Anyway, I think I can cover five hundred yards to the dorm by myself, thank you.”
“Don’t be too sure,” Ron said. “You might get murdered, like that girl they found today.”
That got everyone’s attention. “What girl?” Anita asked suspiciously.
Ron preened, enjoying the attention. “Well, I heard that the cops found the body of a dead girl out in the woods on campus.”
“Who says she was murdered, though?” Anita demanded with a flick of her hair.
“Trevor told me about it. He said she was buried in a shallow grave. They arrested some guy, too.”
“The killer?” Sharon asked.
“I don’t know. That landscaper guy who does the flowers and shit.”
“They arrested the groundskeeper?” Ryan demanded.
He didn’t realize how loud he’d said it until Ron took a quick step backward. “It’s just what I heard. God, chill. I mean he’s just the gardener.”
“John Barrett?”
Ron shrugged. “I didn’t hear the guy’s name. The gardener. But I don’t know if they think he did it or what. Trevor said he saw him in a cop car.” He turned his attention back to Anita. “If he’s not the right guy, then there’s still a killer out there, prowling the campus. You should let me walk you home.”
“In your dreams.” Anita turned to Ryan. “Maybe I should have someone walk me home, though, just in case.”
He didn’t have time for this. “Call a campus escort if you don’t want to take Ron up on his offer.” Her mouth twisted angrily at the dismissive brush-off but he couldn’t bring himself to care. “I’m outta here.”
It had to be some kind of mistake. After all, there were several guys in the grounds crew. Surely it was one of them who’d been arrested.
Ryan pulled on his jacket, grabbed his cane out of the corner, and headed for the bus. As soon as he was out of the
building he speed-dialed John. The phone went straight to voice mail.
Which means nothing. He opened his jacket to put away the phone and caught a whiff of himself. Ugh. Eau de anatomy lab. He’d go home for a shower, he decided. John would probably be there. Certainly by the time he got out of the shower. And if he wasn’t, well, time enough to figure something out then.
Two hours later he stood staring at the front entrance to the central York police station. This was dumb, taking the bus all the way down here, on the off chance John was actually here. On the chance he needed Ryan’s help. But maybe, if it was a matter of an alibi… They’d spent all last night in the house. He could vouch for John’s movements until almost midnight. And again after six thirty this morning. It might help.
He’d make it clear that he couldn’t vouch for midnight to six, though. So no one would get the wrong impression. But he could tell them John would never hurt anyone. He just wasn’t like that. Ryan knew the guy well. As a friend.
He was still standing on the steps when the door opened. A pair of women came out. Behind them, tugging on his jacket, was John.
Ryan stepped forward, smiling in relief. “Hey, guy.”
John stared at him. “What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you?” Ryan said, stung. “Thinking that maybe you needed an alibi or a character witness or something. Rumor on campus was that you were arrested for murder.”
John laughed humorlessly. “Great. Just what I needed.” He turned toward the parking lot.
“I take it you weren’t.” Ryan fell in alongside.
“No. I found the body, out in the woods. They asked me to come in here to give my statement, because it was cold out there and they wanted to secure the scene.”
“So you’re not a suspect.”
John snorted and opened his truck. “I wouldn’t go that far. I don’t think they have a lot of leads yet. I somehow stumbled over her body in two hundred acres of forest. That has to look suspicious.” He swung himself up into the seat. “On the other hand, she’d clearly been buried out there to keep her from being found. So it doesn’t make much sense that I would do that, and then turn around and lead them to her.”