by E M Lindsey
‘Hey,’ Derek signed when he came into Amit’s line of sight. ‘I didn’t know you were coming in.’
Hands full, Amit shrugged. “Thought I’d uh…say hi.”
Derek’s smile was all-too knowing, which meant the rumor had hit the shop. And if his gut was right, Miguel hadn’t denied any of it. Amit’s gaze roamed, searching, and he saw Miguel using a makeshift station since the shop looked like an all-hands situation.
Will hadn’t been wrong, either. They had stepped through a cloud of Axe Body Spray and four guys were waiting near the faded leather sofa—all of them in cargo shorts and t-shirts, and each stall was full. Even Miguel’s, who was setting up for a blonde-haired dude giving him a dubious look. Amit felt himself bristle, but he also knew he had no place to try and be a hero. This was Miguel’s job. He could handle it.
He handed the cups off to Derek who held the door open for him and beckoned him in, then leaned toward him. “Grab an extra chair from the sketch room and keep him company. He’ll like it.”
Amit flushed, then shot Derek a middle finger, but it felt nice. It let him forget for just a minute that his life was kind of a shit show. That his mom was lying sedated in a hospital bed, waiting to see if her next stroke was going to kill her. He caught Miguel’s eye for a second, then pointed to the back and waited for the other man to nod.
He scooped up a folding chair, and when he came back out, Miguel had moved closer to the tattoo chair and had given Amit some space near the wall. He breathed out a sigh of relief as he finally plugged in his phone, then sat and tried not to look at the guy who was staring at Miguel’s hand.
“So, like…you’re gonna trace the stencil, right?” the guy asked.
Miguel grunted and nodded. “You’re getting flash, man. Those are always traced.”
Amit peered over to see a yin yang, and he fought the urge to roll his eyes. “Miguel did my latest ink. You can chill, he’s really fucking good.” He offered out his arm, the tattoo still a little shiny in places, flaking in others, but there was no denying that Miguel’s work was amazing.
“I just,” the guy started, then shook his head and sat back.
Amit looked up to meet Miguel’s gaze, and he felt a rush of affection when the corner of his mouth lifted to give Amit a small grin. “Do you want me to fuck off while you work?”
“This won’t take long,” Miguel told him, his smile going a little wider.
Amit pulled out his hearing aids, and held his phone in an iron grip, arm tense as he waited for the inevitable vibration letting him know it had gone wrong, that he was too late, that his mom had succumbed to the clots. But it never came. He was able to half-lose himself in the sight of Miguel working, the way he bent over the man, the way he pulled the needles over the kid’s skin, leaving trails of black ink and faint smears of blood.
By the time Miguel had him wiped down and wrapped up, Amit had managed to relax enough that his temples weren’t throbbing. The guy handed over cash, and from the dark look on Miguel’s face, he could tell there was a miniscule tip, if any at all. His lover didn’t say anything about it though, just shoved the cash into his pocket, then turned his head and winked at Amit.
Amit’s entire face went hot, his hands tingly with the desire to reach out and touch him. He couldn’t—he didn’t know where they stood, and his mind was still a mess, but that didn’t stop him from wanting.
A hand waving in his periphery interrupted his thoughts, and Amit turned to see Derek leaning on the counter with a grin. ‘Miguel has one more client. Want to go with me to pick up food? You look like you need some distraction.’
He did, though not in the way Derek was thinking, but he was grateful for the reprieve. Amit stood, wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans before shoving his phone into his pocket. He hesitated with his hearing aids, but since he was with Derek, he let himself have a break.
“Does Derek have your order?” he asked Miguel, hoping he’d moderated his voice okay.
Miguel smiled at him, then hooked his fingers through Amit’s belt loop and hauled him in close. “I’ll text it,” he said. Amit more felt the rumble of his voice than heard it, and it sent shivers up his spine. “Is this okay?”
“Yes,” Amit breathed out. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted…”
He went quiet when Miguel’s palm touched his cheek, and then he went to his toes for a kiss. It was brief, just a swelling push, and then he dropped back down and licked his lips as Miguel drank him in with his gaze.
“See you soon?” Miguel asked.
Amit nodded. ‘See you,’ he signed, then backed up and followed a laughing Derek out the front door. He was still laughing as they got to the street, so Amit punched him in the arm. ‘Stop.’
Derek held up his hands in surrender. ‘Sorry, it’s cute. And I really like him, so this makes me happy. Tony wants to convince him to stick around instead of heading back to Florida.’
Amit’s feet stuttered to a halt, and Derek frowned at him with concern. ‘Here? For good?’
‘I thought that would be a good thing,’ Derek signed.
Amit blew out a puff of air, dragging a hand down his face. ‘No. Yes,’ his hand flitted between signs. ‘Yes. I like him a lot.’ It wasn’t a lie, but he couldn’t deny the thought made him antsy and unsure. If he stayed, there was a chance of something serious. And if there was something serious, it meant…it meant he couldn’t stay quiet. Miguel deserved far more than being his dirty little secret.
‘Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?’ Derek asked, then paused as they crossed the street to make their way toward Niko’s place.
Amit hesitated, but picked up his pace to match Derek’s. ‘My mom had a stroke this morning.’
Derek came to a sudden halt, spinning to face Amit so fast, it made his head snap back. ‘Shit! Is she okay?’
Amit nodded his fist. ‘Right now, yes. They think she might have another, so they’re keeping her for observation. I’m…’ His breath trembled in his chest. ‘There’s nothing I can do. My sister’s furious with me for not being home all the time, my other sister is getting married. I’m…I’m in this shitty, dead-end job so I can help take care of things during the day, but it’s never enough.’
Derek’s face fell and he carefully laid a hand on Amit’s shoulder, squeezing softly. ‘Can I help?’ he signed with one hand.
Amit licked his lips, then shook his head. ‘Nothing to be done.’ Not unless Derek had a magical cure for homophobia, or a bridge between cultures so he could live the life he wanted while also making his mother happy.
Derek’s hand moved upward, his thumb stroking along Amit’s jaw in a way that was strangely soothing. Amit hadn’t been touched like that platonically by many people—Nick might have been his only friend who ever dared, and he hadn’t realized how starved he was for it until he found himself leaning into Derek’s hand.
“I’m scared if he stays,” Amit said aloud, his hands tightened into fists he couldn’t uncurl, “I’m going to want more than casual. And if I want more than casual, I won’t be able to hide him. But I can’t…I can’t lose my family.”
Derek held him a minute longer, then pried his hand away. ‘I don’t know what that feels like. I was never loved. Not enough by my mother, hated by my father. I know what rejection is, though, and I know the pain of hiding yourself for so long. At least know—whatever you decide—you won’t be alone. We’re all here.’
Amit’s throat was tight as he nodded, then he stepped away and gestured down the block toward the restaurant. ‘Everyone’s starving.’
Derek laughed, shaking his head. ‘They’re always starving. If you need a minute, they can wait.’
Amit paused for a beat, then smiled when he was able to answer honestly, ‘No. I’m good.’
Chapter Fourteen
Miguel finished off the second yin yang symbol, annoyed by how surprised the kid was that it turned out so well, and he certainly didn’t appreciate the two bucks the guy threw in as a tip. B
ut Tony also wasn’t charging him stall rent for his stay there, which meant he was only out supplies and time, and the sixty-dollar shop minimum was enough to cover the forty-five minutes it took between both men.
He shared looks of sympathy with the other guys—none of them had been questioned on their abilities, but they’d all been stiffed, and it was nice to have people to commiserate with.
“No worries,” Tony said, dropping a hand on his shoulder, “I don’t charge rent for shit days like this. Those assholes come in like once every couple of months and we ink them, and then we feast.”
Miguel’s eyebrows rose, and he realized he hadn’t texted Amit the food order. Before he could even reach for his phone, the front doors opened, and Amit walked in. He was followed by Derek and Niko, all three of them laden with food bags which immediately filled the shop with the scent of rich spices. There was a cheer from the crowd, and Miguel couldn’t help his smile when he saw Niko drop into Sam’s lap to kiss him as Derek and Sage grabbed the rest of the bags and walked back to the sketch room to set up their makeshift buffet.
Amit was still there, hanging back, but when their gazes locked, he stepped forward and offered a grin. Miguel wanted to touch him, haul him in close and kiss him, but he waited. Amit seemed a little on edge, and far more tense than Miguel had last left him which set his anxiety on high alert. Had it been awful? Was he having second thoughts? It’s not like Miguel would blame him, but he’d let himself hope, and Amit seemed like he hadn’t wanted to walk away that morning.
“Let me put my ears on,” Amit said when Miguel opened his mouth to greet him. He turned away, snatching them off the worktable, and winced when they switched on. Miguel saw his shoulders rise and fall with a breath, then he turned back and smiled. “Better.”
“Is it?” Miguel asked.
Amit laughed. “Yeah, it is.” He stepped in and put one tentative hand to Miguel’s waist. “I hope Greek’s okay. Derek apparently had half the restaurant ordered before I could check with you.”
“Food is food,” Miguel said—which wasn’t entirely true. He was picky about a lot of shit, but right then he was just hungry. When he turned back to Amit, though, his hunger faded to the background. Amit’s expression was drawn, eyes worried, his shoulders tense. “Hey, are you okay?”
Amit laughed, rolling his eyes. “Fuck sign language.”
Miguel blinked in surprise. “What?”
“No, I don’t mean…” He laughed again, waving him off. “It’s not a language where you get to hide how you feel, and I’ve been using it long enough now that all my emotions show on my face. Derek noticed too.”
Miguel’s frown deepened. “What happened?”
Amit took a breath and glanced around, but the guys had all gone back to eat and they were totally alone. “My mom had a stroke this morning. She’s…I don’t know if she’s okay, but she’s alive. It’s just been a lot.”
“Fuck,” Miguel breathed, and gave in to his urge to pull Amit closer. “Why didn’t you call? Or uh…text, I mean.”
Amit’s mouth quirked into a half smile. “My phone died last night, and I forgot to charge it when I got to work. I was distracted.” His tone went a little far off, and it made Miguel soften a bit inside. “Then things at the hospital were so chaotic, I didn’t think of it. When I left, I was supposed to go home shower, eat…but I just…” He swallowed thickly, then met Miguel’s gaze with some hesitation. “I just wanted to see you. Everything around me felt bad, but I knew seeing you wouldn’t.”
Miguel’s resolve cracked, his mask shattering, and he knew this was it. Whatever the past still had on him, whatever his future held, he wanted Amit. He curled his hand into the back of Amit’s hair and leaned down to kiss him—slowly, deeply, possessive. Amit groaned against his lips, and Miguel pulled away before they could go too far.
“I’m glad you came. I’m actually done after this, but you look like you could eat,” he told him.
Amit nodded. “Yeah. I kind of forgot most of the day.” He dragged his hand down, curling his fingers around Miguel’s stump, pressing his thumb to the heel of his palm. It was such an absent gesture, thoughtless in a way Miguel hadn’t expected, and his heart thudded against his chest.
He let Amit drag him back into the room where it was loud, everyone talking and bitching at once, and the pair separated. Derek beckoned Amit over, and before Miguel could follow, Niko shoved a plate at him and nodded toward an empty space near the far wall.
“New recipe,” Niko said. “I don’t trust these assholes to be honest.”
“I resent that!” Sam called.
Miguel laughed as Niko turned his head and said, “I need someone whose dick isn’t on the line.”
Miguel hadn’t talked to Niko much—usually a quick hello and goodbye when he was dropping off food or picking up Maisy from the shop, but Miguel liked him all the same. He was quiet, unassuming, and his gaze never lingered too long on Miguel’s face.
“What is it?” Miguel asked, poking at the pasta dish with a fork.
“It’s my grandmother’s old recipe,” Niko said. “Meat, cheese, noodles. Simple shit. I tried it a year ago but it didn’t go over well, so I had to fuck with it before I got it right.”
Miguel dug his fork in, then groaned as the flavor hit his tongue. “Wow.”
“Yeah?” Niko asked brightly.
Miguel laughed. “Yeah. Seriously, yeah. I’d pick this off a menu.”
“I love you,” Niko said.
“I also resent that!” Sam said.
Miguel laughed, his gaze drifting around the room, landing on a small huddle between Sage, Derek, Tony, and Amit. They weren’t speaking with words, their hands flying between them, and he had no hope of understanding. It was Amit’s language and Miguel realized like a punch to the gut he’d never really be able to use it. Not with one hand.
“Uh. Who kicked your puppy?” Niko asked.
Miguel shook his head. “It’s nothing.”
“Lies.” James slid up next to him and nudged him. “Spill. We’ve been through this, remember?”
Miguel rolled his eyes, then let out a breath as he shoved another bite of the pasta in his mouth. “I just,” he said after he swallowed. “Look at him.”
Both James and Niko glanced over before looking back at Miguel, and James sighed. “You’re as pretty as all of those assholes.”
Miguel shook his head and knocked his elbow into James’ side. “Not that. He’s…they’re signing. I don’t know it and uh…you know…” He raised his hand in the air, curling his palm down. “I can’t.”
Niko laughed, and when Miguel flushed with humiliation, he quickly shook his head. “No not…it’s not that. Just, I’ve seen Basil sign with both hands full. I’ve seen him holding Jasmine and have a full-on conversation with Kat. It’s not formal, but it’s not impossible. It’s a language—it evolves with the people who need it.”
Hope bloomed in his chest, though he didn’t even know where he’d begin asking how to start. “Okay.”
“It’s worth it,” Niko told him quietly. “It might seem hard—and believe me, I know what it’s like to have to fight for your happy ending. But it is worth it.”
Miguel nodded, hard-pressed to argue. Not when it felt so good to have Amit in his arms. Amit, who didn’t care that he lacked education, or class, or parts of his body. Amit, who looked at him like he was a gift—and Miguel realized he wasn’t so afraid of that anymore.
“I think your boy looks pretty done,” James said after a minute.
Miguel looked up again and saw Amit hovering near the door, looking uncertain. And as much as Miguel had promised not to run out on their gatherings so much, right now he didn’t feel guilty about it. “He had a rough day. I’m gonna head out with him.”
“Go,” James said, taking his mostly empty plate. “Remind him he’s not alone. Whatever shit he has going on, he’s got us too.”
Miguel nodded, then shoved one hand into his pocket, the other go
ing around Amit’s waist to draw him close. “Want to go for a ride?”
Amit let out a rush of breath and nodded. “Yeah, actually. I do. You got a place in mind?”
Miguel didn’t—not really. But he had a feeling that with Amit on the bike with him, anywhere could be theirs.
They ended up back at Miguel’s place after roaming the narrow streets through the woods, and thoroughly pissing off the uptight neighbors in their big houses. Miguel knew Amit was suffering, but he also knew Amit was the kind of guy who would keep it to himself if left to his own devices.
Amit didn’t put up much protest as Miguel rolled to a stop in front of the guest house, and he quickly took Miguel’s hand in his own as they walked up the ramp and through the front door. Tossing his keys onto the table, Miguel used his free hand to turn the deadbolt, and his other yanked Amit close.
“Want to make out like horny teenagers?” he asked.
Amit laughed, the sound gorgeous and bright, and he nodded before pushing up to his toes to claim Miguel’s mouth. He tasted like muted Greek spices and coffee, and Miguel felt like he could get lost in the flavor of him forever. His hip was protesting though, the cold weather coming on always giving him an old man’s ache to his bones, so he took their little party to the bedroom where they could lay tangled up together for as long as Amit needed him.
“I’m,” Amit said, rubbing the back of his neck as Miguel sat down to peel off his boots. “I’m not sure I’m actually in the mood. It’s not you, I swear, I just…”
Miguel gave him a pointed look which shut him up. “Your mom just had a stroke. I don’t have a bunch of expectations here. If you want to take off, you won’t hurt my feelings.”
“I don’t,” Amit said in a rush.
Miguel smiled, then shimmied out of his jeans before fetching a pair of sweats from his drawer. He was profoundly aware of the way Amit was watching him, the look on his face hungry in a way Miguel had never experienced before, and he was quickly getting addicted.