Safe House

by Charley Descoteaux

  Should’ve been a lesson there, but I was too stubborn to see it.

  Bran did his best not to think about Tim very much, but that wasn’t easy when he was working out across the room in Bran’s direct line of sight, lovingly directing his husband’s workout. They both wore long, loose shorts and tanks that made it impossible not to see how hard they’d been working on their physiques. Even without staring openly, Bran easily made out definition in Eric’s arms and shoulders that hadn’t been there before. Eric might have gained a little weight, making his boyishly charming face even more intriguing.

  When the Tates finished and hit the showers, Bran noted the time so he wouldn’t accidentally run into them in the changing room. He waited longer than he thought he had to, so it took him by surprise to hear someone calling his name as he headed for the front door to leave.

  “Brandon, honey, come and say hello.” Nathan was the only one who would call him “honey” at the gym. Nathan called everyone “honey” or “darling,” no matter where he was, and by then Bran was sure everyone who lived in Lincoln City year-round knew that.

  Bran plastered a smile on his face, which felt spectacularly fake, and went into the juice bar. The gym was practically deserted at midmorning on a Tuesday, and he had the day off, so no excuses for not sitting. The four men—my friends—had pushed two tables together in the corner, with enough chairs to seat six, so obviously they’d been waiting for him.

  Or that’s wishful thinking on my part.

  “Sit and tell us how you’re doing. We haven’t seen you out at Buchanan House for a while.” Nathan rested a hand on his arm and squeezed. His smile could’ve powered a small town for a week.

  Paulie and Eric said hello. Tim nodded, not quite looking at him.

  Nathan patted Bran’s arm and took a sip from the glass of juice in front of him. Juice, smoothie, whatever it was. “What have you been doing with yourself?”

  “Working. How are things at the camp? No trouble with party crashers, I hope.”

  “No trouble, but thanks for asking. I didn’t call you over in any official capacity.”

  Eric and Paulie looked tired, and Tim was Tim, so Brandon didn’t think he could expect anyone to help him in this conversation. Not that he wasn’t happy to talk to Nathan, he just would have preferred….

  Talking to Kyle.

  “What were you discussing before I came by?”

  Nathan grinned, and Bran had the feeling he’d just asked the exact question Nathan wanted him to. It made his smile feel a little closer to real, even though he couldn’t help but feel a little targeted.

  “Possible events for this summer.”

  “I thought you had that all figured out well in advance.”

  “Usually we do, but there’s one that’s been giving me absolute fits. We have a couple of parents who want to visit—straight parents—and the perfect event has eluded us.” Nathan blew a kiss in Eric’s direction, and Eric laughed. Bran thought Eric would jump in, but he turned to his pale yellow drink instead.

  “Is the parent yours?” It seemed like the polite question to ask, and as soon as the words left Brandon’s mouth, he knew he was being herded. Guided. Gently, yes, but Nathan had control of this conversation. Bran sat back and relaxed so he could enjoy it.

  “One of them. My mother, Kyle’s father.”

  Paulie sat forward. “Kyle’s father?” He sounded worried, and Brandon wondered about the story behind his reaction. Hopefully Mr. Shimoda is the supportive father Kyle deserves.

  Nathan patted Paulie’s arm. “Yes. Kyle called Derek. Mr. Shimoda wants to visit. Apparently his retirement has improved their relationship.”

  For a panicky second, Bran wondered if Kyle was all right. Then he realized Kyle’s father had to be the one who had retired. “My mother has mentioned it too—wanting to visit.” Bran guessed Nathan would turn an approving smile toward him, but he still felt ridiculously happy to see it.

  Paulie, Eric, and Tim all turned to Bran with surprised looks on their faces. It was gratifying to evoke an emotional response from Tim that didn’t include any sarcasm or yelling.

  “She wants to see what you’ve done with the place. They all do. The regulars at the senior center, I mean. The ones I’ve talked to have all had a lot of questions.”

  Eric looked a little worried but not overly stressed. “So that’s it. We have to have an event. But what?”

  He must be more tired than I thought, if that’s the entirety of his contribution to this conversation.

  Nathan grinned and tried to hide it by thoughtfully tapping his full lips with his fingertips. “We don’t really need a full-blown event.”

  Nathan’s tone might have tricked someone who didn’t know him into thinking he hadn’t given the subject long and careful thought. It didn’t fool Brandon for a moment, but he didn’t care. He was caught up in Nathan’s wake and knew that whatever the plan was—and however he was involved—he wouldn’t resist.

  “We’ll throw a party. A ‘thanks for not using birth control’ party.” He glanced at Eric and then back. “Don’t worry, Cookie, we won’t call it that. We’ll invite all of our parents—your mother, Bran…. Oh, that cute blond on your baseball team, his parents can come. It’ll be an informal PFLAG-type of deal, but with gourmet eats and liquor.”

  Paulie reached across the table and took Eric’s hand. “Maybe we can all pitch in a dish—a chef potluck?”

  “I like it.” Bran’s smile came with a deep blush. He would have been surprised if Eric didn’t feel the heat radiating from him even with an empty chair between them.

  He’s in on it too.

  “We don’t have a lot of openings.” Nathan had produced a day planner from somewhere and flipped dramatically through a few pages. “The first weekend of August sounds good to me. What do you think, Eric?”

  “Sounds fine to me.”

  Nathan gave Bran a sideways glance and made a note in the planner. Brandon wanted to see how long it would take Nathan to bring up the fact that he’d just ensured Kyle’s father—and, I assume, Kyle himself—would be at the beach for the sand castle festival. He was busy trying to keep his smile hidden—he hadn’t done much smiling lately, and for some reason it was something he wanted to do right then. And then he realized.

  Kyle. Oh, God, do I want to see him.

  And his father.

  Maybe it’s not such a great idea after all. How can I get him alone so we can really talk if his father is there? Assuming he’ll even speak to me, where will we do it?

  Nathan patted Brandon’s hand and then ran his own hand up Bran’s arm. “Oh, that’s the weekend of your competition. Should we change it?”

  “No, I’m sure it’ll be fine. My mother usually waits for the pictures anyway. I’m sure she’d much rather be at your party.”

  The table descended into silence as everyone with drinks finished them. Bran was tempted to let them know he was grateful, but he wasn’t sure how. Maybe it didn’t help that he was also a little afraid of blowing another shot with Kyle, and a lot afraid there wasn’t another shot to blow.

  “Well, we need to get back.” Nathan took a deep breath and then stood. “Lovely to see you, Brandon.”

  Bran knew his cue, so he stood and did the best he could with returning Nathan’s air kisses. Not the most graceful man in the world, Bran liked to think he could at least hold his own when it came to showing affection to one of the nicest people he’d ever known.

  Everyone else stood and bussed their cups. Before he had the chance to think it through, Bran stepped closer to Tim, catching his eye. “Can I talk to you for a few minutes?”

  Tim looked to Eric, obviously hoping for an out, a reason to say no.

  Eric smiled. “I’ll get a ride home with Nathan and Paulie. Take your time.” He popped up on his toes and pecked Tim on the lips. He looked at Tim and Brandon and then followed the others out into the parking lot, tossing a “Play nice!” over his shoulder as he went.

&nb
sp; Bran gestured to the table, and Tim frowned as he sat. Bran pulled a chair close to Tim’s right side, close to his good ear, and sat as well—too close, by the look in Tim’s eyes, but he didn’t want to be overheard.

  “I owe you an apology, Tim. A real apology.”

  Tim pulled back, the frown sliding away as though he were trying to wipe all trace of emotion from his face.

  “I’m sorry. I want to be sure you know I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone so far in the hospital. I should have thought about how my actions would impact you, but I didn’t.” I also should have rehearsed this little speech, but I didn’t. “I wish I could go back and change things—do it differently.”

  “What’s going on?” Tim was losing his battle to pretend everything was fine, to detach from anything even in the neighborhood of “unpleasant.”

  “Nothing. I—”

  “Bullshit.” Tim’s eyes narrowed, but a second later they were round and wide. “Are you okay? Are you leaving?” Tim leaned close and grabbed Bran’s arm. “Is Minnie okay?”

  Bran smiled. Minnie and Tim had always struck him as a strange pair, but their mutual affection was genuine. “She’s fine.”

  “So what, then? You already apologized, more than once. Not as well as that, but—” Tim groaned. “This isn’t a….” He made a gesture only Bran would know how to interpret—or maybe Eric. Tim thought Bran might be making a clumsy pass at him.

  Bran sat back, barely containing laughter that would have been highly inappropriate and probably undermine what he’d set out to do. Tim had a sense of humor, but Bran didn’t think he would handle that gracefully. “Tim, I knew going in that we wouldn’t be forever. Even if you weren’t married, I wouldn’t be propositioning you.”

  He could see why Tim might jump to that conclusion, however. It was in the changing room of this gym that Bran had made his move all those years ago, engineering things so they were the only two men in the showers, going just barely far enough with his flirting so Tim could ignore it if he wanted to….

  Tim made a soft sound, somewhere between a snarl and a sigh, and brought Bran’s focus back to the present. Tim was genuinely red-faced angry. No, he’s frustrated. Not that Tim being emotional would have been a cause to mark a calendar, but Bran had rarely seen him so flustered that he was unable to hide it. He wouldn’t be surprised if Tim had trouble speaking.

  “What?” Bran didn’t want to try to figure it out for himself, and not only because he’d probably get it wrong. “You’re half my age and way out of my league. Three years was longer than I thought it would last. I have only the one regret—that it ended in anger because of my stupidity.”

  “Tell me what’s going on, Bran.”

  Shit.

  “Yeah, I still know you too. And you’re not getting out of here without telling me, so you might as well—go ahead, laugh. Maybe we’ll finish this discussion in the parking lot.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you.”

  Tim grunted, and Bran fought to find the right words.

  “Okay, you made my smoke screen. I’m flattered, okay? I thought you would’ve forgotten how to read me sometime in the last five years. Maybe nothing is going on beyond that I didn’t want to keep thinking I owed you an apology.”

  “Bullshit. You’re sick, aren’t you?” Tim looked him over but wouldn’t look him in the face.

  Damn, he’s really tearing up?

  “No. I had some tests in February—”

  “February? What kind of tests?”

  “A biopsy. It was negative.”

  “So then why do this now?”

  Bran shrugged. He wasn’t convinced it was all that great of an idea, even if he might have finally left the guilt over outing Tim behind.

  “Bran. You’re trying my patience. And yes, I know I sound like Eric. Tell me the rest and you won’t have to listen to it anymore.”

  “It’s cute.”

  Tim tried to grunt, but his heart wasn’t in it. He looked away and sighed. After studying the nearly empty parking lot for a few moments, he turned back around. Bran felt pinned in place by Tim’s dark eyes. Even though he didn’t still feel that way, it wasn’t difficult to remember when those sultry eyes had been the first and last things he thought about every day.

  “I’m not out of your league. You don’t give yourself enough credit, never have. And if we’re being honest here, I owe you an apology. I was scared and frustrated and angry, and I took it all out on you, and that wasn’t fair. I’m sorry I punished you for being supportive. If I had let you, I know you would’ve been there for me while I recovered.”

  Bran nodded.

  They sat at the little plastic table for a long moment, Tim silently asking for the rest of the story. Bran thought Tim wasn’t sure anymore that he wanted to know, but he had never been a quitter, and when he wanted something, he didn’t back down.

  “I have to go back for a follow-up.” Brandon turned in his chair and looked outside. The rain had picked up, and that seemed fitting. “Honestly? I think it’s only a matter of time and it’ll go the other way.”

  “So you’re, what, putting your affairs in order? Tying up loose ends?”

  “Not exactly.” He winced. “When you say it like that, it—”

  “It sounds fucked up.”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s because it is.” Tim hesitated a moment and then grasped Brandon’s shoulder. “It doesn’t have to happen that way. And you don’t have to do that alone.”

  “Do what?”

  “Anything.”

  Brandon fought the urge to pull his shoulder out of Tim’s grip. He could get free if he really wanted to, but he didn’t want to. Bran hadn’t been touched by a man since Kyle, and he was lonely and just afraid enough to crumble in the right circumstances. Or the wrong ones. Luckily, neither he nor Tim were at the mercy of their little heads, because Bran found he needed the contact, the connection.

  “Be this open with him, and it could happen.”

  Bran did try to get away then, but Tim didn’t let go.

  “You don’t really think I was in the dark about that whole conversation?”

  “I guess not. No.”

  “Look at me.”

  Bran didn’t even think of doing anything else.

  “Don’t go into it thinking you’re not in his league. Let it happen. You deserve it, Bran. I don’t know him very well, but the way it looked to me, he wanted it as much as you do.”

  “Even so—”

  “Don’t say it. Whatever you were going to say, just don’t. Let it happen. You’re a good man, smart and kind. You’re hot, you’re ripped, any man would be lucky to have you.”

  Just as Tim said that last bit, a group of women passed them, heading for the parking lot. They didn’t say anything, but before they made it to the front door Bran saw they were nodding.

  “You don’t need me to tell you all this—you’re not some flighty kid.”

  “It didn’t hurt. Thanks.”

  Tim shocked the hell out of Brandon when he hugged him. It felt good to hug Tim, but only as far as feeling they’d finally moved past the animosity. Regardless of how little sense it made, Bran wanted Kyle. He’d grown up hearing about his parents falling in love at first sight, so it shouldn’t sound as far-fetched as it did. But it did. Why would he deserve that? What had he ever done? To say he was far from perfect would be the understatement of the century.

  “Okay, I got it.” Bran patted Tim’s back, and they separated.

  Without another word, they stood and walked to the parking lot side by side. Just as Bran broke away to head to his car, Tim gave him a companionable pat on the back. The smile they shared was as much relief as anything else—at least on Bran’s side.

  Chapter Thirteen

  KYLE HAD never expected to be at Buchanan House with his father, but there they were, at Parents’ Weekend. He had a moment of déjà vu from his freshman year at U of O, but it was cut short by a welcome
hug and another apology from Derek. He seemed relieved that Kyle had finally stopped using the cane, so Kyle didn’t tell him it was in the trunk of his dad’s car. Just in case. It didn’t surprise Kyle when everyone in the Buchanan House branch of the family took their turn to hug and fuss over him a little.

  Ken, on the other hand, had been nothing if not surprising lately. He’d been in regular contact since their dinner, supportive but not overbearing. He seemed to genuinely enjoy their new relationship, and so did Kyle. He hadn’t exactly felt adrift when his mother died—he had been a man of twenty-seven and living in a house he had owned for four years, after all—but he’d missed the connection of family. He’d never let Derek, Paulie, or Nathan hear him say that, though. He bought into the created-family concept as much as they did, but getting close to his father was a dream he’d thought would never happen. It didn’t matter at all to Kyle that the reason for his father’s change of heart was in part due to being forced out at work. The ends could sometimes justify the means.

  The weekend of the party—the Parent’s Party, however uninspired it sounded—turned out to be the same weekend Lincoln City held their sand castle festival, the sunny but uncharacteristically cool first weekend in August. Kyle didn’t care if it was another attempt at setting him up with Bran—Brandon—Bran. In fact, he almost hoped it was.

  Means, meet ends; prepare to be justified.

  The party began at noon with a lovely brunch. Paulie’s idea of a chef’s potluck included the sons cooking their parents’ favorite dishes. Kyle chose to make okonomiyaki, a savory pancake his father loved but probably never made for himself.

  The dining room was full of people Kyle had yet to meet. He could have picked Nathan’s mother out of a lineup with one eye closed—he looked just like her and obviously got his outgoing personality from her as well. She’d arrived with a redheaded woman Kyle didn’t know, but they appeared to be only friends, not… more. Tex and Maria and Tim’s parents were there, of course. Surprisingly, so were Chase’s dad and Garrett’s mom. Once the sit-down portion of brunch was concluded, they even appeared to be an item, arms linked and chatting happily as though they were the only two people in the room. A few more locals rounded out the guest list, including an intimidating woman named Minnie Smith. Kyle didn’t know what it said about anything, or which was more odd—that he was a little afraid of her, or that his father seemed to take to her right away.