“How is he? Have you heard from him?”
“Of course. He’s my best friend, isn’t he? He’s doing great, decided to leave the army. He’s seeing someone from his old unit. He’s really happy.”
Hunter swayed backward like he’d been slapped in the face. For a minute, he thought he’d throw up right there on Brian’s too-tight button-down shirt. He wanted to yell at Brian, tell him it wasn’t true, that Jake wouldn’t do that to him, but he didn’t know. This new development only confirmed Hunter’s suspicion that Jake had wanted to leave him all along. The army had just been a convenient excuse. He’d met someone and hadn’t wanted to tell Hunter. He’d pushed Hunter away instead and made him do the dirty work. That fucking coward. That lying, fucking coward. The next thing Hunter knew, Brian was gone and Charles appeared at his side, his blue eyes wide and concerned.
“Hunter? Are you all right? Jesus, what did he say to you?”
“Nothing.” He wound his arms around Charles’s neck and licked at his earlobe. He didn’t care if anyone saw, not even Brian. “Let’s get out of here, okay?”
“Um, okay?” Charles knit his eyebrows together. “But can I ask what brought this on? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”
“I just realized what I want.” He pressed their groins together. “You, right now.”
Charles seemed poised to protest, but before he could, Hunter kissed him, thrusting his tongue into his opened mouth. Nearby, someone made a sound of disgust.
Hunter glared at the guy giving them a dirty look. “Fuck. You.”
“Darling,” Charles whispered in his ear, “I’m all for giving the finger to self-hating fags, but I really don’t feel like getting my ass kicked tonight, okay?”
Hunter grinned and went in for another kiss. “Hmm, good point. I have other plans for your ass.”
Charles’s eyes widened. “What in the world has gotten into you?”
“Let’s get one more drink before we go.”
Hunter ordered a final round of tequila. The liquor warmed his belly this time, made his mind pleasantly numb. He paid the tab and led the way out of the bar.
Hunter’s place was closer, so that’s where they went. As soon as the door shut behind them, Hunter launched himself at Charles, kissing and biting his neck. Charles was caught off guard for a moment but reciprocated quickly, getting into the kiss as their erections rubbed through the stiff fabric of their jeans.
Somehow they managed to undress and make it onto the bed. Charles’s body was lean and tan with a flat stomach and nearly hairless chest. He had a nipple ring, and Hunter flicked his tongue over it before moving down toward Charles’s cock, peppering kisses along his belly as he went. He took the shaft in hand and swallowed it down without preamble. The head nudged against the back of his throat, and he breathed in the unfamiliar scent of arousal. He worked it quickly, his own dick hard between his thighs.
By the time he put on a condom and sank into Charles’s heat, he could think of nothing but fucking, fucking, fucking. Charles moaned underneath him and opened up, and then he was deep inside. When he came—an embarrassingly short time later—he realized the wetness on his face was tears.
Charles sighed and stroked Hunter’s hair. “We shouldn’t have done this.” Not only had Charles not come, but his penis now lay soft on his thigh.
“Fuck, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. I’m always thinking with my dick. But you, my friend, are in a bad way.”
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s something. Crying isn’t exactly the reaction I was going for when we started this. It was that guy in the bar, wasn’t it? He an old flame of yours with straight-guy syndrome?”
Hunter rolled onto his back and threw his arm over his face. “No, no, nothing like that. My ex’s best friend.”
“Ah, and I take it you asked about said ex?”
“Yep.”
“Made that mistake myself a time or two. Do you want to talk about it?” When Hunter didn’t answer, Charles removed the condom from Hunter’s spent cock and wiped him clean. By the time Hunter opened his eyes, Charles had dressed and stood next to the bed holding a glass of water and a bottle of ibuprofen.
“I think you’re going to be hungover in the morning, you lightweight. This will help.”
Hunter sat up and pulled the blanket around his waist. “Listen, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen—like this.” He gestured between them. “And I wasn’t just—I do honestly like you, Charles.”
“And I like you, obviously, but—unfortunately for me—not in a rebound sort of way. I think you need to figure some things out before we go any further.”
The thought of having messed up this new, potentially very good thing made Hunter reach out for Charles’s hand. “There’s really nothing to figure out. He’s moved on with someone else. He’s… not the person I thought he was.”
“I’m sorry for that.”
“It’s all right.”
Charles leaned down and placed a chaste kiss on Hunter’s lips. “Give me a call when you figure things out, okay?”
“I will.”
“I’ll see you at work.”
The door clicked shut with finality. Hunter stared at the ceiling for a long time before he finally reached for his boxers. He poured out a couple tablets from the bottle Charles had left behind and gulped the glass of water, which gurgled in his stomach, a reminder he hadn’t gotten the chance to eat anything at the restaurant. That realization drove him toward the kitchen to pull out a few old containers of takeout. He stared at the plate he’d made up and forced a few mouthfuls down, but the food was tacky in his mouth and stuck in his throat. He should have never gone after Brian.
He tried to imagine Jake with someone else and couldn’t. Where were they? If Jake had left the army he had to be close by; he’d never abandon his gran, and she’d never agree to move. Maybe he was back at her place right now.
Hunter left his dirty plate in the sink and went in search of his cell. There was a text from Charles asking if he was okay that he quickly replied to before scrolling down his contacts until he got to “J.” His finger trembled as it hovered over “send.”
After a long moment of indecision, he exhaled and threw the phone down on the bed.
WORKING AT the bookstore on the weekends was a relaxing contrast with his job at the paper. Being lost in the maze of the stacks gave him time to think, for one. As his internship drew to a close, Nugent had offered him a full-time staff position, and while it seemed only appropriate to take it, Hunter wasn’t sure what he wanted to do. He’d been thinking seriously about trying his luck in another city, maybe somewhere up north. He hadn’t yet broached the topic with his mother or anyone else because he knew what they’d say: that he was running away because Jake was back. They’d probably be right. It had been days since he’d first heard the news from Gloria, who’d heard from Jake’s gran—but he’d yet to see Jake out anywhere, and he wasn’t going to call.
Hunter shelved the last of the newest acquisitions before he made his way back to the front counter.
Gloria looked up at him and frowned. “I think you should take some time off.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re working yourself ragged. You know I love your help, Hunter, but the world would go on turning if you took a few days for yourself.”
“I’m fine. I don’t need time off, and I really wish people would stop assuming there’s something wrong with me.”
“Now, now, don’t get so testy. Here.” She held out a plate of cookies, and Hunter took one. “I made these for the sidewalk sale; I figure it’ll help move some of the merchandise.”
“Guilting people into buying with sweets. I like it.”
“Whatever works.” Gloria smiled at him, but there was something about it that made him pause. Something was up. “Honey, I’m selling the store.”
“What?” Hunter nearly spat out the bite he’d been chewing.
&
nbsp; “I’ve owned this place for almost thirty years and I’m tired. I hate to break it to you—or myself—but I’m getting old.”
Hunter stared dumbly at his boss; in spite of her graying hair and a few wrinkles around her eyes, she looked the same as she had when he was a kid. “You’re not old.”
“I’m sixty-eight. Greg wants to be near our grandbabies and so do I, though I don’t know how we’ll deal with Minneapolis in the winter. Greg says he’ll take up snowshoeing. I’ve never heard such craziness, that fool man.” She laughed, her chocolate eyes twinkling. “If he doesn’t catch his death of pneumonia, it’ll be a miracle.”
Gloria’s daughter and her family had lived in Minnesota for almost five years now; it made sense for Gloria and her husband to want to be closer. Yet Hunter couldn’t wrap his head around the idea of the bookstore closing, of Gloria leaving. The place was a city institution. She looked so happy, though, he couldn’t bring himself to be anything but glad for her.
He took another cookie. “Sounds like an adventure.”
“One last adventure. It’s important to have one last adventure.”
ALBERT WAGGED his tail when Hunter walked up the path toward the familiar house. The old dog was tied up in the backyard near a half-empty food dish, lazing in the shade. Hunter paused a moment to pat his head before continuing on.
The screen door was closed, latched from the inside, as it never was unless no one was home; he’d forgotten it was Sunday morning. Hunter’s heart thumped a disappointed—yet slightly relieved—beat. He hadn’t bothered calling before coming over, wanting the advantage of surprise, but now the drive seemed pointless.
As he turned to retreat the way he’d come, though, he heard faint music drifting from the shed at the back of the yard—classic rock. He froze, staring at the opened door and trying to see beyond, but he didn’t need laser vision to know it was Jake. Hunter drew in a breath and crossed the yard.
Inside the shed, a man with brown hair, wearing a white T-shirt, was crouched in front of a shiny, antique motorcycle. For a moment, Hunter thought he’d made a mistake; Jake didn’t have a bike, and he didn’t have hair, but then the man stood and turned, wiping his hands on his jeans. He was startled to see Hunter standing there, the shock obvious on his face. Hunter’s mouth dropped open. Jake not only had hair; he had a beard, neatly trimmed around his full lips.
“Different, huh?” Jake bit his lip and rubbed the hair along his jaw; the action smeared grease across his skin.
“I hardly recognized you.”
“I thought I could use a change. You don’t like it?”
“Yeah, it’s—wow. It’s just different.” And other things were still the same in spite of the beard. Hunter had to check himself from lingering too long on the ripped neck of Jake’s old tee and the skin and muscle that showed beneath it.
“You hate it.” Jake’s smile grew bemused.
“It’s all right,” Hunter said.
“You’re shit at lying, Hunt.”
Jake had wanted a motorcycle for years, but he had never been home long enough to make the purchase worth it. Now here it was, bright and shiny evidence of his new life. Maybe it was stupid to resent an inanimate object, but Hunter didn’t care. He should just say good-bye now and get the fuck out, and yet his feet wouldn’t move. They stood firmly planted—traitors. He shoved his fists into his pockets.
After wiping his hands on a rag slung over the back of the bike, Jake turned down the radio, which had gone to a commercial. He gave Hunter an appraising look. “I read that article you wrote, the one on the houses. Dammit, Hunter, I didn’t know you could write like that. And the mayor’s response—Jesus—I thought Gran was going to have another stroke she was so proud. Hung the clip-out on the fridge.”
Hunter felt his face heat and swallowed. “Thanks.”
“It took balls, seriously. You’ve done really well for yourself, a big-shot reporter now.”
Hunter snorted. “Hardly. But I was offered a job at the paper.”
“That’s amazing! Take it—are you gonna take it?”
“I think so. I dunno. It’s not exactly where I want to be, you know?”
“I hear you.” Jake nodded and looked around. “But an opportunity like that doesn’t come along every day.”
“So, where is Gran, anyway?” Hunter asked to change the subject.
“Church luncheon. Tried to make me go, but you know me.” Jake gestured around. “I prefer to spend my Sundays out here.”
“So you finally got a bike. It’s nice.” Hunter came closer and ran his hand down the seat. The freshly oiled leather was smooth under his fingers. It must have cost a pretty penny.
“Is now. You should have seen it before I refurbished it.”
“That must have taken a long time. I thought you’d only been back for a couple weeks.”
“I bought it in Dallas, worked on it there a bit before I moved back.”
“Oh.” Hunter dropped his hand and crossed his arms. He didn’t bother asking who Jake had been staying with in Dallas.
“You wanna go for a ride?” Jake asked. “I’ve got an extra helmet.”
Hunter considered the prospect for a moment; he imagined getting on the back of the motorcycle, wrapping his arms around Jake, driving wherever. The exhilaration of it was quickly quashed by the reality of why Jake needed a second helmet in the first place. Hunter shook his head.
“Another time, then.” Jake seemed vaguely disappointed.
“So you’re sticking around?”
“For a while, yeah. You?”
“I reckon so.” Hunter dropped his gaze to his feet to avoid Jake’s crestfallen expression. He had no right to look like that, not when there was someone else. “Listen, I just wanted to stop by to say hey, and that you don’t have to worry about me, seeing me around. You don’t have to stay in hiding.”
Jake laughed. “Who said I’m in hiding?”
“No one. I just haven’t seen you out or heard from you.”
“Well, we said no contact. You’re the one who insisted on it, if I remember correctly.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I just didn’t think it’d feel like this.”
“Like what?”
Hunter shook his head. “You didn’t tell me you were leaving the army. Why?”
“Brian said you were with someone. I didn’t want to mess that up, you know? I didn’t want to confuse things, not when you were just starting out.”
How could Jake stand there so calmly? Hunter felt unsteady on his feet. “You weren’t just fucking with me? Lying to get me to break up with you because you knew I didn’t want to do the long-distance thing anymore?”
“What? No, of course not! I had to figure some things out, and it wouldn’t have been right for me to ask you to wait, to be with anyone, really, I was so fucked up.”
“Bullshit.”
“What did you say?” Jake’s voice went hard.
“I said bull-fucking-shit, Jake. Brian told me about the guy from your unit.”
“What guy?” Jake’s eyebrows knit together.
“When I saw Brian out a few months ago, he told me you were seeing someone, some guy you knew before.”
Jake paused. “Well, so? What if I was—what’s it to you? You’ve got a new photographer boyfriend. Bet he went to a fancy school and everything.”
“Actually, Charles and I didn’t work out.” Hunter resisted the urge to elaborate. Charles had become a good friend in the months since they’d first met, but defending him or their fling wouldn’t help, not with the way Jake was glaring at him.
“Oh,” Jake said. His face had gone blank. “Too bad.”
“It is, actually. He’s a nice guy.”
“Can I ask why?”
“Why he’s a nice guy?”
“You know what I mean.”
“We wanted different things.” He didn’t need to tell Jake that what he’d wanted was standing across the room with a scruffy beard and dirty T-shirt.
“Hmm.”
Another awkward silence, this one even more painful. Hunter shifted on his feet and got ready to excuse himself—he’d done what he’d come to do, and now, the next time he saw Jake, it would be easier. They’d acknowledge each other in passing and go on with their lives, and slowly, surely, they’d grow to be the strangers they already were. Instead of leaving, though, Hunter cleared his throat.
“You said you had to work things out. So did you?”
“I think so, yeah. I made the right choice.” Jake looked like he might say more, but didn’t.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m okay.” Nothing more, nothing less. Just okay. Well, this trip had certainly been worth it, Hunter thought ruefully. He should never have come.
“I better head out.” He tried for a light tone and probably failed. “It’s good to see you, even with that beard.” Hunter wondered if Jake’s new guy liked facial hair. He pushed the thought from his mind even as his guts twisted. “I’ll see you later, Jake.”
Outside again, the sun was high overhead, strong enough to serve as a reminder that the brief spring was already over. His mother always said there were two seasons in Georgia: hot and hotter. Hunter strode across the lawn with his head high and a dull ache in his chest, feeling worse than he had before he’d come. He’d almost rounded the corner to the front of the house when he heard movement behind him and turned. Jake jogged after him, shielding the sun from his eyes with his hand.
“Wait up a second, Hunt.”
Hunter stopped in his tracks and watched as Jake caught up.
“I wasn’t, by the way,” Jake said. “I don’t know why Brian told you that, but it’s not true.”
“You weren’t—oh.”
“And you know, it kind of sucks you thought I was without even bothering to find out.”
A confused, jumbled feeling of hope conflicted with Hunter’s need to defend himself. “What was I supposed to think? He tells me you’re with another guy—what was I supposed to think?”
Jake let out a loud sigh. “You just don’t get it, do you?”
“Get what?”
“Hunter, I wanted to be with you. There was no other guy. And when I found out you were seeing someone else, well, that’s why I didn’t call. I’d been planning on it, you know, came up with a whole speech in my head about why you should take me back even though I was a fuck-up. I hoped—well, you still loved me.”
Taking Flight Page 5