Chapter Fifteen
“You look amazing.”
Trevor met Carl’s eyes in the mirror. “Thanks.” He plucked at the waistband of the suit pants. “Not too baggy, right?”
“You look good enough to eat.” Carl slid his arms around Trevor’s waist, leaning down to put his chin on his shoulder. “Which I’d love to do later tonight.” He nuzzled his nose against Trevor’s cheek and nipped at his earlobe.
Trevor tried not to tense. His libido ebbed and flowed these days, and there were times when all he wanted to do was lose himself in the mindless pleasure of rough, sweaty sex, in the blessed forgetfulness of his body taking over. Other times he couldn’t bear to be touched, couldn’t bear the vulnerability that came when physical barriers were breached.
He and Carl hadn’t made love in weeks.
Trevor turned in his arms, not answering, not making any promises. The banquet was going to be hard on him, but he owed it to Carl to try and be fully present tonight, and that meant physically as well as emotionally. He pulled Carl’s head down to kiss him with passionate thoroughness, and when they broke apart, Carl’s eyes were glowing with arousal.
“Let’s skip the dinner,” Carl murmured. “I want to take you straight to bed.” He pressed closer, letting Trevor feel his erection against his hip.
Trevor smoothed his hands over Carl’s lapels, straightening them. “You worked too hard on your speech to do that,” he teased, hastily pulling away when Carl slid his hand along Trevor’s thigh, not wanting him to discover he was flaccid. “Afterward, we have all night.”
Carl kissed him again. “I can’t wait,” he said longingly, stepping back and adjusting himself with brisk motions. “But we do need to get going.”
As they drove, Trevor sat and stared out the window, trying to get into the mindset of proud, supportive significant other, determined to help make Carl’s big night special for him in every way.
Carl took the exit for the Broadmoor area, and Trevor sighed. He hadn’t asked where the banquet was being held, but if it was at one of their favorite restaurants—good food, impeccable service and the sweet memory of Carl proposing to him before the fireplace in the private dining room—he could do this.
But Carl drove past the world-famous Broadmoor Hotel and continued up a two-lane, winding road, a road that led to the—
“What’s up here, Carl?” he asked tightly, reaching out to grip the door handle, digging his fingers into it.
Carl laughed, glancing over at him. “The zoo, silly. I told you that’s where the dinner was tonight.”
“No, you didn’t. You never said that.” Hearing how harsh he sounded, Trevor broke off and took a deep breath, striving for calm. “It just surprises me it’s not at the Broadmoor, that’s all.”
“The zoo is a big sponsor of the conservation efforts my firm has been undertaking, Trev. That’s the whole point of this banquet, to honor those contributions, and why I’m doing the keynote. I’m the liaison—” He launched into a detailed explanation of it all, and Trevor tuned him out, unable to hear him over the roaring in his ears.
The zoo. Riley. A teenage father, unable to afford much of anything in the way of entertainment for his toddler son...
Vivid images flashed through Trevor’s mind like a slideshow—feeding the giraffes, Riley wrinkling his nose at the smell of the indoor pen but squealing in delight as the rubbery lips brushed his palm in search of the bits of food there. Trick-or-treating, Riley in a Darth Vader costume, starry-eyed with happiness when the legion of Storm Troopers marching in front of the zoo’s entrance stopped and saluted him. Riding the sky lift up to the top of Cheyenne Mountain, where Mrs. Claus waited to greet him with hot chocolate and a candy cane before a visit to Santa, Riley openmouthed in awe at the pen of real live reindeer.
“Daddy, what if they start flying right now?”
Trevor gripped the armrest as the memories assaulted him from all sides: Scout troop events, field trips, heart-to-heart talks—Riley laughing at the antics of the snow leopards even as his eyes glistened with tears after his first painful breakup. The visits tapered off, of course, as Riley grew older, but so much of their early relationship had been conducted on these wooded, hilly grounds, a foundation laid for the closeness that enabled them to survive the angst and conflict of the teenage years.
Trevor had been looking forward to maybe bringing his grandchildren here...
As Carl pulled into the sprawling parking lot, Trevor sucked in a deep breath and blew it out as quietly as he could. He could do this—no, he had to do this, for Carl’s sake.
* * *
The cocktail hour went well. All Trevor had to do was stand quietly at Carl’s side, drink in hand, and smile as he was introduced to people he’d never in a million years remember the names of. Carl was in his element, the man of the hour, and his rich voice and husky laugh rang throughout the room.
“I’m so proud of you,” Trevor whispered to him at one point, and Carl brushed his fingers discreetly over Trevor’s hand.
“Thanks, honey.”
The large banquet room was warm and inviting, complete with a string quartet playing softly in one corner. Women glittered in sequined dresses, the men wearing either a sharply tailored business suit or tuxedo. Carl wore a tux, the elegant severity of it setting off his high-cheekboned face and gray hair to perfection.
When dinner was announced, Carl put his hand on the small of Trevor’s back. “I’ll be on the dais during the meal. You’re seated with the spouses of the other speakers at one of the front tables.”
Trevor nodded and watched him stride toward the dais, shaking hands with people along the way, before seating himself to the right of the lectern. The spouses’ table was almost full when he finally found his name card, and he sank into the chair gratefully, glad to be off his feet at last.
“I’m Marquita.”
The woman next to him offered her slim hand. Trevor introduced himself, smiling when Marquita said, “Do you hate these things as much as I do?”
“And then some,” he admitted.
“Jaime, my husband, told me at least the food should be good, although the speeches are gonna be so boring.” She pointed at a man sitting next to Carl. “That’s him. Which one’s your wife?”
Whoa, awkward.
“Um, actually, that’s my partner sitting next to Jaime. Carl Jeffries.”
“Oh, you’re Carl’s partner! He and my husband are good friends at work.” Marquita paused, touching Trevor’s forearm. “We’re so sorry for your loss.”
Trevor froze in surprise. “Thank you,” he said, warmed by the sincere sympathy in her eyes. “I needed to hear that tonight.”
She patted his arm. “Hopefully this will go fast and be over soon, one of those spousal obligations that we just need to get through.”
A uniformed banquet server slid plates of salad and rolls in front of them, and Marquita turned to speak to the man on her other side. Trevor picked at his food, managing a few bites here and there, putting ‘the face’ on so he could laugh at people’s jokes and funny stories, even telling one himself about the time he slid off the road after a recent blizzard and ended up in a snowbank.
“Oh, dear, Trevor. My teenage son just started driving, and I’m waiting for that phone call. ‘I’m stuck, Mom, come pull me out!’” Laughter around the table as the woman who spoke threw up her hands. “Not much I’ll be able to do in a Kia!”
“My son has already gotten three speeding tickets, can you believe that? We took his keys away and enrolled him in a driving course—”
“You have to steer into the skid, Riley,” Trevor gasped as Riley brought the car to a shuddering halt.
“It seems so weird to do that!” Riley pounded his fist on the steering wheel in frustration. “All I wanna do is slam on the brakes.”
“And you see what happens,” Trevor said, looking out at the sprawling, empty parking lot covered in snow from a recent storm. “You lose control.” He reached out and covered Riley’s clenched fingers with his own. “Trust me, son. It’s hard to do, but next time, steer directly into the skid.”
Riley took a few deep breaths, then nodded.
“Let’s go again, before they get the plows and salt trucks out to clean this up, okay?”
“Coffee, sir?”
Trevor jumped as a coffee cup and saucer was placed in front of him. After it was poured, he wrapped his fingers around the warm cup, noticing that Carl was looking at him from the dais, his eyebrows raised. Trevor made an effort to smooth his expression out, shoving the memories away. He gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile, relieved when Carl winked at him before turning to speak to Jaime.
“My hair has turned completely gray since my twins started driving.” The woman on Trevor’s other side patted her beautifully coiffed hair. “Those two are going to be the death of me yet.”
She glanced around the table, her head swiveling in Trevor’s direction. Her mouth opened, and as if through a tunnel he heard her say the words he had absolutely no defense against—
“So do you have children, Trevor?”
The walls closed in on him, and his heart started to race. “I, uh, I—”
Different phrases crowded his brain. I had a son but he died.
My son was killed in Afghanistan.
I recently lost my only son.
He didn’t want to say any of them, didn’t want to deal with the empty platitudes that would follow, didn’t want to bring the mood down and ruin Carl’s night.
“No, I don’t have any children,” he forced out, dimly aware of Marquita resting her hand on his forearm to squeeze. The quiet sympathy was his undoing, and Trevor felt his throat tighten and his eyes begin to sting.
He pushed his chair back and stood. “Excuse me,” he mumbled, and fled the room, pushing through the doors out into the cold night air. He leaned against the side of the building, clenching his teeth against the tide of grief welling in his chest, hating himself for being so goddamn weak.
Taking deep breaths in through his nose, Trevor fought for control, and he almost won, until he looked out over the kids’ play area adjacent to the restaurant.
“Jump, Riley! I’ll catch you!”
Without any hesitation Riley flung himself off the top of the large plastic “rock” into Trevor’s arms. Trevor swung him around, covering his chubby little cheeks with kisses.
“See? Daddy caught you. Daddy will always catch you.”
An image came unbidden, of a bullet slamming into vulnerable flesh, blood gushing—legs collapsing, a body hitting the dirt.
“I didn’t catch you, Riles,” Trevor moaned. “Oh, God, I didn’t catch you.”
Trevor slid down the wall. Inside the restaurant he could hear applause as someone took the microphone at the lectern. Hot tears overflowed, snot ran. Trevor wiped it all on his suit sleeve, pressing his fist to his mouth to try and hold back the sobs.
As he pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, his phone fell from his pocket and hit the ground with a clatter. Trevor scrabbled for it, opening his contacts and stabbing his trembling finger on the newest entry, listening to the hollow ring.
* * *
Yeah, baby. I am gonna score tonight.
Jesse looked around the room with satisfaction. Table set, steaks marinating and ready for the grill, wine chosen. He wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans, walking over to glance into the bedroom. Clean sheets on the bed, condoms and lube within easy reach...check.
Everything was ready, and now all he needed was for his date to arrive.
Date. Jesse raked one hand through his hair, feeling like he was going to jump out of his skin with nerves and anticipation. He actually had a date.
Brandon was a dark-haired, green-eyed hottie who’d been hanging out at Jelly’s lately, his interest in Jesse obvious. Old habits died hard, but eventually Jesse let himself respond to Brandon’s flirtation, which led to a couple of stolen kisses in the club’s bathroom. He’d finished his shift that night with a huge grin on his face, enduring some gentle ribbing from coworkers who enjoyed busting his balls, but other than that, no one batted an eyelash over it. They had their own lives to live; no one cared what he did.
What an amazing feeling.
Eventually he’d worked up the nerve to ask Brandon to dinner, and they’d celebrated his acceptance with more hot kisses and furtive hand jobs in the front seat of Jesse’s truck during his break. Meshing their schedules took some time, but finally date night had arrived. Steaks, salad and wine, and then the main event. Jesse looked at his watch. Half-hour to go.
As he headed back into the kitchen, intending to open the wine and let it breathe, his phone buzzed from the coffee table. He snatched it up, frowning at the unfamiliar number. Tempted to let it go to voice mail, he finally hit the Talk button, answering with a wary hello.
“J—Jesse?”
“Yeah. Who’s this?”
“It’s Trevor.”
Jesse’s adrenaline spiked. “Trevor? What’s wrong?”
“Can you come pick me up? Please, Jesse.” Trevor’s voice was raw, and he sounded congested. “Please.”
Thoughts of Brandon and bed forgotten, Jesse said swiftly, “Of course. Where are you?”
“Cheyenne Mountain Zoo.”
What?
“On my way. Twenty minutes tops.”
They hung up, and Jesse grabbed his hoodie, dialing Brandon’s number as he hurried to the parking lot, hoping to catch him before he left.
Fifteen minutes later Jesse pulled up to the entrance to the zoo. A man slumped on a bench just outside the main gate. He powered down the passenger window. “Trevor?” he called, and the man rose.
Jesse caught his breath. Trevor was dressed in a blue suit, tie askew, his hair mussed like he’d been dragging his hands through it. When he pulled the passenger door open and the dome light flashed over his face, Jesse could see swollen, red eyes and tear tracks on his cheeks.
What the hell happened?
Jesse didn’t ask any questions, just gunned the accelerator and got Trevor out of there. He concentrated on the twists and turns of the hilly descent into the Broadmoor area, and when the road leveled out, Jesse glanced at Trevor, who sat quietly, his hands clenched together in his lap.
“Do you want me to take you home—” Jesse began, breaking off when Trevor gave an emphatic shake of his head.
“No, not yet.”
“Okay.”
After a moment’s hesitation on what to do, Jesse hit the I-25 south toward Fort Carson and the apartment complex he lived in on the outskirts of it. He pulled into his numbered space and parked, leading a silent Trevor up the walk, the clicking of Trevor’s dress shoes echoing loudly in the quiet courtyard.
“Come on in.” Jesse unlocked his door and pushed it open, grateful he’d cleaned for Brandon, then wincing as Trevor took in the table set for two, the wine on the counter and the small bouquet of grocery store flowers in a cheap glass vase next to it.
Trevor turned stricken eyes on him. “I interrupted your evening. Jesse, I’m so sorry.”
Jesse shook his head. “No worries,” he said gently. “We rescheduled.”
That was debatable. A renewed flare of anger surged at the memory of Brandon’s little tantrum over the phone earlier, clearly disbelieving Jesse’s claim of needing to rush to a friend’s aid. He’d said a few choice words in Jesse’s ear, then hung up with a decisive click.
“Come in and sit down,” Jesse urged, dismissing Brandon from his mind. Trevor nodded, shrugging out of his suit coat, which he laid carefully over the back of the nearest dining room chair before collapsing onto the couch, pulling at his tie to loosen it and unbuttoning the collar to reveal a patch of smooth chest. Jesse stared at it, tracking his eyes down Trevor’s trim torso to his long legs, splayed open as he slumped into the couch and heaved a weary sigh, letting his head drop back.
Swallowing hard, Jesse dragged his gaze away from the hollow of Trevor’s throat, fleeing to the kitchen with a mumbled offer to make some coffee.
“Way to be inappropriate, asshole!” he berated himself quietly. A good-looking man in a suit always pushed his buttons hard, and he’d been primed for sex tonight. That had to be it. Striving for calm, Jesse got the coffeepot going, and soon the tiny kitchen and living room were filled with a comforting, homey smell.
When it was done, Jesse brought Trevor a mug, unwelcome desire surging anew at Trevor’s smile of thanks, a quirk of his full lips that drew attention to his attractive stubble and strong jawline.
I can see where Riley got his looks.
Thoughts of Riley were like a cold shower, and just like that, Jesse’s arousal fled, replaced once again by concern.
“Do you wanna talk about it?” he asked, taking a seat opposite Trevor on the battered leather recliner he’d picked up at a yard sale.
“Not really.”
“Okay.”
A short silence fell as Trevor glanced around the apartment with interest, his eyes falling on the vase of flowers. “Sorry again about your date. Were you going to make dinner?”
“I was, yeah.”
Trevor sniffed the air. “I don’t smell any food.”
“Well, I was gonna grill steaks. They’re marinating right now.”
“Really?” Jesse watched, bemused, as Trevor put his cup down and went into the kitchen to pull the pan of steaks out of the fridge. “What kind of marinade?”
Jesse shrugged. “Umm, just something from a bottle I got at the store.”
“Ugh, bottled marinade. Usually full of sugar.” Trevor shook his head. “Next time, call me and I’ll tell you my favorite homemade recipe. It’s guaranteed to impress.”
With that, Trevor rolled up his sleeves and walked to the sliding glass door leading out to the apartment’s tiny patio. “Where’s your grill?”
“I don’t have one. I was just gonna use the one out by the pool.”
“Hmm. Let’s see it.”
Trevor trailed along behind Jesse as he led the way out to the pool area and the little cabanas there. Putting his hands on his hips, Trevor said, “These are the kind of grills that need charcoal briquettes and lighter fluid. Do you have those?”
“What?” Jesse strode over to take a closer look. “Oh, shit. No.” He raked one hand through his hair. “I thought you just pushed a little button somewhere and fire came out,” he admitted, feeling stupid as hell but gratified to see Trevor smiling, even if it was at his expense.
“So what kind of charcoal thingies do I need? I have no clue what to get.”
As they walked back toward the apartment, Trevor launched into a discussion of the merits of briquettes versus wood chips. Jesse listened with half an ear, thinking it all sounded way too fuckin’ complicated and if he ever rescheduled with Brandon, he’d just order pizza.
Once back inside, Trevor asked for a piece of paper, and they perched side by side on barstools as Trevor not only wrote down what to get for the grill, but also two of his favorite marinade recipes.
He was left-handed, Jesse noted, unable to help but admire the lazy grace in his handwriting. It was bold, yet perfectly readable, and Trevor wrote with long, sweeping strokes that slashed across the page.
Oh, God. Am I really getting turned on by watching him write? Jesse kicked himself mentally. Really need to get laid here, junior.
“I should call a cab and get home,” Trevor said at last, breaking into Jesse’s thoughts. “Carl will be—well, he won’t be happy with me.”
“He’s probably worried sick, more like. And fuck taking a cab, I’m driving you.”
Trevor’s expression was rueful, but gratitude showed in his eyes. “Thanks. And again, please apologize to your date for me. I really hope she’s the understanding type.”
Jesse blinked. “Uh...yeah, I’m sure it’ll be fine. No worries.”
They made the drive in silence, and Jesse couldn’t help but notice Trevor’s grimace when they pulled up to the house blazing with lights, a sleek Mercedes parked haphazardly in the driveway as if the driver had roared up and screeched to a halt.
“Carl’s home, and he’s definitely not happy.”
As Trevor started to get out of the truck, Jesse said, “Call me if you need me, okay? Anytime. I mean it.”
Trevor’s mouth set stubbornly, and it was so Riley-like that Jesse caught his breath, a sudden twist of grief stabbing him in the chest.
“You deserve to live your life, Jesse, without some sad old dude constantly interrupting it. Now go home and call your date. Promise her that you’ll make it up to her, and then do it.”
Trevor got out of the car and tapped his fist on the roof in a final goodbye before turning to trudge up the driveway.
His heart aching for him, Jesse waited until he disappeared inside before he shoved the truck into gear and reluctantly drove away.