“Hurry! Oh my god, faster!”

Their shoes slapped over wet cement as rain poured down, soaking them both to the skin. The yellow umbrella that they’d been huddled under together only moments ago had been tossed aside, crushed underfoot and forgotten. The churning gray sky let loose another ominous roar and Thiessen’s heart leapt into his throat. No!

“Bo!” The scream ripped free. He could hear the men chasing after them, grunting and laughing, their sneakers scuffing over the pavement. His pulse skyrocketed, both arms pumping at his sides. Faster, faster. They were right behind them, they were right fucking there!

One minute he was running for his life and the next, an otherworldly pain screamed through his leg. The crushing blow of the metal baseball bat toppled him and Thiessen hit the ground hard, scraping both palms bloody. His breath stuttered in his lungs as panic took root.

“N-No! Stop! This is crazy, what are you doing?” He twisted around, using his good leg to kick himself away from the men. They loomed over him; they wore street clothes and sneakers, but their faces were obscured by black ski masks, so that only their lips and their eyes showed. They were grinning. They took joy in this.

The man with the bat laughed, his voice a rasp as the sky lit up. “Puttin’ you faggots in your place, cuz somebody’s gotta do it, yeah?” A chorus of low chuckles sent dread knotting in Thiessen’s gut. He tried in vain to kick himself away, but one of them stomped hard on his hand.

“Please!” His cry fell on deaf ears. The man swung the bat over his shoulder, his cronies howling for more, like wild dogs falling over a fresh kill and Thiessen was their prey. The cold, unforgiving metal slammed into his already-shattered knee with another crushing blow. Again and again and all he could see was red. Agony wrapped fingers around his throat so hard that black dots spotted his vision, another raw scream tearing loose.

He was struck across the face with a fist, stunned to silence. “Shut the fuck up!” Someone bent down and grabbed a handful of his hair, yanking him up despite his whimpers. “No one fucking cares! You’re trash. Worthless.” He spat and shoved him back down into the mud, his grimy boot stomping on Thiessen’s face, grinding it against the ground.

“Thiessen!”

No!

“Run, Bo! Run! Go get help! Fuck!” He howled again when one of the men kicked him in the ribs. Pain burned like a wildfire through him, his head filled with cotton and dizziness. Please, run. Please, get away, get away and find help. Goddamnit, Bowen Gentry, don’t be a martyr. He pleaded with God, begging him to listen for once in his damn life, but if there was such a being, he had no time for Thiessen’s pleas.

“Thiessen! Leave him be! Stop it, you bastards!”

And in true Bo Gentry fashion, he went down swinging—except this time, he wouldn’t get back up again. Laughter cackled out, followed by the hollow song of a baseball bat sailing through the air. With a sickeningly wet crack, the metal bat slammed into the side of Bo’s head. He dropped like a sack of potatoes, lifeless on the ground.

Thiessen howled.

Their masked attackers jumped on Bo’s body, kicking him like he was nothing, like he wasn’t a human being at all, just some stray dog on the side of the road. Thiessen’s entire body shook with violent tremors that made nausea roil at the back of his throat. He clamped his jaws tightly shut, daring not to make a whimper in fear that the gang would turn their attention back on him.

Coward, his mind hissed. Tears ran hot down the sides of his face, washed away by the cold spring rain. Not Bo… Not his Bo. Why? His stomach knotted with anger and pain—but most of all, with fear. Faggot. Slut. Sinner. Nothing more than worthless trash, that’s what they’d said.

In the distance, the wail of sirens split the quiet that had fallen over them. One of the men cursed. “Let’s get the hell outta here.” Spitting on Bo’s lifeless form, they cast one last look over their shoulders at Thiessen and took off running, to disappear down an alley.

All Thiessen could see was Bo. His body lay folded on the ground like a broken origami swan; what was once beautiful was now fractured, ruined, because the only color Thiessen could make out was the bright crimson that pooled around Bo’s head like a gory halo. Reaching out a hand, he let a sob run free and wild in his chest.

I’m sorry. I love you.

No!

Thiessen woke with a jolt, tears streaking down his face to soak into his cotton pillowcase. Gasping for air and drenched in a cold sweat, he tried to catch his breath. He couldn’t shake the images that had bombarded his dreams, twisting them into bloody nightmares. Always the same damn nightmares.

Why Bo? He squeezed his eyes shut on a fresh wave of pain, but he swallowed back his sob. With one hand clenching at his sweat-damp tank top, he slowly pushed himself up so that he was sitting. He yanked the sheets back and felt around for his phone. The screen nearly blinded him when he pushed the home button.

5:03 AM. Yeah, there was no way in hell he’d be able to fall back to sleep now. Might as well get up and start the day. Grabbing his crutch, he hobbled his way to the oak chest of drawers to grab something to wear. He settled on red gym shorts and a clean T-shirt, then tossed a hoodie over his shoulder. He shuffled into the adjoining master bath, set the clothes down on the edge of the counter and went to fetch his prosthetic.

His bathroom had been built with his disability in mind. The shower stall was large enough to fit a wheelchair if needed and the tub wall swung open like a door, enabling him to walk into the shower. He had a seat built right into the wall, but he rarely needed it anymore, unless he wanted to just sit beneath the hot spray and relax.

Grip bars were positioned for balance; with one hand holding onto the bar, he could stand on his good leg while washing up with the other hand. If he needed to turn around, there was another set of grips on the other side. The only good thing to come of losing a limb was that his upper body strength had drastically improved.

That was a plus, but Thiessen would’ve rather had his leg.

He soaped up while his conditioner set and by the time he was clean, all he had left to do was rinse his hair. Turning the knob off, he stepped out onto the bath towels he’d laid down. The steam fogging up the bathroom mirror smelled fruity, like his apple and coconut oil conditioner. He propped himself up against the cabinet and scrubbed himself dry, but he couldn’t stop thinking about Bo.

In all honesty, he felt guilty. It swam through his veins, cold as ice, to mock his newfound happiness. Why? Because he was moving on with his life and Bo didn’t get that luxury? Because he was having some serious feels for a certain dark-haired veterinarian and Bo would never again have that chance?

How long could he beat himself up over something that was so out of his control? The last thing he ever wanted was to lose Bo. The last thing he ever wanted was to see his boyfriend lying on the ground like a discarded toy, his skull split open and his eyes forever closed.

It had been four years.

Four years since Bo was ripped away from him. Four years since he’d said goodbye. Four years since he’d fled a town teeming with hatred and bias, to start fresh here in Sundog Park. Wasn’t four years long enough to grieve?

A couple of tears snuck free and Thiessen wiped them away with the back of his hand. He hadn’t told anyone about this guilt, not even Peri, because he already knew what Peri would say. She would hug him and cry right along with him, and then she would tell him that Bo would want him to move on and be happy—and she would be right.

Bo had been so damn selfless. He’d be mad at Thiessen if he knew that he wasn’t living his life to the fullest, because that’s just how Bo was. He’d been so full of dreams, so full of hopes and wishes and plans. How could such a bright future be destroyed in a single stormy night? It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fucking fair, but life never was.

Life was a crock of shit.

Whimpering softly to himself, Thiessen braced against the fresh wave of heartache. He wiped at his damp eyes and his leaking nose, then looked at his reflection in the mirror. And laughed. “You’re such a damn fool.”

Bo would want him to move on. Bo would want him to smile and be happy, even if that meant he found comfort in the arms of another man. Bo would want him to live life for the both of them, and that’s why it hurt so badly. It felt like he was giving him up for good this time. It felt like he was saying goodbye for the last time.

Feeling achingly alone, Thiessen put on his prosthetic and got dressed, then limped down the hall, flipping on lights in his wake. Dustfeather lay on the back of the couch in the shape of a grumpy loaf of bread, his striped tail flicking back and forth. Thiessen meandered over and gently ran two fingers down his back. He listened to the cat grumble his dissent before jumping down and skulking away to disappear down the hall.

“Jerk,” Thiessen muttered. Leave it to him to rescue the most unloving cat in the world. He really could’ve used some cuddles right about now. Maybe it was time to start looking at shelter kittens. Wouldn’t that piss old Dustfeather off? The thought made him smile, but he spent the rest of the morning and well into late afternoon feeling melancholy and offish, binge-watching trash TV.

If it wasn’t for Jory’s never-ending stream of texts, Thiessen might’ve decided to say fuck it and spend the day in bed, huddled under the covers to avoid the world. Instead, the man lured him out of his mope-cave with the prospect of ice cream.

Because you can never have enough sweets ;) And because I want to see you. I miss you. Is that sappy or what? Hah.

Thiessen smiled at that. Missed him? Maybe a little bit, but that’s okay. I wasn’t planning on leaving the house today, but... Ice cream does sound good. Can we go to that fancy parlor that just opened up on the square? I think it’s called Lickity Split? Or something cutesy like that?

Yeah! That’s the place that boasts these one-pound banana splits. They had their grand opening last week. We should go. How does six sound? His exuberance made the darkness in Thiessen’s world seem so much lighter.

What, are we skipping dinner?

We’re gonna have ice cream for dinner, ya goof. Just think about all that gooey hot fudge. The fluffy whipped cream. Two big bananas, and last but not least, the cherry on top! I wish I could tie the stem in a knot for you, but alas, my tongue isn’t quite that talented. Though I’ve never had anyone complain, if you know what I mean ;)

Oh my god. Thiessen squeaked out loud at that. Let’s keep our ice cream outing PG-13, please.

No fun. Because now I’m definitely imagining all the things I can do with my tongue.

Oh god… Jory! You’re terrible!

I am. I can’t help myself. You’re cute when you’re flustered. I don’t need to actually see your face to know it’s as red as the cherry on top. Mmm…

He was. Heat billowed through him, giving him and his dick plenty of ideas, specifically the fact that no one had popped his cherry quite yet. But damn if the idea of Jory taking his virginity didn’t turn him on six ways to Sunday. Swallowing down the nerves that were suddenly running rampant in his gut, he typed out a quick reply.

Six it is. Pick me up?

Of course! Wear something cute.

Why?

Mmm, so I have something to fantasize about later tonight, thinking about cherries and whipped cream.

You seriously need to get laid, dude.

Tell me about it. Okay. Six. I’ll try to behave. See you soon :)

There was something about Thiessen that made Jory want to jump his bones, and those tight leather pants he was wearing definitely had something to do with it. Holy hell on wheels, they were practically painted on and left nothing to the imagination, and Jory had always had an overactive imagination.

When Thiessen came down the front steps, Jory actually gaped. He’d only been joking when he’d said to wear something cute. This wasn’t cute. This was drop-dead sexy. This was sweet sin with a cherry on top, and he needed to get a grip, fast, before he did something that spooked Thiessen and set them back even farther.

“Ready?” he managed to say, dragging his gaze back up to Thiessen’s face, which was now bright pink. The man was smiling though, a sort of half-slanted smirk, like he knew he had Jory’s number. Jory’s heart galloped in his chest like a stallion in rut. Chill out, Crosswind. We’re going for ice cream. That’s it.

“I am.” He took off down the cobblestone path and left Jory to bring up the rear. Jory had to focus real hard on the back of Thiessen’s spiky blond head, because that bubble butt was so damn tempting. Down, boy. Bad dog. Go in your kennel. The man slid into the passenger’s seat and Jory hurried around to the other side to join him.

Thiessen chewed on his lip, his brows pinched together. “You like the outfit?” He drawled the words slow, like he knew exactly what Jory thought of his ensemble. “Peri saw it at the mall last week and was adamant that I buy it. Holy shit, I don’t think I’ve ever spent that much money on a single pair of pants in my life.”

“Money well spent,” Jory said around a chuckle.

“Hopefully this is enough to give you plenty to…fantasize over later?” There was a gleam in Thiessen’s green eyes, sunlight sparkling across the facets of an emerald.

“Do you really need to ask that question? Holy crap, Thee. I’m beginning to think you like getting a rise out of me.”

“Mmm?” Thiessen wiggled in his seat, his hands curling into loose fists over the taut leather on his thighs. He glanced over, then looked away again. His apple-honey scent lingered in the air and Jory wanted to bury his face in the man’s hair and breathe him in. Essence of Thiessen. “Maybe I do. You’re usually so calm and easy-breezy. Seeing you tied up in knots over my butt makes my entire day.”

“You’re exceptionally ballsy today,” Jory murmured, and damn, did it do all sorts of things to his libido.

Thiessen met his gaze head-on, then offered an almost shy smile. “I know.”

“It’s hot.”

He laughed and quickly looked out the window. “Good to know.”

Jory wasn’t sure how he managed to get through their ice cream date, because every time Thiessen took a bite, his eyes were glued to that luscious mouth. He could barely taste his own fudge sundae, too focused on wondering what Thiessen’s body might taste like, might feel like pressed beneath him on the sheets.

He definitely needed to get laid, but he refused to fuck things up between them. No. He needed to take his time and peel away at Thiessen layer by layer until the man was soft and pliable in his hands. Until his anxiety had calmed and he felt safe with Jory, because until Thiessen gave him a signal or made the first move, he needed to keep his dick in his pants.

It was hard, but it would be worth it. Thiessen was worth it.

“Thanks,” Jory murmured after he’d driven Thiessen home. His SUV idled in the drive, the headlights beaming bright beams over the white paint of the garage doors. He tilted his head to study the man now shrouded in shadows in the front seat.

“For what?” Thiessen’s voice was a little uneven.

“For coming out with me, goofball. It was fun.” He offered a grin. “You’re fun.”

“Thanks. Do you…” He pinched his lower lip between his teeth, sawing it back and forth for a moment before he blew out a breath. “Wanna walk me to the door?” The bravado he’d shown earlier had been whittled away over the course of their date and Thiessen’s anxiety had come out to play once again.

“Of course.” Jory left the car running. He went around to the passenger side and offered an arm, helping Thiessen to the ground. It took everything inside of him to keep his hands to himself as they walked up the path. They paused on the front stoop with its huge white pillars standing tall on either side of them.

Thiessen fumbled with the keys in his pocket, but he didn’t move to go in. Jory got the feeling that he was at war with himself, with his fears and his desires. He got the impression that a small part of Thiessen wanted to welcome Jory inside for a glass of wine or a movie or something. He saw Thiessen’s Adam’s apple bob, followed by a quick smile. “Jory—”

And fuck, he just couldn’t help himself. He brushed his knuckles down the side of Thiessen’s face, from cheek to jaw, and leaned in. He could taste the sugar on his quickening breath right as his lips closed over Thiessen’s, claiming them in in a gentle kiss. He almost groaned. The man tasted like summertime and Jory’s heart squeezed.

Thiessen’s sharp inhale was enough to drag Jory back to reality. He pulled away, already cursing himself as the man stumbled back away from him, panic glazing over his wide eyes. “I can’t—I’m sorry.”

“Fuck, Thee. I shouldn’t have—” Jory reached for him, but he shook his head quickly.

“N-Not your fault, I just… I want—” An anguished sound escaped him right before he twisted away, turning his back on Jory. He fumbled with his keys and when he finally got the door unlocked, he pushed his way inside. “I’m sorry,” he uttered once more before he disappeared inside. The door clapped soundly shut behind him and Jory deflated.

The solid thunk of the deadbolt turning over sent Jory’s heart sinking to the pit of his stomach. Goddamnit. He knew better than to push him, and guess what happened? No big surprise there. He was an asshole. Clenching his teeth hard enough that his jaw popped, he retreated to his car and took off down the street.

Frustrated was an understatement. He cursed himself all the way home, angry at his own foolish actions. He knew Thiessen was skittish and still he’d demanded too much, too soon. He couldn’t help himself. Everything inside of him sang a song that he wished Thiessen could hear. His heart sang for the man, a songbird strung up with feelings.

Jory sat in his drive with his car still running for a long time, fingering over his cell phone. He should probably leave it alone and let Thiessen freak out in peace, but he felt terrible. He hadn’t meant to scare him. He quickly shot off a text. I’m sorry. I’m an idiot. Then, a moment later, his chest feeling too tight, Please don’t hate me.

Nothing. No reply. Just complete radio silence.

Leave it, he told himself. He’ll come back around.

Except he didn’t. Two days dragged past, painfully slow, without so much as a single text from Thiessen. Gone were his morning hellos and his evening goodnights, instead replaced by a silence that made him ache inside.

Jory was worried. On the third day, he finally worked up the nerve to text Peri. It felt like he was doing the walk of shame as his fingers padded over the touch screen. Peri, I fucked up big time.

What do you mean? With Thee?

Yeah. Is he talking to you?

Nope. Not since Friday, but he disappears sometimes when he’s in the middle of writing a book. Why? What happened?

Jory groaned out loud, then relayed back the events that had led up to the kiss. I couldn’t stop myself. He was right there and I knew it was stupid, but I kissed him anyway. I kissed him and he freaked, completely shut down and he hasn’t texted me since. I feel like an asshole. I didn’t mean to push him.

Aw, shit. Yeah, he spooked. Crap. I’m sorry.

Not your fault. I’m the idiot. I like him. A lot. I shouldn’t have kissed him. Moment of weakness.

Nah, that’s just Thiessen. He would’ve spooked over something. It’s not you. Trust me. I promise, it’s NOT you. If he didn’t like you, he wouldn’t keep texting you.

He’s not texting me now.

Give him time. I’ll talk to him. He’s probs just super embarrassed and you know how guys get lol. You’re the first person since Bo I’ve seen him show interest in. He’s just fickle.

Bo?

Yeah. Um. It’s not really my place to talk about it, but he lost his boyfriend several years ago. Hate crime, shortly after Thiessen and Bo decided to come out. They never caught the guys that did it. Part of the reason why we moved here, but like I said… This should be something you talk about with him. It’s one of the reasons he doesn’t date tho. Until you.

Not like they were together now. Jory blew out a slow breath and dropped his head back against the cushions of the couch. Calm down. This isn’t over yet. Okay. Thank you, Peri. Tell him I’m sorry. I am sorry.

I’m sorry too. He’s been so much happier lately and I just want him to smile. He breaks my damn heart sometimes. I’ll talk to him. I promise.

It’s okay. Just check in with him. I’m worried.

Me too. TTYL.

After that message, his phone went silent once more. It stung. He and Thiessen had been texting practically nonstop since their first date, and their friendly banter had become an enjoyable part of Jory’s routine. The absence of Thiessen’s snarky comments these past few days had left him with a hole in his heart.

But this wasn’t over yet. The fat lady had yet to sing. If time and space were what Thiessen needed, then that’s what Jory would give him.