Forty tons of American steel all pulled by an engine cranking out two thousand foot-pounds of torque, and Adrian Stokes was up in the driver’s seat. Some long-haul truckers could lose their spark being behind the wheel for so many days with nothing but their own company, but Adrian was not one of those men. He loved the feeling of all that power thrumming beneath his fingertips, and the knowledge that his cargo could only get to where it needed to be because of him. More than anything, he loved the open road.

Sure, he was exhausted more often than not, and it’d be a lie to say he never got lonely, but Adrian was used to those things. He’d served for six years in the U.S. Army and had long since learned how to “embrace the suck”. In those days, sleep deprived monotonous work without a hint of excitement and no one to warm your bunk was just a regular part of life. In a lot of ways, the ass-numbing hours of driving a truck was like child’s play compared to Iraq. After all, there wasn’t anyone shooting at you.

He’d enlisted a young, bright eyed boy right out of high school, eager to get out of Rosebridge, New Hampshire and see the world. “The world” ended up being a dusty post at Camp Ass—the nickname for Camp As Sayliyah in Qatar, the jumping off point before he was transferred into more nefarious territory. After his service was complete, Adrian’s flame for worldly travel had been extinguished. All he really cared about at that point was appreciating the warm embrace of his home country and all the beauty it had to offer him. And what was more American than hitting the open road?

Getting paid for it.

Adrian had been hauling cargo all across the country non-stop for the past two weeks, and was finally hitting the end of the assignment with a last stop in Arkansas. Afterwards, he’d do his best to make it back to Rosebridge to check on Mom. She was getting less mobile these days, and more reliant on the help and money that Adrian wholeheartedly provided. He’d always been a momma’s boy—daddy’s boy too. Losing Dad the year before getting out of the army had been one of the worst things that’d happened to him, far worse than flashes of hell he’d endured in the Middle East.

Adrian had to do his best to be there for Mom in whatever way he could. He was away so damn much, so it was difficult to find time to see her. He’d tried other less transient work, but Adrian didn’t have a college degree, and every one of those jobs seemed to fuck with his head. Check stand clerk, call center jockey, flipping burgers… the people he had to deal with drove him absolutely insane, and standing around all day made him anxious.

Mom understood. In fact, she encouraged him to take the trucking job. He’d driven transport vehicles in the army, spent a lot of time with them and was a whiz with engines, so it was a natural fit. Still, he felt like shit leaving her behind. He knew Mom wanted to see a grandchild, but there was no way he’d be settling down anytime soon. It’d been years since he’d had a steady girlfriend. Not since high school.

There was no time to meet women, nor was there really any facility to meet them. Adrian was always on the open road. Sure, he met the occasional cute waitress at a truck stop diner. He was a good-looking man, and got plenty of attention. There was an allure to the transience of being a driver that these girls seemed to like, and when the opportunity came up, Adrian didn’t mind indulging them—but he didn’t feel strongly about it one way or another. It was just a break from the boredom. He knew he wasn’t going to fall in love.

Everetteville, Arkansas.

It was noon by the time he’d dropped his load—three John Deere Hi-Crops; beautiful pieces of emerald machinery.

“You know this place well?” Adrian asked the farm’s warehouse manager as he signed off on the paperwork.

“What, Clearstone Farms?”

“Everetteville.”

The man blew out a quick snort and rubbed his moustache. “’Course. Lived here all my damn life. Shit, you’d be hard pressed not to find someone who hasn’t.”

“You happen to know a garage called, uh, Rabren Auto?”

“Rabren Auto? That’s down on Coolage Street, right off of Main. Can’t really miss it. Not like you could miss much around here.” He laughed. “What, you lookin’ for a part, or something?”

“No,” he said, “a person.”

It was the first Adrian had ever ridden into the tiny farming town, but far from the first time he’d heard its name. Sitting on the passenger’s seat was a letter addressed by Chandler Longman, dated three years back. Three years. Had it really been so long since he’d last heard from Chandler?

Knowing he’d be rolling into Chandler’s hometown, Adrian had tried to reach his old army buddy. No, Chandler had been way more than just than that. The things they’d experienced together had brought them closer than most men would ever get to another of the same sex. They’d been each other’s light in the darkness of an unforgiving and lonely place.

So why had they lost contact?

The last letter—the one sitting on the seat—had mentioned a girlfriend. Things were getting serious, they were moving in together. Chandler was working as a mechanic. Civilian life seemed to have been treating him well. It seemed like things had just moved on. It wasn’t like life had stood still for Adrian either. He’d started driving, picking up more contracts. Life was busy. Besides, with a girl in Chandler’s life, he hadn’t wanted to bring what they’d once shared into it. It wouldn’t be fair.

But it’d been three years, and he was going to his hometown. Adrian couldn’t resist seeking him out.

A sign read ‘Everetteville, 15 miles’. He only had the name of Chandler’s place of work, Rabren Auto, so he didn’t have the slightest if he’d even be able to locate the man, but that didn’t stop him from getting excited. Three years since they’d last spoken. Five since they’d last laid eyes on each other. Adrian had never met anyone with eyes as wild and enchanting as Chandler Longman’s.

Goddamn. Those eyes.

They were a startling grey with flecks of green and orange when the sun hit them just right, framed by a seemingly always brooding, deep in thought expression and straw colored hair. Of course, it’d been cropped short in those days, the color hardly discernable, but Adrian had seen old pictures. Hell, Chandler had sent him some photos along with the letters after they’d gotten out.

Who the hell sent letters anymore, these days? Chandler, of course. He’d always been old fashioned. He was the kind of guy who felt more comfortable sitting under the stars talking than staring at a computer screen.

Adrian was his opposite in a lot of ways. He was a head shorter than him, had dark, muddy brown hair and eyes to match, and always wore a smile that some people called goofy. He wouldn’t call himself a high-energy individual, but he was certainly more easily excited than Chandler was. Adrian was definitely more scattered, more spacy. Maybe it was their differences that had drawn them so close. Oh, and they’d gotten close.

Thinking about it felt… wrong. But how could he not? The things they’d done together were hardly ever far from his mind, no matter how badly Adrian wanted to forget about them. Maybe that was just it. He didn’t really want to forget. After all, he’d wholeheartedly made the decision that he’d look for Chandler after finishing his work.

Adrian parked his truck at a stop just outside of town, and hitched a ride to Coolage and Main. As soon as his boots hit the pavement, his heart began to thud heavily in his chest, and pounded harder with each step he took towards the rolled-up garage door with the sign marked “Rabren Auto Repair” above it. He was greeted by the clanking of metal and the chattering whoop of lug nuts being riveted off of wheels. In the repair bay, a Ford F-150 was up on the lift, with two men in grease stained overalls working on its undercarriage. A squeeze of anticipation was followed by disappointment as Adrian saw that neither was the man he was looking for.

“’Scuse me,” he said. “You fellas got a moment?”

One of them, a skinny, pimply kid who looked fresh out of high school, turned and nodded in greeting. “What can I do for you, sir?”

“Is Chandler Longman working today?”

“Chandler Longman?” He shook his head. “Nobody named Chandler working here, at least not anymore. Hey, Darryl? You know a Chandler Longman?”

The other mechanic, a squat, rotund man with a thick black beard, came over, wiping his hands on his overalls. “Chandler? Yeah, I knew him. He was the mechanic you replaced.”

“Replaced?” Adrian asked. “So he doesn’t work here anymore?”

“No, sir,” Darryl said. “He and the boss weren’t getting along so well. Let him go about a year back. Maybe a little more than that.”

“You wouldn’t happen to know where he works now, would you?”

The man shrugged. “Sure. I seen him working at On the Rocks. Little titty bar down on Paeton Avenue. Good place, cheap drinks. The girls ain’t bad either.” He chuckled and scratched his beard. “Things gotta be tough for him, with a little girl and all.”

A little girl? Fuck. A lot had changed in three years.

Adrian walked down Main Street in the direction of the bar, thinking that maybe he ought to just leave. Go back to his truck, get some sleep, then hit the boards to look for a new contract. Preferably one that took him back to Rosebridge, and far away from this terrible idea.

But he didn’t go back to his truck. His legs carried him on to Paeton Avenue, and soon he was standing in front of a dingy looking strip club with a worn-out sign that said, “On the Rocks, Girls Girls Girls.”

If he wasn’t there, Adrian decided that he’d leave it. After all, the man had a little girl. He was happy for him. Chandler, a family man now.

Then why did he feel so disappointed?

What had he been expecting from this encounter? Show up on his doorstep, and then what? They weren’t in Iraq anymore. There was no going back to those nights when they’d gotten to know each other so well. This was real life, and Chandler was a taken man.

He should’ve just turned back then. Instead, he pushed the front door open and went inside.

Country music twanged softly from the speakers. The dance platform was clear, the poles empty. Two girls in string bikinis sat at a table and looked up in surprise.

“Sorry, handsome,” one said. “Dances aren’t starting for another hour. The bar is open, though.”

He smiled. “That’s fine. I’m actually just looking for someone. His name’s Chandler Longman.”

“You’re a friend of Chandler’s? How about that, and here I was thinking he didn’t have any friends. I’ll go grab him for you, take a seat at the bar.”

She disappeared into the back, and the other girl went behind the bar as Adrian mounted a stool. Now his heart was really pounding.

“What can I get for you, sugar?”

“Bottle of Bud. Make that two,” he said.

“You got it, honey.” She pulled two bottles of Budweiser from the fridge and popped them open. “Chandler is such a good guy, but he keeps to himself too much. All the girls here worry about him, especially since… well, heck, I shouldn’t be gossiping. You from around town? Never seen you before.”

Adrian wished she’d finish her thought. Since what? “No, just passing through. Running a long haul load out of Nevada.”

“How do you know Chandler?”

“We were in Iraq together,” he said. “Army.”

“Thank you for your service,” she said, with a sweet smile. “I had no clue Chandler was in the army. Goes to show how much he talks about himself.”

Adrian returned her smile and fished out a twenty for the drinks. “Keep the change,” he told her. The door to the back swung open, and the first girl came out.

“He’s at the bar, Chandler,” she said over her shoulder.

Following behind her, dressed in dark jeans and a pec hugging black t-shirt, was Chandler Longman. His once crew cut hair now grew out long, brushed back like a wave of shimmering gold. Those grey-green eyes made contact with Adrian’s, and he shivered when he saw them. He was taken by surprise by the powerful aching want that coursed through every part of his body, but especially the long-neglected part between his thighs.

Adrian thought that maybe after five years since setting eyes on the man in person, that nagging need for him would’ve lessened. But now, standing there in front of him again, he realized it’d only grown.

He slid off the stool to face him. Chandler stopped in his tracks, his eyes wide with surprise. Then a smile pulled across his lips. “I’d never seen Chandler smile that way before,” the waitresses would comment to each other later on.

“Goddamn. Adrian?”

Adrian couldn’t withhold a full-forced grin, no matter how hard he could’ve tried. “It’s been a long fucking time, Chandler.”

His boots clopped on the wood paneled floor as Adrian strode to meet him, and pulled him into a tight hug that was met with equal vigor. Chandler’s intoxicatingly familiar scent hit him like a fucking freight train, taking him back in time. He breathed it in deep and fought not to completely lose himself. It was hard, though. With the warmth and strength of Chandler’s arms wrapped around him and holding him so close, god, it was fucking hard.

They eyed each other, just inches apart. Adrian wanted so badly to taste his lips again. He nearly forgot where he was, and not only that—who Chandler was now. A taken man.

“What the fuck are you doing here, man?” Chandler asked, squeezing Adrian’s bicep.

He found his voice. “Rolling through town. Thought I’d come find you, make sure you were still alive. Three fucking years, man.”

“Yeah...”

“I bought you a beer.” He handed the bottle of Bud to Chandler.

“I’m on the job,” he said.

“Hey, you don’t even worry about it, Chandler,” called the girl who’d retrieved him from the back. “Take a break. Catch up with your friend.”

“Thanks, Desiree,” Chandler said, and motioned with his head towards the door. “Let’s step out back for a few?”

“Sure thing,” said Adrian. He couldn't believe that Chandler was actually here in front of him again.

They passed through the kitchen and exited out to the back of the restaurant, where several cars and an old Chevy pickup were parked. Adrian closed the door.

“I honestly wasn’t expecting to find—” His words were trapped and silenced by the sudden press of lips against his. Chandler grabbed his shoulders and slammed him up against the side of the Chevy’s engine compartment. Adrian melted into the kiss. So much for not losing himself.

Oh my god, he’d missed this. He flung his arms around Chandler’s neck, holding him so tightly there was a danger he might choke him. Every taste and teasing flick of Chandler’s tongue against Adrian’s lips sent pulses of excitement through his body, and especially down to his manhood.

Keep going this way and Adrian had no idea what he might do. All those memories of the time they’d shared in private on the other side of the world were flooding back.

They broke from their kiss only because they didn’t want to risk being seen. It took Adrian all of his willpower just to push away and break out of Chandler’s magnetic draw. He looked down at his beer bottle and realized he’d spilled a good portion of it onto the pavement in the excitement. Something about the spilled beer brought him back to his senses.

“What are we doing?” he said in a low voice. “Chandler. We can’t be doing this here.”

No, they couldn’t be doing it at all. Chandler was a married man! He had a kid. Who was Adrian to just waltz into his life and screw things up.

He reminded himself that Chandler was the one who’d started that kiss, but it didn’t make him feel much better. Maybe he should’ve just left town after all…

Adrian slumped down into a squat against the side of the truck. He swirled the beer around in his bottle and took a long draw. Somehow he managed to look as cool as a cucumber on the outside, but his heart was racing, and the squeeze of denim against his rock-solid hard-on was not the most comfortable thing he’d felt all day. He really wanted nothing more than to tackle Chandler to the dirt and have his way with him right there.

Chandler slid down next to him and swigged from his bottle. “I guess we’ve got a lot to catch up on, huh?”

“I’ll say,” Adrian said.

“How’d you even find me?”

“I went by the garage where you told me you worked. They pointed me to this place. Shit, I guess I didn’t actually believe I’d find you here.”

Chandler nodded and looked at Adrian with a gaze that could melt a thousand hearts. He could live on that gaze alone. He’d been craving that gaze, he realized. Five years was way too long to go without it, without him. “Goddamn,” Chandler said. “It’s really you. You won’t even believe how much I’ve thought about what it’d be like to see you again.”

“Trust me,” Adrian said. “I can. You know I’ve always only been a postage stamp away. That never changed.”

“Some things did,” Chandler replied, and took another swallow of beer.

Yeah, like a wife and daughter.

He was wrestling with his decision to seek Chandler out, but regardless of any guilt, it didn’t change the incredible happiness he felt to be next to him again. He couldn’t help it, and how could he? They’d been so close. Closer than anyone could ever get.

So how had things changed?

“How long are you going to be in town for?” Chandler asked.

Technically, he could stay as long as he wanted, as long as his funds held out, but he wasn’t going to say that. He had that much self-control—or at least he hoped he did. “At least for tonight. I just wrapped up a contract, but I need to head back to Rosebridge. Hopefully I can pick up a contract that’ll take me back there, otherwise I’ll just head back on my own.”

Chandler nodded. “I get off early tonight. And I don’t got a shift tomorrow.”

Adrian looked at him, surprised at what he seemed to be suggesting. He knew he should’ve brought up the topic right then, cleared things up and set things straight—I want to see you, but if you’ve got a family… But he couldn’t. He wanted to see Chandler again. More than that, he wanted to have Chandler again.

“Yeah, alright. What time?”