Epilogue
SIX MONTHS LATER
“I’m in desperate need of that psychic woo-woo, man. Shit.”
Scott laughed out loud, the rich sound echoing off the rock. He bounced on the balls of his feet, trying to keep warm as he held the phone to his ear.
“You know you’re welcome to come up here anytime you want, right?”
“I know, Scotty.” Minh’s voice was shaky, almost fretful. “But there’s no time! He’ll be home in three days, and believe me, when you haven’t had sex in six months, there’s a whole lotta prep to be done. My man likes me smooth everywhere, and—”
“Oh my God, stop,” Scott exclaimed, giving a mock shudder even though he knew Minh couldn’t see him. “I don’t need details.”
“Bottom boy problems,” Minh shot back unrepentantly. “And I have them. What kind of friend are you that you won’t listen?”
“The kind of friend I don’t ever want to be,” Scott informed him, and Minh gave a wicked chuckle.
“He’s already told me he’s really hungry for cake, and so I—”
Scott hung up on him with another snort of laughter, and before he could put his phone away, a string of alternating peach and eggplant emojis lit up the screen. Scott texted him back: Still not that kind of friend!!!
Grinning, he stowed his phone back in the zipper pocket of his fleece and took off at a light jog down the trail, taking it easy until his muscles warmed back up. Snow crunched under his feet, his measured breaths puffs of smoke in the cold air. There was no one around except for the occasional hawk soaring overhead, and the sound of rushing water was the perfect accompaniment…no music needed.
Just as he hit his stride, Scott’s phone rang again, but when he registered the ringtone, he stopped immediately and pulled it back out.
“Hey, Garrett!” he puffed.
“Oh, man. I caught you running again, didn’t I?” Garrett’s voice was rueful, and Scott gave a breathless chuckle.
“Yeah, but no worries. I’d rather talk to you than do anything else. What’s up, bud?” He walked in circles as he cooled down once again.
“So I did what you said and asked Amanda if I could walk her home after school yesterday.”
“That’s great,” Scott exclaimed. “You gotta start somewhere, dude. If her parents say she’s too young to date, you gotta respect that, but walking her home means getting to spend a little extra time with her.”
“I know, but oh God, I was so freakin’ nervous and said so many stupid things, Scott,” Garrett moaned. “She probably thinks I’m an idiot.”
Scott laughed. “Pretty girls always make me tongue-tied, too. What happened?”
As Garrett regaled him with his tale of teenage angst, Scott turned to head back to the cabin, enjoying the bright-blue sky and crisp winter air. He took the long way home, detouring off the running trail toward one of his favorite scenic views.
“All you can do is be yourself, Gare,” Scott said. “Girls are smarter than us. They know when we’re trying to bullshit ’em, believe me. Just be nice to her and listen to her, and I mean like really listen—not half-assed listening while you’re staring at her chest, wondering how soft her boobs are.”
“Scott!” Garrett sounded a combination of amused and horrified, and then he sighed. “That part’s hard, because she’s so beautiful, dude.”
“I’m sure she is.”
They spoke for a few more minutes before Garrett said casually, “Jaxon wanted me to ask you about that protein powder again, but I said he should ask you himself. So he might be calling or texting you, okay? Just a heads up.”
Scott swallowed the lump in his throat, somehow managing to keep his voice breezy as he replied, “Great. Thanks for letting me know.”
They said their good-byes and hung up. Scott walked out to a small promontory and sat down, gazing out at the incredible vista of snow-covered red rocks and forest below. The beauty of the place calmed him, as did the low hum of metaphysical energy that seemed to almost shimmer in the air around him…Minh’s “psychic woo-woo.” Even with all that, the same old remorse and anguish started to churn in his gut. Jaxon. His eldest half-brother’s wounds ran deep, and despite Scott reaching out to him time and time again, with apology and sincerity, so far he hadn’t responded, preferring to use Garrett as the middle man instead.
Scott leapt to his feet and headed for home, not wanting to be alone with his thoughts anymore. Once there he took a quick shower before driving to Tlaquepaque and poking his head in Pedro’s sculpting studio, finding him in the back seated in front of his pottery wheel. The rich, earthy smell of the clay tickled his nose, and he gave a loud sneeze. Pedro swiveled his head in his direction.
“Hey, boy. What’s up?” Pedro grinned at him. Scott returned the smile from the doorway, watching as Pedro plopped a brick of unformed clay on the wheel, wetting his hands in preparation for shaping it. Suddenly Pedro’s gaze sharpened, and he grabbed an old towel to dry off before standing up and walking over to Scott.
“What’s troubling you?”
“Nothing. Just wanted to say hi before work.”
Pedro gave him a reproving look, tossing his rag onto a table full of bowls waiting to be fired. “I know you better than that. Out with it.”
Scott slumped against the doorjamb. “It’s just—my brother—” He told Pedro about Jaxon going through Garrett again instead of calling Scott directly. “I don’t know what else to do to try and make this right. If I could just talk to him—”
“You’d what?” Pedro’s eyes were steady on his. “Convince him that the way to ‘make this right’ is your way?”
“No! I—”
“Don’t fall into those old mind traps again, son, the ones telling you everything should fit into neat emotional boxes, and if they don’t, you’re a failure.” Pedro took a step closer. “We’ve talked about this, about the possibility that Jaxon finds his peace simply in knowing you’re okay—that you’re safe and happy. Maybe he doesn’t need anything more than that.”
“So what, I just give up on trying to have a relationship with him?”
“Of course not. But you can’t change his perception of events or how he feels about them.” Pedro’s voice was gentle. “It could be he’s found the closure he needs, so don’t try to force him to give you the resolution you’re seeking, boy.”
Scott pinched the bridge of his nose. “God, I’m trying. But it hurts, Pedro.”
“I know it does, son. But that’s okay, too.” He put his hands gently on Scott’s shoulders. “Remember, life is like breathing itself. We spiral upward with joy”—he inhaled deeply—“and wind down when we’re in pain.” Pedro blew out a breath, which smelled of the clove cigarettes he favored. “It’s a balance. If you don’t allow yourself to move freely in both directions, if you don’t feel and acknowledge your pain, then how can you recognize true happiness?”
“I don’t want to feel pain,” Scott muttered, and Pedro squeezed his shoulders.
“But when you’re not hiding from it, or shutting down, you aren’t giving toxic negativity and self-hate a chance to take root.”
After a moment, Scott gave a rueful nod. “Like I said, I’m trying, Pedro. Still a work in progress.”
Pedro chuckled. “I’m an old, old man, and I’m still a work in progress, boy. The thing about you and me…we’re not perfect, not even close, but we’re interesting. Right?”
Scott laughed. “That’s one way to look at it, I guess.”
“Eh, it’s the only way to look at it.” Pedro pushed past Scott into the showroom, beckoning to him. He headed for the display case in the window and took out the sculpture that so fascinated Scott the first time he’d visited Tlaquepaque with Rylan.
“Remember what I told you,” Pedro said softly, “about our choices making up the pattern of our lives.”
Scott ran his finger over the twisted branches of the piece, caught up once again in its hypnotic spell.
“My pattern will never be perfect, Scott, and maybe it’s ugly to some. I choose to see it as interesting and beautiful, because if I don’t, regret and self-loathing will eat away at my soul until there’s no coming back from it.”
Scott nodded, dropping his hand to his side, and Pedro put the sculpture carefully back in the case. “I want you to have this. Come pick it up after work.”
When Scott gasped and opened his mouth to protest, Pedro went on firmly, “Don’t argue with me, boy. Take it home and put it somewhere you can see it every day. Use it as a visual reminder.” He touched Scott’s shoulder. “We can’t change the pattern of the past, only learn from it.”
Scott thanked him with a fierce hug before leaving the studio to head for the restaurant and entering through the employee door at the back. He found Dawn in the bustling kitchen, going through a stack of order tickets with a harried look on her face. Scott slipped up behind her and tugged lightly on her glossy black braid.
“Hey!” She whirled around, and when she saw who it was, her face softened. “Why’re you here so early? Your shift doesn’t start till five.” She didn’t give him a chance to reply, hurrying on. “Well, since you are here, can you maybe help sort out the hostess stand? We had a bus full of tourists come in, and we’re swamped. People are getting testy, and Joy is about to cry. Or quit.”
“Of course.” Scott tied his half apron on as he made his way to the front of the restaurant and the chaos there. The hostess’s face crumpled with relief when she saw him, so Scott waded immediately into the fray, offering complimentary glasses of wine and soft drinks while apologizing for the long wait, fetching and serving with flourish and charm.
“You make it look effortless,” Joy said under her breath at one point, fanning her sweaty face with a menu. “Everyone was ready to tear me a new one, and here you have ’em eating out of your hand. How do you do it?”
Scott winked at her. “Lots and lots of practice.”
An elderly couple called to him, their voices querulous and loud. Scott crouched in front of them, cocking his head as he listened intently to their litany of bitter complaints. He did his best to smooth it over, bringing them each a cup of coffee and making sure they had a table not far from the roaring fireplace.
“This is the best table in the house,” he whispered conspiratorially to them as he pulled the woman’s chair back to seat her. When he left to place their drink order, he noticed with satisfaction their faces were now wreathed in smiles, their threats to “tell all their friends” about the poor service seemingly forgotten.
“You’re worth your weight in gold,” the owner, Barb, said to him later after closing, her tone weary. “Usually the tour bus companies give us advance warning so I can get a few extra servers and cooks to come in, but this one didn’t. Thanks for jumping in and picking up the slack, Scott.”
Dawn walked over and took his arm. “We all love you madly, and we’re so buying you some drinks tonight. No arguments.”
Scott grinned. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
It was a merry group that made the trek to the small neighborhood bar down the street a short time later. Scott sprawled out on an overstuffed love seat next to the fire pit in the back courtyard, Joy perching next to him.
“Thanks for the margarita,” he said, toasting her with it.
She blushed. “It’s the least I can do to thank you for saving my ass…and my job.”
The conversation that ensued was lively, and Scott laughed out loud several times at the other employees’ stories of restaurant mishaps and Customers Behaving Badly. He nursed his drink, enjoying the atmosphere and the company.
So different from Spectrum, he mused idly, where the vibe was frantic, designed to make people feel impulsive, on edge. This bar was intended for conversation and relaxation, with its cozy furniture groupings and subtle lighting. There was a live band playing inside the bar proper, with dancing, while outside a blazing fire and strategically placed heat lamps created a cozy ambience that encouraged people to linger, get to know one another.
Scott was thoroughly enjoying himself, but weariness overtook him at last, and he bid everyone good-bye. When he saw Dawn gathering her things, too, he waited so he could walk her out to the parking lot and her car.
“I take it by Joy’s face things got a little awkward at the end there?” she asked drily as they ambled, hands stuffed in their pockets, shoulders hunched against the cold.
Scott thought of Joy’s impulsive invitation to continue the party at her place and his gentle refusal. “A little. She’s sweet, though.”
“She is.” Dawn paused. “You okay, Scott? You’ve seemed sad all night. Just tired, or something going on?”
Scott watched as she clicked her car open and tossed her purse inside, then said, “Some family shit. And I’m really, really missing Rylan today.”
She gave him a sympathetic glance. “Any word on when he’ll be back?”
“I heard a rumor about three days, but nothing directly from him. I don’t know.”
“Well, keep your chin up.” She patted his arm. “He’ll call, I know it. And if you need a shoulder to cry on, you know where to find me.”
“I know. Thanks, doll.”
He waited until she drove away before heading for home and a long, hot shower. The bed sheets were icy, so Scott reached for the remote on the nightstand and clicked on the gas fireplace, snuggling under the covers and enjoying the sight of the flames dancing along the walls and ceiling. A lazy snowfall drifted outside the window, white puffy flakes illuminated by the light of the moon.
Scott stretched luxuriously, feeling warm and drowsy, wishing with all his heart he had Rylan in his arms to enjoy this, too. He rolled onto his side and heaved a ragged sigh. The next three days would be the longest of his life.
* * *
“So you have two catering clients coming in this morning, and then if you could possibly come back to help with the lunch rush, that’d be wonderful.”
“You got it.” Scott took the folders Barb handed him with a smile and flipped through them briefly before heading over to the chapel to meet the first couple. He was a little early, so he slowed his pace, glancing into the windows of the various galleries and shops as he walked. The people working inside waved to him when they saw him, and a couple of them even poked their heads out to say hello.
“How’s the new business going?” he was asked several times, and a quiet thrill went through him when he was able to reply, “Awesome, thanks. The early response has been great.”
As he drew near the chapel, Scott became aware of the sound of heels tapping on the cobblestone walkway, and he turned to see Dawn striding gracefully toward him. She was wearing a black sheath dress topped by a khaki-colored trench coat, her hair in an elegant twist.
“You look amazing,” he told her, and she smiled at him, shifting the strap of her messenger bag from one shoulder to the other.
“Thanks. So do you. But then again, you’d look amazing in a potato sack.” Her tone was full of fond envy.
Scott glanced down at himself, at his black slacks and royal-blue dress shirt, his leather jacket.
“It still feels weird to be going to work fully clothed,” he confessed, and she cracked up.
“Oh, yeah, I’m sure.”
Scott let her precede him into the chapel, thinking he really hadn’t been joking with that remark. He was about to walk into a meeting room to face people who could give two shits about his abs, and it was weird knowing his professional success wouldn’t hinge anymore on how his ass looked in a tight pair of underwear. What if the new clients were doctors, or lawyers? What if they were biochemists or some shit? The minute he opened his mouth, they’d realize he was just a dumb hick playing dress-up…
The same old anxiety was starting to bubble through him when all of a sudden Dawn stopped and grabbed his arm.
“Hey, do you get as nervous about this kind of stuff as I do?” she hissed. “I don’t have a fancy fashion degree, and I’ve never even been out of Arizona. What if they think I’m just a silly wannabe?”
Scott was startled at how their thoughts seemed to be mirroring each other, and he struggled with what to say. He stared at her, at her beautiful face and earnest eyes, realizing in that moment what a good friend she’d become. Then the words came easily. “They won’t. Because you have passion, talent, and enthusiasm, not to mention you’re a wonderful, caring person. All you need to do is go in there and be yourself. If that’s not enough for them,” he added firmly, “then too bad. We don’t need ’em.”
Dawn flushed with pleasure, and she held her fist out for a knuckle bump. “Thanks. And fuck yeah, we’re awesome.” She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “We’re gonna kill this.” With that, she turned and marched off toward the chapel conference room.
Scott lingered, feeling the last remnants of his own insecurity smoldering and waiting for the chance to flare back to life. He heaved a sigh, impatient with himself. Breaking out of a comfort zone wasn’t easy, but he’d done it. Now instead of being surrounded by negativity and people who valued him only for his looks—a fucking accident of genetics—he had friends who actually cared about his thoughts and feelings, his hopes and dreams, ones who openly struggled with the same things he did…in Pedro’s case, a painful past, and in Dawn’s, anxiety about being good enough. They were human, they let Scott be human, and they liked him anyway. Hell, Rylan loved him, and that was the best thing of all.
So take your own advice, idiot. Go into that meeting, and be yourself. That’s all you can do.
And if that wasn’t enough for other people, fuck ’em. It was starting to be enough for him.
* * *
“You signed them both?” Barb’s voice was high-pitched with excitement. “Really?”
Scott grinned. “Yep, really. And Dawn did, too. Two wedding dress commissions!” He handed Barb the folders full of paperwork.
“Oh my God. You’re both amazing!”
Barb hugged Dawn and then him before practically dancing to her office.
“Good work, partner.” Dawn punched his shoulder lightly and hurried off to an appointment with a potential new fabric supplier. Scott hung his jacket on the hook by the back door, rolled the sleeves of his dress shirt up to his elbows, and tied his half apron on. Then he grabbed his order pad and got to work.
The afternoon flew by as he waited on his customers, chatting with the regulars and getting to know the new ones. The lunch crowd was boisterous and kept him on his toes, and at one point he took a quick, much-needed break, checking his phone and noticing with delight he had a text waiting from Minh.
They’re home! it exclaimed, followed by a string of heart emojis. Late last night! Check out club’s Insta!
Scott swiped over to Spectrum’s Instagram account, which yielded a short video of Chris barreling onstage to surprise Teena midshow. He smiled as he watched Chris sweep her up into his arms to kiss her senseless while the entire place hooted and hollered.
Awesome! he texted back. Call me when you come up for air ;)
No reply, but then he hadn’t really expected one. Scott finished his bottle of water, trying not to think too hard about the fact he hadn’t heard from Rylan. In fact, Rylan hadn’t updated his Instagram in months, or his Facebook page. He had completely distanced himself from his life in the States.
Well, that’s what you wanted, isn’t it? You wanted Rylan out there, getting the chance to show the world his talent. And oh, what a talent it was proving to be. The compassion and insight he brought to everything else in his life was evident in his work, too, and one of his photos had even been picked up by a major news outlet and promptly went viral. Scott still felt a thrill when he thought of it, a pride in Rylan that made him feel like he could burst.
Chase your happiness, Ry.
As hard as it had been to let him go, and as much as he missed him, this was one decision Scott would never regret.
Scott tossed his water bottle in the recycle bin, brushed his hair, washed his hands, and headed back out to the dining room. He was relieved to see the lunch rush was winding down, and there were no new customers waiting at the hostess stand.
Scott busied himself helping the other servers with their tables, doing some of the fetching and carrying for them, even the busing. He was standing at the bar waiting to pick up a drink order when he heard the sound of footsteps behind him.
“Table for one?”
The voice was achingly familiar, and Scott froze in place, the tray of drinks forgotten. Could it be—his heart started to pound, face flushing hot. He clenched his fists on the bar top, afraid this was nothing more than a vivid auditory hallucination, conjured up because of his earlier thoughts about—
“Scott?”
If I’m imagining this, I’m truly going crazy.
Scott took a deep, shaky breath before turning slowly around to see Rylan indeed standing there with a tentative smile, his nose and ears red from the cold. Scott blinked, his throat tight, and all he could do was stare.
When he didn’t say anything, Rylan’s smile faltered. “I’m sorry, you’re working. I can come back later if—”
The words broke the spell and galvanized Scott into action. “No!” he burst out, and in two giant steps had Rylan in his arms, crushing him against his chest. “Don’t leave.”
Scott welcomed the pain of Rylan’s fingers digging into the muscles of his back as he wrapped around him and held on tight. At last Scott pulled back and looked down at him, cupping his cheeks in his hands to kiss him gently, ignoring the tittering of the patrons on the nearby bar stools. They stared at each other until the sound of clinking glasses broke the spell, and the bartender called out in a voice filled with amusement, “Very touching, Scotty, but the ice in these drinks is gonna melt if you don’t get them out to the table.”
“Shit.” Scott let go of Rylan, smoothing down the front of his shirt self-consciously and adjusting his apron. “Wait here for a sec.” He grabbed the tray of drinks and hefted it to his shoulder, hurrying to distribute them to a table full of women on a lunch date. One of them remarked that he reminded her of her grandson, and he was forced into a conversation.
Scott did his best to be charming, but he couldn’t help but cast a few glances over his shoulder toward the bar, terrified Rylan would get tired of waiting for him and decide to leave after all. Relief made his knees go weak when he saw Joy, the hostess, lead him to a booth in the back and hand him a menu.
A few more minutes of smiling chitchat with the ladies and he was finally able to break free and take the tray back to the bar. He took the opportunity to lean against the counter for a moment, sucking in a few deep breaths and trying to pull himself together.
“Just when you think you know someone…” the bartender drawled, smirking.
Scott glanced at him. “Is it gonna be a—problem?” he asked carefully. He hadn’t come out as bi to anyone at work except Dawn, and a few people were sure to be shocked. In fact, he noticed with a pang that Joy was pale as a ghost, and she wouldn’t look at him, her body rigid as she stood at the hostess stand.
The bartender grunted, a slightly offended look passing over his face. “Nah. Live and let live, man.”
Scott quirked his lips at that, reaching across the bar for a knuckle bump before heading over to where Rylan sat, perusing his menu.
“What’s good for lunch?”
“You really want to eat something?” Scott asked in surprise, and Rylan gazed up at him with a slow smile that made Scott want to kiss him senseless.
“Hmm. I’m told that’s what you usually do in a restaurant. Especially when you’re hungry.” His voice was warm, teasing.
Scott felt his cheeks turning red. “Right.”
Rylan slid his eyes leisurely up and down Scott’s body, from his head to his toes. He bit his lip. “Wow,” he murmured, shifting in his seat.
Scott looked down at himself, wondering if he had food on his shirt from serving. “What?”
“I think that’s the most clothes I’ve ever seen you wear,” Rylan said hoarsely. “And fuck, it’s so hot.”
Scott blinked. “More clothes is hot?” He could feel his cock start to react to Rylan’s aroused perusal, and he gave silent thanks he was wearing his half apron to hide it. “That’s a new one.”
“Oh, yeah, it’s hot.” Rylan peeped up at him through his lashes. “Why? Because I know exactly what’s underneath them.” He ran his tongue across his lower lip.
Scott groaned as his burgeoning erection hit full mast, and he crouched next to Rylan’s bench to hide it, spreading his knees wide to ease the pressure.
Under the table Rylan did the same, and Scott suppressed a moan as he watched him slide his hand up his own thigh to cup himself soothingly and squeeze.
“Jesus,” Scott growled, his eyes fixed on Rylan’s fingers and what they were covering. “Stop it. I’m seriously in danger of coming in my pants right now.”
Rylan grabbed his napkin and dropped it in his lap instead, tilting his head up toward the ceiling to suck in deep breaths. “Right there with you.” Then he glanced at Scott. “How long till you get off?”
Scott choked, and Rylan gave a half grunt, half laugh, saying ruefully, “Shit, that came out wrong. How long till you’re done with work?”
“About an hour.”
Rylan made a small sound of protest, his blue eyes dark with longing. “Well, I’ve waited six months, I guess I can wait one more hour.” He reached out and rubbed his thumb over Scott’s lower lip. “Soon. But first, food.”
Scott pushed to his feet just as he heard a small commotion at the door. A group of at least ten people was crowding inside, and Scott recognized them as a family he’d waited on before and who always requested to be seated in his section.
Sure enough, Joy led them to a large semicircular booth not far from where Rylan sat, and Scott gave him a half shrug of apology. “Gonna be more than an hour now,” he mouthed, and Rylan quirked his lips in response.
Scott hurried off to grab some chips and salsa for him while the other party got settled, and on the way back bumped into Joy coming around the corner. His heart ached at the way she immediately stiffened and turned her head away.
“Hey,” he said, pausing for a moment. “I’m sorry if I—”
She interrupted him with a sharp gesture. “Why are you sorry? I’m the one feeling so stupid about the other night.” Her face was beet red. “You must think I’m such an idiot, asking you to come over like that.”
“I don’t think that, Joy, not at all. I was nothing but flattered.”
“But you’re—” She broke off, her lips pinched.
“I’m in a relationship, yeah,” he said gently. “That’s why I said no, not because I don’t like you or don’t think you’re attractive, okay? I think you’re pretty great, to be honest.”
Scott could tell she wasn’t really mollified, but she gave a sharp nod of her head and marched back to her post, her heels a staccato click on the floor. He sighed. Putting yourself out there and getting turned down always stung, and he hoped it was just that and not the fact he was in a relationship with a man. Not much he could do about it either way, but still—
He felt in his apron to make sure he had his pad and a pen before heading over to drop off Rylan’s chips and greet the large group, who were as loud and boisterous as they always were. The next hour and a half was a blur as he went back and forth between his two tables, relieved beyond measure Joy didn’t seat anyone else in his section.
Rylan ate his steak fajitas—extra green peppers, no onions—and when he was finished pulled an iPad out of his messenger bag, set it up, and proceeded to type busily on it. Scott studied him as he bused the family’s table after they left, wondering what seemed different about him and not quite able to put his finger on it.
His brown hair did look lighter, probably from all the sun, and it was longer than Scott had ever seen it, curling around his neck and ears. He was a little thinner than before he left, his cheekbones more sharply defined, but it wasn’t until Rylan lifted his eyes from the screen and stared off into space that it hit Scott.
He looked older.
Not in appearance so much, but in spirit. The expression on his face and in his eyes held a gravity, a sort of—weariness, as if he’d seen things, maybe even done things, that weighed heavily on his soul.
Scott thought about the photo he’d taken that had gone viral, one depicting an old pickup truck full of bullet holes, blood spatters visible on the white paint. On the ground next to the truck was the body of a boy, maybe eleven years old—a Ugandan child soldier, his gun still clutched in his lifeless, heartbreakingly small hand.
Hefting the tub full of dirty dishes, Scott lugged them to the kitchen, remembering his horror when he first saw the photo under Rylan’s byline. Heart in his throat, he’d searched for an accompanying story, eventually reading about a truck full of LRA rebels who had run across a contingent of government soldiers, resulting in a shootout. There’d been many casualties, and both sides fled after the gun battle, leaving their dead behind. Chris and Rylan, while riding with the group sponsoring their work, happened upon the scene many hours later. Scott couldn’t even imagine what that must have been like.
He dropped the dishes off and went out to wipe the table one last time, seeing that Rylan was packing up in preparation for leaving. Scott waved away the money he proffered. “No,” he said simply, relieved when Rylan didn’t protest. “Hey, I just need to close out my shift with the manager and then we can get out of here. Maybe another fifteen minutes or so?”
“You still out at that same cabin?” Rylan dug a set of car keys out of his jeans pocket. When Scott nodded, he went on. “I have Minh’s car. Can I just go on over there while you finish up?”
“Sure. There’s a spare key under the large planter.”
Rylan left, and Scott hurried through his usual end-of-shift routine before eagerly heading for home. As he drove, he gave free rein to the anticipation starting to roar through him, which made his heart pound, his hands shake. Rylan was waiting for him! Was he back for good? If not, for how long? There was so much Scott wanted to ask him and to tell him.
Turning into the driveway, he skidded to a stop next to Minh’s little hybrid and ran up the steps to fling open the door. He tore off his jacket and tossed it in the general direction of the coat tree, calling out, “Ry?”
“Hey.”
Scott whirled around to see Rylan standing in the entryway of the kitchen, holding a cup of coffee. He paused. “You okay?”
Rylan put the coffee down. “Yeah. A little jet-lagged, maybe.” He took a few steps in Scott’s direction, his eyes bright. “Thought maybe I’d take a shower, rest a bit. But now―”
Scott swallowed when Rylan drew close enough to reach out and smooth his palms up Scott’s chest.
“But now, what?” he croaked, trembling as Rylan started to leisurely unbutton his shirt.
“Mmm.” The shirt sagged open, and Rylan slid his hands inside, gliding them along Scott’s ribs and down to his hips. “Now—for some reason—I’m wide awake.”
Scott tipped his head back helplessly as Rylan pressed against him and kissed his throat, mouthing along his collarbone and pushing the shirt off Scott’s shoulder to drag his parted lips along his skin. Scott groaned, threading the fingers of one hand through Rylan’s hair and bringing the other one down to fumble at the snap of Rylan’s jeans.
With a wicked chuckle, Rylan trailed his tongue across Scott’s chest to his nipple. He licked it to a stiff peak and then sucked on it.
“God, Ry,” Scott gasped, arching his back. “You’re killing me. I need—” He shoved his hand down the front of Rylan’s pants, reveling in his deep groan as Scott found his cock and eased it free of the restrictive fabric.
He was rock-hard, and Scott rubbed the wet tip roughly with his thumb, crying out himself as Rylan bit down on his nipple in response. Scott tugged on his hair, wrenching his head back to slam his mouth down over his. The kiss was wet, hot, and consuming.
Rylan bit at Scott’s lips, soothing the sting with rough swipes of his tongue. Scott pushed him hard against the wall. “Not gonna make it upstairs,” he growled, letting go of Rylan to rip his own pants open. “Touch me.”
He moaned as Rylan cupped his balls, tugging and rolling them, tilting his head back to offer Scott his mouth. Scott kissed him, driving his tongue deep.
Rylan slid his hand up and down Scott’s length with rough strokes. “Mmm, so big and hard for me,” he panted. “You feel so good.”
Scott braced his palm on the wall next to Rylan’s head as he jacked Rylan hard in return, tightening his hand and encouraging Rylan to thrust into it. “That’s it, baby,” Scott murmured, pumping his hips into Rylan’s own encircling fist. “Just like that.”
This wasn’t how he’d envisioned their reunion. Whenever he thought about it, Scott always pictured them in a soft bed, naked, entwined. It would be slow and romantic as they reconnected in the most intimate way two people possibly could. He’d never once imagined they’d be in the foyer of his cabin, pants open and sagging around their thighs, knees shaking as they jerked each other off with rough strokes and primal grunts.
“Come for me, Ry,” Scott demanded, sinking his teeth into the wiry muscle between Rylan’s shoulder and neck, sucking up a dark mark with a low growl. “Now.”
Rylan buried his face in Scott’s throat, his breaths little more than rough gusts against his sweaty skin, and a moment later, he froze with a harsh cry, his body spasming as he came hard in Scott’s hand.
“Yes,” Scott hissed, hot jets of Rylan’s come stringing through his fingers. Rylan’s needy whimpers and the feel of him, the smell of him, was driving Scott out of his mind. He wrapped one arm around Rylan’s waist, pinned his wrists above his head with the other, and thrust hard against his hipbone.
Scott hung his head to watch his cock slide along Rylan’s slick abs, unable to suppress his own moans as he erupted, a visceral satisfaction enhancing his pleasure as he marked Rylan’s skin with seemingly endless pulses of creamy white.
“Mine,” he gasped raggedly. “Mine.”
When it was over, Scott sagged against Rylan, enfolding him in his arms to hold him close. Rylan stroked his hair with trembling fingers, his body still quaking.
“Wow,” Rylan muttered. “Not quite how I pictured this going, but—wow.”
Scott huffed a laugh against Rylan’s cheek. “I was thinking that exact same thing a minute ago.”
“You were thinking a minute ago?” Rylan’s voice was raspy but incredulous. “I must have been doing something wrong.”
Scott pressed their foreheads together. “Never. You drove me wild.” He kissed the tip of his nose. “I didn’t need anything but your hands on me, Ry. I missed you.”
Winding his arms around Scott’s neck, Rylan put his head on his shoulder. “I missed you, too,” he said quietly. “More than you’ll ever know.”
Scott pulled him closer, and they clung together in silence for a moment until Rylan gave an exaggerated shiver. “Can you offer me a hot shower and a soft bed, preferably with a beautiful man in it? Preferably you?”
Scott snorted, reaching down to give Rylan’s ass a sharp smack. “Glad you clarified that. And yes to both, including the ‘beautiful man.’ The only caveat?” He put his lips to Rylan’s ear. “I get to suck your dick if I want.”
“Well, yeah, that’s a given.” Rylan grabbed Scott’s hand and towed him toward the stairs and the bedroom. Once there, they wrestled each other out of their wet, sticky clothes, stumbling into the bathroom, kissing, hands roaming. Scott got the shower going while Rylan dug his toothbrush out of his travel kit.
As Rylan brushed his teeth, Scott made a nuisance of himself, wrapping his arms around Rylan’s waist from behind, biting his neck.
“What’s all this?”
Scott froze in the act of giving Rylan a hickey to match the one on the other side, lifting his head warily. “What’s all what?”
Rylan waved his hand at several little pieces of paper taped along the edges of the mirror, and Scott could feel himself flushing beet red. He’d forgotten those were there. “Um…”
Rylan stretched up on his tiptoes to read one. “I acknowledge that the only constant in life is change, and I’m prepared for it.” He tilted his head to read another one. “I’m confident about solving life’s problems successfully.”
There were at least eight others, and Scott mouthed them silently along with Rylan as he read each one aloud. Rylan turned in his arms. “Positive affirmations. What a wonderful idea,” he said, his tone soft and sincere. “Why are you so embarrassed?”
Scott shrugged, not meeting Rylan’s eyes. “It’s just—I don’t know. So corny, right? Such New Age-y shit.”
“No, it isn’t. You don’t really think that, or else you wouldn’t have them up here.”
Scott didn’t answer, just tugged Rylan into the shower with him and closed the door. They soaped up in silence until Scott finally said, “Dawn’s uncle, the one who plays the flute?” When Rylan nodded encouragingly, he went on, “He’s a sort of local shaman, although he prefers to call himself a Ceremonial Life Coach.”
“So you and Dawn are close?” Rylan’s voice was neutral, relaxed, but Scott still cupped the back of his neck and pulled him in for a hard kiss.
“Yeah. She’s become a good friend, Ry. Just a friend,” he emphasized, not feeling the need to go into the fact that yes, there’d been some awkwardness at first, much like there was now with Joy, but it hadn’t taken them long to get past it. “We work together, that’s all.”
A subtle look of relief passed over Rylan’s face, and Scott kissed him again before turning into the spray to wash his hair. When he was finished, he grabbed the bodywash and pulled Rylan back against him, running soapy hands over his chest and belly.
“Anyway,” Scott said hoarsely, dancing his fingers along Rylan’s navel and just below, Rylan’s quiet groan making his own balls tingle. “I’ve spent a lot of time with her uncle, hiking, talking. We went camping once and did this sort of sweat lodge ritual thing.”
“Really?” Rylan turned in his arms, his eyes bright with curiosity. “I’d have loved to photograph that.”
Scott chuckled. “It’s sacred and private, Ry. He and my other friend, Pedro, are big believers in this area being a conduit for metaphysical energy and psychic healing.” He thought of the hours spent with Dawn’s uncle, their nights under the stars. “I don’t know how to explain it—”
“You don’t have to explain it, Scott,” Rylan said gently, “if it’s private. All I know is you seem more at peace than I’ve ever seen you, and how you got there doesn’t matter.”
It did, though.
He took Rylan’s shoulders in his hands. “I know you’re tired, but will you go somewhere with me?”
“Anywhere.”
After rinsing quickly, they stepped out of the shower and grabbed their towels. Rylan took his turn with Scott’s blow-dryer, and they got dressed, Scott handing Rylan a fleece pullover.
“There’s some extra gloves downstairs in the mud room.”
“I take it we’re not driving to wherever this is?” Rylan asked ruefully.
“Nope. Gonna hike, baby. Get that blood pumpin’.”
Rylan cast a look of longing toward the bed. “I can think of other ways to do that, too. But lead on.”
Before they headed downstairs, Scott stopped in the doorway. “Would you mind terribly if I asked you not to bring your camera?” He shrugged self-consciously as he mumbled, “Just don’t wanna share you with the scenery today.”
Rylan smiled. “Left it at Minh’s,” he replied softly. “I wanted this weekend to be our time.”
At that, Scott couldn’t help but lean in for a kiss.
As they ambled down the driveway a few minutes later, Rylan turned to him, surprise in his tone, “You got rid of the Beemer?”
Scott glanced toward where the cars were parked, and the beat-up red pickup truck Pete had sold him. “The club leased it for me. When I quit, well—”
“Ah. Gotcha.”
“And my condo, too. It was all part of the image.”
“So what, your friend said you could borrow his cabin indefinitely or—” Rylan suddenly grimaced. “Shit, we have so much catching up to do. I don’t feel like I know anything.”
“Minh didn’t fill you in at all?”
Rylan threw him an incredulous look. “If you think for one minute I wasn’t chopped liver the moment he laid eyes on Chris, well, I have some Arizona beachfront property to sell you.”
Scott laughed, and Rylan went on, “He gave me this really distracted hug, but he didn’t say more than two words to me. He couldn’t, since his mouth seemed to be permanently attached to Chris’s.” He paused. “Um, you know Chris took him to Vegas for the weekend, right?”
“He did? That’ll be fun.” A sudden thought struck him, and Scott stopped dead in his tracks. “Oh my God,” he breathed. “They’re gonna—”
“—come back married,” they finished in unison, Rylan pointing at him in a “bingo” gesture.
“Chris told me on the plane he was gonna ask him.”
Scott pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. “Wow. I just—wow.”
They resumed walking, and Rylan took Scott’s hand, side-eyeing him.
“Does that…bother you?” His tone was careful. “I know Chris isn’t your favorite person, and Minh is your best friend—”
Scott squeezed his fingers in silent apology. “Oh, Ry, I’m so over all that petty jealousy shit. I’m nothing but happy for them, I promise.” He chuckled. “I do have to say I’m surprised, though. Didn’t think Chris was the marrying kind.”
“He didn’t either,” Rylan said drily, “but he said it just felt right. I guess when you know, you know, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“He thought he was gonna come up here that one weekend, have some fun, get laid—he wasn’t all that particular on who—and go his merry way. Totally didn’t expect what happened.” Rylan hesitated. “Kind of like when my dad said, ‘Hey, Ry, come on. We’re moving to Pace.’ I was so nervous about it, so upset. Little did I know that day I’d also be meeting the love of my life.”
Scott stopped walking again, and he lifted Rylan’s chin, bending down to give him an achingly gentle kiss. The air around them shimmered with awareness, and Rylan’s eyes held a hopeful expectation that tore at Scott’s insides.
“Ry, I—back then I wasn’t capable of loving anyone. Even you.”
Rylan reached up to cup his cheek. “I know,” he whispered. “But now—?”
Turning his face into Rylan’s palm, Scott kissed it. “Come on, let’s hike. We’re almost there.” He heard the shaky, disappointed sigh Rylan gave and hated it, but he just kept moving, leading Rylan down the trail. Snow crunched under their feet, the air crisp and cold as they climbed up to Scott’s favorite lookout.
Scott faced the vista stretching out far below and tilted his face up into the breeze, inhaling deeply. “Do you feel it, Ry?”
Ry mirrored his pose, breathing in and out. “Feel what?”
Scott put his hand on the back of Rylan’s neck and stroked the nape with his thumb. “A low hum of energy, concentrated right here. A feeling of centeredness, well-being.” He gave a subdued snort. “You know, the psychic woo-woo.”
Rylan shook with silent laughter. “No, I don’t feel it,” he admitted. “But if you do, that’s all that matters. Where does it come from?”
Scott shrugged. “Everyone has a theory about the vortex. These are sacred lands, and parts of them are considered the birthplace for Arizona’s Native Americans. It could be nature spirits, or some say it’s even Mother Earth herself.”
“I wish I felt it.”
Scott walked to the edge of the rock promontory and sat. After a moment, Rylan followed, and they sat cross-legged, shoulders touching. It was cold, but the air was bracing, fresh and clean. “This place calls to me, Ry. When I decided to leave Spectrum, I knew this is where I wanted to be.”
Rylan pulled his knees up and wrapped his arms around them. “So your friend who owns the cabin, I heard you tell Minh once he’s a VIP client?”
“Justin? Yeah. Well, sort of.”
“How can you be ‘sort of’ a client?”
“Because all he wants to do is go to dinner somewhere and talk, usually once every three months or so. I kept telling him that all he had to do was call me, and I’d go, that he didn’t have to pay the club for my time. He liked doing it that way, though, so eventually I stopped protesting.” Scott paused for a long moment. “His son, Michael, I knew him on the street.”
Rylan looked at him sharply. “When you were homeless?”
“Yeah, before I met Minh. He was a runaway and a drug addict, Ry. He didn’t hang with me, but I knew him from seeing him around. One night I found him lying in an alley, semiconscious and bleeding. He’d been stabbed in the abdomen.”
“Jesus, Scott.”
“He was still alive, so I picked him up in my arms and ran with him to the county hospital emergency room, which was only a few blocks away. I dropped him off and left, never knew what happened to him. The hospital saved his life, and eventually Michael saw my picture in an ad for the club somewhere. He told his dad I was the guy who tried to stop the bleeding, who begged him to hang on.”
“So Justin hired you for VIP that first time, just to talk about what happened that night.” Rylan’s voice was soft. “And to thank you.”
“Yes.”
“How’s Michael now?”
Scott slipped his arm around Rylan’s shoulders and pulled him close, sighing. “Journey back from addiction isn’t an easy one, and coupled with the trauma Michael endured—well, there’ve been ups and downs. Sometimes his dad just needs to talk, and he feels a connection to me, knows I won’t judge either one of them.”
“It’s good he has you, then.”
“He insisted, though, on doing something to thank me without bringing the club into it, so we worked out the cabin arrangement. And yet he still hired me for VIP anyway. Stubborn.” Scott laid his cheek on Rylan’s hair. “This last time we talked, he said Michael’d been sober for nine months, the longest he’d managed so far, and Justin was hopeful maybe this time it would stick.”
“That’s great news.”
“When I told him I was leaving the club and thinking about moving to Sedona, he offered me the cabin indefinitely. Of course he won’t take any rent, but it’s been six months, and I’ve been looking for an apartment.”
“Why not just stay?” Rylan lifted his head from Scott’s shoulder. “Such a beautiful place, and Justin obviously wants you to.”
Scott let go of him and leaned back on his hands, staring out at the snow-covered view. “I’m not exactly broke, Ry. I made good money on my cut of the endorsements during my time at Spectrum, plus I saved quite a bit of my salary and tips. The cabin is beautiful, and I love it, but—”
“But now you want to make it on your own.”
“Yeah,” Scott said, relieved that Rylan got it. “I never really have, you know? Lived with my mom, in a condo my employer paid for, now a loaner cabin. The streets don’t count. I just—I’ve never had my own place, my own car, my own life. Anyway, the reason I brought you up here, this area is around where Dawn’s uncle and I camped for those two nights. We fasted for one of them, and right before the sun came up, did a Death and Rebirth Ceremony.” He glanced at Rylan, who gazed back at him encouragingly. “It’s making a tangible expression of letting go. It’s—”
When Scott floundered, Rylan put his hand on his thigh. “You don’t need to go into detail, Scott. I get the gist. Something like that should remain private, between you and your life coach.”
“All I know is it helped, Ry. The ritual of it, the visualization…” Scott remembered how he’d felt, watching the colored smoke representing his past waft into the night sky, dispersing on the breeze. The smell of sage—
“It helped,” he said simply. “Especially in coming to terms with—with Heather, and in realizing the fact I didn’t fail to earn her love, she was just incapable of giving it to me. I’ve finally been able to let her go.”
Rylan’s eyes were soft with understanding. “And the quotes on the mirror?”
Scott smiled. “My friend Pedro, who’s a sculptor, he uses them. The way he put it, repeating those words is an easy way to be loving and kind to myself every day. I felt so fucking stupid at first, but now I say them every time I look in that mirror.”
“Well, all of it’s made a difference.” Rylan’s voice was admiring and sincere. “I can tell.”
“It’s a work in progress. Although—” He paused long enough that Rylan squeezed his thigh.
“What?”
“I think a lot of it, too, is getting away from the club environment, the—the narcissism and negativity.”
“Yeah?”
“Everything about that world is fake, and feelings are allowed to be fake, too, so it’s a good place to hide. A comfort zone.”
“Is that why you sent me away, then?” Rylan asked perceptively. “Because you didn’t trust that my feelings for you are real?”
“How could I, Rylan?” Scott stared off into the distance. “When I was eighteen, I was a complete fucking mess, yet you said you loved me.”
“I did love you when we were kids. As much as a teenage boy can love someone, I loved you. It was real, and it mattered.”
“I told you it didn’t.”
Rylan flinched, but he didn’t move away, and Scott went on relentlessly, “Six years later, here I am, still a fucking mess—I just hide it better. And yet you say you love me.”
“Because I do.”
“So here’s the thing that kept running through my mind, Ry. Why? What the fuck do you get out of this? An uneducated asshole who treats people like shit? Someone who constantly makes poor choices, choices that hurt not only me, but now you, too?”
“Scott, stop it—”
“I did not trust it. And if I didn’t trust your feelings, there’s no way in hell I’d trust mine.” Scott let out a shaky breath. “I kept thinking, what if this isn’t real?”
Rylan pressed his forehead to Scott’s cheek. “Scott, do you love me?”
“Maybe how we feel about each other isn’t real. Maybe what you think is love is nothing but a—a convoluted mix of responsibility and pity. Maybe what I feel for you is some sort of twisted gratitude.”
“Do you love me?” Rylan’s voice was whisper soft.
“I needed to see if it was real, Rylan.”
“Do you love—”
“Yes!” Scott burst out. “God yes, I love you. And all I wanted was to not be a fucking mess before telling you that.”
The wind picked up, whirling around them, and Rylan yelped as a clump of wet snow blew from a nearby tree and landed with a splat on the back of his neck. Scott brushed it off quickly before hauling Rylan into his lap and wrapping him up in his arms until he stopped shivering.
“Ugh, I’m a Florida boy,” Rylan moaned, teeth chattering. “Beaches, humidity, not snow!”
Scott gave a husky laugh, and Rylan looked up at him, his eyes luminous with emotion. They stared at each other for a breathless moment until Scott leaned down and kissed him.
“I love you, Rylan Mahoney,” he whispered against his lips. “I love you.”
Rylan wound his arms around Scott’s neck, burying his face in his shoulder, body shaking. “I’m—I’m so—”
Scott kissed him again tenderly before boosting Rylan to his feet. “C’mon, Ry, let’s get you home.”
They set off down the trail, arm in arm, Rylan tucked in close to Scott’s side. “Thanks for showing me all this,” he said at last. “I just can’t help but think we could’ve gotten to this point on our own without separating, you know? If you’d told me—”
Scott shook his head. “No, it’s not that simple, Ry.” His voice was gentle but firm. “You can’t tell me you didn’t notice a pattern to our relationship, even as far back as Florida.”
Rylan didn’t reply, his mouth set stubbornly, and Scott went on before he could dredge up whatever argument was brewing in his head. “Think about it for a moment. I’d fuck up and shut down, and you’d end up doing the emotional work for both of us, over and over again.”
“Part of being in love, though, is taking the difficult with the easy,” Rylan said fiercely, “because I’m not in this for your hot body and perfect face. I never was, and I love all of you.”
“But if you’re being honest, you were already getting tired of my shit, and I was getting resentful of you, even as I smothered you with my neediness. It wasn’t healthy, and something needed to change. That last night at the club, what I said to you, what Byron did—”
His words choked off, and Rylan tightened his arm around Scott’s waist. “We would’ve gotten through it. We would have, Scott.”
“Rylan.” Scott stopped walking and took his shoulders in his hands, looking down at him. “We weren’t on equal emotional footing, and you know it.”
Rylan closed his eyes, and he reached up and grasped Scott’s wrists. “Jesus, why I’m arguing with you about this? Maybe I’m just exhausted and overwhelmed, but the whole time I was gone, I was so afraid I’d get back and you wouldn’t need me anymore.”
“I don’t.”
Rylan’s eyes flew open, and he made a stricken sound. He tried to pull away, but Scott held him fast. “Listen to me. I don’t need you to constantly build me up. I don’t need you to reassure me I have more to offer than my hot ass. I don’t need you in order to make a good life for myself—even a happy one.”
Rylan’s body was rigid, and despite that, Scott enfolded him in his arms again. “But I want you. I want you to be my partner. I love you, Rylan. So fucking much. All I knew was that the pattern we were falling into wasn’t healthy, and I felt it would eventually destroy us. I’d do anything to keep that from happening. Anything.”
“Even send me away.” Rylan blew out a breath. “I get it. I’d told myself all this time I understood your reasons for doing that, and I wanted to trust you, but obviously deep down somewhere inside me, I didn’t. I’m sorry.”
“Because you’re not perfect. And neither am I, right?” Scott kissed each eyelid and then the tip of his nose. “But maybe we can figure this shit out together, if you still want to.”
Rylan gave him a tremulous smile. “I want to,” he said simply. “But now I need to sleep.” He swayed a little, and Scott wrapped his arm around his waist, almost carrying him down the trail as they headed for home.
* * *
“What time is it?”
Rylan’s voice was hoarse with sleep as he padded into the living room, and Scott looked up from the laptop resting on the coffee table, grinning at the sight of him. Despite falling into bed in his underwear, Rylan was now wearing a pair of Scott’s sweatpants, rolled several times at the waist, and one of his long-sleeved T-shirts, which hung halfway down his thighs.
“About midnight,” Scott replied, holding his arm out. Rylan plopped down on the couch and snuggled against him with a groan.
“God, my schedule is so fucked up. I hate jet lag.”
“Mmm, but I love you all sleep-warm and adorable like this.” Scott lifted Rylan’s chin and kissed him, stroking his tongue along his lips before delving inside. “If we need to think of something to do to pass the time and keep you awake all night, well—”
Rylan hummed into his mouth, slipping his hand under Scott’s sweatshirt to splay his fingers along his belly. He’d just started to move them downward when he caught sight of Scott’s computer.
“What’s all this?” He let go of Scott and sat forward for a closer look.
Scott gritted his teeth and willed his body to behave, reaching down to adjust himself ruefully. “I, uh, I’m thinking of buying a house instead of renting an apartment.”
“You are? That’s great!” Rylan grabbed for the mouse and scrolled through the real estate listings Scott had been perusing.
“Yeah. These ones all have mother-in-law suites or cottages, because I kind of want a home office I can see my clients at.” He waited expectantly and grinned again as Rylan looked over at him with wide eyes.
“Clients?” He sat back and lifted his socked feet into Scott’s lap, pointing at him. “Spill.”
Scott put his hand on Rylan’s crossed ankles, stroking along the top of his foot with his thumb. “Remember Brian and Julia, that couple we planned the wedding for? Apparently the whole thing went great, and a few months ago, some friends of theirs came into the restaurant looking for me. Brian and Julia’d kept in touch with Minh, and he told these friends where I worked, so they drove up to find me.”
“Really?” Rylan’s eyes were bright with interest. “They wanted to plan one, too?”
“Yep. I was like, ‘Uh, well, that was kind of a fluke. I don’t really know anything about wedding planning.’ But when I was talking to them, I found out the girl’s dad just passed away three weeks before. She was still hurting, obviously, and I thought about Dawn’s uncle, the flute and the spiritual healing. So I called him, he came down, and we planned something which combined both a wedding and a communication with her father’s spirit, so she could feel like he was there.”
“That’s amazing, Scott.” Rylan’s tone was admiring.
“They posted pics on their Facebook page, and suddenly my phone was ringing off the hook. I loved the thought of doing something involving local vendors and artisans, so Dawn and I sat down and dreamed up Uniquely Sedona.” Scott paused, feeling suddenly bashful. “It’s our business, Rylan. We can set up weddings, celebrations of life, spiritual healing weekends, vortex tours, anything that captures the heart and soul of Sedona. We’ve already done several different events, and we’re booked well into the summer.”
“Wow.” Rylan sat up and slid his hand under Scott’s shirt again. “I’m in love with a real entrepreneur. A hot one.” He flirted with the waistband of Scott’s pants, delving his fingertips just underneath to stroke along the patch of hair there.
“Dawn designs her own clothing line,” Scott said hoarsely, shifting restlessly as his cock started to harden again, “using elements from her Tohono O’odham heritage and based on her great-grandmother’s beadwork. She’s sold some of her pieces as wedding dresses, so we’re branching out that way, too. Oh God.”
Scott sprawled back against the couch as Rylan pushed his shirt up out of the way and mouthed along his abdomen. “Mmm,” he murmured, swirling his tongue in Scott’s navel. “Tell me more about your business.”
Scott combed his fingers through Rylan’s sleep-mussed hair, trying to gather his increasingly scattered thoughts. “Well, that—that’s it,” he stammered. “People call, we set stuff up.”
Rylan chuckled wickedly, kissing his way down to where Scott’s excited cock was now peeking out over his waistband. “Really? That’s it?” He hovered over the slick tip teasingly, licking his lips. “There’s gotta be more.”
Scott arched his back as Rylan reached between his legs and cupped his balls. “I’m gonna—” He panted. “—gonna take some college classes. Business type stuff.”
Rylan helped him shove his pants down and off and then slid gracefully to the floor between Scott’s widespread knees. He planted an openmouthed kiss on Scott’s inner thigh, dragging his parted lips all the way up to the base of his cock and nuzzling it. “Hot businessman and student?” He raised his head and looked up at him. “I’m so fucking proud of you, sweetheart. So proud to be yours.”
Scott flushed and stroked his thumb over Rylan’s cheekbone. “I love you.”
Rylan smiled, holding Scott’s eyes with his as he licked up the length of Scott’s dick to the tip. There he used his tongue to tease and play until Scott was writhing on the couch, reaching up over his head to grip the back of it.
“Please, Ry,” he gasped. “Please.”
Rylan took him deep into his throat, working the shaft with his hand as he bobbed up and down, sucking on the head on the upstroke. Scott let go of the couch and threaded his fingers through Rylan’s hair, holding him still and thrusting hard.
Rylan took every inch, using the saliva that ran down Scott’s cock to slick his fingers up and delve them into his cleft. Scott groaned and spread his legs wider as Rylan teased his hole with a fingertip, circling the sensitive opening over and over until he slid inside.
Scott moaned at the stretch and burn, and Rylan came off his dick with a pop of released suction. “Jesus, you’re tight,” he rasped. “So fucking hot and tight.”
He went back to work on Scott’s tip, and when Rylan pushed a second finger deep, Scott exploded with a long, low moan. He panted, watching greedily as ropes of jizz flooded into Rylan’s mouth, coating his tongue. Rylan swallowed it all, squeezing the head to force out every drop, dropping his forehead to Scott’s thigh.
Scott’s breaths were coming in gusts, chest heaving, and he hauled Rylan up to the couch, laying him on his back. He yanked Rylan’s pants off and threw them to the side before shoving Rylan’s knees to his chest, spreading him wide.
“God, you’re beautiful,” Scott growled. “A Rylan feast, all for me.”
With lips, tongue, and hands, he soon had Rylan writhing and begging him to come, and it didn’t take long before Scott was drinking him down with low groans of appreciation, reveling in Rylan’s gasping cries. He mouthed his way back up Rylan’s body, settling between his legs, their damp cocks nestling together as they kissed and licked each other clean.
When they calmed, Scott snagged an afghan from the back of the couch and spread it over them, settling against Rylan with a sigh. “So good, Ry,” he whispered. “I missed you.”
Rylan ran his hands up and down Scott’s back. “Missed you more,” he murmured drowsily. “Love you.”
Scott buried his face in Rylan’s neck, and Rylan drifted off into a light doze. Scott didn’t sleep, just listened to him breathe, feeling Rylan’s heart beating slow and steady beneath his cheek.
He lifted his head, leaning down to feather his lips over Rylan’s. “Ry?”
Rylan dragged his eyes open. “Mmm?” He stretched, and Scott kissed him again, gently.
“Where do you go from here? Professionally, I mean.” He took a deep breath before asking the question he was dreading the answer to. “When are you leaving again?”
Rylan closed his eyes, and didn’t say anything for a moment. “I don’t know, Scott. I—I just don’t know.”
Scott lifted himself off Rylan and helped him sit up, too. “Talk to me, Ry.”
Rylan swallowed hard, twisting his fingers together. Scott just waited, resting his hand on the back of Rylan’s neck, his thumb moving in soothing circles.
“These last few months have been—indescribable, Scott. Indescribably wonderful, and indescribably awful. The things I saw, the things I heard—” He trailed off, his blue eyes distant. “I’m not sure that type of work is for me. I feel—I feel things too much.”
Scott squeezed the back of his neck gently.
“It was completely overwhelming.” He sagged back against the couch, and Scott let his hand fall away, reaching down to cover Rylan’s fingers with his. Rylan turned his palm up and held onto him tightly. “Chris is done. He said the fire in his belly for conflict photography has gone out, and all he wants to do is build a life here with Minh.” He smiled faintly. “He’s going to open his own photography studio down in the Valley.”
Scott chuckled. “With a fabulous drag queen as his first subject, I’m sure.”
Rylan’s cheeks took on a faint red tinge. “Oh God. There were lots of times over there when we were in a holding pattern, waiting for drivers, or permission to enter a certain area. He showed me some of the pictures he’d taken of himself and Minh that last week before we left, and all I can say is wow. I think boudoir photography might be his next specialty.”
“Got an eyeful, huh?” Scott teased him, and Rylan chuckled.
“Oh, they were tasteful, but at the same time so fucking erotic. I felt like I was watching them make love.”
“Mmm. So maybe go into business with him?” Scott said tentatively.
Rylan gave a helpless shrug. “Maybe. Studio work is something I don’t have much interest in, though. I just—I just feel so directionless right now, Scott. I don’t know what I wanna do.”
Scott squeezed his hand. “You’ll figure it out, baby. And I’ll support you with whatever you decide, I hope you know that.”
“I know.” Rylan put his head on Scott’s shoulder. “At least I have a little breathing room, since a couple of my photos ended up being somewhat successful. For the first time in a long time, my bank account isn’t just chirping crickets.” He paused. “I do have some ideas I’m trying to work through.”
Scott listened as he told him about Maya, a trans woman he’d befriended down in Phoenix. “She’s launching her own website soon, and I said I’d help her with that. The trans women in custody, in immigration detention, I might see if there’s anything I can do to work with her on raising awareness and bringing those issues to light.”
“So you’re not directionless, Ry. You’re just taking stock. It’s okay.” He kissed Rylan’s temple. “And of course I don’t want you to leave again, go back out into the field, but if you—”
“If I do, it won’t be for a long, long time,” Rylan reassured him. “As of now, that’s not even on my radar.”
Scott didn’t want to admit to the relief flooding through him, and he tried his best not to let it show. “Good” was all he said. Then he waved his free hand at the laptop. “In the meantime, if you could help me house hunt, that’d be great, since I’m hoping maybe you’ll want to live in it with me.” His voice rose a little on the last word, making it a tentative question.
The smile that lit up Rylan’s face and made his eyes glow made Scott’s heart skip a beat.
“Absolutely,” Rylan said huskily. “No question, I want to be with you.”
Scott kissed him, then chuckled.
“What?”
Shaking his head ruefully, Scott said, “Just thinking how we’re gonna explain our relationship to our brothers, that’s all.”
Rylan’s eyes widened for a moment, and he grinned. “Let’s climb one obstacle at a time, shall we? That’s a conversation I think we put off for way in the future. Maybe for if—when—we decide to get married someday.” His tone was carefully offhand. “Who knows?”
“Yeah. Who knows?” Scott pulled Rylan against him and settled back into the couch cushions, feeling warm with contentment, and utterly at peace. “We’ll figure it out. Start as we mean to go on, right?”
Rylan splayed his hand across Scott’s chest, over his wildly beating heart.
“Couldn’t have said it better myself.”