Chapter One
The heat from the flames moved like waves slowly burning his hair and skin. The pain was excruciating, but he held on. He heard people screaming, but he didn’t dare look down. He somehow knew the fire was getting closer, and no matter what he did, the firemen would never reach him in time. The flames shot upward, licking at his feet and legs. The screams ringing in his ears were now his own. The smoke sucked the air out of his lungs as he began to gasp and cough. His fingers slipped slightly, and he knew it would all be over soon.
Travis jackknifed out of bed so fast he slipped on the hardwood and fell flat on his back. His heart was racing. He drew in a ragged breath while he tried to clear his brain, but he could still feel the flames on his skin, and the smell of burning flesh still clogged his nose. He blinked to clear his vision and looked around his tiny apartment.
Safe. He was safe.
He sat up and rubbed his bruised back, feeling raised scars through the fabric. To this day, even when he was in bed, he remained covered in a shirt and sleeping pants, as if he could hide away the past.
Slowly, he stood then made his way over to his small kitchenette where he placed the kettle on his one-burner hotplate. He grabbed his one mug from the cupboard, along with his packages of tea and sugar. His little place might not have looked like much to someone else, but it was perfect for him. Considering mere months ago he was living out of his car, this was an upgrade. It was clean and safe, and that was all that mattered.
Still unsteady on his feet, he leaned against the tiny counter as he pulled his long hair into a ponytail and then took a deep breath to try to clear his mind. The nightmares were getting worse, and the room seemed quieter and emptier than ever before. In the past, Travis wouldn’t have minded so much if it weren’t for one persistent person who had become a constant presence in his life since moving to Brighton. Officer Bo Mason had turned Travis’s solitary life upside down with his kind brown eyes and gentle touch. In contrast to his manner, the man was physically intimidating, standing over six and a half feet tall. Any sane gay man would have perked right up at the first sign of interest. But not me, of course. Travis knew once the truth came out, Bo would never look at him the same way again.
When the kettle whistled, Travis turned off the burner and poured the steaming water over the teabag in his mug. The aroma of chamomile wafted up, soothing Travis’s jumpy nerves. He looked around his room again, and for the first time in a long time, he felt lonely. I wouldn’t be alone if I weren’t screwed up. I should have accepted Bo’s offer.
Travis had fallen from scaffolding at work and wound up in the hospital. The police had come to the scene—Officer Bo Mason to be exact, who had become a guardian angel of sorts. After endless cajoling, Travis had agreed to spend his recovery at Bo’s house while trying to get a handle on the relentless nightmares. At the last minute, Travis had backed out and returned to his room above the diner where he worked. Alone and in pain, but his scars and secrets remained protected.
He knew he was quiet and held people at arm’s length, but nonetheless, he was dismayed that people viewed him as incapable of caring for himself. He knew he had issues but he wasn’t an invalid.
Now it was four in the morning, so there was no use trying to go back to sleep. He needed to open the diner in a couple of hours anyway. Sarah would be in by six, and another busy day would begin again. But today would be a little different—it was payday and Travis had something special planned. Just the thought of it made him smile.
Travis cleaned his cup, made his bed, showered, and headed downstairs to the diner. The dining room was dark, the solo light from the kitchen spilling out into the area, casting a dim glow. He loved this time of day. Everything was fresh and new; anything was possible. Since the diner faced east, he’d soon be graced with a beautiful sunrise filled with reds and yellows. Someday, he would capture that sight on a canvas.
He turned from the window and headed for the kitchen. He’d get a tray of biscuits on before he started the coffee, knowing he’d have company soon enough. Since he’d decided to come back to his apartment from the hospital, Bo had been showing up every morning before the diner opened to have coffee with Travis. Then throughout the day into the evening, Bo would stop by until Travis was done with work. If he were honest with himself, he looked forward to their time together. And that was all he could allow. Nothing closer and certainly nothing more. Aside from the hospital staff and physical therapists at the rehab facility, no one willingly had or would ever touch him.
Within twenty minutes, Travis had a tray of biscuits ready for the oven. He set the timer and went to turn on the coffee when he heard a knock on the front door. Bo.
“Just a minute,” Travis yelled as he poured the remaining water into the coffee makers and headed for the door.
He rounded the booths and saw Bo’s police cruiser in the parking lot, and the man’s large body filling the front door’s frame. Bo stood there smiling wide as if he had good reason. Travis felt his body heat up, and he knew he was blushing. Life had made him tough; he was a loner, and he didn’t blush, dammit. But the sight of Bo turned Travis’s brain into tapioca pudding.
Quickly, he unlocked the door and let in the man of his dreams.
He could look but never touch.
“Good morning.” Bo’s deep voice resonated throughout Travis’s body like a caress. He reminded himself to remain unaffected; he could never allow himself to slip.
“Good morning, Bo. I just put the coffee on. It should be ready any minute.”
“Great. Will you be joining me this morning?” Bo’s brown eyes were so warm and inviting.
Travis had already put on the biscuits, so he had a few minutes to spare. But should he?
Bo being a cop meant he could read people well. “A couple minutes is all I’m asking for, promise.”
Oh, what the hell, why not?
“Okay, I’ll get the coffee.”
Bo sat his large body on a stool at the counter. With only the light from the kitchen illuminating the area, this familiar scene felt almost intimate. Travis’s hands shook slightly with equal parts excitement and trepidation. Though there could be nothing physical between them, maybe they could be friends. That way he wouldn’t lose Bo completely once the man realized Travis was a lost cause and Bo moved onto someone who could be what he needed.
Carefully, Travis added sugar and cream to Bo’s coffee, and then walked to the opposite side of the counter across from Bo, making sure a physical barrier remained between them. Bo smiled when Travis returned with his black coffee, and if Bo noticed Travis was keeping his distance, the cop gave no indication.
“How was your night? More nightmares?” Bo cradled the coffee mug between his large hands.
Travis had tried to keep his nightmares to himself, but Bo had seen the effects they had on him in the hospital, so there was no use in pretending they didn’t exist.
“It wasn’t so bad. Only one last night.” Travis played off how shaken he’d been and attempted a smile.
Bo reached over and took Travis’s hand, holding it gently. Travis froze, unable to pull his hand away. The big man’s warmth moved up Travis’s arm, and excitement filled his body. Bo reached into his pocket and pulled something out before placing it into Travis’s open palm.
“I want you to have this.” Bo removed his hand, leaving a shiny, black cell phone behind. “Please accept it.”
Travis never had enough extra money to buy a cell phone—a roof over his head and food in his stomach took precedence over any creature comforts. He looked at the phone’s shiny screen and its sleek body and had no clue what to do with it. Of course, he knew there was a button to turn it on, but that was as far as his knowledge base went.
“I…I’ve never…I can’t take this.”
“Yes, you can. I bought it for you.”
“But why?” Travis asked, truly confused.
Travis could have sworn Bo’s cheeks pinked. Why would he be embarrassed? I’m the one who doesn’t know how to use the damn thing.
“You should have one for safety in case you need help, or if you just want to talk to someone. I programmed my number into it, but you can add as many people as you like. Here is your new phone number.” Bo handed Travis a slip of paper then took the phone from his hand and said, “I’ll show you how it works,” saving him the embarrassment of admitting he was clueless. He figured Bo must have noticed Travis didn’t have much by way of possessions, particularly a phone.
Bo spent the next ten minutes explaining all the features. The only things that registered with Travis were how to text and make a call. He had no idea what he’d use the Bluetooth for. There was even a little picture of Bo on the screen Travis could push if he wanted to call him. Bo smiled wide, handed the phone back to Travis then stood while placing his money for the coffee on the counter.
“I’ll drop in later today for lunch.”
“But I didn’t say I’d take it,” Travis called out as Bo headed for the door.
“Try it out. See if you like it,” Bo replied. “Have a good day.” The door swung shut, and he was gone.
Travis stood at the counter for a few minutes, trying to figure out what to do with the phone. In the end, he shoved it into his pocket before returning to the kitchen.
Soon Sarah arrived to get the dining room ready for the breakfast rush. She kept glancing at him then finally came out and asked, “Why do you look especially happy this morning?”
Travis froze. Was it wrong to want to keep this private—at least for now? “Just having a good morning, and it’s payday.”
Sarah looked like she wasn’t buying it. “Okay, you keep it to yourself. But I gotta say, it’s nice to see you smile.”
With that the day began as it always did, in a flurry of faces and food. The kitchen of the only diner in town was fast-paced most of the time; they had a few small lulls between the breakfast, lunch, and dinner crowds, but for the most part, time moved quickly.
When noon came and went without any sign of Bo, Travis began to worry. Surely someone would know if there’d been an incident and would tell him, right? Or maybe Bo decided he’d leave Travis with the phone for a while to get used to it. In any case, Travis had to admit not seeing Bo was disappointing.
Jesse, the diner’s manager, came in around four in the afternoon to prepare for the evening shift, which gave Travis the opportunity to go to the bank, deposit his check, and pop by a place he’d been dreaming of visiting since he started working at the diner. “I’ll be back in an hour to help with the dinner rush,” Travis told Jesse while taking off his apron.
“No hurry, you’ve already stocked the kitchen, so there won’t be much to do for prep. I don’t know what I did before you got here,” Jesse muttered as he rifled through the fridge. “You even filled all the sauces. Thank you, man.”
“It’s my job,” Travis replied, unsure what he’d done to deserve the praise. He’d always worked hard. Like his dad used to say: If you’re going to do it, you better make damn sure it’s done right.
“Well then thank you for doing your job so well.” Jesse smiled before reaching into his apron pocket to hand Travis his weekly check.
“No problem. I like my job.” And he truly did. This had been the first time in a long time that he’d felt welcomed and accepted. Jesse, Sarah, Bo, and Brighton had given him that.
Travis walked down the spotless sidewalk and wondered if there was a person who cleaned the general areas of the town, or did the people clean up as they walked, or didn’t they litter? It was the cleanest town he’d ever lived in.
As he made his way to the bank, he waved at Mrs. Wollart who was leading her children by the hand across the crosswalk. There were overflowing flower baskets hanging from the lamp posts, and brightly painted signs announced each store. Travis couldn’t help but smile at how the town looked like it made him feel.
He turned when he heard something hit the ground and saw Mrs. Wollart’s grocery bag had spilled across the sidewalk. Immediately, he went to her side and started gathering the cans. The bag was still useable, so he began to fill it.
“Thank you. Geesh, the bag slid right out of my hands.” Mrs. Wollart fussed as she gathered her two sniffling toddlers to her side. The little girl looked to be about five, while the boy seemed to be around three.
“How far do you have to go?” Travis asked.
“Our home is a few houses down the street,” she answered.
“I’ll carry it for you, ma’am.”
“Oh, I couldn’t ask you to do that.” She smiled as she lifted her sleepy little boy into her arms.
“You’ve got your hands full. I don’t mind,” Travis assured her.
Mrs. Wollart grabbed her daughter’s hand and led the way to their house. She walked up to a modest ranch with a large American flag displayed out front, which fit; Sarah had told Travis that Mr. Wollart had been deployed to Afghanistan on his third tour of duty with the Army.
When Mrs. Wollart opened the door, Travis followed her through a house strewn with children’s toys. He deposited her bag of groceries on the kitchen table and noticed colorful paintings on the fridge.
“Thank you, Travis.”
“No problem, ma’am. Have a good day.” He headed out of the house and with one final glance back he saw the little girl waving at him through the big picture window. He waved back and was on his way.
His stop at the bank only took a few moments; there was only one other person in line. Then he was off to his final destination, Brighton Stationery and Art Supply. He stopped to look at the beautiful artwork displayed in their front window. The paintings and graphics were breathtaking. The bell tinkled as he opened the clear glass door. The moment he stepped inside, his heart lightened at the sight of all the paper choices and canvases. Paint tubes shone in the late afternoon sunlight and called to him.
Places like this one were what he missed most. Since being out on his own he’d never had the ability to continue drawing, let alone paint anything. Today was a special day. He’d finally had enough money in his budget to buy a new sketchbook and pencils. It wasn’t that Jesse paid poorly; Travis was saving the bulk of his money for a newer car. His fingers itched to touch the various paints until he saw a set of well-priced sable brushes displayed at the end of one of the aisles. They were beautiful but not in his budget this time.
“Can I help you, Travis?” A young man asked as he joined Travis, who was debating his purchases. The man’s smile was warm and genuine. Sometimes Travis’s tattoos made people nervous and kept them away though he thought his ink was beautiful.
“I’m sorry, have we met?” Travis wracked his brain for a name.
“Not formally. I’m Bo’s cousin, Keith.” The clerk offered his hand in greeting. Keith was shorter than Travis, had black hair and a full beard, and looked nothing like Bo.
“It’s nice to meet you.” Travis shook the man’s hand; he had a strong handshake.
“They’re well priced, aren’t they? I have a set of them at home. Would you like me to take them out from the case?”
“I wish. No, I’m looking for a sketchbook and pencils.”
“Right this way.” Keith led Travis across the store, past the clay and molds, and up to intricately carved wooden shelves.
“I’ll leave you to browse,” Keith said as he handed over a piece of paper with all the weekly specials. “Yell if you need anything.” Then he turned and walked back to the shelf he had been stocking.
Travis scanned the supplies, shocked and pleased that a small-town store had such an extensive selection. He had walked past the store many times since his arrival in Brighton but had never stepped inside. He wasn’t a glutton for punishment; he wouldn’t set foot in a store if he didn’t intend to buy something.
At seeing all the different sketchpad options, Travis couldn’t wipe the smile off of his face if he’d tried. It’d been years since he’d allowed himself to even dream of drawing again. After that night, there was no longer time for dreaming. But now, he knew exactly what he wanted and picked it off the shelf. This pad had a high paper weight so it wouldn’t crumple under stress, as well as spiral bindings with perforated pages, which could be torn out easily. Once he had his new book, he went in search of the perfect pencils, or, more specifically, the best he could afford. He found a set of four graphite pencils on sale, half price. Sold.
He held his treasures to his chest as he approached the cash register. Though it wasn’t much, it felt like a triumph.
Halfway back to the diner his worry that he hadn’t seen Bo since early that morning returned. Travis couldn’t help but think of all the terrible things that could have happened to him. Bo was a cop after all. Travis reached into his pocket and pulled out the cell phone.
Would he think I’m prying or be happy to hear from me?
Travis looked down at the dark screen and turned it on. His finger hovered over the little picture of Bo on the display as Travis weighed his choices. He stopped walking and leaned against the brick wall of the flower shop. He took a deep breath and tapped the screen. Before he had the chance to rethink it, Bo’s voice came across the line.
“Travis, are you okay?”
“I was wondering the same about you. You didn’t come in like you normally do for lunch,” Travis said in a rush.
There was silence for a moment before Bo spoke, his voice deeper than before. “You were worried about me.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. We had a six-car pileup on the interstate north of town. That’s been tying me up all day, but I’ll be in for dinner,” Bo explained. “I’m sorry I worried you.”
“Sorry to have interrupted you. I wasn’t worried, just curious,” Travis lied, not wanting to seem clingy.
“You’re not interrupting. I’m back at the station finishing paperwork. I want you to call me. If I don’t answer, I’ll call you back as soon as I can.” Bo’s voice was low and did strange things to Travis’s stomach. His heart was skipping beats.
God, I’m doomed.
But…Bo sounded happy to hear from him. Travis hadn’t felt that in a long time; he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed being close to anyone, even just having friends. Moving around so much, coupled with not trusting anyone, didn’t help.
“Travis? Are you still there?”
“Yeah, sorry.” Travis fumbled the phone. “I should let you go so you can finish your work.”
“But I’ll see you tonight.”
“I’ll be at the diner until nine.”
“Then I’ll be there,” Bo said. “I’m glad you called.”
Travis had no idea how to respond, so he went with the safest reply. “Bye, Bo.”
“See you soon.”
Travis pushed the disconnect button and leaned more heavily against the wall for support.
What am I doing?
I can’t lead him on when it’s all going to end in disaster.
*****
Bo placed his cell in his pocket and tried to go back to his paperwork, but his mind was focused on the beautiful man across town. From his silky black hair to his multiple intricate tattoos, Travis was breathtaking. His pale blue eyes revealed his every emotion and gave Bo insight into the amazing man. He could see Travis’s doubts, and the guilt he carried. When Bo found out that Travis had been living in his car before being renting the apartment above the diner, Bo’s heart went out to the man. He would have offered to help, but he’d found out after the fact.
Within weeks of coming to Brighton, Bo learned Travis had volunteered his time at the new youth center. Bo wasn’t surprised; it was easy to see the man had a caring heart. But Travis was hiding something, something painful that made him hold himself apart from everyone. Bo wasn’t easily dissuaded or pushed away, and in Travis’s case, Bo was more determined than usual to get closer to the elusive man. The cell phone was the first step. Bo would get the man used to talking with him, even if it was only over the phone. If it hadn’t been for the scaffolding accident, Travis would have never talked to Bo. And, until a few weeks ago, Travis barely said a word when Bo went into the diner.
From the day he’d first set eyes on Travis, Bo was attracted to the man. The pull had grown stronger ever since.
“Should I guess who put that smile on your face?” Chief David Graham asked as he sat in the chair opposite Bo’s desk. “How is Travis doing?”
“He’s still having nightmares like the ones he had in the hospital.” Bo chewed his bottom lip as he thought about what Travis was reliving every night. In the hospital, he would call out names as he screamed in what had to be horrific pain. The anguish had made Bo want to gather Travis in his arms and fix whatever was wrong.
“Is he getting any therapy?” Dave grilled. He couldn’t help but sound like a cop. He and Bo had been friends since childhood and they’d been working together for years at the Brighton PD. Dave was married to Bo’s cousin Kate, and he went to Dave and Kate’s house once a week for dinner. He was godfather to their daughter, Kimmy.
“He’s supposed to, but he hasn’t gone yet. Dr. Green set up everything from the hospital,” Bo explained. “I just have to get Travis to go.”
“You’ll have to take him if he doesn’t go on his own,” Dave advised.
“I don’t know if he’ll let me. I did manage to get him to keep a cell phone though.” Bo had shared his feelings and concerns with his best friend.
“You sure you don’t want to take a look into his past?” Dave pointed at the computer screen.
“No, he’ll tell me when he’s ready.” Bo didn’t want to break Travis’s trust, but he understood Dave was trying to protect Bo. Truth be told, he had been fighting his natural urge to check up on Travis, but held strong. For how much longer, Bo had no idea.
“Okay, buddy. But, I don’t want to see you getting hurt.”
“I know what I’m doing,” Bo assured.
“I hope you do,” Dave replied. “Why don’t you invite him to come to dinner at our house next week?”
“I don’t think he’s ready for that. How about a rain check?”
“Anytime you want, bring him along.”
“Thanks, Dave.”
The chief got up and went into his office, closing the door behind him. Bo refocused on his computer screen, eager to get the work done so he could head over to the diner. No one had been seriously injured in the traffic accident, but the fact that there were multiple vehicles involved made for a truckload of word processing.
One hour later Bo sat on his favorite stool at the diner’s counter, eager to see Travis after such a long day. The place was fairly busy, and Sarah had two high school girls waitressing with her. Bo knew what he was hungry for—food wise. Travis made a phenomenal fried chicken, which Bo had every Friday night when he was on shift, or lately whenever a certain cook was working.
“Hey, Bo. Fried chicken for you tonight?” Sarah asked as she placed a full cup of coffee in front of him.
“Yes, ma’am. That would be perfect. Thank you.”
Sarah smiled and wrote out his order on her pad before sticking it to the railing above the pass-through to the kitchen. Bo could see Jesse working over the grill, but there was no sign of Travis. Bo hoped he hadn’t missed him. Jesse looked up, saw Bo, nodded his head in greeting, and did the one thing Bo wished he could have done—called Travis’s name.
Within moments, Travis’s head popped into view, and Jesse pointed to Bo’s order. Travis immediately looked over at Bo and smiled. His heartbeat sped up, and his palms began to sweat. It was crazy. He’d dated plenty in the past, but one smile from Travis had Bo behaving like a kid with his first crush, like when he’d made a fool of himself fawning over Billy Fallan in the third grade. Bo picked up the glass of water sitting in front of him and took a big gulp in an attempt to calm his racing heart. He’d never had someone affect him like this.
Minutes later, the swinging door to the back opened and Travis came walking out with a plate of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy, and corn—everything a growing boy needed, as Bo’s mother would say. He sat a bit straighter as Travis approached; this was the first time he’d hand-delivered Bo’s food.
“Hey.” Bo couldn’t keep the smile off his face.
“Hi, Bo.” Travis placed the plate on the counter. “How are you?”
“Better now.” Bo knew that was a cheesy response, but it made Travis smile all the same. “How was your day?”
“Good. I met your cousin Keith today.”
“Oh? Where?”
“At the store he works at.” Travis looked away as he answered.
“The art store. He owns that. He’s quite the artist. What were you getting there?”
“Um, some art supplies.”
“Supplies. Are you an artist, too?”
“I draw. I don’t know if you’d consider me an artist.” Travis stopped and looked around the diner. “Huh, I haven’t shared that with anyone in a long time. It’s my hobby.”
“Would you show me your work sometime?” Bo knew he was pushing the secretive man, but if it meant spending more time with Travis, Bo would try anything.
“I’d like that.”
“So would I.” Their eyes met and neither looked away. In that moment, Bo got the same feeling he had every morning when he had Travis all to himself—lucky.
“Travis,” Jesse hollered from the kitchen, breaking the spell. “We need more mashed potatoes.”
“I should be heading back,” Travis muttered, but he didn’t make a move to turn away.
“Okay, I’ll see you in the morning. Remember to call me anytime,” Bo urged. “For any reason.”
“Are you sure about me using your cell phone?”
“It’s your cell phone, and you can do whatever you like with it.”
Travis looked like he wanted to argue, but instead he began picking at his shirt. Bo had learned that was one of Travis’s tells when he was nervous.
“Is something wrong?”
Travis dipped his head. “Why are you doing all this for me?”
“Why wouldn’t I? I like you. I want to get to know you better, and I thought talking on the phone was a good place to start. Besides, you don’t have one and you need a cell in case of an emergency,” Bo explained.
Travis smiled and muttered, “Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
Bo had never been surer about anything or anyone.