1

Carson

 

“Yes, Mrs. Salazar, I’m sure Javier isn’t cheating on you,” Carson Craig, the West Side Psychic, said. He wasn’t sure. Not even close.

Carson had no idea if her husband was cheating or not. He didn’t hear voices. He hadn’t had a vision. Didn’t have an inkling. Not even a gut feeling. Carson Craig was a sham.

His mother had the gift. Several of them, in fact. She talked to dead people, had premonitions and visions.

As hard as Carson tried, he saw nothing and no dead people were sitting around his Conant Street store waiting to dish about their dead relatives. The only gift he got from his mother was her piercing blue eyes. Luckily for him, he got his father’s flair for drama.

Cornelius Craig, Corny for short, would have made a great carnival barker of old. His father was as handsome as he was charming, which was as big a liability as it was an asset, according to Carson’s mother.

“I’ll see you a week from Tuesday, Mrs. Salazar. Just like always.”

“You are a godsend, Carson.” The tiny Dominican woman hugged Carson to within an inch of his life. She grabbed a couple of her usual candles and a brightly colored blue sugar skull, that he’d marked down earlier since the Day of the Dead celebration ended nearly a month ago on November 2nd.

After he rang up her purchases, he saw her to the door, locking it behind her, and flipped the sign to closed.

“Another day, another dollar, Mama,” Carson said to the empty shop. He knew that his mother could hear him, even though he couldn’t hear her back. “It never gets any easier being here without you. I swear, every time I hear the bell over the door tinkle, I expect it to be you walking through it.”

Bertha Craig’s only rule was to use her psychic talents for good. She may have seen visions of winning lottery numbers, she but never played them, not wanting to take advantage of her power of sight. She’d set up shop in the Witch City, Salem, Massachusetts, in the early 1980s and had made quite a name for herself.

Corny had made quite a name for himself too, in the Salem News’ Police Log. He was always getting picked up on charges of petty theft. When he wasn’t working the front end of the store booking appointments and selling crystals and other items, he was an excellent pickpocket. Salem was packed with tourists from Memorial Day through Salem’s biggest night: Halloween.

When Carson was ten years old, there were big changes in the Craig house. His little brother, Cole, was born and his father was given the boot. Bertha was sick and tired of bailing Corny out of the local jail and with another tiny mouth to feed, she didn’t have the time or patience to deal with his tomfoolery, as she called it.

Last year breast cancer had taken Bertha far too soon. Her last request was that Carson take care of his younger brother, and that they both keep the family business alive. To this point, twenty-year-old Cole hadn’t demonstrated any of their mother’s psychic abilities, but that hadn’t let Carson stop him from obeying their mother’s dying wish.

Before her passing, Carson had worked in the front of the store, just like Corny had done, selling crystal balls and cashing customers out from their psychic readings with his mother. He’d also been responsible for talking them into booking additional time with Bertha and for getting those customers to recommend her to their friends and family.

Bertha always used to tell him he was the reason the business was so successful. Aside from Corny, she’d tell him, he was the biggest bullshitter who ever shit between two shoes. It was true. It made Carson happy to think back on the fond smile Bertha would gift him with when she’d compliment his ability to romance the customers.

After Bertha found out there was nothing further that could be done to treat her cancer, she’d done everything she could to teach her sons what she knew about her gifts. She spent days going over the tarot deck explaining what the cards meant alone and in concert with each other.

Carson had been quick to pick up what Bertha had been teaching him, but none of the knowledge had been innate to him. When he shuffled and flipped the cards, he knew it was just the luck of the draw. It wasn’t because Sprit pulled the cards or because his own gift pushed him toward choosing one card over another. His gifts from Corny took over from there. He was able to pull a reason for the cards and how they applied to any situation and walk of life out of his ass from there. 

Mrs. Salazar and her standing weekly appointment was living proof that his mother's teachings plus his father's chicanery were allowing him to keep his mother's dream alive. 

Cole, for his part, was working part time in the store and attending Salem State University. He was studying to become an accountant. As much as Bertha wanted to see West Side Magick succeed, Carson wanted his younger brother to have a bankable career more. He’d used Bertha’s life insurance money to pay for Cole’s tuition.

A distant crack of thunder brought Carson back to the present. He didn't remember the local weatherman forecasting rain for tonight and who had ever heard of New England having a thunderstorm on the first day of December anyway?

Maybe it wasn't a crash of thunder that he'd heard but a big truck rumbling over a pothole. Carson shook his head and moved toward the back of the shop where he blew out the candles he'd lit for his reading with Mrs. Salazar. 

He wasn't a religious man by any stretch of the imagination, but he whispered a silent prayer that her husband wasn't cheating on her. He might not have the gift of second sight, but he did have a gift for reading people. 

His customer was in her late fifties and was suffering from a severe case of empty nest syndrome. Her oldest daughter was away at design school in Rhode Island while her youngest daughter had gone off to California to pursue her dreams of becoming an actress.

Carson didn't need to be psychic to know Mrs. Salazar was lonely.

He ran his fingers along the Tibetan chimes hung in the back corner. They were his mother's favorite. She kept them in her reading room, because so many of her clients were calmed by their gentle tinkling sound. 

Carson had asked his mother a thousand times in the last year to ring the chimes if she were present in the store with him, but they'd never sounded unless he’d touched them. He couldn't honestly say if he'd ever felt her presence or not, but he kept her alive in his heart and that was enough. 

Still able to hear the tinkle of the bells, Carson ran his fingers over his mother's clear crystal ball, which for some reason looked a bit cloudy to him. "Must be a trick of the low light," he mumbled to himself. Just as he was about to move away from the crystal ball, a rumble of thunder shook the building, quickly followed by a brilliant bolt of lightning that lit up the entire shop.

Carson tried to pull his hand away from the crystal ball, but he felt like he was glued to it. Worse, he could swear he felt the electricity from the lightning coursing through his body. His eyes focused on the crystal ball which had now gone completely cloudy. "What the ever-loving fuck?" Carson whispered. 

When he slammed his eyes shut, he could see an image of a dark-haired man dressed in a crisp white dress shirt and a tie that seemed to be patterned with Christmas trees. 

Carson gasped when he was able to focus on his handsome face. The man had deep green eyes which were filled with terror. His hands were held up at either side of his head and he seemed to be mouthing the words, "Please don't shoot me."

Behind the man's head was a sign proclaiming, "Merry Christmas from Gemtronics!"

Carson startled when the man's body jolted and a crimson stain started to spread over the heart of his white shirt.

"No! Jesus, no!" Carson screamed, as the man melted to the floor. Other people rushed to the man's side. One ripped his shirt open and started performing CPR. He could see another person dialing 911 on his cell phone. 

Carson stayed focused on the man's too-green eyes. Where they had been animated and full of fear just moments ago, he could see the life draining out of them now. Seconds later, the stranger was dead. 

"No..." Carson's hand slipped from the crystal ball. He slid to the floor, landing in a boneless heap, before curling into the fetal position. Never before had he seen or felt anything remotely like that. 

The stranger's fear and pain had been his own. When his heart had stopped beating, Carson would swear his own heart had stopped for a beat or two as well. 

Slowly, the realization dawned on him that what he'd just experienced was his first psychic vision.

From where he lay on the floor of his mother's reading room, he could hear a faint sound. It took a moment for him to recognize the sound. It was the Tibetan chimes jingling. 

 

 

2
Truman

Truman Wesley stared out his office window at the tiny flurries of snow that had started to float past. He usually loved early December snow, but there was nothing about today that could cheer him up. There were twenty-four days until Christmas and he was going to have to fire one of Gemtronics’ employees in about twenty minutes.

Michael Davenport had worked for the company for almost fifteen years. On the record, he was being let go because of budget cutbacks. Someone on the assembly line needed to go because the company wasn’t making as much of a profit at the end of the fourth quarter as it had been projected to make. Off the record, Mike had been chosen as the one to go because of his increasingly erratic behavior, absenteeism issues, and suspected drinking problem.

Truman had heard some gossip a few months back about Mike’s wife kicking him out of their house and not letting him see his kids, but knew that he couldn’t count on that as fact. Even if he could, it was no reason to fire or not fire an employee.

As far as he was concerned, this was business. It wasn’t a personal decision. Mark Rutherford, head of HR, told him this morning what needed to be done and like a good little soldier, Truman was doing it. Hell, he didn’t even know Mike Davenport and probably couldn’t pick him out of a photo lineup.

It was almost as if Gemtronics were two different companies: the factory where the electronic motherboards were made and the business offices which housed C-level executives, sales, marketing, customer service and HR.

It was rare to see the CEO on the factory floor and was even rarer to see a manager from the factory up in one of the business offices. The two sides of the company even had separate cafeterias.

“You about ready to do this, Tru blue?” Cassie Wilkes popped her head in his office.

“Yeah.” Truman shook his head no. Cassie was another member of the human resources team and Truman’s best friend. Letting a person go was the worst part of his job, but at least today he wouldn’t be doing it alone.

“That looked super convincing.” She slipped inside the office and shut the door quietly behind her.

“It’s right before Christmas and we’re the ones giving this poor shit the axe. It should be Kevin Paulson in this damn meeting doing his own fucking dirty work.” Kevin was the factory manager who had offered Mike up like a lamb to slaughter.

“Tell me how you really feel, Truman.” She rested her elbows on the front of his desk.

“I’m serious, Cass. You mean to tell me that this couldn’t have waited until after Christmas?” This situation had kept him up most of last night. He wouldn’t be surprised if there was a bare patch in the hardwood floor running from his kitchen through his living room.

“I hear you. I really do, but this task has fallen into our laps. Come on, the sooner we get this over and done with, the sooner we can get to feeling better.” Cassie stood up and moved toward the door.

Truman took a deep breath and grabbed the folder with Mike’s name on it and his final paycheck inside. He had a feeling he wasn’t going to be feeling better for a long time.

The conference room was empty when he and Cassie stepped inside. Truman hated this particular room. It had no windows, for starters and it was the room where he’d been forced to let other employees go in the past.

To be fair, it had also been the scene of happier times. New employees had signed offer letters in this very room, while others had been told about raises and promotions, but it was the darker moments that stuck with Truman.

“I din’t know we wuh gettin’ Christmas bonuses this yeah,” Mike said when he walked into the conference room a few minutes later.

Truman’s gut twisted over his words. The office executives, himself and Cassie included, were getting Christmas bonuses, even though sales were down for the fourth quarter. The factory workers, who Truman knew could use the money far more than the C-level executives, were not.

“Have a seat, Mike.” Truman stood up and offered Mike the seat next to his own. There was separation paperwork Mike needed to sign and it would be easier to do so if he were sitting next to him, rather than Cassie. “Have you met my co-worker Cassie Wilkes?”

Mike shook his head. “Nice to meet ya.” He took his seat.

Truman sat back down and cleared his throat. “Unfortunately we’re not here to talk about a Christmas bonus.”

“Weah not?” Mike’s eyebrows knit together.

“No.” Truman took a moment to study the other man. He looked to be in his early thirties, the same age as Truman, but that’s where the similarities ended. Mike looked liked he’d lived a hard life. His eyes had no spark of joy in them and his face looked used. Not well lived in, but like this was a man who spent his free time drinking and smoking, rather than working out in the gym and eating salads.

“Then why am I heah?” his dark eyes narrowed. Truman was their sole focus.

Knowing he needed to man up and just get this done, Truman sat up a little higher in his seat. “Profits have been down in the fourth quarter and because of that, we have to let someone go.” He paused to let the news sink in.

“Oh, and you called me up heah to tell me who that is so I can fiah them?” A tiny glint of hope appeared in Mike’s eyes.

“No, Mike,” Cassie jumped in. “Unfortunately, you are the employee being let go today.”

“I’m losin’ my job?” he shouted, pushing out of his chair to stand. He towered over Truman.

“Mike, please have a seat.” Truman stood up as well. Even standing, Mike was still several inches taller than his own 6’3”. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest.

“You have to understand this wasn’t our decision to make. Management made the decision and since we’re members of the human resources team, we’re carrying out that decision,” Cassie said gently.

“I don’t care if yoah the fuckin’ President of the United States, sweetheaht. This fuckin’ sucks!” He slammed both of his fists on the table making it jump.

“We know it does, Mike, but please have a seat.” Truman opened the folder in front of him. “We have your final check and some paperwork for you to sign and some information about filing for unemployment.”

“How much severance pay am I gettin’?” Mike’s eyes burned with rage, and he was still on his feet.

“Management didn’t say anything to us about any severance package.” Truman felt a bead of cold sweat trickle down his spine.

“You mutherfuckin’ assholes are firin’ me a month before Christmas with no fuckin’ severance pay? How am I gonna pay my rent or get my kids presents? I’ve been a good employee for fifteen yeahs. I’m here every day, nevah called in sick. Nevah came to work drunk and this is the thanks I get? Fuck you!” Mike grabbed the check and advanced on Truman, throwing him against the closed conference room door. “Listen to me, you little puke. You haven’t heard the last of me.” Shoving Truman hard to the floor, Mike opened the door and stalked out.

“Call security!” Cassie shouted into the hallway before running back to Truman. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, sure.” Truman was most definitely not okay. He wasn’t okay by a long shot. He just wanted to go home and curl up in front of the television with a drink and his dog, Sadie, but he had a feeling not even those things were going to take the fear of this day out of his head any time soon.

 

3
Carson

Carson Craig, the West Side Medium, was going to die. He wasn’t usually the kind of man given to drama, but he really felt like his head was going to crack open like a coconut, but instead of spilling out coconut water, it was going to be his brains dribbling out all over his pillow.

After what happened last night in his mother’s reading room, dream, hallucination, fainting spell, he had no earthly idea how he’d managed to drag himself home. Thankfully, the home he’d shared with his mother and now with Cole was only upstairs from the store. Forty-four steps to be exact.

Cracking an eyeball open was pure torture. Pain radiated through his skull and he felt like he was going to throw up. This felt like the worst hangover he’d ever had in his entire life.

Being a bit of a seasoned drinker, Carson threw a leg out of bed and set his bare foot on the cold floor to anchor himself. It didn’t help. What it did do was send a shiver through his entire body. Damn, he hated the winter. He pulled his frozen foot back under the covers.

Managing to roll over, Carson saw it was nearly 9am. Shit!  The store opened in ten minutes and there was no way he was going to make it in time. “Cole!” he tried to yell, but it sounded more like a croak.

Carson tried to get out of bed, but his legs tangled in the blankets and he fell face-first onto the floor.

“Carson? Are you all ri-” Cole pushed the bedroom door open and burst out laughing.

“Very funny,” Carson managed with his face mashed against the cold floor. His head was throbbing with his heartbeat. He managed to pull his legs onto the floor and get his arms under him.

“God, look what the cat dragged in. You look like shit, brother.” Cole offered him a hand. “Must have been one hell of an early morning. I never even heard you come in.”

Carson reluctantly took his hand and allowed himself to be pulled back to his feet. While Carson had gotten Corny’s flashy attitude and quick wit, Cole had gotten his height. His brother stood well over six feet, while Carson was only 5’10 standing on tiptoes. “It wasn’t an early morning. I was in bed by 8pm.”

“Ohh?” Cole slapped his back. “I’m glad you finally got back on the horse. Brett was a colossal dick.”

Shaking his head, Carson grabbed a clean looking t-shirt from the pile on the floor. Pain slashed through his head again. “I was not getting back on the horse.” That didn’t mean Cole was wrong though. Brett, his last ex, was a colossal dick. In more ways than one. “I’m sick.”

Cole took a step closer. He took Carson’s face in his hands and seemed to be checking him over. “You don’t feel hot. What’s wrong?”

“Coffee, and then I’ll tell you.” To be honest, Carson still wasn’t sure what the hell happened.

When he made it into the kitchen after a trip to the bathroom, Cole had a travel mug filled with coffee waiting for him.

“Spill it.” Cole raised an eyebrow at him.

“Mrs. Salazar was my last appointment of the night and I was closing up shop after she left.”

“She still think her husband is cheating on her?” Cole crossed his arms over his broad chest.

Carson nodded. “I was in Mom’s reading room when I heard a clap of thunder.”

Cole looked at him like he’d lost his mind. “There was no thunder last night.”

Carson shrugged. “I blew out the candles, set off Mom’s Tibetan chimes and then ran my fingers over the crystal ball.” Carson shivered. He could almost feel the residual electricity running through his body again.

“So, what happened next?”

“There was more thunder and a bolt of lightning that lit up the entire shop. I couldn’t pull my hand off the crystal ball and I saw…” Shit, Cole was going to think he’d lost his mind.

“Saw what? Justin Timberlake? A witch on a broomstick? What?” Cole took half a step forward toward his brother.

Carson shook his head. “I saw a handsome man at a Christmas party and then he got shot and died right in front of me.” He looked up at his brother who was staring open-mouthed at him. “Jesus, say something.”

Cole’s eyes narrowed. “You’re serious.”

Carson ran a hand through his sandy blond hair. “Yeah, I’m serious. He had dark hair and bright green eyes. There was a banner in the lobby of the building that identified the company as Gemtronics. The people that came to his aid after he was shot were dressed up, like they were at a holiday party and then the light just faded from his eyes.”

“You had a vision, Carson. Like the ones Mom had,” Cole half-whispered. “That explains why you look like shit this morning and have a pounding headache. Don’t you remember? The same thing used to happen to her.”

“I don’t know.” But Carson did know. He could feel it in his bones. He did remember that his mother wouldn’t feel well the mornings after she’d had a vision. Bertha would usually play those mornings off as having had a bit too much wine the night before, but Carson knew the truth now.

The way he felt this morning was a physical manifestation of the vision. It was the price to pay for seeing what the crystal ball had shown him. “When it was over, I dropped to the floor and I could hear the bells ringing.”

“What do you mean? You rang the bells before you hit the deck?” Cole looked confused.

“No,” Carson shook his head. “When I’m in the shop, I always ask Mom to ring the chimes if her spirit is there with me. I was lying on the floor, there was no way I could have rung them.”

“I don’t know what to say.” Cole sounded truly stunned.

“It’s nine. I have to go open the shop.” Carson grabbed the coffee his brother had made for him and headed toward the door.

“Carson, wait!” Cole called after him.

“Yeah?” Carson was exhausted and he’d just gotten out of bed. He had no idea how he was going to get through an entire shift in the store.

“What are you gonna do about this vision?”

He hadn’t really thought about that. “I don’t know.”

Cole nodded. “A man died. You can’t just let that go. Mom showed you this vision for a reason, right?”

That’s what Carson was afraid of. “What can I do?”

“You said the name of the company was Gemtronics. Start there.”

“I guess I could Google it. What if it’s in Nebraska or California?” He found himself half hoping it was, but something deep inside told him it wasn’t.

“I doubt Mom’s gonna send you on a wild goose chase to California to save this handsome guy’s life.” Cole grinned at him.

Save this guy’s life? Carson Craig wasn’t exactly the hero type. Was he?

 

4
Truman

 

Truman had barely slept a wink all weekend. Cassie had texted him a few times on Saturday just to see how he was doing, but after telling her he was fine for the fifth time, what else was there to say?

Physically, he really was fine. His ass had been sore from hitting the conference room floor, but it wasn't like that was going to kill him. Not like Mike Davenport might if he ever came back for the revenge he promised.  

After Mike had stormed out of the building, Truman's boss had come running in, too late to do anything but stare at the mess in the conference room. He did manage to call 911. 

Truman and Cassie gave separate eye-witness accounts to officers from the Lawrence, Massachusetts Police Department. They'd both been able to go home for the afternoon after they'd written up their own internal incident reports.

Originally, before Truman had gotten the news that he had to fire an employee, he'd planned to go see a movie on Friday night and was going to spend the rest of the weekend decorating his small house for Christmas and making out a list of presents he planned to buy for his friends and family. 

After the incident in the conference room, he'd scrapped all of those plans and had gone straight home. He'd spent Friday night with a pepperoni and bacon pizza and the internet looking up places to take a self-defense class and locations in Salem where he could buy and learn how to use a hand gun.

Truman was a card-carrying, tree-hugging, liberal if there ever was one, but after seeing the level of rage in Mike's eyes he didn't think it was possible to be too careful. Maybe he wasn’t totally serious about buying a gun, but looking at pictures of them online made him feel more in control of the situation.

Hearing a whimper from his feet, Truman set down his laptop on the couch and looked at Sadie, his dog, who was looking up at him and shaking. "Shit, baby girl! When was the last time Daddy walked you?" Truman hopped up from the couch and slipped into his snow boots. 

There wasn't a big accumulation of snow on the ground from Friday’s snowfall, but there was a bit of ice. The last thing Truman needed was to go ass over elbow and end up with a broken leg. He would be easy pickings in a cast. 

Living in fear wasn't something he was used to. Being a gay man brought its own set of unique challenges. He'd been bullied as a child, but once he'd started filling out his lanky frame with muscle, he’d been better able to defend himself.

He'd stopped growing at 6'3" and had been the star quarterback of his high school football team, not that he still re-lived those glory days twelve years and a Bachelor's degree later. 

Being a star athlete didn't take away the stigma of being gay in small-town Massachusetts, but, it did make life easier for him to navigate until he got to go away to college. 

Slipping into his winter parka, he grabbed Sadie's leash and hooked her up. The tiny Yorkshire Terrier walked the cobbled sidewalk like she owned it. All of the neighbors knew and loved Sadie and some even carried treats for her in their pockets.

Truman loved his Salem, Massachusetts neighborhood, but today, he found himself looking over his shoulder for danger. For Mike. 

"Come on, sugar plum. Do your business so we can go home." No one was out on the street this afternoon which made Truman feel even more edgy. He imagined his neighbors were all out Christmas shopping like he should have been doing.

Sadie turned her nose up at him and continued to sniff every tree they came to. Fifteen minutes and twenty trees later, Sadie finally did what she came out to do. Truman bagged it and turned to head back to his small house. 

He still hadn't told his parents what had happened at work on Friday. Sundays were for family dinner in the Wesley house. His two sisters, Amelia and Emily, would be there with their husbands and kids.

Truman loved spending time with his niece and two nephews, but he just didn't have the heart for it today. He'd called his mother earlier this morning to beg off, giving her the excuse that he thought he might be coming down with a cold. 

With the kids coming over for dinner, he knew she'd tell him to keep himself and his germs at home. It never felt good lying to his mother, but he felt like he'd run out of options. There was no way he wanted to explain what happened to him in front of everyone. 

He escorted Sadie up the stairs and was quick to snap the deadbolt on his front door. For the most part, Salem was a safe city. Most of the crime centered around illicit drugs and the ever-growing opioid epidemic. 

Truman wondered what it was going to take for him to feel safe again in his own home.  Worse, he was going to have to go back to work again in the morning. He'd love to call in sick tomorrow, but with it being December, he'd used up all of his vacation time. 

Kicking out of his snow boots, he took off his coat and unsnapped Sadie's leash. He grabbed the Chinese food menu from the cork board near the counter. "Come on, Princess." He patted the empty spot next to him on the couch and tried to focus on what he wanted to order for dinner. 

Tomorrow would come soon enough. There was no sense in worrying about it now.

 

5
Carson

 

The flashy world of private investigators looked exciting on television but in real life, it sucked in spades. How the hell did people sit in a car for five hours without going to the bathroom?

Christ, if this went on much longer, Carson's bladder was going to explode. 

He was sitting in the parking lot of Gemtronics, in Lawrence, Massachusetts. Thankfully, the company was located in a business park on the Andover border, and wasn't in the heart of the city where the police would be patrolling and looking for loiterers.  

There was an athletic shoe plant here as well as a nice little restaurant that seemed to cater to the two large office buildings. 

He'd parked his car in a visitor spot as close to the front door as was possible, so that he could see the people who came and went. So far, he hadn't seen the handsome green-eyed man who'd appeared in his vision. 

After his talk with Cole, he'd given up the illusion that what he'd seen was a dream or a hallucination. It was a psychic vision. His first real vision. Whether it was sent to him by his mother or was a manifestation of his own power, he didn't want to examine right now. 

The other thing he wasn't too keen on examining was the fact that the stranger in the vision might not even work here. He could have been the plus-one of an employee. If the man didn’t work for this company he’d be back at square one. For now, he was willing to run on blind faith that his mother would lead him to the mystery man.

After he'd Googled Gemtronics and found out that it was located here in Massachusetts, he'd done an image search for the company. It had brought up pictures of this very office building and pictures of the factory floor and the motherboards the company made for onboard GPS units that were installed in upscale luxury vehicles. 

Carson had also seen pictures of high level executives of the company, but his green-eyed man wasn't in those pictures either. He’d concluded the man he was looking for was just a regular guy working a nine-to-five shift.

He was about to give up and hoof over to the café to take a leak when he saw a dark haired man run out the front door of the building. He was wearing a black North Face parka with the collar pulled up against the wind. 

Carson wasn't one hundred percent certain, but he thought that was the man he’d seen in the vision. He watched as the man hurried across to the Workday Café and slipped inside.

“Thank Christ,” Carson muttered, hopping out of his Honda. He knew there would be a bathroom inside. He could only hope that at 1:30pm, there would also be a line long enough for him to be able to go to the bathroom and not miss his mystery man slipping back out.

When Carson walked inside the Café, he was greeted by a blast of warm air. He’d been sitting outside in the cold for hours only running the heat sporadically so he wouldn’t run out of gas. Yet another part of stakeout life not portrayed by cop dramas on television. He was freezing his keister off and the warm air felt heavenly on his face.

His eyes scanned the lunchtime crowd and he was able to pick out the man he thought was the guy from his vision. He was up at the counter ordering from the macaroni and cheese counter. From where he was standing, it looked like the pasta was made to order with several toppings and types of cheeses. Carson’s stomach growled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten since the box of chocolate munchkins he’d grabbed at Dunkin’ Donuts on his way out of Salem at 7am this morning.

By the look of it, the man was getting his food to eat in. Carson watched him work his way through the line. He loved the way his mystery man had a smile for everyone. He laughed with the cashier as he handed over some cash and then maneuvered his way through the crowd to an empty seat at a table filled with other people.

Feeling safe enough that the man would still be here after he came back from the men’s room, Carson ran to do his business. Thankfully, the man was still sitting in his seat when he came back out moments later. His heart was still pounding in his throat though.

Knowing he needed to eat, he made his way up to the macaroni and cheese counter, just like the other man had done. He was torn between the chili mac and the buffalo mac. His mother loved all things chili so he decided to go with that.

Once Carson paid, he looked around for an empty table close by so he could watch the man from his vision eat, but as luck would have it, the only open seat in the place was the one directly across from him. Carson could feel his heart start to hammer again.

Setting his tray down, Carson took off his coat and hung it on the back of his chair. “Wow, this place is packed, huh?”

The stranger startled and looked up at Carson. “You’re talking to me?”

“Carson Craig.” He held out his hand. He’d just met the man, but Carson would say he looked scared. Of what? Of the person who shot him in the vision? Carson almost growled out loud. He felt an urge to protect this man with his entire being.

“Truman Wesley.” The startled look on his face relaxed a bit as he gripped Carson’s hand.

A wave of attraction, the likes of which he’d never felt before barreled through Carson’s body. It was electric, nearly binding him to Truman like the electricity had glued him to the crystal ball on Friday night. Holy shit…

Truman yanked his hand back like he’d been burned. He stared at his palm as if he were looking for signs of an injury. Shaking his head, he picked up his fork and dug back into his lunch. 

Carson did the same, not wanting the man from the vision –Truman – to notice there was anything wrong. “Cold today, huh?” God, that was totally lame.

Truman shrugged. “I’m one of those crazy people that like New England winters.” His green eyes glittered as he spoke.

Carson couldn’t help being mesmerized by his new friend. Truman’s eyes really were the gateway to his soul. They were warm and genuine and Carson could get lost in them forever. “I’m more a fan of summer myself.” He took a bite of his lunch and moaned out loud.

“Good, huh?” Truman grinned at him.

“Beyond good. My mother was a good cook, but this would have her bribing the chef for the recipe.”

Truman laughed. The sound was full and deep. Little lines appeared around his mouth.

Carson could tell this was a man who was used to laughing all the time. The fear he’d seen in Truman’s eyes when they’d met was a new thing.

“They have the mac and cheese bar everyday during the fall and winter months.”

“Mac and cheese every day? Count me in!” Carson rubbed his hands together in excitement. There was no greater meal than macaroni and cheese. He’d only known Truman for ten minutes and they already had that in common.

“All of the food here is good.  I usually get a salad, but I needed some comfort today.” Truman snapped his mouth closed with an audible click. He looked shocked as if he hadn’t meant to confess that to a total stranger.

“We all need a little comfort in our lives from time to time, Truman.” Carson loved the way the other man’s name rolled off his tongue.

Truman smiled at him, his green eyes were shining brightly again.

Suddenly, he shivered, remembering what it had been like for him to watch the life slowly drain out of those gorgeous green eyes.

“Well, I’ve gotta get back to the office.” Truman stood up and grabbed his tray. “It was nice having lunch with you, Carson.”

“You too.” It was all Carson could manage. He was still reeling from seeing the vibrant, gorgeous man in front of him lying dead in a pool of his own blood.

 

 

 

6
Truman

 

For the life of him, Truman still couldn’t understand what had possessed him to go out for lunch. He was still edgy over the whole situation with Mike Davenport.

The last thing he wanted to do was go outside and make himself a target in case the former employee was hanging out in the parking lot. Gemtronics didn’t have any kind of security guard shack checking IDs and admitting people to the parking lot.

All they had was one security guard in charge of issuing photo id badges. John was nearly seventy if he was a day. The only bad thing he could catch, in Truman’s opinion, was a cold. God, he was bitchy today.

“Hello, hello!” Cassie poked her head into Truman’s office. “Brought you some goodies.”

Goodies usually meant some of her homemade cookies and dog biscuits for Sadie. Cassie had missed her calling.

In another life, she would have been a baker who opened her own cupcake and sweets shop. In this life, she lived with her mother after a disastrous divorce left her penniless. She’d worked at Gemtronics for the last eight months while she tried to rebuild her life.

“I brought you cookies and a new type of biscuit for Sadie. This one is made with chicken stock.” She set two bags down on his desk and took a seat.

“The cookies?” Truman teased.

“Noo! The biscuits!” Cassie rolled her eyes. 

Truman opened the bag and pulled out a chocolate cookie studded with macadamia nuts. “Seriously?” These cookies were his favorite. He knew Cass had made them because of what happened on Friday. He shivered in his warm office, remembering what it felt like to go flying through the air and end up on the conference room floor.

“How are you really doing? I got your ‘I’m fine’ messages all weekend, but I know you’re not really fine.”

Truman knew Cassie well enough to know she wasn’t going to let this go. “I’m still a little freaked out. I’m half-afraid Mike is going to be waiting for me in the parking lot. Hell, I was waiting for him to jump me when I went to grab lunch at the Workday Cafe. I nearly jumped out of my skin when some cute guy sat across from me.”

“What cute guy?” Cassie was all smiles. She leaned in closer with a conspiratorial smile on her face.

Truman rolled his eyes. “The cute guy isn’t the point.”

“Hell if he isn’t. Tru, you haven’t been on a date in months. What’s his name? What does he look like? Did you get his number?” She sighed dreamily and rested the side of her head in the cup of her hand.

He knew she’d be like a dog with a bone unless he answered her questions. “His name is Carson. He’s so totally my type, about 5’9” with short blond hair and these blue eyes you could drown in.” God, much more of this and he’d be the one sighing and then doodling Truman + Carson on his desk blotter.

“What about his number? Did you get his number?” Cassie was leaning so far forward over his desk that she was nearly in his lap.

Truman shook his head. “No, I just got up and came back to work.”

“Wait! What? You met the man of your dreams over lunch and you walked away from him without his number?” Cassie sat back in her chair, her arms folded over her chest.

“He isn’t the man of my dreams. Carson was just some hot guy.” So what if he’d spent most of the afternoon picturing them getting it on like Donkey Kong.

“Well, if I were you, I know where I’d be tomorrow at the same time I was there today…” Cassie grabbed a cookie and winked at him.

Cass wasn’t his best friend for nothing. What would it hurt to go back to the Workday Café tomorrow?

 

 

7
Carson

Carson had come better prepared for day two of the stakeout. He’d drunk less coffee and had run in to use the men’s room at the café he and Truman had lunch in yesterday after his quarry had gone into the office this morning.

It had taken him a while yesterday to get the vision of a dead Truman out of his head. As gruesome as it was though, it was a good reminder to Carson about why he was sitting here in his Honda on a frigid, by his standards, December day. In actuality, it was only about forty-five degrees outside.

His number one objective was to save Truman’s life. The only problem was, he wasn’t quite sure how to do it yet. The easiest way, he supposed, was to get close enough to Truman to get invited to that Christmas party so he’d be there to stop the shooter from killing him. Or something like that.

If they managed to get super close, maybe he could keep Truman from going to the party at all. But what if saving him from the bullet put him in another kind of danger, like in that movie Final Destination? What if Truman’s time had come and he was meant to die?

Carson shook his head. If Truman had been meant to die at the Christmas party, his mother wouldn’t have sent him the vision in the first place.  Focus…

Step one in this still unknown plan was to see Truman at lunch today and get his phone number, if Truman went to the café for lunch again today, that was. 

He’d told Cole all about his lunch “date” with Truman and it had been his brother who had first berated him over not getting Truman’s phone number and then encouraged him to come back today to get it over another lunch.

Thankfully, Cole had evening classes so he’d been free to mind the store both days, but that wasn’t going to be the case for the rest of the week, so it was now or wait until next week to try again.

Although now that Carson knew Truman’s name, he could call the switchboard at the company and ask to speak to him personally. How many Trumans could there be who worked there?

Carson shook his head. That would be a last resort if Truman didn’t go to lunch today. How creepy would that be to call his office? He did have Corny’s charm to pull off a call like that, but still, he’d rather go with the coincidence of running into him two days in a row in a public café.

Just as he was about to start the car to warm up again, Truman came out of the building and headed for the café.

Carson clutched his fist in victory. From his vantage point he was able to study Truman. He was wearing light grey dress pants today that showed off his long legs and tight ass. He’d guess Truman was the athletic type and had probably played basketball or baseball in high school.

Of course neither his athletic prowess nor his tight ass mattered right now, as much as Carson’s underactive dick disagreed. He waited a few more minutes and then hurried through the frigid air into the café.

Truman was easy to spot. He was standing on the far side of the salad bar adding what looked like buffalo chicken tenders to his salad.

Carson was not a salad fan, especially not in December. His mouth was watering over the homemade meatloaf and smashed garlic potatoes which was today’s special, but he grabbed a plastic salad container and walked up behind Truman.

If the handsome man only knew the sacrifice Carson was making for him. “Hey there, stranger.”

“Hi, Carson!” Truman’s smile was brighter than the sun.

Maybe it was Carson’s overactive imagination, but Truman seemed genuinely excited to see him. “That buffalo chicken looks good.” God! Why being around Truman make him say the lamest things?

“They use the Triple X hot sauce here. It burns going down and coming out! You’ve been warned.” Truman grinned and added more chicken to his salad.

Carson burst out laughing. He guessed he wasn’t the only one who said weird things. He heaped lettuce, cukes and red peppers into his container before adding a ton of the atomic chicken. If he was going to go down in flames, might as well go down hard.

“Didn’t know if I was going to see you again,” Truman said when they were settled at a table, this time by themselves.

“Does that mean you wanted to see me again?” Carson was having a hard time believing this beautiful man actually wanted to see him again. Had he really made a big enough impression on the man after only sitting with him for fifteen minutes yesterday?

“Yeah.” Truman grinned. “Yeah, I did. And just so I don’t forget.” He stood halfway up and worked his phone out of his front pocket. “Here, enter your number.” Truman handed him the phone.

“Okay.” Carson couldn’t believe it was this easy.  He typed in his name and phone number. The only email address he had was associated with the store and he thought it best to keep all of that a secret for the time being.

“So, do you work for the shoe company next door? I’d know if you worked for Gemtronics.” Truman slipped his phone back into his pocket.

“Yeah,” Carson lied. He promised he would make it up to Truman later after he’d saved his life. “How would you know if I worked for Gemtronics?”

“I’m in HR. I do the first interviews with everyone who walks through the door and unfortunately the exit interview for every employee who leaves the company.”

“Man, those have to be rough.” Carson forked up a bite of his atomic chicken.

“You have no idea. Had to let an employee go on Friday and it got a little physical.”

Carson instantly regretted taking that bite of the chicken. It was the best and worst thing he’d ever put in his mouth. It tasted amazing, but was so volcanically hot that it caused him to cough just as he’d been about to ask Truman about the employee he’d had to fire.

As soon as he started to cough, Truman was out of his seat grabbing Carson a bottle of water and whacking his back. He thought he even heard the handsome bastard mumble that the chicken wasn’t for amateurs.

As soon as he could breathe again without feeling like his lungs were on fire he’d discuss the merits of Truman’s last statement with him. As for probing further about the fired employee, that would have to wait.

 

8
Truman

Hours later, Truman still couldn’t believe he’d just asked for Carson’s phone number like that. It wasn’t like him to be that bold. The question was, now that he had it, was he brave enough to use it?

Truman was sitting on his living room sofa watching an old episode of Law and Order: SVU. He had a huge crush on Chris Meloni and nothing turned him on faster than Detective Stabler getting rough with suspect. Sadie was curled up with him, her head resting on his feet.

“Do you think Daddy should text Carson?” He scratched Sadie’s belly.

The dog whimpered in response.

That was good enough for Truman. He grabbed his phone and pulled up a blank message. Now, what to write? Should he write something cute? Ask about Carson’s day? Send a joke?

“Grrr!” Truman shook his head. “This is why Daddy is thirty and single.” He turned back to the phone, [Hey, Carson! This is Truman.] Lame, but better than sending the man his best knock-knock joke about an orange.

He set the phone back down and gave his full attention back to Detective Stabler who was giving the business to some scumbag rapist. Truman wasn’t expecting his phone to ding right back.

[Hey, Truman! This is Carson!]

Wise ass… [How was your day?]

[It was pretty good until I almost died at lunch. But a handsome man had to give me mouth-to-mouth, so it wasn’t all bad! ;)]

Truman burst out laughing. Was Carson actually flirting with him? [I did not give you mouth-to-mouth!] But he definitely wanted to.

[Maybe next time…]

[At lunch tomorrow?] Truman crossed his fingers and whispered a silent prayer. A minute stretched out into two with no response from Carson. He started to think he’d blown it by being to forward.

[Sorry, I’m booked with meetings, but I’m free for dinner. :D]

Truman breathed a sigh of relief, Carson wasn’t blowing him off.  In the next second, Truman realized what Carson was saying. [Are you asking me out?]

[Only if you’re saying yes!]

Holy shit!  Truman felt like dancing. He would dance if Sadie weren’t sleeping on his feet. [Yes! I’d love to have dinner with you. How close are you to Salem, MA? I know this great Irish pub with killer apps!]

[McCarthy’s on Long Wharf?]

Was it possible Carson lived here too? [How’d you know?]

[I live over on Conant Street. How’s 8pm tomorrow night? Gives me some time to get home from work and pretty myself up for you. ;)]

Christ, If Carson got any more pretty Truman might not survive the night. [It’s a date.]

[I’m counting the minutes.]

“Me too,” Truman said to the empty room. He stared at the dark phone display unable to believe his incredible luck. Three days ago, he didn’t know this man from Adam and now they were going out on a date. He couldn’t believe how his life had just turned on a dime.

It was about time fate shined a bright light on him. He’d been single way too long. 

Truman had never been what you’d call a serial dater. He’d had his share of bad one-night stands, but he preferred to be monogamous. His last boyfriend, Mitchell, don’t call me Mitch, Barnswell, had been a curator at the Peabody-Essex Museum in Salem.

An art snob to the nth degree, Mitchell was a perfectionist in every aspect of his life. They’d often miss dinner reservations because Mitchell couldn’t get his hair just right or had changed his outfit ten times before being able to decide on the right look.

This perfectionism also extended to Truman. They couldn’t leave the house for a date if Truman wasn’t dressed just so or had a ball of lint on his sweater. The relationship had ended badly. Truman had been able to see it coming a mile away. He’d kept hoping that he would be able to adapt to Mitchell’s swinging moods, but they turned more than the tides.

There had been months of weepy voicemails from his ex promising to change and not be so anal.

Which was another can of worms… Mitchell was the most sexually frigid man he’d ever been with. He was all for taking, but not so much for giving. He could go for weeks without being in the mood, which had made Truman question if he’d been man enough for him.

Once the weepy phone calls and pleading text messages had stopped, Truman had been able to get on with his life. All of that ended with Mitchell fourteen months ago. He was ready for a new relationship with a new man.

Was it too much to ask that Carson Craig was his Christmas miracle?

 

9
Carson

Carson was sitting in his mother’s reading room staring at her crystal ball. He couldn’t take his eyes off it. The softball-sized clear ball sat in its cradle looking like it always did: unclouded and free of fingerprints. What would happen if he touched it again? Would there be more lightning and thunder? Would he have another vision? Would he see more of what happened to Truman? Would he watch again as those gorgeous eyes slowly went dark?

“It’s not going to bite you,” Cole said from behind him.

Carson wasn’t quite so sure it wouldn’t. “What if I touch it and I have another vision?”

Cole walked into the room and took the seat across from Carson. It was the chair Carson’s clients usually sat in when they came in for a reading. “Is that what you’re afraid of or is that what you’re hoping for?”

“I don’t know.” It was the truth. He needed as much information as he could get to save Truman, but was terrified of seeing his lifeless eyes again. “I need to save him, Cole, but you didn’t see him lying on the floor…” Carson took a shuddering breath.

“You’re going out with him tonight, right?” Cole smiled at his brother.

Carson nodded, trying to shake off the vision in his mind of a dead Truman.

“It’s a good first step. Use that Craig charm to wow him and get to know him so you can keep him safe.”

“What if I can’t? What if I save him this time and then he dies some other horrible way?”

“Shit! You mean like Final Destination?” Cole’s eyes popped open like he hadn’t considered that either.

“Yeah. I don’t know if I’m cut out to swoop in like Superman and save Truman from catastrophe after catastrophe.” Carson didn’t think his heart could handle living in a constant state of anxiety. How could he live with the man he loved being in constant danger?

It was too soon to be in love with Truman now, but Carson was self-aware enough to realize it wasn’t going to take much for him to fall head over heels in love with the mysterious man. 

“I’m right here for you if you decide to touch the crystal ball again,” Cole offered softly.

“As Corny used to say, ‘nothing ventured nothing gained.’” Carson took a deep breath. He realized after meeting Truman and looking into those eyes for himself that he was all in. He had to try this again.

Cole snorted. “I’m pretty sure other people said it before our sperm donor.”

“True.” Carson took a deep breath, trying to center himself. “Okay, Mom. I got your first message loud and clear. I know you want me to save Truman. Please show me how. If you can do it without me having to watch him die again, I’d really appreciate that.” He reached out a shaking hand toward the crystal ball.

When the tip of his middle finger made contact with the cool glass, he could heard a faint rumble of thunder and would swear he saw a flash of light.

The next thing Carson felt was a flash of pain in his chest like he’d never felt in his life. His eyes slammed shut and he cried out. He thought Cole gripped his other hand. He could feel part of himself falling to the floor, but oddly enough, knew he was still sitting in his chair.

When he opened his eyes, he could see a dark tile floor and shoes, fancy high heels and dress loafers. He managed to turn his head a bit and could see a puddle of melting snow surrounding dark work boots.

Despite the fire growing in his chest, he couldn’t help thinking how out of place those boots looked among all of the other dressy shoes. He looked up and saw the boots’ owner was wearing dark, maybe black, jeans and a tawny, oil-stained Carhartt jacket. The man was probably six and a half feet tall and was wearing a sweat-crusted Boston Red Sox cap. In his left hand was a gun.

Carson gasped, causing the pain in his chest to ratchet up tenfold. A pretty blond woman was at his side. He couldn’t hear what she was shouting, but could read her lips well enough to see her telling someone to call 911. A moment later he felt her tiny, but powerful hands roll him to his back and start to do chest compressions on his- not his – chest.

Sweet holy fuck, he was witnessing Truman’s death from Truman’s point of view. All he could do was stare up at the man who had shot him, Truman rather, and try to memorize every last detail. Dark, short, but curling hair. Blue or greenish, rage-filled eyes. As Carson watched, another man tackled the shooter, sending them both crashing to the floor.

He turned his –Truman’s- attention back to the tiny woman performing CPR. He could read her lips. “Stay with me, Truman. Stay with me.”

Carson felt his vision start to fade. The young woman trying to save his life was getting harder and harder to focus on before she faded away completely.  His own body hit the floor and his eyes flew open with a jolt. He could hear his mother’s Tibetan chimes jingling away like they were in a hurricane.

“Jesus Christ, Carson!” Cole was grabbing him off the floor and trying to pull him into a sitting position. “Are you okay?”

He had a feeling nothing was ever going to be okay again. Was this how it was for his mother? Was she able to see people’s deaths from their point of view too? “I saw him die, Cole, from the inside,” he whispered.

“What do you mean the inside?” Cole’s voice was laced with concern.

“Like I was him. Like I was the one who’d been shot.” Carson started gasping for breath.

Cole held him tighter. “It’s going to be okay. We’re going to find the son of a bitch who did this. We’re going to find him and we’re going to stop him.”

“Damn right we are,” Carson said, feeling stronger already. “Grab your sketchpad and charcoal pencils. I know what he looks like.”

 

10
Truman

He’d tried on ten different outfits before finally settling on a pair of jeans and a purple plaid shirt to wear on his first date with Carson. It was an Irish pub on a Wednesday night, jeans were acceptable. Plus, Carson had already seen him in dress pants and a button down.

Truman had considered wearing a sweater, but knew it would be warm in the bar and he tended to sweat when he was nervous. There was nothing worse than the wrinkled nose of your date when he got a good whiff of nervous sweat. He’d also doubled up on the deodorant.

“What do you think, Sadie? Is Daddy gonna knock him dead tonight?” Truman turned around for the dog’s benefit.

Sadie cocked her head to the side before running out of the bathroom.

“Thanks, Princess,” Truman muttered to the empty room.

After coming down the stairs, he shoved his arms into his winter jacket and put his wallet into the inside pocket before zipping his jacket up to his neck. “You behave. No boys in the house while I’m gone and no scary movies.” Truman burst out laughing. He knew the dog would be asleep in her favorite spot on the sofa the minute she heard his key turn in the lock.

McCarthy’s was close enough to his house for Truman to walk. He’d considered driving for a minute. Some of the residual fear he’d felt over firing Mike Davenport still lingered. He’d gone so far today as looking up his personnel file. The man lived in Methuen, Massachusetts, which, after looking it up on Google Maps, Truman learned was thirty-one miles away from Salem.

It was a cold night, in the lower thirties, with a chance of flurries later on. With money being tight after losing his job and not being given any severance pay, Truman doubted very much the man was going to drive all the way to Salem to stalk him in a neighborhood he wasn’t even familiar with.

Truman turned his mind back to Carson and their first date. It was amazing to him that they lived in this town and had never met each other before, especially since they were fond of going to McCarthy’s.

Not that Truman was a huge bar guy. He and Cassie hung out downtown from time to time. She loved coming to the Witch City for its over the top Halloween celebration and was a fan of visiting the local psychics. He tagged along on those trips with her, but didn’t believe in that bunk at all.

He needed to be able to see and touch something to believe it was real, like Carson Craig, who was standing outside McCarthy’s waiting for him. He could see the other man had his hands shoved in his pockets and had the collar of his jacket pulled up around his ears to protect them against the wind off the water.  “Hey, Carson!”

“Hi, Truman!” He pulled his hand out to wave.

Throwing caution to the wind, Truman ducked down to give his date a quick hug. His entire body thrilled with attraction over being so close to Carson. He could smell his spicy aftershave and couldn’t resist giving his delicious date a quick peck on the cheek. “Hungry?” Truman could eat him whole.

Carson nodded. His electric blue eyes looked nearly black in the orange glow of the street light.

“Let’s get you inside. You look frozen to the bone.” Truman smiled and held the door open for him.

Speaking of bones, there was one in his pants that was making its presence known, loud and clear. Thankfully, his jacket was long enough to hide the evidence of his attraction to Carson.

If a small hug and a barely there brush of his lips against Carson’s clean-shaved cheek did this to him, it was going to be explosive if they ever ended up naked in the same room together.

“Hi guys!” A chipper hostess cheated. “Here for the bar or a table?”

Truman glanced over at Carson. “Table okay with you?”

Carson nodded, a faint blush rose up over the collar of his shirt.

“Table please.” Truman took Carson’s hand and followed after the hostess as she led them to a quiet corner booth. That tingling shiver of attraction radiated up his arm and before long, his whole body was vibrating with it. He wondered if Carson was feeling it too. If they weren’t in public, he’d grab the other man and kiss him senseless.

“Vickie will be with you in a minute. Have a great night, boys.”

“Let me help you with that.” Truman helped Carson slide his winter jacket off his shoulders and hung it on the peg.

“Thanks.”

Truman watched Carson watching him while he took off his own jacket. He could see the other man’s mouth almost watering as his muscles bunched and rippled. He couldn’t remember another man looking at him like that in a long time.  “How was your day at work? You said you had meetings?”He slid into the booth and had to clutch his hands together. The need to reach out for Carson’s hand again was almost overwhelming.

Carson’s eyes darted away from his own for a split-second. “My meetings were good. I managed to help out a lot of clients today.”

“What do you do for the shoe company?”

“I’m in sales and consulting.” Carson shifted in his seat. “It’s not as flashy as human resources must be.”

“Hi, I’m Vickie! I’ll be taking care of you tonight. Can I start you off with a drink? We’ve got a great new Christmas craft beer from a local brewery in Rockport. Customers have had some great things to say about it.”

“I’ll try one. How about you, Carson?” Truman grinned at his date.

“Make that two and we’ll have some hot wings to start.” Carson waggled his eyebrows at Truman.

“Wise ass!” Truman loved that Carson was sassy enough to order them hot wings like that. It’s what he was in the mood for, but he love that Carson did it just to tease him.

“So, human resources…” Carson trailed off.  “How does one end up in that job?”

Truman thought that was an odd lead off question, but didn’t mind answering it. “I went to Framingham State on a football scholarship. I had no idea what I wanted to be when I grew up, so I played ball and majored in business.”

“Framingham isn’t exactly a known for being a football powerhouse.” Carson laughed.

“I know, right!” Truman laughed along with him as Vickie set down their drinks and wings.

“Flag me down if you guys need anything else.”

Both men nodded, but didn’t take their eyes off of each other.

Carson set an appetizer plate in front of each of them and used his fork to put a wing on Truman’s plate before grabbing one for himself. “So you were a business major,” Carson prompted.

Shit, is that what they were talking about? Truman had gotten lost in the blue depths of Carson’s eyes.  He nodded. “Yeah and then after I graduated there was an ad on Monster for an HR position at Gemtronics. I applied and I got it. The guy whose position I was applying for was about to retire, so he trained me before he hightailed it out of dodge. I’ve been in my position for nearly eight years now.”

“Do you like it?” Carson leaned forward, as if to hear better.

Truman studied his handsome date. No one he’d ever been out with had been this interested in him or his boring job before. “It’s a job, you know? My best friend, Cassie, works there. Having a close friend at work makes the days better no matter what.”

“Is Cassie a short, blonde girl?” Carson asked.

Truman was taken aback by the question that described Cassie to a T. “Yeah, how’d you know?”

“Isn’t every girl named Cassie short and blonde” Carson shrugged. “I’ve gotta hit the head. Are you gonna be okay alone for a few?” Carson slid out of the booth.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” Truman watched Carson head across the bar toward the men’s room. Maybe it was just his imagination, but when he’d asked how Carson had known what Cass looked liked, he’d reacted like he’d just seen a ghost.

Oh well… Truman shook his head. Maybe Carson was right. Maybe every girl named Cassie was short and blond. Who cared anyway? He was out with the hottest man he’d met in years and that hot man seemingly only had eyes for him.

 

11
Carson

Carson was completely sure he’d blown it when he’d asked if Cassie was short and blond. He had to get out of the booth or his heart was going to beat clean out of his chest like it did on cartoons.

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, he could see the sweat beading up on his forehead. Sweet Jesus, that had been close! If it hadn’t been for his quick thinking, this whole thing would have ended up in the toilet.

Mining Truman for information while trying to sweep him off his feet wasn’t as easy as it first sounded in his head. For the rest of the night, Carson needed to focus on Truman’s interests and not ask any more questions about work.

He quickly washed his hands and wiped off all the sweat with a damp paper towel.

Thankfully, Truman was still sitting in their booth when he walked back from the men’s room. “Sorry about that.”

“No worries.” Truman smiled at him. “Tell me about your family.”

Carson breathed a sigh of relief. At least Truman wasn’t going to ask again how he knew what Cassie looked like. If he had, Carson would have told him. “It’s just me and my younger brother, Cole, now. My mom kicked our father out when I was ten and my brother was an infant. He chose not to stick around after that and my mom passed last year from breast cancer.”

Truman reached out to set his hand on top of Carson’s. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“She was an amazing lady. I miss her every day.” It was true. After Corny was out of their lives, it was just him and Bertha running the show and the store. “What about your family?”

“My parents live in Peabody. That’s where I grew up. I have two older sisters, Amelia and Emily. They’re both married and I have a niece and two nephews.”

“That’s great.” Carson would love to be part of a big family like that. “Do they mind that you’re gay?”

Truman set another hot wing on each of their plates. “God, no. My mom swears she knew I was gay when I was in pre-school since I always wanted to play dress up with the Barbie dolls.”

Carson laughed. He loved playing with Barbie dolls too when he was a kid. Thankfully, Bertha never thought twice about buying them for him.

“I didn’t really know until middle school when all I wanted to do was kiss Bryan Marston instead of playing video games with him.” Truman waggled his eyebrows.

He couldn’t help laughing at the thought of a twelve year old Truman wanting to put the moves on his best friend. Sitting here with him tonight seeing how alive this man was galvanized Carson. He’d been determined to do everything in his power before to save Truman’s life, but hadn’t been so sure he’d be up to the task of saving him again and again if death was determined to take him.

Carson knew now that if death wanted Truman Wesley, it was going to have one fucking hell of a fight on its hands.

“Carson?” Truman was shaking his left hand.

“Hmm?” Carson looked up to concern in Truman’s green eyes. Damn…

“Where’d you go? You looked like you were super angry at something. Or someone.” Truman started to pull his hand back.

Carson reached up to link their fingers together. “I was just thinking about how tired I was after a long day at work today and what a bummer it is that we both have to get up early and do it all again tomorrow.”

Truman looked over at the bar. “Damn, it’s nearly 11pm. I had no idea it was that late already.”

Carson rubbed his thumb over Truman’s fingers. “Time flies when you’re having fun and I really had an amazing time with you here tonight. Any chance we could do it again?”

Truman nodded. “I was just going to ask you the same thing. How about dinner and a movie on Saturday night? I’ve got some Christmas shopping to do during the day on Saturday.”

“It’s a date!” Carson was counting the minutes already.

What he needed to do between now and then was try to figure out who the hell the man was that shot Truman and why he’d brought a gun to a Christmas party.  Was he the man that Truman fired earlier in the week? Some random stranger? Or had he been there to kill someone else and Truman got in the way?

“You ready to head out?” Truman was tucking his credit card back into his wallet and sliding out of the booth.

“I am.” He went to grab his coat, but Truman was faster. He held the jacket open so that Carson could slip into it.

“You smell so good.” Truman whispered into his ear.

Carson shivered from his head to his toes. God, he wanted to eat this man alive.

Truman put on his own coat and led them out the door and onto the sidewalk. “I had the best time tonight, Carson. Thanks for meeting me here.”

“You’re welcome. This is the best first date I’ve ever had in my life.” He meant it.

“Maybe it’s our last first date?”

Before Carson could answer with a snappy comeback, Truman’s lips were pressed to his own. They were soft and warm. Sighing, Carson slipped his hands around Truman’s hips and pulled the other man closer.

Truman cupped Carson’s face in his hands and kissed him like he had a dawn appointment with the hangman. Their lips slid together with Truman tugging on Carson’s bottom lip.

Just when Carson thought he was going to run out of oxygen, Truman pulled back.

“Wow,” Truman whispered.

Wow, indeed. Carson had never been kissed like that in his entire life. First kisses were supposed to be messy and uncoordinated with too much spit or too little tongue, but this was perfect. Just like Truman.

“I’ll see you on Saturday.” Truman kissed him again, just a quick peck on the lips this time.

“Yeah, see you then.” If I make it that long, Carson thought. He stood on the sidewalk for a few seconds and watched Truman walk away.  Best. First. Date. Ever.

Last. First. Date. Ever?

 

 

 

12
Truman

“You’ve been awfully quiet about this date you went on the other night,” Cassie said.

Truman had been quiet about it. He had the tendency to go on and on about things and he knew once the floodgates were open about him and Carson, he wasn’t going to shut up.

They were at the Northshore Mall trying to get through all of the things on his Christmas list for his family.  They’d already picked out mountains of Lego kits for his two nephews and were now in the Disney store looking for the perfect Elsa doll for his niece.

“He’s gorgeous. You know that actor in Wonder Woman, Chris Pine? Carson is almost a dead ringer for him.”

“What? You mean that guy with the killer blue eyes? Oh my God, Truman, that boy is beautiful!” Cassie half hugged him. “Aside from him being easy on the eyes, was he as easy to talk to as he was to look at?”

“He was. It was mostly getting to know you first date kind of stuff, but it was so comfortable. I never wanted the night to end.”

“How did it end?” She elbowed him in the side.

“I was going to ask him out again, but he beat me to the punch and he asked me out.” Truman still couldn’t believe they were going out again tonight.

When he’d gotten back home, there was a text message waiting from Carson thanking him for a great date. They’d texted pretty regularly over the last two days, with Carson sending silly pictures of himself and tempting Truman to do the same in return. He’d sent one of himself with a Gaston stuffed doll earlier.

Carson had responded back by saying he’d always been more of a Prince Charming sort of a guy. Truman had been toying with the idea of buying him one for Christmas ever since he’d gotten the message.

Was it too soon to buy a man you’d known for less than a week and been out with once a Christmas present?

“Earth to Truman?” Cassie giggled.

“Sorry. My mind was somewhere else.”

“Yeah, down Carson’s pants.”

Truman burst out laughing. It wasn’t, but he wouldn’t mind if they got a little further than first base tonight at the movies. He walked back over to where the prince dolls were stacked up and started looking through the pile for the perfect one for Carson.

“I’m so happy for you, Tru. It’s been so long since you’ve smiled like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re really happy.”  Cassie grabbed a doll that Truman passed over and handed it to him.  “I see you plaster on that fake smile at work. You know when people start dating someone new or walk around the lunchroom showing off an engagement ring. I know you want that in your life too.”

Truman nodded. She was right. “I do want it, Cass. We both know how hard it is, going to bed alone every night and not having that special someone to buy dorky presents for.” Truman looked at the stuffed doll she’d handed him. It was perfect for Carson. He only hoped his boyfriend-to-be, fingers crossed, would like it to.

“Stop worrying.  He’s gonna love it. Who wouldn’t love a handsome man giving them Prince Charming for Christmas?”

“I think he’s the one, Cass.” Truman wasn’t sure he should say it out loud. He’d felt it the second his lips touched Carson’s. It felt like something inside him had shifted, like he was in the exact right place at the exact right time with the exact right person.

“Are you going to invite him to the Gemtronics Christmas party?”

“You already agreed to be my date. I can’t dump my best girl.” Truman picked up her hand and kissed the back of it. Besides, the party was on December 22nd, an odd night for a Christmas party, only three days before the holiday. Would Carson even want to come?

“Ask him. If he says yes, take us both. I was going to meet you there anyway and since you both live in the same town, it would be easier if you came together anyway.” She elbowed him again.

Truman laughed. “God, we’ve got to get you a boyfriend.”

“Or one for the night at least.” She winked at him. “So, are you going to ask him to the party?”

He definitely was. “I’ll run it by him tonight at dinner and see what he thinks about it. No pressure, you know?” For whatever reason, Truman had a feeling Carson was going to say yes to the party and yes to coming home with him tonight after the movie ended.

 

 

13
Carson

Carson had wanted to plan this date for two reasons. The first reason was to impress the pants, literally and figuratively, off Truman. He was a true romantic at heart and wanted to show his date how thoughtful he could be.

The second reason he wanted to plan the date was so that he could be the one to pick up and drop off Truman so that he wouldn’t see West Side Magick or that he and Cole lived above the store. He wasn’t ashamed of his home. He just wasn’t ready to spill the beans about his real job or the visions just yet.

He’d picked a romantic Italian restaurant down by the waterfront that had all five-star reviews on Yelp. Carson had even gone so far as reading over the menu so he’d be able to make suggestions to Truman.

When it came time for the movie, Carson would let his date choose the film and the treats. Just so long as Truman was the snuggling type. Honestly, it didn’t matter what they did tonight, so long as they were together.

“Wow!” Cole whistled from the bathroom door. “Look at you!”

“What? Is it too much?” Carson turned back to the full-length mirror. He had on black dress pants, a white button down and a sweater. “Is the sweater too much? Does it make me look like a preppy asshole?”

“No! God, no. You just look great. This guy must mean a lot to you if you’re this dressed up for him. I mean beside the obvious of you wanting to save his life.” Cole tilted his head and seemed to be studying Carson. “Are you falling for Truman?”

Cole turned to look at his brother. “Cole, I think…”

“What? Carson, don’t leave me hanging like that. We’ve never kept stuff from each other. Don’t start now.”

“I don’t want you to think I’m crazy.”

“Crazier than having a vision of seeing a man dying and then meeting him so you can save his life?”

“Yeah, crazier than that.” Carson took a deep breath.

“Tell me.”

“What if Mom sent me to find him and save his life because he’s my soulmate?” There, he said it. It was out in the open now.

Cole seemed to be thinking it over. “As opposed to this being your new calling in life? Finding and saving random strangers in peril. I suppose that could be her reason.” He blew out a frustrated-sounding breath. “Sure would be a hell of a lot easier if we could talk to her.”

Carson nodded. “I was thinking the same thing myself. Wait! Maybe we can.”

“Oh no! We’re not doing a Ouija board! Mom always said those things were dangerous.”

Carson shivered. If he had a penny for every time she’d warned him about Ouija boards he’d be a wealthy man. “No, nothing like that, but both times I’ve had my visions, Mom rang the chimes. What if we asked her questions and one ring means no, two rings mean yes?”

“It’s worth a try, but you’ve got bigger fish to fry. Promise me you’ll stop thinking about all of this for the night and just enjoy being with him. If he is your soulmate just be with him…”

“In case I lose him?” Carson couldn’t breathe at the mere thought of losing Truman now that he’d found him.

“Put that aside for the night. We’ll get back to the hunt in the morning. Have fun, get some!” Cole laughed.

“Night!” Carson grabbed his keys and headed out the door. He only wished it was as easy as putting thoughts of saving Truman’s life aside.

When he was a kid, he used to think knowing the future was so cool. He’d know when the Red Sox would finally win the World Series or what the winning lottery numbers would be. Now, he knew the truth of the matter.

Knowing the future was an awful, vicious burden that sucked the life from you. Every time he looked at Truman’s green eyes, he fought seeing the image of those bright orbs slowly going dark.

Every time Truman smiled, Carson reminded himself to memorize it. He fought himself to leave his phone in his pocket when they were together, otherwise, he’d run the battery dry taking selfies of them together.

Whispering a silent prayer that Carson could save the man he’d fallen helplessly in love with, he stepped out into the frigid December night.

 

 

14
Truman

Truman was sitting on the couch trying not to pace while he waited for Carson to pick him up. Try as he might to wiggle a hint out of his impossible date, the man’s lips had been sealed about where they were going for the night.

The thought had crossed his mind to say “fuck it,” and just ravage Carson the minute he walked through the door and call out for pizza later, but his date had spent a lot of time and effort arranging their night out. He had a feeling they’d have plenty of nights to stay in and eat cold pizza together on his couch if things were heading in the direction he thought they were heading in.

As Truman pictured them feeding each other cold slices of mushroom pie, the doorbell rang. Sadie bounced down from the couch and she ran, barking, to the front door. “Down, princess,” Truman cooed, as he scooped the dog into his arms and opened the door to his date who was holding a bouquet of bright orange Gerber daisies.

“Hey there, Truman! Who’s your ferocious friend?” Carson looked wary of the tiny, barking dog.

“This is Sadie. She suffers from big dog syndrome. She’s harmless though.” Truman made kissy face with the dog before setting her down and taking the flowers from Carson. “Please come in. These are gorgeous. No one’s ever brought me flowers before.”

“They caught my eye, just like you.” Carson shrugged out of his coat and bent down to let Sadie sniff his hand.

The dog was still barking, but seemed to calm when Carson reached out to her. “You’re trying to protect your Daddy, huh pretty princess. I’m not gonna hurt him, cross my heart.” Carson did just that.

“Come on into the kitchen so I can put these in some water.” Truman led the way, while Carson scooped up Sadie.

“No Christmas tree yet?”

“Wellll…” Truman trailed off as he set the bouquet down by the sink. “I was thinking maybe, if you were, umm, free tomorrow, that you might…”

Carson kissed him. Fast and hard.

Truman felt almost dizzy when Carson’s tongue licked up against the seam of his closed lips. He gasped, allowing Carson to sweep his tongue inside.

“You were saying?” Carson winked when he pulled back from Truman’s lips.

“I was?” Truman shook his head. After that kiss he didn’t even know what day it was or what planet he was on.

“I mentioned you not having a Christmas tree and then you said something about if I was free tomorrow?” Carson grinned.

Truman blushed down to the roots of his hair. Having Carson in his kitchen like this, close enough to throw over his shoulder and carry up to bed like a caveman was screwing with his mind. “Would you like to pick out a Christmas tree with me tomorrow?”

“I’ve never done that before. We always had a fake one. I’d love to!”

Truman nodded and turned to grab a vase from under the sink. Actually, he used the few seconds to get his emotions back under control. He’d never done that kind of thing with a man he wanted to be his boyfriend before, either. He took a deep breath and stood back up. “The farm I go to sells mint hot chocolate and it’s supposed to snow a bit tomorrow. We can walk through the rows of trees and it’s just so…” Truman trailed off not knowing how Carson would take the word he’d been about to say.

“Romantic?” Carson’s voice was barely above a whisper. He leaned in to press a gentle kiss to Truman’s lips. “Count me in. I love mint hot chocolate and I love the sound of helping you look for the perfect Christmas tree.”

Truman nodded and arranged the flowers in the vase. “What do you think?”

“I think you’re the most gorgeous man I’ve ever met in my life.” Carson’s words sounded as sincere as the look in his deep blue eyes.

Truman wasn’t much of a pearl-clutcher, but it took all of his will-power not to gasp. “I meant what you thought of the flowers, but I’ll take gorgeous too.”

“I mean it, Truman. I’m the luckiest man alive to be your date tonight. You ready to go?”

“Yeah, I’m ready. I just have to give Sadie her instructions for the night.” If his brain could still function after what Carson had just said.

Carson snorted. “Her instructions? What? Don’t pee on the rug?”

Truman shook his head. “Sadie, no boys in the house and no wild parties, got it?”

The Yorkie whined and hopped up on the couch, as if she understood every word Truman just said.

“Now we can go,” Truman proclaimed.

“Are wild parties and boys usually a problem?” Carson asked as he helped Truman into his coat.

“Nope and I don’t intend them to be in the future. Gotta teach them young. I don’t need to be raising grandpuppies while she lives a life of luxury.”

Carson looked over at the dog who appeared to be already snoozing on the couch. “Hate to break it to you, Daddy, but she already is.”

Truman got a warm feeling around his heart at hearing Carson call him Daddy. Was it too soon to picture the three of them cozied up together on the couch as a family?

 

15
Carson

 

The restaurant was even better in person than in the pictures Carson had seen online. There were Christmas trees set up all around the place done in white lights and clear glass ornaments. Strings of white lights cross-crossed the ceiling and white candles with holly were the table centerpieces. 

Truman had been enchanted by all of the glass angels on one tree. Carson felt his heart break in his chest. The irony of it was almost too much to bear. He made a mental note to speak with the hostess about getting Truman one of those ornaments to take home with them tonight. Maybe the waitress could serve it with their dessert course or something. 

"How did you find this place?" Truman asked with wonder in his voice, once they'd been seated and their wine order had been taken. 

Carson reached across the table for his hand. "I Googled 'romantic Italian restaurant' and up this one popped. It has all five-star ratings on Yelp and according to RotiniPrincess54, the lobster ravioli will be an oral aria you won't soon forget." He waggled his eyebrows.

Truman giggled behind his wine glass. "She actually wrote that online?"

“She did.” Carson, unable to help himself, pulled out his iPhone and snapped a quick shot of Truman laughing.

"Would you like me to take a picture of the two of you together?" their waitress asked.

"We'd love that," Truman agreed.

Carson handed over his phone and held out his wine glass to toast Truman. He blinked a few times to keep the happy tears out of his eyes. This was the best date of his entire life. 

He could hear the waitress snapping several pics and was unprepared when Truman leaned over the table to kiss him. 

"That one will be your Christmas card photo next year for sure," she said on a sigh. "What can I get you both? Aside from a room for the night?"

Truman blushed furiously.

"I hear the lobster ravioli is fabulous." Carson winked at Truman. 

"It is fabulous," she agreed. “One of my favorites.”

"I'll have the manicotti with meat sauce, please," Truman said. 

"Salad or the soup of the day?"

"Salad," they said together.

"You are so adorable. I hope you'll decide to have your wedding reception here. I want to cry during your first dance."

"We'll keep that in mind." Truman's smile lit up the room. 

Carson whispered a silent prayer there would be a wedding for himself and the waitress to cry at. 

"Do you want to get married?" Truman asked after their salads had been dropped off. 

"Shouldn't we have sex first? You know kick the tires. Make sure we're compatible?" Truman's question caught him completely off-guard. The only thing he could think to do was make bad jokes. 

"Noooo! I don't mean now. Although, kicking tires isn't a bad idea either." Truman rubbed his foot up Carson's calf. "I mean in the future. Are you the marrying kind?"

Was he? Hell, with Truman's stockinged foot traveling higher and higher up his leg, Carson barely remembered his own name at the moment.

He very much wanted to be the marrying kind, but after witnessing the kind of husband Corny was, he wasn’t sure he had the best role model to follow. Looking across the table at Truman, though, Carson knew without a shadow of a doubt he’d move mountains to be the kind of husband that man deserved.

“Yes, I’m definitely the marrying kind. How about you? What do you see in your future?” Carson’s heart clutched in his chest. As much as he wanted to hear the answer to the question, he knew Truman’s ability to live out his dreams was riding on Carson’s ability to save his life.

Truman smiled at him from across the table. “I want an outdoor summer beach wedding filled with flowers and a DJ with enough sappy love songs on tap so I can dance with my gorgeous husband until the sun comes up.” He paused for a minute to take a deep breath. “I want babies of my own or my husband’s own. I want to be in the delivery room when they come into this world and be the first person to hold and protect them. I want sons to toss footballs with and daughters to dress up and dance with at their weddings. I want hunting for a Christmas tree to be an annual tradition that grows every year and that no matter where our kids are in the world, they always make it home for that day.”

Carson was on the verge of losing it. He could see all of those days in their life together as if they were being played out on a movie screen. The images were so real he felt like he could reach out and touch them.

Now, all he had to do to make those images real was save Truman from a crazed gunman. No pressure. “Damn, Truman.” It was all Carson could manage without breaking down. He got up from his seat and set a hand on his date’s shoulder before moving toward the men’s room.

 

 

16
Truman

 

Watching Carson practically run from the table was a bit unsettling. He would have thought Carson was running from him if not for the misty look in his bright blue eyes.

If it had been any other man but Carson, being able to see their future with that much clarity would have scared the absolute fuck out of him. For whatever reason though, it brought Truman a sense of dead calm.

Just as the waitress was bringing out their entrees, Truman could see Carson speaking with a man dressed in a dark suit. Both men were smiling as they walked back to the table together. He couldn’t help wondering what that was all about.

“Truman, this is Sal Migliore, the owner of the restaurant. I ran into him on my way back to our table.” Carson sat back down.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Mr. Wesley. Carson was telling me all about your whirlwind romance. I’m so pleased that my restaurant is part of your love story.”

“Me too.” Truman glanced over at Carson who was back to looking like the cat who ate the canary.

“If there is anything else I can do to make your evening more memorable, please say the word.”

“Thank you,” Truman smiled. He turned back to Carson. “What was that all about?”

Carson shrugged as he took a sip from his wine glass. “I introduced myself on the way back from the men’s room.”

“Did my glimpse of the future scare you?” Truman’s fork was poised over his manicotti.

Shaking his head, Carson cut a ravioli in half. “Not at all. I could see what you were describing clear as day.” He popped a bite of pasta into his mouth.

“Is it an opera in your mouth?” Truman chuckled.

“Try for yourself and you tell me.” Carson offered him a bite on his fork.

“God, this is so romantic,” Truman sighed before taking the bite. He moaned when he tasted the tangy sauce mixed with the creamy ricotta and the sweet lobster. The dish really did sing in his mouth. “So good,” he mumbled around his mouthful.

“I know, right!” Carson agreed. 

Truman had never spent an entire meal being fed from another man’s fork before. He remembered reading an article in the Boston Globe a few years back about Tom Brady and his wife on vacation in Costa Rica and being caught feeding each other fruit or some other ridiculous, in his mind, dessert items. It wasn’t until he’d tried it with Carson that he realized how unbelievably romantic and sexual it was.

Going to see a movie right now was the last thing on his mind. He wanted to grab Carson’s hand and drag him out to the backseat of his Honda and get it on like sex-crazed teenagers.

“A gift from Mr. Migliore.” Their waitress set a covered dish in front of Truman.

“What’s this?” Truman shot a sly glance at Carson, who simply shrugged.

“Why don’t you take the cover off and have a look. I bet it’s the crème brulee you had your eye on for dessert.”

Truman did as Carson suggested. “Oh my, God, Carson!” He couldn’t believe his eyes, sitting in a box with tissue paper, next to the crème brulee, was one of the gorgeous glass angels he’d been admiring on the Christmas tree nearest to their table. “This was my favorite angel. How did you know?” Truman’s eyes had gone misty.

“You can’t take your eyes off of your favorite things,” Carson said softly. “The macaroni and cheese bar, hot wings, me, that angel.”

A lone tear slipped down his cheek. “I’ll treasure it always.” He looked up at the waitress. “Thank you so much.”

Carson handed her his debit card and thanked her again.

“I can’t believe you did all of this for me.” Truman’s eyes were glittering again.

“I meant it earlier when I told you how lucky I was to be out with you tonight. You deserve the world on that platter, but all that would fit was that angel and our dessert.”

“I love it, Carson.” What almost slipped out of his mouth was, “I love you, Carson,” but Truman managed to hold it back at the last possible minute.

“What do you say we skip the movie tonight? I’m not really in the mood for popcorn.” Carson brushed a kiss over Truman’s jaw.

“I was just thinking the same thing. Damn kernels always get stuck in my teeth anyway.” Holy God, it was like they were reading each other’s minds. Thank goodness he’d stocked up on condoms and lube when he’d gone shopping this morning.

“You ready to go, sweetheart?” Carson held out his hand after they’d finished the last bite of dessert.

Truman linked their fingers together. “I was born ready for you.”

 

 

17
Carson

 

It was a relatively quiet ride back to Truman’s house. The car radio played White Christmas, by Bing Crosby, and Truman sang along with a surprisingly deep and bluesy voice. Carson wished the song had been playing on his iPod so he could have hit repeat and listened to Truman sing it all over again, this time from the beginning.

Dinner couldn’t have gone any better. What Carson hadn’t known ahead of time was that the glass ornaments on the trees were designed to be given away to the restaurants’ patrons. All he had to do was describe the angel Truman had fallen in love with and it was his.

If Carson lived to be one hundred. he’d never forget the look on Truman’s face when he lifted the lid off the dish and saw the sparkling glass angel. He’d never considered himself an overly thoughtful person in the past, but when it came to Truman, he found himself doing any and everything in his power to make that man happy.

With the exception of telling the truth, the whole truth, so help him God. Carson knew the moment was coming when he had to tell Truman about the visions and what they revealed about the very near future, but he couldn’t do it. Not yet. Certainly not tonight. He pulled the car over to park in front of Truman’s Chevy. “Home, sweet home.”

Truman leaned over and kissed him. “Spend the night with me, Carson.” It wasn’t a question.

“God, you’re sexy when you tell me what to do,” Carson chuckled. “Just so happened I packed a just-in-case bag.”

“What’s a just in case bag?” Truman kissed him again.

“A bag packed with a toothbrush and clothes for tomorrow, just in case I get lucky tonight.”

Truman snorted. “I got lucky the minute we met at the Workday Café. What an amazing coincidence, huh? The only seat left in the place was the one across from me.”

Carson felt a stab of guilt go right through his heart. He kissed Truman hard, to hide the look in his eyes. He didn’t want Truman to be able to see the guilt shining brightly in his eyes like a lighthouse beacon. “I’m so lucky to have found you, babe.” That was the God’s honest truth. “Stay there.” He hopped out of the car and popped the trunk to grab his bag before opening the passenger door for Truman. 

Truman dug his keys out of his pocket as they walked together toward the front door. When he turned the key in the lock they could hear Sadie barking her little heart out.

“I’m glad to hear she’s keeping your house safe for democracy.” Carson laughed. He hoped she didn’t sleep in Truman’s room with him. As cute as she was, there was nothing worse than a wet nose where it didn’t belong when you were trying to get it on.

“Hello, Princess. Daddy and Carson are home.” Truman bent down to scratch her ears after setting his keys and the angel ornament box down on the hallway table.

“Hi, Sadie.” Carson waved. He was unprepared a moment later when Truman shoved him back against the closed door and kissed him. While Truman ran his tongue along his lower lip, Carson grabbed his ass and pulled their bodies flush against each other.

He heard the grating sound of metal on metal and just as quickly as the kiss started, it was over. Truman pulled his lips and the rest of him away. “Wait! Don’t go,” Carson half-whined.

“Had to lock the door. You never know what crazies are hanging around outside.” Truman pulled the zipper down on Carson’s coat before shrugging out of his own jacket and hanging it on the coat rack next to the door. “You in the mood for a drink? Beer? Soda? Water?” Truman was halfway to the kitchen before Carson realized he was still leaning against the front door with his coat on.

Is that what it was going to be like every time Truman kissed him? That dizzying, losing sight of where and who he was feeling? The man was a distraction, pure and simple, and that was with his clothes on. Naked, he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold a thought at all.

Shucking out of his coat, he headed toward the kitchen with Sadie trailing behind him. He could hear her nails clicking on the hardwood floor behind him. “So, what’s Sadie’s story?” He pulled out a wooden bar stool at the island watching as Truman arranged the daisies Carson had brought him.

“My last boyfriend was a real tool. One of those perfectionist types who wouldn’t let me leave the house with him if there was a hair out of place or a fuzz ball on my sweater.” Truman went to the fridge and grabbed two bottles of water.

Carson screwed the tops off both of them. He’d gone out with a fussy man like that before, always picking lint off his clothes or smoothing his hair. The man had bought him an iron for their one week anniversary present. Needless to say, there hadn’t been a second week anniversary.

“Over time, that kind of nit-picking did a number on my self-confidence.  After I finally found the courage to leave him, my younger sister, who is a mental health counselor, saw that I was struggling with anxiety. She suggested a dog might be good for helping me to get over that.  I went to the local animal shelter and fell in love with Sadie the minute I saw her.”

Carson looked down at the tiny dog who was staring up at him. He bent down and scooped her up. “You’re a sweet girl, aren’t you? Taking care of your Daddy like that.” He was rewarded with enthusiastic face licks.

He could only hope Truman would be giving him the same kind of treatment a little later, only with better smelling breath. “How does a little cutie like this end up in an animal shelter?”

Truman smiled fondly. “You know that old Bob Barker saying about having your pet spayed and neutered?”

Carson nodded.

“Sadie’s mother’s owner didn’t heed that warning. She played host to a gathering of Yorkshire Terrier owners of Greater Salem, and while the ladies were drinking tea and eating finger sandwiches,” Truman imitated taking a sip of tea with his pinkie high in the air, “someone’s dog was getting it on with Sadie’s mother.”

Carson choked on his sip of water and started to cough. “Your Mommy got knocked up at a garden party. You poor little bastard.” He snuggled the dog tight.

“At least she’s a purebred. Has her AKC papers and everything. I adopted her on the first day she was available at the shelter. There was only one of her siblings left out of five puppies and I found out the next day that he’d been adopted too.”

“There’s one advantage to being gay at least.” Carson snickered, setting Sadie down. The little dog whined.

“What’s that? Not being able to get knocked up at a garden party?” Truman laughed.

Carson nodded, gripping Truman’s hips. “I know I’m just a guest in your home, but…” He inclined his head toward the ceiling.

“I like the way you think.” Truman grabbed his hand and dragged him toward the stairs.

Carson could hear Sadie’s trailing along behind them.

“Stay, Princess.” Truman called over his shoulder.

Carson couldn’t help raising his fist in victory. No wet noses where wet noses didn’t belong. Well, so long as Sadie obeyed Truman’s command.

 

 

18
Truman

Truman pushed down the urge to take the steps two at a time. He’d also had to fight back his caveman instinct to throw Carson over his shoulder and carry him over his shoulder up the stairs, all the while shouting, “MINE!”

He reached for his soon-to-be lover’s hand and tugged him down the short hallway. “Spare bedroom.” He pointed to the darkened room to the left of the staircase. “Bathroom.” Truman stopped to flip on the lights. “And this is my room. Are you sure about this?” Stopping just outside the door, he pulled Carson’s hands up to his lips and brushed kisses over his knuckles.

“I’ve never been more sure about anything or anyone in my entire life, you handsome, handsome man.” Carson leaned up on tiptoes to kiss Truman. “Just so you know, I don’t usually do this.”

“Do what? Flatter men to within an inch of their sanity?” Truman kissed him back. No man had ever said such sincere things like this to him before.

Carson shook his head. “No, I don’t sleep with men I barely know. I know this is crazy, Truman, but it just feels so right with you.”

“It isn’t crazy at all. I feel it too. Now get in here and take your pants off.” Truman flipped on the light and went for the buttons on his shirt.

“Just my pants, boss, or everything?” Carson snorted and fisted his hands on his hips.

Truman rolled his eyes and shouldered out of his shirt. He quickly hauled his white t-shirt over his head and stalked over to Carson who was staring at his bare chest with his mouth hanging open. “See something you like?”

Carson sucked in a harsh breath before pressing a kiss to the smooth, bare skin over Truman’s heart. He looked up at Truman with misty eyes before kissing him again with a series of light, barely-there presses of his lips that felt more reverent than sexual. “God, you’re beautiful,” Carson whispered. He took a step back and hauled his sweater over his head.

Truman watched while Carson slowly unbuttoned his own shirt and peeled it from his body. Carson was his type exactly. The man was shorter than him, with a light sprinkling of hair over his chest and stomach with slim hips that Carson was pushing his dark dress pants down with seeming deliberate slowness. He was wearing red briefs underneath. “Very seasonal.”

Carson looked down as if he didn’t understand what Truman was talking about. “Oh, these old things.” He shrugged. “I was kind of hoping they’d end up in a pile on your bedroom floor.” He pushed them down to his feet and stepped out of them.

Sucking in a rough breath Truman went for his belt. “I’m glad I could make your wish come true.” As hard as he was trying, he couldn’t seem to get his fingers to work his belt open.

Carson chuckled. “My wish won’t have come true until this monster is fucking me into next week.” Carson stroked Truman’s bulge through his trousers, their eyes locked together. “Need a little help with your belt? Or do you want me to bring you off just like we’re a couple of horny teenagers?” Carson gave his erection a slight squeeze.

All Truman could do was whimper.

“There’s something about coming in your pants like a sixteen year old that’s really hot, huh?” Carson asked, his voice low and deep. While he stroked Truman with one hand, he used the other to open Truman’s belt. “Being so excited to be with someone new that you can’t hold on to that last shred of control.”

His date had no idea how close to the truth he was. Truman’s control was hanging on by the thinnest thread. Only a few more strokes coupled with more sexy talk from Carson and he was going to blast off like a rocket.

“You’re gonna come so many times tonight, Truman, that you’re gonna beg me to stop.” Carson undid the button and pulled down his zipper. He pushed Truman’s pants over his hips and let gravity pull them to the floor. “Nice, I like black boxer briefs.” Carson slowed down his hand over Truman’s shaft, chuckling again when his lover whimpered. “You need to come, don’t you?”

“Jesus, Carson. Please.” He was never the kind of man to beg. Until tonight.

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” Carson pressed a kiss to the dip in Truman’s collarbone and dropped to his knees, taking the black boxer briefs with him.

“Oh, fuck me,” Truman moaned when Carson’s pink tongue licked out at the tip of his dick.

Carson winked up at him. “It’s going to be you that’s going to be doing the fucking, Truman, after I swallow every drop of your creamy come.” He fondled both of Truman’s balls before taking his length into his mouth.

“Oh, God, Carson!” Truman set his hands on Carson’s head, holding on for dear life, rather than directing him where to go. His lover knew exactly what to do and at what speed to do it. No other lover he’d ever been with had known how to do it like this, without having to be directed.

Moaning like Truman’s cock was the best thing he ever tasted, Carson jacked his own dick along with the motion of his mouth. His eyes were locked on Truman’s as if he were unable to look away.

Truman couldn’t look away even if he’d wanted to. There was something in Carson’s eyes that held him close. He was quickly losing the power to think or reason, but Truman thought he saw the rest of his life mapped out in those gorgeous blue orbs. “Carson, I’m…”

He didn’t get a chance to finish his warning. Truman’s cock pulsed in Carson’s mouth. His hands tightened in his lover’s hair as he started to come. He moaned for his lover, crying out his name as his release overtook him. His eyes stayed open though, locked with Carson’s.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Carson was coming too. He could see stripes of his cooling release coating his chest.

Pulling his now softening cock from Carson’s hot and wet mouth, Truman braced his hands on his knees. “I,” Truman snapped his mouth shut. It was way too soon to vocalize the other two words that had been about to follow close behind.

Although, he got the distinct feeling Carson might not have thought it was too soon at all.

 

 

19
Carson

Carson was lying sprawled across Truman’s naked chest. After round one, Carson had run downstairs to grab his just-in-case bag and had brushed his teeth. When he’d gone back into Truman’s room, his lover had been in bed with the lights turned out and candles lit.

From his position on Truman’s left side, he could hear his lover’s heart beating. The beats were slow and steady now, but when he’d first laid down, they were faster and a bit irregular. If he could, Carson would keep Truman here for the next three weeks, safe and sound from that lunatic with a gun.

“You’re so quiet. Are you okay?” Truman pressed a kiss to the top of Carson’s head.

It felt like an icy fist was squeezing Carson’s heart. There was no way he could tell Truman what he’d just been thinking about. Instead, he nodded before looking up at his lover. “I was just thinking about something.”

“What’s that?” Truman sounded a little unsure of himself.

Carson hated that tone in his voice. He didn’t want Truman to second guess anything about what they’d just done together or what they were about to do now. He sat up and moved to straddle his lover, his cock instantly roared back to life. “I distinctly remember you promising to fuck me into next week.”

Truman snorted. “Uh, no. I remember you saying it was your wish for my monster cock to be fucking you into next week.”

Carson rubbed his chin. “Did I say that?”

“Yes! You did!” Truman laughed. “Is that your idea of a subtle hint?”

Looking down, Carson could see Truman’s dick had also woken back up from its slumber. He slid his hand from root to tip. “No, this is my idea of a subtle hint. Is it working?”

“I’m not sure. Do it a few more times and I’ll let you know.” Truman’s eyes darkened.

“Tease.” Carson was content to spend the rest of the night like this with Truman. Anything to keep from seeing the vision again.

When Truman had stripped off his white t-shirt and Carson had gotten a look at his bare chest for the first time, the vision had come back full-force. He’d seen Truman’s body jolt, seen his white dress shirt turn crimson, and he’d seen the light fade from Truman’s green eyes. Again.

It had taken every ounce of will-power in his body not to confess everything then and there. He just wanted to tell Truman everything. Confess about the visions and beg for forgiveness.

Somewhere between kissing his heart and sucking his dick, Carson had decided shutting up was the best plan. If he could find a way to keep Truman from going to that Christmas party, he could save Truman from the gunman’s bullet without him ever having to know how his life was supposed to end.

“I suppose I would be a bad host if I didn’t grant your wish, huh?” Truman waggled his eyebrows.

“Yeah, that would make you the worst host ever.” Carson laughed. “I mean that would be worse than Martha Stewart getting arrested at her own dinner party.”

Truman raised an questioning eyebrow. “I don’t think that actually happened, but I get where you’re coming from, my special snowflake.” He sat up to kiss Carson.

“I’m your special snowflake?” Carson felt that warm feeling around his heart.

“Yeah. You know how much I love the winter and snow, right?” He rolled over, dumping Carson on his back. “You sure you’re ready for me and my monster cock?” Truman made air quotes over monster.

Carson felt a shiver tear through his entire body. “I feel like my whole life has been leading up to this moment.”

The sly grin on Truman’s face faded. “Mine too.” He bent forward to kiss Carson.

Carson wrapped his arms around Truman’s neck and pulled him close. Running his hands down his lover’s back, he tried to memorize every inch of his skin. He felt a small scar on his left side, probably from football and a large raised freckle on the left check of his ass. He couldn’t wait to bite it later.

“God, I’m falling hard and fast for you. Tell me you feel it too,” Truman whispered with a hint of desperation in his voice.

“I’m right there with you, babe.” Carson pressed a kiss against Truman’s crazily beating heart.

“Thank Jesus.” He pulled away and started rummaging through the nightstand drawer. “Shit, where are the condoms!” Truman sounded panicked.

“In my just in case bag if you can’t find yours.”

“Seriously?  I bought a new box this morning.”

“It isn’t called a just-in-case bag for nothing!” Carson hopped off the bed and unzipped his bag. He handed Truman the box of condoms and bottle of lube he’d picked up this morning.

“Wow, a thirty-six count box?” Truman raised an eyebrow.

“You’re like Lays Potato Chips. I’m not gonna be able to stop at one, Truman.” Carson kissed his left shoulder.

Truman snorted. “That’s the corniest and most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me. I don’t think I’m gonna be able to stop at one time either.”

None of this seemed possible. Carson hopped back on the bed and arranged himself on his back while Truman fought to get the condom box open. The circumstances that brought them together were unreal enough, but then throw their light speed feelings into the mix and the situation was off the charts.

"Look at you in the candle light." Truman climbed back on the bed with the bottle of lube and a wrapped condom.

"I was just thinking the same thing about you." Carson grinned.  He watched in awe while Truman slicked his fingers up with lube. His body tensed for a brief second when Truman brushed the liquid against his most sensitive skin.

Truman's eyes locked on Carson's as he pushed his index finger inside Carson's body.

"Fuck, yes." Carson sighed. He tried to relax his body against Truman's invasion. It had been so long since the last time he'd done this and knew it was going to take a bit to get him ready for the main event, even if his lover weren't sporting an impressive erection.

"I would never hurt you," Truman whispered.

Carson nodded and reached out to set his hand against Truman's heart. He wished he could say those same words back to Truman. The tiny white lies that were stacking up like cord wood were all for his lover's good, but that didn't make Carson feel any better about telling them or keeping the larger truth from him.

He gasped out loud when Truman added a second finger and brushed against his prostate. "Truman..."

"You like that, huh?"

"I need you inside me, not your fingers."

"Soon, baby. Soon," Truman cooed. "I want you just as badly, but I want this to be so good for you. We're only going to have one first time together."

"We're going to have so many firsts together." Carson only hoped he could keep his word. He felt Truman pull his fingers back and watched as he suited himself up and added lube. "You ready for me?"

Carson nodded. "I was born ready for this moment."

"God, I was too." Truman lined himself up and gave a slow push forward. Both men gasped out loud.

Grabbing Truman's shoulders, Carson locked eyes with his lover. "I know it's too soon..."

"I love you," they both said together.

Carson's heart was pounding in his chest as if he'd just run a marathon. This moment was surreal. He couldn't believe this was happening, that he was here with Truman and that they were in love with each other.

Truman pushed slowly forward until he bottomed out. He rested his sweaty forehead against Carson's. "Are you okay? Am I hurting you?"

"God, no! You're perfect." Carson kissed him. "But, I'm gonna need you to move."

Truman grinned. "Holding still is killing me."

"Me too." Carson loved the way Truman filled him up. His heart and body were both full to bursting, all because of Truman.

Truman pulled back, setting the pace with short powerful strokes.

Lifting his ass, Carson met each of Truman’s thrusts. He knew that when they finally got together it was going to be explosive and Truman didn’t disappoint. Their eyes were locked together and he could feel ever muscle in his lover’s body working to bring them both off.

“Tell me you’re close,” Truman panted. “I can’t hold on much longer.”

“Right on the edge.” Carson had been trying to hold back so that he and Truman could come together. It seemed Truman was going for the same thing.

“Love you so much,” Truman leaned down to whisper before moaning Carson’s name.

Carson felt Truman’s cock jerk inside of him. Knowing Truman was coming triggered his own release. He whispered his lover’s name as his cock emptied between them. “I love you too,” Carson whispered when Truman collapsed on top of him.

 

 

20
Truman

Truman was waiting for their mint hot chocolate orders to be filled while Carson was standing with his face upturned to the sky catching snowflakes on his tongue. He couldn’t help snapping pictures of an enchanted Carson who was wearing the most adorable red knit stocking cap he’d ever seen in his life.

He was almost disappointed when their order had been filled so fast. “Here we go.” Truman held Carson’s cup out to him.

“Thanks.” Carson pressed a kiss to Truman’s chilly lips. “This place is amazing. I had no idea there was an actual tree farm here in Salem.”

“It’s not technically Salem. We’re over the town line into Peabody.” Christmas Meadows Farm had been here since Truman was a kid. His parents had brought him and his sisters here to tag and cut their tree for as long as he could remember.

It was their family tradition to come out in October right before Halloween and tag their tree. They’d have cups of hot apple cider while they walked the rows of trees and argued over which tree was the right one for their family.

His sisters always liked the blue spruce trees but his favorite had always been the Douglas fir trees. His sisters always got their way. The one year he’d talked his mother into choosing a Douglass fir, both of his sisters had cried until his father had sided with them and chosen the tree they wanted.

“How do you even know where to start?” Carson sounded dazed.

Since Truman hadn’t tagged a tree, he and Carson were going to have to choose from among the ones that were already cut down. “Most people choose a tree based on the shape or height.”

Carson wrapped his arm around Truman’s back. “Which kind of tree is your favorite?”

No one had ever asked him that before, although that was par for the course with Carson. Nothing that Carson did was anything like any lover he’d had before. After they’d made love last night, he’d hopped out of bed and gone into the bathroom for a wet washcloth. He’d cleaned Truman up before going back into the bathroom and taking care of his own needs.

A man could get used to being treated like a king in his own home. Now here was Carson asking what kind of tree he liked best. “I like the Douglas firs.” He pointed to the rows of trees he was talking about.

“Why?” Carson took a sip of his hot chocolate.

“I like the shape of the trees and how thick and full they are.” Truman pointed.

“I see your point.” Carson grabbed Truman’s hand and pulled him behind the tallest tree in the line. “Do you think anyone can see us?” Carson waggled his eyebrows.

Truman looked around and there weren’t any other customers in their row of trees. “See us do what?”

“This.” Carson kissed him. “I can see the appeal behind the Douglass fir.”

Truman could too. He never could have imagined shopping for a Christmas tree could be this much fun.

“What do you think of this one?” Carson stood next to a six foot tree with full limbs and a straight top branch.

Truman knew the second Carson picked it out that it was the perfect tree, but he wasn’t going to make it that easy on him. “Hmmm…” Truman trailed off, scratching his chin. He walked silently around the tree twice. Not making eye contact with Carson. He even got down in a catcher’s crouch as if to get a better look at it from below.

“Well?” Carson squatted down to join him.  “What do you think?” The look in his blue eyes was serious.

Truman snorted. “I think it’s perfect.”

“What?” Carson practically screeched. He gave Truman a small shove, making him lose his balance and sending him crashing into the snow.

“Oh my GOD! Are you okay?” Carson moved to grab Truman but was hit by a snowball in the middle of his chest.

“Gotcha!” Truman laughed.

Carson snorted and reached down to help Truman back to his feet.

Instead of letting Carson pull him back up, he used his strength to pull Carson down to the snow with him. “Be my boyfriend?” he asked when they stopped laughing.

“I thought saying I love you implied that?” Carson pressed a kiss to Truman’s cold-reddened nose.

Truman shrugged. “I wanted it to be official. I wanted you to know how much having you in my life means to me. I want you to be mine.”

“Baby, I’m yours. And my ass is cold and wet.” Carson laughed.

“Come on.” Truman stood up and pulled Carson up with him. “Let’s buy this tree and get it decorated. I know the perfect spot for my angel.”

Truman wrapped his arms around Carson and held him tight. This was going to be the best Christmas of his entire life.

 

 

21
Carson

It was the middle of the afternoon on Sunday. After he and Truman had gotten the Christmas tree back to Truman’s house they’d been so worked up over the idea of being boyfriends that instead of decorating the tree, they’d gone back to bed instead.

Since Truman had family dinner to get to, Carson had come back home to do laundry and his share of the chores around the house. They’d agreed to decorate the tree together Monday night after work, when they would also discuss introducing Carson to his family.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about meeting Truman’s family. Meeting a man’s family was a huge step in a relationship.  But then again, so was having sex with a man and telling that man you loved him.

“Hi, Mama,” Carson said to the empty reading room.

In the middle of the night last night, he’d gotten up to go to the bathroom and he’d remembered something his mother had told him when he was little.

He’d liked to sit on the back steps leading up to their living area and listen while his mother gave readings to her clients. One client in particular, Mrs. Rollins, was expecting twins with her abusive husband. His mother had seen a future where Mrs. Rollins lost both babies if she stayed with her husband.

A few months later, the client had come back to see his mother after she’d broken up with her husband and gotten a divorce. His mother’s vision of her future was much different this time around. She told Mrs. Rollins she saw her deliver a healthy boy and girl.

Four months later, that’s exactly what happened. When he asked his mother how Mrs. Rollins’ future had changed like that, his mother had explained that the future was never carved in stone. Things we do or don’t do today can influence what happens in our lives years down the road.

If that were truly the case, maybe he’d already done what he needed to do in order to save Truman. He sat down in his usual seat at the reading table. “I need your help, Mom. I don’t know if you’re the one sending me these visions about Truman or if this is my God-given talent finally manifesting itself at long last. I need to know if I’ve changed Truman’s future, Mom. Can you show me?”

Without hesitating, he reached out and touched the crystal ball. He heard the crack of what he thought was thunder, but it turned out was the report of a gunshot. He looked down at his left hand and in it was a gun. Carson took a deep breath and looking away from the weapon, saw Truman lying on the floor. He saw Cassie run to him and saw the pool of blood spreading away from his body.

As awful as what Carson was seeing, what was worse was what he was feeling. A rage like he’d never known before burned through his entire body.  It was like every cell inside him was being consumed by it. Much more of this and he would be torched alive.

Along with the rage was a deeper feeling of satisfaction. It was almost an Old Testament feeling of an eye for an eye, as if a debt had been satisfied. Carson watched as Truman’s eyes went dark, as the life force he loved more than his own ebbed out of his body, while the body he inhabited was tackled to the ground.

Carson ripped his hand from the crystal ball. This time he didn’t collapse or faint to the floor even though his mother’s Tibetan chimes were jingling again. “Damn it, Mom!” Carson shouted, his voice echoing off the ceiling.

“That’s three times now I’ve had to watch the man I love die! I’ve watched it like a movie. I watched him die as if I were him and now I watched him die at my own hand.” Carson took a ragged breath. He could feel tears streaming down his face.

“I know you did this, Mom. I know you brought this miracle of a man into my life because he’s my soul mate. I know you did. I know you think that I can save him before this deranged lunatic kills him, but you gotta help me out here.” Carson gulped for breath, struggling to bring his ragged emotions back under control.

“Help me, Mom. Show me something. Anything. Show me a glimpse of the life we could live. Please,” Carson begged. With a shaking hand, he reached out for the crystal ball. The glass was cool to the touch this time.

Nothing happened. There was no crack of thunder. No bolt of lightning. No gunshot. No dying Truman.  Just as he was about to pull his hand away from the glass, he could smell the faint aroma of tomato sauce.

Cole was at study group and Carson hadn’t left anything on the stove. He shut his eyes and focused on the sweet aroma of basil and tomatoes. Strong arms circled his waist. A kiss was pressed to the back of his neck.

“Hey, babe!” Truman kissed him again.

Carson opened his eyes to see he was stirring a pot of tomato sauce while a nearby pot bubbled with pasta. He recognized Truman’s kitchen, but was blown away when he turned around from the stove.

“Daddy!” Two tiny voices chimed from the dining room table.

“There are my babies!” Truman peppered twin toddler heads with kisses, while the babies squealed in obvious delight.

Stephanie and Brian… Their names floated through Carson’s head. The toddlers looked like they were about two years old and were strapped into booster seats scribbling with crayons over giant coloring pages. One baby had Truman’s eyes while the other had his.

Carson took a step toward the table, needing to touch his children, even though he knew this was only a vision. One step away from the table the vision faded away. His eyes snapped open and he was back in his mother’s reading room. Carson’s arms were still outstretched, reaching for his daughter.

His right hand clutched at his heart. Carson had never felt pain like this in his life. He couldn’t figure out which was worse, knowing this future was out there for him and Truman or only getting this one glimpse of it if he failed to save his lover’s life.

Carson gave into the tears and sobbed. He cried for Truman. He cried for the babies Truman may never get to hold. And he cried for the strength and courage to do whatever was necessary to save Truman from the gunman’s bullet that still had his name written on it.

 

22
Truman

Truman always hated rigging up the lights, but Carson loved it. He was sitting, cross-legged, next to their Christmas tree in the middle of a tangle of lights. Sadie, the little traitor, was sitting in front of him with a look of pure adoration on her doggie face.

“Okay, Truman, plug it in!” Carson called from the middle of the pile.

He climbed off the couch and plugged in the lead string. His living room floor lit up in a blaze of white lights. “I don’t believe it! How on earth did you do it?”

“Carson Craig, Christmas light whisperer!” Carson waggled his eyebrows. Sadie hopped up onto his lap and started licking his face.

“More like the Sadie whisperer.” Truman rolled his eyes.

“Don’t let your Daddy get in the way of our love, Sadie,” Carson cooed at the dog.

The doorbell rang. “I’ll get it.” Truman reached in his back pocket for his wallet. “Must be the pizza and wings.”

“No, I’ve got it.” Carson reached into his back pocket.

“Oh, no, Carson. I wouldn’t want to come between your and Sadie’s love.” He snorted and went to grab the door.

When he came back from paying the pizza guy, Carson was snapping pictures of Sadie wrapped in a few coils of Christmas lights. Her doggie grin was in full effect while Carson took her picture.

“What are you doing?” Truman laughed.

“Just taking some funny pics of Sadie with the Christmas lights. I’m starving. Thanks for calling out for dinner.”

Truman was setting the pizza down on the kitchen counter when Carson walked into the kitchen. “Do you know how to ice skate?”

“Yeah.” Truman handed Carson a plate and lifted the pizza box lid for him. “I haven’t skated in years though. Some of the guys I went to college with used to play hockey and I’d join in pickup games with them.”

“You know they have that public rink down at the Salem Commons? The big Christmas tree is there and they have fresh kettle corn and peppermint coffee or mulled cider.”

“Isn’t that where the kids can pose for pictures with Santa?” Truman loved that Carson wanted to take him ice skating.

Carson nodded and added two piping hot slices of mushroom pizza to Truman’s plate before serving himself.

That was another thing Truman loved about his new boyfriend. Carson was always putting his needs ahead of his own.

“So, um, you were saying back when we met that you had to fire some guy and it didn’t go well.”

Truman thought that was an odd question to ask over dinner, but with all of the amazing things going on in their lives, he didn’t mind talking about Mike Davenport. “Yeah, according to what we were told, fourth quarter sales were down and they wanted to let one of the assembly line guys go. So the floor manager told us who it was and Cassie and I met with him on December first, to let him know that would be his last day.”

“Shit.” Carson shook his head. “That sucks getting let go so close to Christmas.”

“Yeah, that’s what Mike said too.” Truman shivered.

“Mike who?”

“Mike Davenport was the employee we had to let go. He’d been with the company for like fifteen years. From what I’d heard through the grapevine, he’d had a drinking problem and his wife had kicked him out of their house and wouldn’t let him see their kids.”

“Wow, the hits just keep on coming.”

“Cassie was in the conference room with me when we let him go and he just lost his shit when we told him there wasn’t any severance pay. He grabbed me and shoved me against the closed conference room door and then threw me to the floor.”

“Jesus, Truman! Did he hurt you?” Carson was halfway out of his seat before he seemed to remember where they were and he sat down again.

Truman snorted. “Look at you! My knight in shining armor. My ass was sore for a few days from landing so hard on the conference room floor, but I was fine.”

“Did this Mike guy threaten you? Like threaten to come back and hurt you or get revenge or…” Carson trailed off.

Truman stood up and pulled his boyfriend into his arms. “No, nothing like that. He said something vague like I hadn’t heard the last of him, but I’d just fired him. He was pissed we weren’t giving him severance pay, but I explained that wasn’t my decision to make.”

Carson wrapped his arms around Truman and held on tight. Almost too tight.

“Sometimes I think all of this breaking news and twenty-four hour coverage is a bad thing.” Truman said softly. “We see too much of these angry assholes who do come back to their former places of employment with a gun or something. I mean come on, this is Massachusetts. How likely is it that something like that could happen here? Shit like that happens to other people. Gun violence destroys other families. Now, why don’t we go string those lights up on the tree?”

 

 

23
Carson

“Mike Davenport,” Carson said when Cole walked into the kitchen the next morning.

“Who’s that?” Cole asked around a yawn.

“I think he’s the man who’s going to murder Truman.”

“Holy shit! Are you serious?” Cole poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down at the kitchen table across from Carson. “And speaking of holy shit, when was the last time you slept. You look awful.”

Carson shook his head. “Between the sex and the new visions and hearing about this asshole, I-”

“Hold on. What new visions?” Cole sat forward in his seat. “I’ve been so crazy-busy with finals coming up that I haven’t had much of a chance to catch up with you about Truman. I’m sorry that you’re having to do this on your own.”

“Mom always said how important your education was, Cole.” Carson shook his head.

“Truman’s more important than some score on a test. I can see it in your eyes, big brother. You’re in love with him.”

Carson nodded and took a shaky breath. It seemed like all he did lately was cry or fight back tears. “I remembered Mom telling me that the future was fluid so I thought maybe Truman’s fate wasn’t carved in stone. I touched the crystal ball again and had another vision.”

“Jesus Christ, did you watch him die again?” Cole reached out for his hand.

“This time I was the one who shot him.”  A full-body shiver tore through him. If he closed his eyes, he could still smell the gunpowder.

Cole’s mouth dropped open, but no sound came out.

Carson snorted. “I think that’s the first time in your entire life you’ve been stunned speechless. I could feel rage in the man who shot him. Hell, rage isn’t a strong enough word for what I felt. This man’s anger was volcanic, like his whole body vibrated with it. What was worse than that was how he felt justified as he watched Truman bleed out. Sort of like he was thinking, ‘Got you back, motherfucker.’ I couldn’t hear his thoughts, but that was the vibe I got from him.”

“So you think he wanted to shoot Truman specifically?”

“If the shooter is Mike Davenport, then yes.” If Carson could only show the sketch he and Cole had made of the shooter, then Truman could confirm who the man with the gun in his vision was.

“Who is he?”

“He’s the guy Truman fired a few days before we met.”

“Wait, did he say when he fired this guy?”

“Yeah, it was the Friday before we met. So, December first.”

“Carson, that’s when you had your first vision.”

“What?” That couldn’t be right. Could it?

“Mrs. Salazar had to cancel her Tuesday appointment that week when her sister fell down the stairs and sprained her ankle, remember?”

“Right, so she came in on Friday instead.” Firing Mike Davenport had sent a ripple through Truman’s life like a strong wind makes waves in a small pond. “Truman said something about how a member of the factory staff had to be let go and it was this guy. He and one of his co-workers in the HR department did the firing and the guy went nuclear. He pushed Truman against a door and then threw him to the floor.”

“You hear all the time about how these fired employees come back for revenge. If Truman was the one who fired this guy…” Cole trailed off, looking like he didn’t want to finish his thought.

“I was thinking the same thing. After the vision ended, I asked Mom to show me something else.”

Cole narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean something else?”

“I’ve seen the man I love die three times. I just needed to see what the future could hold, so I asked to see it.” Carson closed his eyes. He could hear his children calling out for Truman. He could see their little faces.

“What did you see?”

Carson felt hot tears streak down his face. “Babies. I saw our babies. A boy and a girl. They were coloring at Truman’s kitchen table. The boy had Truman’s green eyes and the girl had my blue ones. They were calling Truman “Daddy.” Just as I reached out to touch them, the vision ended.”

“Shit,” Cole mumbled under his breath. “So that’s the dangling carrot.”

“All I have to do is keep Truman out of the line of fire.”

“Has he said anything yet about this Christmas party?”

“No, not a word. Maybe it isn’t a Christmas party. I mean people were dressed up, so it could have been a New Year’s Eve party.”

“And it’s not like you can ask him about it or he’s gonna want to know how you know about it. I mean shit, what if it’s a work-only party and you can’t even go?”

Carson nodded. “This whole thing is so fucking messed up.” Cole was right, what if the party was a work only function? It was getting dark now at 4:15pm so it could have been a cocktail hour right after work with no spouses or significant others invited.

“What are you going to do? You’re going to have to tell Truman the truth at some point.”

“I know.” Just not yet.