Snowbound (7 page)

Their skin stuck together; their mouths melded as one. Hayden thought this must be as close as he would ever come to another person, Dylan almost becoming part of him, so closely were they fused.

The hot mouth swallowed his cries. Dylan didn't break his easy, rocking rhythm, didn't once falter in those strokes to Hayden's straining cock. Oh God, he needed this, he needed it like the air in his lungs.

Dylan's left hand cradled his head as they kissed, caressing it. His right hand let go of Hayden's cock to run the length of his torso, exploring with feather-light fingertips, making Hayden arch in pleasure.

He nuzzled Hayden's throat, pressing deeper, harder, as Hayden drew closer to his peak and became noisier.

He clutched at his own cock, almost at the edge. Dylan pushed his hand away. He jerked Hayden off expertly, another four or five strokes and then Hayden stiffened, bucked, his toes curling, shuddering hard all over, as he spurted.

Dylan hissed against his ear, writhing in the grip of his own climax before he slowed, moving languorously as each of them rode out their orgasm.

Hayden lay there in the afterglow with Dylan's mouth against his neck and his hand still around him. He didn't want to ever go home.

****

Finally, Dylan moved first. He slid away and left for the bathroom. Hayden leaned over, grabbed a few tissues from the bedside table and wiped himself off. The clock said eight; he guessed Dylan would soon be leaving for work.

Footsteps sounded. "Want some breakfast?"

Hayden turned onto his back to see Dylan pulling on a robe. "Sure."

Dylan nodded and left the room. Hayden dragged himself out of bed. His leg pained him when he stood up. He pulled on his robe and went to the bathroom to wash.

Dylan had toast and eggs ready on the table, coffee and orange juice. Hayden sat down, gulping a couple of his painkillers with juice. He buttered some toast, waiting politely until Dylan sat down before he started eating.

"Fingers crossed for the road being open today, huh?" Dylan said.

Hayden nodded. Rather than look at Dylan, he watched Boots eating his own breakfast.

"You never say much after we…"

Hayden's gaze moved to his. "What do you want me to say?"

"I don't know."

"Marks out of ten, that kind of thing?"

Dylan frowned at his flippancy. He got up from the table.

Hayden caught his wrist, staying him, looking up into his eyes. "Eleven," he said.

A small smile twitched Dylan's mouth. He threaded his fingers through Hayden's hair. Hayden put an arm around his waist, pulling his lover closer so he could rest his face against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

****

Dylan was ready for work, parka zipped up, checking that his gloves were in his pockets. Hayden sat on the couch, his right leg outstretched. Dylan leaned down and ran his palm lightly over the scar. "Wish I could stay here and give you a massage."

"It's okay. I'll get Boots to do it."

Dylan smiled. "I'll call you about the road."

Hayden nodded. "Have a nice day."

Dylan cupped his head, bent, kissed him. "Take it easy."

"You can count on that."

He watched Dylan pull his boots on at the door, pull his hat over his ears, and then he was gone with a farewell raise of his hand.

Hayden made no move to get dressed or get his things together. It wasn't a case that he believed the road would still be closed, but more that he simply didn't want to go anywhere.

Boots jumped onto the couch, purring, cuddling up to him, and Hayden lay down, stroking Dylan's cat and hating himself more with every passing minute.

****

His cell shrilled him out of sleep. Boots stirred, stretched, blinked at him with large green eyes as Hayden reached down and plucked the phone from the carpet.

"Hey."

"Hi, Hayden. You're in luck."

"What?"

"The road. It's been cleared. Traffic's good on the highway. No more snow forecast for today."

Silence hung on the line between them.

"Are you there?"

"Yeah. Thanks."

"Okay, so if you get ready I'll come for you, drop you off at the garage. It'll be about an hour. Got to make a call."

"All right. See you in a bit."

"Yeah." Dylan hung up.

Hayden lay back still holding his phone. No, a voice told him inside.
No
. He jumped when the phone went off again.
Julianna calling.

"Hi," he answered. "I was just going to call you."

"You were?"

"Yes, good news. I'll be on the road in about an hour."

Julianna squealed. "Oh, thank God."

"So I'll see you soon. Got to get ready."

"Okay, baby. Love you."

Hayden hung up. He looked blankly at Boots with pain drumming up and down his leg, rising throughout his body to centre in the left side of his chest. It blossomed with surprising speed, turning into flames, consuming him whole.

****

He was sitting, waiting, when Dylan came for him. He shrugged on his parka as the cop came through the door, kicking off his boots.

"You ready?"

"Yeah."

Dylan reached for his bag.

"Got to warn you, the damage is steep at the garage. It's going to hurt your credit card."

Hayden shrugged.

"And they put you a spare in the trunk. So you don't end up having to stay at any more cops' houses."

"That's a shame," Hayden replied. "Was going to see if I could sleep my way around the state."

Dylan grabbed him in a playful headlock, rubbing his knuckles on Hayden's hair. "Okay smartass, let's go. I've got your bag."

Hayden petted Boots, who remained reclined on the couch. "Bye, Boots. See you around."

He put his hat on, then went to the doormat to pull his boots on. Dylan went out to his car with Hayden's bag. The engine was still running, exhaust fumes clouding the cold, still air behind the vehicle.

Hayden climbed in beside Dylan. For a moment the deputy turned his head, those golden eyes fixing on his. The look that passed between them would stay in Hayden's mind for a long time to come.

Dylan set off. They drove in silence down the road. The day was bright and crisp. The road was ploughed. Snow ten feet high lay neatly packed along its edges. It was a couple of miles until civilisation appeared, rows of stores on both sides, the police station looming large over them all.

Dylan pulled over to the side of the road before they reached any of the buildings, clicking open his seatbelt. "Garage is just up on the left," he said.

Silence fell. It was kind of obvious why Dylan had pulled over. Hayden released his seat belt. Then he leaned over and held the deputy sheriff hard.

Dylan pulled him close, a hand working its way beneath Hayden's layers to smooth down his naked back, his other hand holding his head. He nosed Hayden's hair. "I won't forget you."

Hayden tightened his arms. His eyes and throat burned with the need to let out his distress. He held back the emotion with every ounce of his strength.
Not here. Not in front of him.

There were things he wanted to say to Dylan, words that wanted to spill but he kept them furiously prisoner behind his teeth and tongue. Nothing he could say now could do either of them any good. This… affair, if that's what it was, was all done. They were going back to their lives, a life for Hayden that included the wife he had cynically deceived and that somehow, he had to look in the eye when he got back home. A life without Dylan, this interlude in his once-peaceful existence. But Dylan had blown him wide open. Hayden knew his life was changed for good and he knew he would never, ever forget this man.

He clasped Dylan's face and kissed him. Dylan's fingers played over the nape of his neck. He matched Hayden's passion kiss for kiss.

They broke contact after long minutes, leaving both of them breathless. Dylan's lips brushed Hayden's temple, his jaw, his ear. His hand was gentle on Hayden's head, touching him with such tenderness.

He sighed, releasing Hayden. "Come on. Let's go."

Hayden sat back. He stared blindly out of the window as Dylan set off again, pulling up in front of a garage. He killed the engine, then got out and took Hayden's bag from the trunk.

Hayden's right leg buckled as he stepped out of the car. He grabbed the roof, steadying himself, breathing through the pain.

"Are you okay?" Dylan asked in concern behind him.

"Yeah."

"Are you sure you're going to be okay to drive? Maybe I should drive you home."

Hayden turned to look at him.
My lover driving me back to my wife? I don't think so. Worst idea in the history of bad ideas.

Dylan gave him a rueful smile, clearly reading his thoughts. He set off toward the garage and Hayden followed him. Dylan greeted the short, plump guy in overalls at the door. They shook hands and Dylan introduced Hayden.

"Got it back here for you, sir. Dave'll take it out front if you want to come with me and settle up."

Hayden followed him into a cold, drafty office, waiting while the guy prepared his bill. It was steep, as Dylan had suggested, but Hayden didn't much care. He handed over his credit card and while he waited for the machine to connect, he looked out through the window at Dylan.

The deputy stood in the entrance to the garage, looking out into the distance, arms folded: tall, lean, beautiful. Hayden observed him covertly for a minute, while inside he ached for all that he was losing as suddenly as he had found it.

"Enter your PIN, sir," the mechanic prompted him.

Hayden did as he was told, waited for his receipt, then shook hands with the man. He squared his shoulders and walked back out through the garage.

His car waited out front, by Dylan's police cruiser. Hayden didn't even inspect the repair work to the hood or the new tyre. He couldn't have cared less. In fact, he cursed the garage for getting the work done on time. If Dylan had wanted to keep him here, why hadn't he told the mechanics to take four days on the job? That was what Hayden would have done. He took his bag silently from Dylan and stashed it in the trunk before he got in. The keys were in the ignition. He adjusted his seat before he started the engine and fastened his seatbelt.

Dylan stood by his door. Hayden pushed the button to the electric window. Dylan put his hand on the top of the door. "Follow the road for another mile, then make a right for the interstate."

"Thanks for everything," Hayden said quietly.

Dylan didn't reply. Hayden glanced back into the garage before he rested his hand over Dylan's.

"Bye."

"Bye. You take care now." Dylan slid his hand away. He stepped back from the car.

Hayden's jaw quivered. He kept it tightly clamped shut. He looked once over his shoulder before he stepped hard on the accelerator, shooting out into the middle of the road and putting as much distance between him and the town of Blackstone as he could.

Dylan faded away to a dot in the distance and Hayden saw the turnoff. He braked hard and flew onto the highway. He joined the flow of traffic, his foot down hard. He plucked at his seatbelt as it seemed to be crushing his chest, squashing the breath out of him.

****

Dylan walked back to his car. He kept his expression carefully neutral because the owner of the garage was standing there watching. He made a U-turn and set off back to his house, the only safe haven as far as he could see. He switched off the engine in the driveway and got out.

He unlocked the front door and stepped inside. He didn't kick his boots off, only sank down on the bottom step of the stairs and bent his head, hands dangling between his knees.

It's okay, he told himself.
It's okay.

PART TWO

CHAPTER SEVEN

Hayden returned to his life and carried on much the same, apart from the fact that he was deeply changed, deeply scarred by that one fateful encounter. Time passed and his memories faded along with that sting of hurt, that pain, which had initially screwed him up beyond recognisable.

But he became quieter, withdrawn, taciturn. He let the world carry on around him and he didn't say anything about it. Nothing mattered that much anymore. Not now that he'd had a glimpse of what could have been, and had it all taken away as quickly as it had arrived.

He knew he wouldn't ever go back to Blackstone and look Dylan up. He had to be satisfied with his life.

But then fate intervened once again, ten years down the line, dealing its cards in the most terrible of ways.

Hayden waited two respectable years after the blow that befell him and then he set out to Blackstone on the morning of a summer's day, with an overnight bag just in case.

He was thirty-seven years old, too young to carry on forgetting.

****

Hayden drove into the centre of town with his palms wet and his heart furiously hammering against his ribs as though pleading to be let out. He felt it begging, the way it had continued to beg through twelve long years of denial.

He had fought with it and fought with it and finally it had won. It had brought him back here and he had followed, a slave to it, a prisoner.

But he didn't know what he would find. Who said Dylan was here? He could be halfway across the world, he could be shacked up with another guy, he could be dead.

That troublesome heart of his told him that Dylan was still here, though. He had been born here and he hadn't shown interest in leaving, so why shouldn't he still be here? And if he wasn't, what would Hayden do? Simple. He would search the world if he had to, until he found the man he'd left behind.

He let the air-conditioning dry the sweat on his brow another few bracing minutes before he got out of the car, not bothering to lock it behind him. He took the steps up to the police station slowly, taking his time, in no rush any more to confront his destiny. Especially not when he was unsure what he would find there.