TAKE ME HOME (6 page)

He pointed to the map again. “First we catch a commuter flight to San Francisco. There we get on the train and head all the way to Chicago. It’s supposed to be some amazing scenery.

We’ll go through the Sierra Nevadas and the Rocky Mountains.” He paused. “I got a room in one of the sleeper cars so you can have privacy to write.”

“Wow.” Kyle flipped through the tickets for their connecting train in Chicago that would take them on to Ohio and the ones for the trip back to California. Did he notice they only had the one room? It seemed silly for them not to share. And the tickets weren’t cheap. “This is great, Ev. Thank you.” Kyle looked…relaxed, happy. Not stressed like when Evan had walked in earlier.

Now wasn’t the right time to ask him about the journal. It could wait. At least until Kyle started writing again. At least until he finished the five chapters he needed to send to his editor.

Hastings expected an answer by the first of the year. That was two weeks away.

Kyle was examining the map in more detail. Evan reached for his tickets. While Kyle wrote, he could work on the script ideas he wanted to pitch to the writers’ room after he’d gotten his feet wet. That was if he still had the job.

“This is really cool, Ev.”

That had Evan smiling. He wouldn’t let Hastings or the uncertainty of his future ruin their trip.

“Hey.” Kyle faced him and leaned his arm on the back of the couch, resting his temple against his closed fist. “You’re doing a lot more smiling today than you have in a long time.”

“It’s almost Christmas.”

26

Sloan Parker

“It is.” Kyle’s eyes crinkled up at the corners as his smile widened. “And you’ve been a good boy?”

Evan loved this playful side of Kyle. He hadn’t been like this when Evan had first moved in. It was like Kyle was worried Evan was too fragile. And that pissed him off. So he’d gotten dumped by the person he thought he was going to spend his life with. People got over that.

Didn’t they? He wasn’t the same weak kid who’d been used and rejected over and over.

Then what was he so afraid would happen if he and Kyle gave in and slept together?

He folded the brochure, needing to do something with his hands. “I have been very, very good.”

“Yeah, you have.” Kyle’s voice was lower, deeper, sexier than a moment before, if that was possible. “What do you think good boys get in their stockings?”

“Um…” Evan sat back and pressed his index finger to his lips. “Porn. Really, really good porn.”

Kyle huffed out a laugh. “That can be arranged.”

“Well, you’re the expert.”

It was an old joke from college. They’d had a fight one night when Evan had told Kyle he was sleeping around so much he might as well have done porn and gotten paid for it. Kyle hadn’t been offended. He’d turned it into a joke, one they revisited from time to time.

Kyle said, “You just want me to teach you the industry secrets.”

“Ha. What secrets do you know that I don’t?”

Kyle slowly leaned in until his chest touched Evan’s shoulder and their mouths almost came together. Evan’s breath caught in a rush. In an instant, he was back in that motel room, Kyle on top of him, Kyle’s mouth on his.

“It’s not something I can tell you,” Kyle said. “You have to experience it.” He licked his lower lip in an exaggerated move.

Evan could not stop watching that mouth, the moisture left behind by the swipe of Kyle’s tongue. He wanted to lean in and follow the action with his own tongue. His breathing picked up, and his cock responded. The intense way Kyle watched him was unnerving. Like Evan was the only opportunity he’d had to fuck anyone in weeks.

Which was odd. Kyle had never experienced a lack in that department. How long had it been since he’d hooked up with anyone? Without a thought on what he was doing, Evan raised his hand and ran his thumb over Kyle’s lower lip liked he’d done in Miguel’s office earlier.

No shocked reaction this time. Instead, Kyle drew his eyebrows up in a questioning stare.

“Frosting?”

Evan couldn’t speak. He shook his head. He longed to shove Kyle backward, straddle him, and kiss him with a fierceness—a possessiveness—that scared Evan in its intensity. He wanted to grind their bodies together, press Kyle into the couch, until they were panting and writhing, until they came so hard they’d be unable to move. They’d fall asleep right there, his body draped over Kyle’s.

Just kiss him.

No. It would never be just a kiss. Just another fuck. Not for Evan. He’d probably end up confessing what he felt for Kyle. Then what? How awkward and fucked-up would their friendship get after that?

Take Me Home

27

“I can’t.” He dropped his hand.

“It’s okay, Ev.” Kyle eased back to his former location on the couch. He focused on the tickets again. “Thanks for this. I think it’ll help.”

“You’re welcome.” Evan squeezed his eyes shut and sucked in a deep breath. He opened his eyes and nudged Kyle’s shoulder with his own. “It’ll be fun. Our last trip before you move.” Kyle started to say something, but Evan turned away. He didn’t want to hear anything more about Kyle leaving California. Didn’t want to think about what it would be like not to see each other all the time, not to hang out together.

He stood and picked up his plate. “I’m going for a run. I’ll let you get more staring at your computer done.”

“Thanks.” The frustrated expression was back as Kyle rested his head on the couch behind him and stared at the ceiling.

“You’ll come up with some great stuff on the train. You’ll see.” There was that serious, intense look again as Kyle glanced at him. Could there be something to it? Something more than desire? Evan left the room before he did something stupid and asked what it meant. He headed down the hall to Kyle’s spare bedroom, closed the door, and leaned against it.

Why had he touched Kyle again?

Because a part of him would always love Kyle, would always imagine what it would be like to have all of him.

He pushed away from the door and undressed. He was not going there again. He slipped on his shorts and T-shirt, headed into the hall, and stopped at the apartment door. “I’ll be back in an hour.” When Kyle didn’t say anything, Evan faced him.

Kyle was staring at Evan’s crotch, breathing hard, his mouth hanging open. Had he been checking out his ass? He finally lifted his head and met Evan’s stare. Those serious dark eyes did shit to his willpower.

There was no denying it. He could have Kyle if he wanted. For one night.

He turned away and fumbled with the door handle, then left the apartment before he lost all reason.

28

Sloan Parker

Kyle stared at the closed apartment door. He couldn’t get the image of Evan in those shorts and that tight black T-shirt out of his mind. Evan had been exercising a lot since he’d moved in, and his build was firming up even more than what was visible in jeans or his uniform.

Especially his ass.

God, what he’d give to take that ass in his hands, tongue the round flesh, then shove his face between the cheeks and proceed to lick every inch of Evan’s body. Then he wanted Evan to do the same to him. Right before Evan fucked the hell out of him.

Should he just do what Lorrie said and pounce?

Evan deserved a night of pleasure. He deserved to let go and enjoy himself. Kyle could give that to him. There wasn’t one thing he didn’t want to do to Evan. Or have Evan do to him.

Which should’ve been a giant red flag warning him not to advance.

If he let himself go like that, would they ever be the same again?

He adjusted his swelling cock through the jeans. His dick sure didn’t care about friendship or right and wrong or hurting Evan. Jerking off sounded good, but he forced himself to wait.

Later, in bed. After Evan came home. Or better yet, while Evan showered after his run.

Kyle breathed deep and rubbed the back of his neck. No sense trying to work any longer.

He shut down his laptop, picked up the plates from dinner, and headed for the kitchen. He needed to do laundry and pack. He hadn’t been prepared to leave the next day. According to the tickets, they’d be in Ohio for over a week, then head back on New Year’s Day.

He cleaned up the dirty plates and stored Evan’s dinner, almost a full plate, in the fridge on the off chance Evan would actually want to eat more later. On his way to his room, he stripped down to his underwear and tossed his clothes with the rest of his dirty laundry, then threw a load into the washing machine. He went to his room and got his suitcase and backpack out. In his closet, he grabbed his gloves, a wool hat, and the red scarf his mom had knitted for him the year before. According to Lorrie, the temperature had been dropping in Ohio for the past week, with snow falling steadily. He folded several long-sleeved shirts and sweatshirts. As he cleared a spot on the closet rack, he pictured his bedroom filled with Evan’s things. Would Evan keep renting the place and move into the larger bedroom after Kyle was gone?

He wasn’t sure what the hell was wrong with him that he couldn’t write, but for the sake of his career, he had to do something soon. A change in scenery was long overdue. To be honest, he missed his parents, his sister, and her kids. Everything in him told him home—Liberty Falls—

was the right answer.

But he had no intention of moving as long as Evan needed him.

Although Evan didn’t really need him. Never had.

He amazed Kyle. It might not have been the life Kyle wanted, but he had to admire Evan for not letting his status as victim consume him. Evan never blamed Kyle for what had happened Take Me Home

29

to him. Despite the fact that it had been Kyle who had taken Evan to that bar where he’d met his first asshole boyfriend. Then the next, and the next, finally ending up with the one who’d hurt him the most.

And after all he’d been through, Evan had still fallen in love with someone.

He’d do it again too. Lorrie had been right about that.

The thought of Evan with another man was worse than the years of watching him with his ex. Why? Because of the past six months living together?

He threw a dresser drawer open and went for his warmest pairs of socks, tucking each under his arm as he searched for more. When he’d collected enough for the next two weeks, he went to close the drawer and stopped short. There, peeking out from under the pile of socks he’d rummaged through, was his grandpa’s journal.

He pulled the leather book out and sat on the edge of the bed. The socks tumbled from under his arm and dropped one by one beside him.

Part of him wanted to connect to his past. To a time when his grandpa was alive. When it was easy to write. When he had dreams of selling his work. When he and Evan had been young and the desire was new, not something he’d waited years to follow through on.

He wanted to go back to that youth—that innocence.

Was that the real reason he’d been planning to move? Or was there more he hadn’t thought about?

He slowly opened the journal. The leather spine creaked with the movement. The scent of dust and aging paper drifted up around him.

He needed to read this, as if the answers to his own problems were inside.

June 25, 1952

Today I left all I had known for months behind and began the journey home. I am ready. To see the end of death. The bombs, the guns, the blood. To never see such destruction again. A part of me, though, cannot face my family, the simplicity of the farm, or the strangeness of the world we left behind. I am not ready for civilization.

Yet, I am not ready to be alone. He has a plan, and I know I must follow him in it.

Kyle stopped reading.

June 25, 1952. The day his grandpa left Korea. The war continued for a year and so did his grandpa’s travels. He hadn’t come home to Ohio until one year later, four days after the armistice was signed. A few months after that, he’d met Kyle’s grandmother.

Throughout Kyle’s childhood, his grandpa had talked a great deal about life, about the things he’d seen when he’d traveled with his wife on family vacations, about the trials and tribulations of running a small family-owned farm, about hard work and commitment. The two times he’d never mentioned were the war and the year he’d spent traveling afterward. When Kyle was ten and he’d been studying World War I in history class, he started to ask his grandpa if he’d ever killed a man, but Kyle’s mom had cut him off. She’d pulled him aside and whispered that he was not to speak about the war or the year after with his grandfather ever again.

So he’d never mentioned it. Not in all the conversations they’d had over the years.

30

Sloan Parker

Now, here he was, holding a journal from that missing time of his grandpa’s life.

He continued on to the next entry.

We reached Chicago yesterday. Free men. Military life no longer dictating our every decision, our every move. The buildings were enormous, and the crowds rushed by so quickly. The sidewalks were packed at all hours of the day, the city life loud even while we slept. It didn’t faze us. We had slept through worse. To watch him sleep in such peace, and not amid the bombs and foxholes, was a treat I cannot describe. His face no longer held the pain and worry, the guilt of a man who’d done things he never wanted another soul to know. I ran my finger along the scar over his right eye, down his cheek, then held him in my arms. My head on his shoulder, I pressed my palm over the rise and fall of his chest. It was like a dream, being alone in a room, finally in a real bed with Joe Morrison. I wanted to watch him sleep forever. I also wanted to wake him, kiss him, and know what it was to feel alive again and again. All night. All day. Until I felt the same peace.

Kyle lowered the journal to his lap. “Grandpa.” He wasn’t sure why he’d spoken aloud, wasn’t sure if he wanted his grandpa to hear him, if he wanted to speak to the old man, and if he did, he had no idea what he wanted to say.

He slowly closed the book and dropped it into the nightstand drawer as if holding the journal any longer, looking at it for another second, would make it more real.