EXCERPT: No Distance Left to Run

Title: No Distance Left to Run
Author: Aleksandr Voinov, L.A. Witt
Publisher: Samhain Publishing
Format: ebook, paperback

Excerpt:

The text from Deb wasn’t entirely out of the blue, but I always got nervous when I saw her name on my phone. With her father in fading health, no news was usually good news, so a message could mean anything.

Can we meet for lunch?

Well, that wasn’t too bad, then.

Sure. When?

I didn’t have to be at work for a few hours. She probably had a pretty short window between dropping the kids off at school and picking them up. While I waited for a response, I pulled up the traffic app and checked traffic between Seattle and the Eastside where she lived, which gave me something to do besides worry that she was going to tell me her dad’s condition had worsened. I hadn’t even seen much of the Hawthorne family since I’d left the Church, but they’d been like my second family when I was growing up.

She texted me back with the time and suggested a place on my side of Lake Washington. Convenient. Just in case we ran late—when didn’t we?—I put my work clothes in a bag and left them in the backseat of my car.

At twelve thirty on the nose, she pulled into the parking lot of one of those insanely healthy vegan cafés in Fremont, just outside of downtown Seattle. Hope you’re buying this time, I thought. Places like this were not cheap.

As soon as I saw her, my heart dropped. She always looked tired—six kids under seven will do that to you—but she was tense. Really tense. Nervous.

“Hey.” I hugged her gently. “You all right?”

“Yeah. I’m fine.” She pulled back and plastered on a phony smile that was totally out of character for her. This wasn’t good.

“How’s your dad?” I asked quietly.

Deb straightened a bit, the smile faltering. “He’s not well, but that’s not why I’m here.” She gestured at the coffee shop. “Let’s go in and sit. I…need to talk to you about something.”

Yeah. Definitely not good.

“Deb.” I touched her arm. “Just tell me. Straight out.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think this is—”

“Please. No beating around the bush.”

She held my gaze for a moment and then swallowed hard. “It’s about my brother.”

Something twisted deep in my gut. She had four brothers, three of them still living. I cleared my throat. “Okay. Which one?”

Deb locked eyes with me, though it seemed to take a lot of effort. “Joshua.”

I winced and shifted my gaze away. “How in the world is this urgent, then?” Unless someone had found his body. At least then, maybe we could all have some closure, but God, his parents didn’t need—

“Chris.” When I met her eyes again, she whispered, “He’s alive.”

“What?” My knees buckled. I grabbed the side of her minivan and leaned hard against it. “How the hell… He’s alive?”

She smiled, but that nervous tension remained in her expression. “It’s a long story. I’ve…I’ve been back in contact with him for a while. Almost a year now, off and on.”

I could barely breathe. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because he didn’t want anyone to know.” She exhaled. “He knows people were hurt when he left.”

“Left?” I growled. “What do you mean he left?”

“Exactly that. He left.”

Left. I had a hard time trying to work out whether this was one of those horrible nice phrases, like “he passed away” or “he’s gone home to Jesus,” a pretty veneer for something awful, or whether she was really so blasé about it. Seeing the tension around her jaw, the second option looked a great deal unlikely. “Explain. Please?”

She tugged at my arm toward the café, and I got the hint and sighed.

We found a table—she’d selected a quiet corner—and then we went through the torturous process of ordering drinks while he left, he left echoed through my head.

When she leaned forward again, her eyes were all soft. “So, yes. Joshua left. That’s how he puts it.”

It was only really sinking in that he was alive. He could still do that. Use words. Give things names and descriptions. Something shifted in my chest, some kind of weight, or maybe grief, or maybe something else entirely. I wanted to strangle him, but this was only his sister, and she didn’t deserve that.

Deb went on. “Joshua reached out to me about a year ago. He found me on Facebook, of all places.” She leaned back when the waiter brought our coffees—decaf for her, of course—and ordered her superfood salad. I shook my head when the waiter asked me if I wanted anything. My stomach was too busy knotting and twisting.

“So, how is he?”

She drew up her shoulders. “Well enough, I think. I asked him to come home to make his peace with Dad.”

Another one of those pretty words. Whether the old man wanted to be made peace with was an entirely different matter, but we both knew that. Deb always believed in family and forgiveness. I wasn’t so sure about all that. I had precious little experience with happy family reunions.

“And?”

“He’s coming.”

My stomach was busy enough to tolerate the sip of coffee. No way could I have eaten anything now. “All right.”

“He’s arriving this evening at Sea-Tac.” She lifted her eyebrows.

Oh no. I’m not picking him up with you. No way.

I started to shake my head, but she reached across the table and put a hand on my arm. “He wants to see you. He’s here to make peace with our father, but…you’re the one he’s been talking about recently.”

“And after five years of thinking he’s dead, I’m supposed to show up at the airport with flowers and a smile?” I pulled my arm back. “No. Just…no. I can’t.”

“It doesn’t have to be tonight. He’ll probably need to rest and settle in anyway. I’m sure he’ll be jetlagged, and…” She trailed off, then lowered her gaze and picked up her coffee.

“Jetlagged.” I tilted my head. “Where exactly is he coming from?”

Deb took a sip of coffee, rolling it around for a moment before she set it back down. “France.”

I blinked. “France? What in the…” I closed my eyes and shook my head. “Last I heard, he was missing and presumed dead. Now he’s alive and flying in from France?” I sat up. “What is going on?”

She took a deep breath. Folding her hands on the table, she met my eyes, her expression taut and stoic like it probably was whenever she had to explain something difficult to one of her children. “When he disappeared from his mission, it was because he left. He just…left. He wasn’t kidnapped or killed or anything like that. He left, he changed his name, and he joined the French Foreign Legion.”

I stared at her, waiting for the punch line. That was not the Joshua I knew. Not even close. He was the straight-A student, the track star, the football star, the everything-he-ever-did star. The first-chair trumpet player and promising business student who’d locked in a full-ride scholarship to Brigham Young, only to have his life tragically cut short during his two-year mission. People like that grew up to be CEOs. Or bishops. Or senators. They didn’t just up and walk away from everything to join the…

“The French Foreign Legion. You’re serious.”

Deb nodded. “I didn’t believe it either, but then I could barely believe he was alive until I talked to him.”

The words thumped against my chest. “You’ve actually talked to him? Like, on the phone?”

She nodded again.

So he was alive. His sister would have known if he was an imposter or a scam artist. If she’d spoken to him and still believed him, then he really was alive.

Laughing softly, she said, “He sounds a lot different now. I mean, it’s his voice. I knew it was him the moment I answered the phone.”

“Then how is he different?”

“He’s got an accent now. French, I guess. His English was actually a little rough.”

I struggled to imagine Mr. Class President, he of the eloquent speeches even in high school, having any difficulty with the English language. “But you’re sure it was him.”

Her laughter vanished, and she nodded slowly. “Absolutely. Chris, I wouldn’t lie to you. Not about this. Joshua is alive.”

Something shifted again in my chest. Like every damn organ I possessed. Maybe her relief or her love for her brother—some of that translated itself to me, though I didn’t want it to. I’d mourned him for so long that hearing he was alive was actually painful. But the whole story seemed unbelievable at the same time, exotic and strange and so not Joshua. I wanted to see him. And I never wanted to see him again. All this was half a dream and half Careful what you wish for. Alive. And soon back home.

“What else…did he say?”

“He mostly asked about the family, but he didn’t say much more apart from what I told you. He seemed to be really…I don’t know. Relaxed? About some things? Laid back?”

“Really?”

“Well, I asked him what he was going to do if he decides to get out, and he said, ‘Something will come up’.” She shook her head. “Like it didn’t matter and like he wasn’t worried at all.”

Not like Joshua either. I wouldn’t exactly call him a control freak, but he liked his plans and his schedules, and he was usually extremely well prepared. A shrugged God will provide attitude was out of character for him.

“Where is he staying?”

“He didn’t say. I offered, but maybe my house is a bit too busy. Can’t have him overdose on family right away.” She smiled a little. “I’ll let him recover from the trip before I introduce him to the other kids.”

Five years. Good heavens. He didn’t know most of her kids. She’d been pregnant with the third and fourth when he’d allegedly died, and there’d been two more since then. His own family was full of strangers now.

And maybe it was wise to give him some space. He’d bolted once—though the why was what really interested me. The Legion? What kind of harebrained idea was that? Who ran away from home—or a mission, for God’s sake—and joined the Legion?

I rubbed the bridge of my nose. “When are you going to pick him up?”

“At seven.”

Her face was all open and inviting. Somehow, she managed to put the possibility out there in the room without applying pressure or guilt-tripping me. Then again, there was no guilt to trip over. If anybody, that was Joshua’s role.

“International flight? He might be delayed.”

“I think it’s a connecting flight.”

So epic possibilities for delays and other clusterfucks.

I sucked on my teeth for a moment. Though, how bad could it be?

Pretty damn bad. You could try to punch him, and you both get arrested.

“I could wait with you.”

She smiled and reached over the table to touch my hand. “Thank you, Chris. I’m sure it’ll mean the world to him.”

Unless I punch him. Bastard.

EXCERPT: The Best Man

Title: The Best Man (2nd Edition)
Author: L.A. Witt
Format: ebook

Excerpt:

Chapter 1 

Any minute now, Craig would be here.

Chewing my thumbnail and fidgeting on the couch, I stared at the front door and waited. Less than an hour had passed since my ex-boyfriend had called to say he needed to talk to me, but the atmosphere in my apartment had a strange emptiness about it, as if he’d already come and gone, leaving only an echo of his presence and whatever he’d come to say. Not unlike the night he left.

I picked my water bottle up off the coffee table and took a drink, then played with the cap, spinning it one way, then the other, then back, just to give my hands something to do. Over and over I tried to tell myself there was no point in getting this wound up over a conversation that hadn’t happened yet. It could be about anything. We were still friends. We still talked and hung out.

But really, I was kidding myself. Craig could handle all but the most serious conversations by phone, yet he’d insisted on meeting in person. And it couldn’t wait.

Maybe he was having problems with his girlfriend again and needed advice. At that thought, I clenched my jaw. It shouldn’t have bothered me that my ex was with a woman now, but it did. I guess on some strange level, the fact that he had a girlfriend put him that much farther out of my reach. A new boyfriend left me a little glimmer of hope that I still had a fighting chance in the future. Craig’s relationship with her gave our split a kind of resonating permanence, an implicit “This is how far I’ve moved on from you.”

Ah, the joys of being with a bisexual man. I wondered if the girlfriend before me had felt the same way when she’d found out about us.

The sharp three-beat knock made me sit up so fast I nearly dropped my water bottle. I recovered, set the bottle on the coffee table, and went to the door, all the while trying to convince myself one last time that there was no reason to worry. He just wanted to talk. It didn’t mean it was anything bad, or that this was going to hurt.

But when I opened the door, my heart went into my throat.

The look on his face did nothing to ease my nerves. It was the same apologetic expression—eyebrows pulled together above wide eyes, lips thinned into a grimace that was almost painful, three worried lines creasing his forehead—he’d had when he’d come to tell me he was leaving.

My stomach did a somersault, but I smiled through it and waved him in. He didn’t look at or speak to me as he came in, and in fact shrank away from me slightly as he moved past. It instantly made me miss the time when he couldn’t walk by me without at least some sort of affectionate contact. I shook my head as I pushed those thoughts back and followed him into the living room.

He stopped and stood with his back to me, hands in his pockets, shifting his weight. Making no move to sit. Probably not planning to stay long. Then he turned and faced me, but scratched the back of his neck and looked at the floor.

And still the silence lingered.

Finally, I said, “You wanted to talk?”

His eyes flicked up and met mine. “Yeah. Yeah, I did.” He sank onto the sofa, the muffled squeak of leather creating a mix of relief and apprehension in my gut. He was planning to stay for a while. Whatever he came to talk about, he didn’t expect it to be over in a few short minutes.

He steepled his fingers in front of his lips and rested his elbows on his knees, brow knitting again as he focused on my coffee table.

I was too wound up to sit, so I folded my arms across my chest and leaned against the wall. He glanced up at me, then his eyes shifted slightly to my left. His cheeks darkening, he dropped his gaze again.

“I’m surprised you still have that thing on the wall,” he said quietly.

I looked at the painting that hung above the television. One of his paintings. I shrugged. “I guess I just got used to it being there. Left it up there out of habit.”

His eyes met mine and I knew he saw right through me, but he didn’t press the issue. We’d had this conversation a hundred times before, and I’d more or less convinced him that I would get over him when I got over him.

“I don’t imagine you came all the way across town to discuss my living room décor,” I said.

His chin rested on his hands, which were now folded loosely, and he lowered his eyes again. “No, I didn’t.”

I shifted my weight slightly, “So, what—”

“Rebecca and I are getting married.”

He couldn’t have knocked more air out of my lungs if he’d punched me in the chest. I recovered as quickly as I could and cleared my throat. “Wow, that’s…uh. Congratulations.”

“Thanks. I asked her the other night.” He laughed softly. “Still kind of weird to even say it. Me. Getting married.” Shaking his head, he added, “Who knew?”

Yeah. Who knew?

He wrung his hands. “Are you,” he paused. “Are you okay with this?”

“Craig, why wouldn’t I be?” Besides the fact that I would kill for even one more night with you. “I want you to be happy.” I just wish you could still be happy with me.

He eyed me. “You know what I mean, Jon.”

“Yes, you’re right, I do.” I chewed the inside of my cheek. “And I’m fine with it.”

He regarded me silently for a moment. Then he stared at his hands. “There’s…” He hesitated. “There’s one more thing.”

This should be good. I raised my eyebrows. “Okay?”

“I want you to be my best man.”

I was wrong. There was still some air left for him to knock out of my lungs. “You—” I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.” Craig avoided my eyes. “Look, I know it’s an odd thing to ask, given—” He pursed his lips and finally looked at me. “Given our history. But Jon, you’re my closest friend. I’ll understand if you can’t, but…”

“What does Rebecca think of this?” She wasn’t particularly fond of me anyway, nor did she care for the fact that Craig and I were still close friends.

He shook his head. “I haven’t told her yet.”

“Don’t you think you should mention it to her? Given that it’s her wedding too?”

“I wanted to talk to you about it first. See if you were even willing to do it before I took the time to argue with her about it.”

I shifted my weight again. “So you don’t think she’ll be thrilled about it.”

“Probably not.” He shrugged. “Not at first, anyway. You know how she is.”

“Yes, I do,” I said. “But expecting her to be okay with your ex-boyfriend as your best man? Don’t you think that’s asking a bit much?”

Craig waved a hand. “Let me deal with her. What I want to know is if you’re okay with it. If you’re not, I’ll ask someone else, but Jon, I want you to be my best man.”

Chewing my lip, I stared at the floor. Though there was very little I wouldn’t do for Craig, I had to admit, this was pushing it. I wouldn’t miss his wedding for the world, but I wasn’t sure I could stand beside him with Rebecca’s ring in my pocket and pretend it wasn’t killing me.

“Jon?”

I leaned one shoulder against the wall in an effort to look as casual and relaxed as I didn’t feel. “I’m flattered, but…” I licked my lips. “Do you need an answer right now?”

“No, of course not.”

“Have you set a date yet?”

“Not yet. We’re going to talk it over tonight after she gets home. Probably a few months out, at least.”

I chuckled. “Not going to rush into it, are you?”

His eyebrow lifted and the slight twist of his mouth made me wonder if I’d crossed a line. “Look, I know she and I haven’t been together long—”

“Craig.” I put my hand up. “I’m not questioning you. If you know she’s the one you want to be with…” I shrugged. “Then I’m happy for you.”

“But you think I’m moving too fast with her.” It wasn’t a question.

I swallowed. “There’s no way I can answer that without sounding like I’m either patronizing you or trying to talk you out of it for my own gain.”

He cocked his head. “Indulge me.” His flat, low tone sounded all too familiar. It held the same undercurrent of annoyance that it always did when he wanted to pick a fight.

I sighed. “Craig, I didn’t mean anything by it, it’s—”

“Just tell me.”

Are you humoring me or daring me? I let out a breath. Oh, what the hell? What are you going to do? Leave me? “Look, I’m saying this as your friend, not your ex-boyfriend.”

He said nothing, but gestured for me to continue.

My eyes fixed on the coffee table instead of him. “Are you sure you’re not rushing into this?”

He hesitated for a split second, but that fleeting silence spoke volumes. “Yes, I am.”

I looked him in the eye. “After four months?”

“Listen, I know we haven’t been together long, but I know she’s the one for me.”

“Craig, it took you two fucking years to figure out I wasn’t the one for you.” My chest tightened as the words came out before I could stop them.

He looked away, setting his jaw. “You and I both knew a long, long time ago that we weren’t right for each other.”

“Speak for yourself,” I said through my teeth.

His expression was still calm, but his fingers folded so tightly that his knuckles blanched. “So now who am I talking to? My friend, or my ex-boyfriend?”

Letting out a breath, I closed my eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to go there, it’s—”

“I know, it’s a raw nerve,” he said, his tone soft. “Which is why I’ll understand if you don’t want—”

“It’s not that. This has nothing to do with being your best man or not.” Oh, what an ironic title for an ex-boyfriend. “My feelings are what they are. But, I’m serious. Asking as your friend, who really does want to see you happy, are you sure you’re not rushing into this?”

He rested his chin on his folded hands again. “Honestly, I’ve known from the day I met her that this was coming.” Before I could speak, Craig stood and started toward me. “Jon, I know it seems like I’m moving fast with her, but I know she’s the one for me.”

Why wasn’t I?

“Then if you’re sure about it, I’m happy for you.”

He nodded, but didn’t smile. “What about you?”

I blinked. “I just said, I’m happy for you.”

“No, I mean, are you happy? Not about me, just, in general?”

My shoulders dropped and so did my gaze. “I’m getting there.”

“That sounds like a no.”

“Craig, I’m fine,” I said. “Honestly. I just, I take a little more time than you do to move past things.” I met his gaze and gave him what I hoped was a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

He said nothing for a long moment, but then he finally spoke. “Have you gone out? Met anyone?”

“I’ve been out a little,” I lied. “Just haven’t met anyone worth mentioning.”

The slight raise of his eyebrow told me that, as always, he saw right through me. “You know, even if you’re not ready for something serious, maybe it would do you good to meet some new guys. Get laid. Something.”

I rolled my eyes. “I think I’ll manage.”

“I’m serious, Jon, I—”

“Craig.” I put my hands up. “Don’t worry about me, okay?”

His voice softened. “You know I do, though.”

“I know. I know. But you’ve got a wedding to plan and a lot of things on your plate.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that I worry about you. I want you to be happy, too.”

Then come back. “I will be. I just need more time to get there than you.”

He went quiet. I had a feeling he wasn’t convinced, that he was just trying to decide whether or not to push the issue. After a moment, he said, “I didn’t realize you were still having such a hard time with it.”

“I’m better than I was.”

He nodded, but didn’t look at me. “You know I didn’t do it to hurt—”

“Craig.” I put my hands up again. “We’ve been over this. You did what you had to do, and I’ll deal with it in my own time.”

Looking at the floor, he put his hands in his jacket pockets. “If being part of the wedding is too much, I’ll understand.”

It is. You don’t even know, Craig. But I couldn’t stomach the idea of sending him into his marriage thinking that I was still this torn up over him, even if I was. If I could stand up there at the altar with him, then he would know that I was at peace with it.

Even if I wasn’t.

“If you want me to be your best man…” I paused to wet my parched lips. “Then I will.”

He searched my eyes. I very nearly reached for his arm, just to silently reassure him, but it would be too tempting to hold on.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

I swallowed hard. “Yeah.”

His eyes repeated the question and my smile repeated my answer.

“Okay.” He gave a sharp nod and blew out a breath. “I’ll bring it up to Rebecca tonight.”

I chuckled. “Good luck with that.”

He laughed. “She’ll be fine with it.”

“Eventually.”

“Right.” He squared his shoulders, cocking his head to one side, then the other, as if loosening a kink. “I’d better go. Traffic’s going to be a bitch if I wait much longer.”

Forcing a smile, I nodded. “Congratulations again.”

“Thanks.” Craig’s smile seemed only marginally more genuine than my own. We were silent for a moment before he started toward the front door. I followed, hooking my thumbs in the belt loops of my jeans just to give my hands something to do besides reach for him.

He opened the door and started to step out, but stopped. I rested my forearm on the doorframe, watching him, wondering what was on the tip of his tongue that made his brow furrow like that.

He turned to leave and I thought he’d decided to let his thought go, but he paused again and looked over his shoulder. “Jon, promise me something.”

“What?”

Meeting my eyes, he barely whispered, “You’ll at least try to make yourself happy.”

I was happy with— “I’ll try.”

He looked at me for a moment, then nodded and continued down the hall. I closed the door before he was out of sight. He’d been to my apartment plenty of times since we’d split, but I still couldn’t bring myself to watch him turn that corner at the end of the hall again.

I leaned against the door and released a long breath.

He was absolutely right. I needed to move on. In the six months since he’d left, I hadn’t met anyone at all. Hadn’t felt the need.

Tonight, though, in the wake of his announcement that he was farther than ever out of my reach, I needed to get out of the house and meet some people.

I went into the bedroom to change clothes.

Chapter 2

Walking through the front door of Wilde’s was like stepping into another world.

Seattle was blessed with numerous gay and gay-friendly clubs, and Wilde’s was one of the somewhat higher brow places: Live music, top shelf liquor, a strict dress code, low lighting everywhere except the dance floor. It was relaxed, but swanky, with leather booths and bow-tied bartenders. The music was just loud enough to warrant getting extra close to someone to talk, but not enough to leave a person’s ears ringing after they left.

Gulping back my nerves, I paid the cover and checked my coat. The atmosphere here was just subdued enough to keep me from shying away. This whole thing was intimidating enough without blasting music and wild lighting to assault the senses. Walking through the crowd, I couldn’t recall ever feeling quite so out of place. So lost.

A few times, I considered backing out and heading home, but since staying here meant not spending the evening at home pining over Craig, I convinced myself to face an intimidating night out on the prowl.

On the prowl. Christ, I don’t even know what I’m looking for.

A knot twisted in my gut as I headed for the bar for a little courage on the rocks. It was entirely too soon to even think about a relationship, so if I met anyone tonight, it was either casual sex or friendship. Glancing around at the guys getting close on the dance floor and even closer in booths, friendship was pretty much off the menu in a place like this.

I had never been particularly promiscuous. I wasn’t against casual sex on principle, it had just never been my thing. Craig had often ribbed me about being a serial monogamist, and maybe he was right.

But tonight, I told myself as I took one of the available bar stools, I would just see what happened.

A bartender materialized in front of me. “What can I get you?”

I gave the top shelf selections a glance to see if anything sounded good, then went for my usual. “Jack and Coke.”

He nodded and went about mixing it as I pulled my wallet out. I took my drink and he took the cash, and then I turned my bar stool enough to give me a wide view of the club and its patrons.

The place was crawling with attractive men, some of whom caught my eye and exchanged smiles—even suggestive grins—with me. But I didn’t know where to start.

Hi, I’m Jon, care for a fuck?

My name’s Jon. I’m emotionally fucked in the head right now but wouldn’t mind a roll in the hay.

I shuddered. This was just not me. What the hell was I doing? What was I thinking?

Maybe this was a bad idea. Oh well. At least I’m out of the house for once.

Sighing, I turned back around to face the bar, and my breath caught in my throat.

Leaning casually against the counter below the top shelf bottles was a different bartender. Even the club’s dim light didn’t detract from his striking, pale green eyes, and I couldn’t look away from him if I wanted to. He didn’t seem to mind the fact that I was staring, though. After all, he was looking right at me.

When I could finally look somewhere other than his eyes, I wasn’t disappointed.

The tux shirt perfectly emphasized his broad chest and shoulders, while the black cummerbund subtly drew my attention to his narrow hips. It seemed that everyone else on staff in this club was clean-shaven, but stubble heavily shadowed his angular jaw. Still, he didn’t seem out of place. He had a kind of classy, dignified air about him that let him get away with not shaving, even with a tux shirt and bowtie. As he wiped down a rocks glass with a white towel, I noticed then that his sleeves were unbuttoned and pushed partway up his toned forearms. He must have had some seniority if he could show up unshaven and with his sleeves rolled up so casually.

“Refill?” He nodded toward my empty glass.

“Uh, yeah, how about—” I looked down at my glass, trying to remember what the hell I’d been drinking.

“Jack and Coke?”

“How did you know?”

He smiled as he set the rocks glass down and dropped some ice into it. “I saw Zach pouring the first one. Figured you were a creature of habit.”

“Perceptive.” I folded my arms on the bar and leaned on them. “Anything else you figured out about me while I wasn’t looking?”

“Well,” he said, pouring what looked like more than a single shot of Jack Daniels into the glass, “I’m guessing you’re either new in town or newly single.”

My eyebrows jumped. The corners of his eyes crinkled with amusement and he finished making my drink. When he set it on the bar, I started to pull a five out of my wallet, but he held up his hand.

“On the house.”

“Is the psychic reading free, too?”

He laughed. “The drink’s on me. As for the psychic reading, the only charge for that is that you might have to put up with my lack of conversation skills for a few more minutes.”

“I haven’t noticed anything lacking so far.” I lifted my glass.

“Likewise,” he said with a wink.

My cheeks burned and a second later, so did my throat. I was right, he definitely put more than a single shot of Jack into the drink. Just the way I liked it.

“So, what makes you think I’m either new in town or newly single?” I asked.

He rested his hands on the bar, his shoulders lifting slightly as he shifted his weight. Nodding toward the door, he said, “The ‘fish out of water’ look on your face when you came in.”

I shrugged. “Could just be that I’ve never been to this particular club.”

He shook his head. “I see a lot of new people come through that door who have obviously been around clubs, just not this one.” His smile turned into a cocky grin that suddenly made my drink taste like water. “But then there’s the people who come in looking like they’ve just arrived from another planet. And over the years, I’ve found that most of those have either just moved here or are trying to move on after a relationship.”

I raised my glass. “Very observant.”

“So, if it’s not too forward of me…” His eyes narrowed a bit as if he was trying to read between the lines of what I thought was a neutral expression. “Should I be welcoming you to the Emerald City, or buying you another drink to commiserate?”

I drained the last of my drink and rolled it around in my mouth as I set the glass in front of him.

“Sorry to hear it.” The amusement faded from his face as he pulled another glass out from under the bar and filled it with ice.

“Just make it a Coke this time.” My head was already light, but I couldn’t tell if it was Jack or… whatever his name was.

He nodded and topped the glass off with Coke.

“So if you’re commiserating,” I said. “I’m guessing you’re recently out of one too?”

“Ooh, yeah.” He grimaced. “Three years, and he picks up and walks away like nothing ever happened.”

“Ouch.” I sipped my drink. “I’ve actually been single for a while, just didn’t feel like meeting anyone right away.”

“Understandable,” he said. “It’s only been a couple of weeks for me. S.O.B. hasn’t even gotten all of his shit out of my apartment yet.”

“You haven’t done the ‘come and get it or I throw it out the window’ ultimatum yet?”

He laughed, but some of the humor disappeared from his expression. “I have. I think he just wants to make it as miserable as possible. Anything to draw it out, even if he initiated it.” He dropped his gaze for a second.

“I’ll bet I can beat that.”

“Try me,” he said.

“My ex came by tonight to tell me he’s getting married.”

His eyes widened. “How long did ago did you say you split up?”

“Six months.”

He whistled. “He doesn’t wait around, does he? Er, sorry, no offense.”

“None taken.” I put my finger on the end of my straw. “But it gets better.” Keeping my finger on the straw, I lifted it out of my glass and put the other end on my tongue. As I let my finger go so the Coke would come out of the straw, I noticed his eyes were following. When I ran my tongue around the end of the straw, his lips parted and he looked away, clearing his throat.

His cheeks colored. “So, um, what happened?”

“He wants me to be his best man.”

The bartender blinked. “You’re kidding.”

“Maybe we should introduce our exes.” I paused. “Well, if they were both still single, anyway.”

He opened his mouth to speak, then glanced down the bar. “Shit, I need to take care of some other customers.” He looked at me again. “You going to be here a while?”

I am now. I smiled. “Not going anywhere.”

With a wink that made my head spin, he stepped away to see to his other customers. It was only when he was gone that I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Ever since I’d turned around, since I’d first laid eyes on him, I hadn’t drawn a proper breath.

I thought of the way he’d watched me with the straw and shivered. The way he’d looked at me when I first turned around. I wasn’t imagining it, was I?

As he tended to customers a few feet away, smiling and laughing politely with them, he cast me a quick look and his smile faded. It didn’t fade in the sense that he was suddenly embarrassed or annoyed by my presence or the fact that I was looking at him. Quite the contrary.

His eyes said nothing if not, “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

My heart pounded. I knew nothing about him beyond his job and the fact that he was recently single. I didn’t even know his name, but I suddenly wanted to hear him growling mine in my ear.

We continued that way for a while, shooting the breeze while he was between customers. Every time he was sure that every glass and bottle on the bar had been filled, he came right back to me.

At one point, while he filled drinks, several more bartenders appeared and a few others left. Shift change, I guessed. When he caught sight of one of the newcomers, his expression changed. This time, it was annoyance. As the other bartender approached him, they exchanged a few brief and, by the looks of it, terse words. Then they disappeared into the back.

It was almost fifteen minutes before he came back into view, his jaw set and his eyebrows knitted together over narrowed eyes. He kept his eyes down as he approached me. Before I’d even said a word, he went about filling another glass with Coke. Glancing back the way he came, he pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket.

“My boss is here, and he’s on the warpath today, so I can’t chat.” He put the drink I hadn’t ordered on a napkin, slid it toward me, and tucked the piece of paper under it. Then he met my eyes. “I’m off in an hour.” Tapping the bar beside my drink, he said, “If you want to talk someplace quieter, I can meet you there.”

With that, he turned to go.

“Wait,” I said.

He paused and came back, glancing over his shoulder and swallowing nervously.

“Do I have to wait until then to find out your name?”

He smiled. “Liam Sable. Yours?”

“Jon Beatty.”

“I’ll see you in an hour.”

Excerpt: Meet Me In The Middle

Title: Meet Me in the Middle
Author: L. A. Witt
Publisher: Samhain Publishing
Format(s): ebook, print (coming soon)

Excerpt: 

The Mallory-Solomon house was always loaded down with smoking-hot men. Seriously, on any given night, that place was a veritable cornucopia of gorgeous bodies and beautiful faces.

This evening was no exception. Rhett Solomon and his husband, Ethan, were both over the hill, but they sure didn’t look the part. Well, okay, Ethan was noticeably gray around the edges, and Rhett had a few lines on his otherwise oh-my-God gorgeous face, but time eventually did that to all of us. Besides, I was pretty sure that living with Ethan or Rhett would’ve had me aging beyond my years, so I’d say they were doing just fine.

Of course, Kieran Frost was there, sitting on a barstool beside the granite-topped kitchen island where Ethan and Rhett prepared munchies for the evening. In true Wilde’s bartender fashion, Kieran was walking eye candy, from his flawless body to his perfectly arranged, almost-black hair. He’d been the much younger plaything that Rhett and Ethan had both been fucking during that dark era a few years back when they’d split up. Apparently, men who fuck hot bartenders together, stay together. Who knew?

Kieran’s fiancé was also easy on the eyes. Alex had been naïve and shy when he first met Kieran—a virgin too, from what I’d heard—but Kieran had dragged him out of his shell and duly corrupted him. The kid had even started dressing a little less plainly, opting for some brighter—but still subdued by my standards—colors, things that fit a little tighter and showed a little more skin. The subtle highlights in his dark hair were a nice touch too.

And then there was, of course, yours truly. Like I said, smoking-hot men.

It was movie night in la casa de hot men, which was becoming something of a tradition. Bad movies, obscure movies, mainstream movies; we didn’t give a shit as long it was entertaining enough to keep us interested until the second or third bottle of wine kicked in. At that point, anything was interesting. Naturally.

Though odd numbers usually bred odd tension, especially when it was two couples and a single guy, that was never a problem with this group. They were affectionate with each other, but everyone flirted with everyone, so I never felt like a fifth wheel. I’d have stopped showing up a long time ago if I’d been the odd man out.

Sabrina Solomon and her boyfriend had been over to have dinner with her dads earlier in the evening, and shortly after Alex, Kieran and I arrived, the two of them were getting ready to go out.

“Well, look at you.” I gestured at Sabrina’s absolutely stunning black evening dress. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say a couple of gay men helped you shop.”

Rhett rolled his eyes. “You’re funny, Dale.”

Ethan muttered something and continued slicing cheese for the tray that was already half covered in artfully fanned-out crackers.

Sabrina just giggled. “Actually, it was just one gay guy this time.”

“You’re welcome.” Kieran winked.

“What?” I put a hand to my chest and glared at Kieran. “You never take me shopping.”

“That’s because you find shit for me to buy, and I end up broke before we stop for dinner.”

I shrugged. “Not my fault I have good taste.”

“Mm-hmm. Expensive taste is more like it.”

Tyson, Sabrina’s boyfriend, put an arm around her waist. “Well, at least she’s got someone to take her shopping.” He smiled, but it was a nervous look, which was odd on someone who was usually so calm and mellow. He seemed in a hurry tonight. Almost twitchy as he said, “Anyway, we’d better run. Doors open at seven.”

“Have a good time.” Rhett came around the island and kissed Sabrina’s cheek. “You know the drill. Call me—”

“If we have too much to drink. I know, Dad.” She gave him a pointed look. “Since you’re hanging around with these miscreants tonight, are you sure you won’t have to call me for the same reason?”

“Very funny.”

“Don’t worry about it, Mr. Solomon.” Tyson shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “We’ll just be downtown. We can get a cab if we need to.” To Sabrina, he said, “Ready?”

“Yeah, let’s go.” She hugged both of her dads, said good-bye to the rest of us, and then they headed out of the kitchen with Tyson’s hand on the small of her back.

Rhett and Ethan looked toward the hallway until the door had closed. Then they glanced at each other.

“Hundred bucks says he’s doing it tonight,” Ethan said.

“I don’t know.” Rhett shook his head. “I was sure he was going to do it last Friday night, and he didn’t.”

Kieran, Alex and I exchanged puzzled looks.

“What are you two talking about?” Kieran asked. “Is he going to propose or something?”

Rhett nodded. “I’m surprised that ring hasn’t burned a hole in his pocket already.”

“You know, he actually asked Rhett’s permission,” Ethan said to us. “I didn’t even think people did that anymore.”

“As if it’s my call.” Rhett gestured toward the door. “She’s the one he needs to ask, not me.”

I chuckled. “He was probably just making sure you didn’t sic Ethan on him or something.”

“Oh, ha, ha.” Ethan rolled his eyes.

“He’s got a point, actually,” Rhett said with a shrug. “You are a good deterrent.”

“What?” Ethan scoffed.

“Oh, please. You know damn well you’re more intimidating than I am.” Rhett snatched a piece of cheese off the plate and just barely avoided a swat for his trouble.

Ethan released a huff of breath and turned to Kieran. “See what I put up with? Son of a bitch just uses me to chase off guys who want to date Sabrina.”

“Pretty sure that’s not the only thing he uses you for,” Kieran deadpanned.

“Hmm.” Ethan shrugged. “Good point. Fair enough.”

Rhett laughed softly, but then he glanced in the direction Sabrina and her boyfriend had gone, and sighed. “God. It was bad enough when she started dating and when she graduated high school. Getting married?” He grimaced and shook his head. “That’s…a bit much.”

Ethan patted his shoulder. “Welcome to getting old, sweetheart.”

“Well,” I said, “at least you can find solace in always being younger than Ethan.”

Ethan glared at me. Rhett, Alex and Kieran all snickered.

Rhett wrapped his arms around Ethan’s waist from behind and kissed his cheek. “He’s got a point, you know. That’s why I keep you around.” Nuzzling Ethan’s neck, he added, “You make me feel young.”

Ethan elbowed him playfully, and they both laughed.

Alex turned to Kieran. “Hey, aren’t you joining that club soon?”

Kieran eyed him. “Which club?”

Flashing him a devilish grin, Alex said, “Why, the club of elderly gay men.”

“Oh, shut up.” Kieran rolled his eyes.

“What?” Ethan arched an eyebrow. “How do you get to join? You’re not even thirty.”

Alex put an arm around Kieran’s shoulders and kissed his cheek. “He’s just having a bit of a not-quite-midlife crisis.”

I laughed. “What the hell? Did you find a gray nipple hair or something?”

“If I did, then it would’ve meant I was in bed with you.”

“Ooh,” the other guys said in unison.

“Burn,” Alex said.

I flipped Kieran the bird. “You only wish you were in bed with me, darling.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Dale.” Rhett clapped my shoulder. “So what’s the deal, Kieran?”

Alex smirked. “He got an invite to his ten-year high school reunion.”

“That’s it?” Rhett laughed. “Ethan’s coming up on—”

“Zip it.” Ethan shot him a glare.

Rhett just laughed again.

“Ugh,” Kieran said. “I can’t believe it’s my ten-year reunion already. Where the hell did a decade go?”

Alex snorted, offering a less than sincere, “Sorry.”

Kieran glared at him but then laughed and rolled his eyes again. “You are such a brat, you know that?”

“That’s what you get for robbing the cradle,” Ethan said. “You get to hear about it every time some little milestone like this comes along.”

“You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?” Kieran threw back.

“What? Rhett’s not that much younger than me.”

“You’re still the oldest man in the room, so…”

“Fuck you.”

Rhett snickered. “He’s got a point, you know. I mean, aren’t you coming up on your thirty-year reunion?”

Before Ethan could come back with something snide, Alex broke in. “We’re talking about high school reunions, not college.”

Ethan’s jaw dropped. Rhett, Kieran and I all laughed. Alex wasn’t always so forthcoming with the barbs, but when he threw one out there, it was always a good one.

“Well played,” Kieran said with a wink.

I rested my elbow on the kitchen island and looked at Kieran. “Well, if it’s any consolation, I just got the invite to my twenty-year reunion.”

“Your twenty-year?” Kieran’s eyebrow jumped. “High school?”

I nodded.

He cocked his head. “Did you graduate when you were twenty-five or something?”

“What?” I scoffed and stood upright. “Just how old do you think I am?”

He shrugged and gestured at Rhett and Ethan. “Well, you hang around with these senior citizens, so—”

“As do you!”

“Yeah, but you’ve been part of the group longer. Figured you all evolved out of the Triassic era together.”

I exhaled sharply and looked at Rhett. “Why do you guys put up with him again?”

Rhett shrugged. “He gives good head?”

Alex choked on his wine.

“So you claim.” I gave Kieran a pointed look. “I have yet to verify this.”

Kieran grinned and wrapped his arm around Alex’s shoulders. “I have three witnesses. That’s enough to convince most juries.”

“Well, consider this jury hung,” I said.

All four men groaned.

“Oh my God, Dale.” Rhett face-palmed. “That was a bad one even for you.”

I put up my hands. “What? It’s true.”

“Mm-hmm.” Kieran shook his head.

I just chuckled and took another drink. To this day, I had no idea if Rhett, Ethan and Kieran had curtailed their “extracurricular activities” after Alex came into the picture. Sassy as he was, the kid had been a shy, naïve virgin before Kieran got his hands on him, but I had complete faith that Kieran had done his duty and turned Alex into a cock-hungry sex fiend. Whether or not that meant he’d turned their threesomes into foursomes, I didn’t know. And if it did, oh Lord, what I wouldn’t have given to watch that for a minute or five. Or be in the middle of it.

Before I got carried away with that little fantasy again, I shook myself back to life. “And anyway, yes. I’m going to my twenty-year reunion.”

Kieran scowled. “You’re actually going?”

“Of course. I haven’t seen some of these people in years.”

“Yeah, I thought that was kind of the idea,” Kieran muttered. “If I wanted to stay in touch with them, I would have.”

“Well, yes, but there are some I only want to see once every ten or twenty years. You know, see if time was as cruel to the jocks and cheerleaders as the movies always promise it will be.” I paused for a sip of wine and then turned more serious. “And I have lost touch with a few people over the years, and this can be a way to reconnect with them. A little more personal than Facebook, you know?”

“Exactly why I’m not going,” Kieran said. “I’ve got some friends from that era, but if I haven’t seen them in ten years, I’m not flying to California to get reacquainted with them.”

“You never know,” I said with a shrug. “Could be fun.”

“He’s right.” Alex nudged Kieran with his elbow. “You could have a good time.”

Kieran looked at him. Then he sighed. “Okay. Maybe. I’ll think about it.”

“Might as well go to this one,” Rhett said. “You know, before they start holding your reunions in old folks’ homes.” He patted Ethan’s arm.

“Keep it up,” Ethan said, “and you won’t have to worry about going to your next reunion.”

“You’re so adorable when you’re menacing.” Rhett turned Ethan’s chin toward him and kissed him lightly. Ethan tried to glare at him, but they both laughed, and Rhett kissed him again.

Then Ethan looked at us. “So are we going to watch a movie tonight or not?”

Rhett glanced at the clock on the microwave. “We wait too much longer, we’re going to fuck up Ethan’s bedtime.”

“Ass,” Ethan muttered. “Come on, let’s go see what god-awful DVD Dale brought this time.” He paused. “Rhett, would you mind grabbing another bottle of wine?”

“Good idea.” Rhett turned to the rest of us. “Anyone else?”

“I’ll take a glass,” Alex said and downed what was left in his glass.

“Same here,” Kieran said. “Can’t watch a movie with you guys without some wine.”

They all started toward the living room, but I hung back. “You’ll probably need an extra pair of hands to carry all that. I’ll help.”

Rhett glanced at me, but he didn’t say anything, and everyone but us cleared out of the kitchen.

As soon as we were alone, I said, “I need a little advice.”

“Sure, what’s up?” He leaned down to take a bottle off their well-stocked wine rack, but paused. Then he held up a finger and called over his shoulder. “We sticking with red, or does anyone want white?”

There was some murmuring in the other room before Ethan called back, “Red.”

“Red it is.” Rhett pulled a bottle off the rack. “Sorry about that. What’s up?”

I leaned against the kitchen island. “It’s about my high school reunion, actually.”

“You’re going, right?”

“I’m…not sure, to be honest.”

“Oh?” Rhett looked up from opening the bottle. “What’s wrong?”

“Well, there’s a lot of people I want to see, but…” I exhaled. “Let’s put it this way. If I could see a list of who else is coming before I committed and bought my ticket, that would help me make the decision.”

“Someone in particular you want to see?”

“Someone in particular I don’t want to see.”

“Ooh.” He set the cork and corkscrew on the counter. “An ex?”

“Well, he’s not an ex, per se,” I said. “We never dated. We just…fucked. Once after graduation, and again at our last reunion.”

Rhett’s eyebrows rose. “I could see how that might make this reunion awkward.”

“You think?”

Brow furrowed as he thought for a moment, Rhett idly thumbed his wedding ring. “Mind if I ask something personal?”

I picked up the bottle of wine to start pouring the glasses. “Shoot.”

He hesitated. Then, “What would you do if you saw him again?”

I set the bottle down. The question hammered itself into my consciousness. Right into my bones. What would I do? I shook my head slowly. “I don’t know. I mean, it’s been ten years, but it’s…”

“Still raw?”

“For lack of a better word, yes.”

Rhett took the bottle back, and as he poured, said, “What exactly happened? I mean, obviously you slept together, but”—he gave me one of his patented “looks”—“you’ve fucked plenty of guys and never batted an eye. Something else must have happened.”

I watched the wine accumulating in each glass in turn, because that meant not acknowledging Rhett’s scrutiny. “It was…complicated.”

“Isn’t it always?”

“Sex? No.” I grinned. “Sex can be very, very simple.” My grin fell. I reached for one of the glasses he’d already poured, and swallowed most of the wine in a single go.

Rhett blinked. “Must have been really complicated.” He took my glass back and refilled it. “What happened?”

I exhaled. “Friendship gone sour after a couple of fucks that probably shouldn’t have happened.”

“Ouch.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Will there be people at the reunion you do want to see?”

“Probably, yeah.”

“Then go.” He set the bottle aside and looked at me. “Don’t let this guy control you and keep you from people you want to spend time with.”

“And if he’s there?”

Rhett waved a hand. “Don’t worry about him. It’s been ten years. You deserve to be able to go to this thing, see people from your past, and have a good time.”

I focused on the granite countertop between us. That was the logical solution, of course. “A little easier said than done, don’t you think?”

“Ooh, yeah.” When I looked at him, Rhett grimaced. “You may recall I’ve got some experience with being in the same building with someone I didn’t want to see.”

“Very true.” I was fairly certain the entire damned city remembered when he and Ethan were stuck living in the same house after they’d split up. The silver lining was that it had ultimately brought Kieran into our social circle, but the two-year downward spiral and the short period between breaking up and making up? Jesus. I thought they’d kill each other.

“Honestly?” I said. “Part of me wants to see him.”

Rhett’s eyebrows rose. “Which part?”

“Not that one.” I laughed, but it didn’t last. “I don’t know, I guess I feel like I need some closure after the way things went down before. It’s been bugging me all this time, and I can’t decide if seeing him again will just make it worse, or if it’ll give me a chance to put it to rest.”

Right then, Ethan appeared in the doorway, his lips curled into their customary smirk. “You guys letting the wine age or something?”

From behind him, Kieran called out, “Ethan doesn’t have time to wait for it to—”

“That’s enough out of you,” Ethan threw over his shoulder. He rolled his eyes and looked at us again. His smirk faded. “Everything okay in here?”

Rhett looked at me.

I smiled and picked up three of the wineglasses. “Everything’s fine.”

Ethan eyed me skeptically. “You sure?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Rhett said. They exchanged one of those long, loaded looks they’d perfected after almost a decade and a half together, and Ethan nodded like he’d received whatever message Rhett had been conveying. Then he disappeared back into the living room, and Rhett turned to me again. “You still have feelings for this guy?”

“I’m… Oh hell, I’m not even sure. I mean, we were close friends all through high school, and then we fucked at our graduation party, and then we didn’t speak until our ten-year reunion.” I released an exasperated sigh. “And then we fucked again and haven’t spoken since.” Pausing, I shook my head. “And it’s not even that simple. There’s…more to it. But…”

Rhett watched me silently for a long moment. “Can I offer one piece of unsolicited advice?”

“Rhett, darling, I pulled you aside to talk to you. Any advice is hardly unsolicited.”

He half shrugged. “Okay, point taken. But, listen. Whatever happened, you obviously have some lingering hang-ups about this guy.”

“So, you don’t think I should go to the reunion?”

“No, I think you should go. Just promise me you won’t fuck this guy if he’s there.”

I snorted. “Sweetheart, please. After the last two times? Anything he tries to put in me is getting cut off and handed back to him on a platter.”

Rhett threw his head back and laughed. “Ever the eloquent one, Dale.”

“And that’s why you love me.”

“I wouldn’t go quite that far. Now grab those wineglasses and let’s go see if this DVD is any good.”