Epilogue
Beau
“ B it of a late arrival for two guys who live all of four minutes away,” Darren teases, opening my beer and studying us a little too closely. “That honeymoon phase is a hell of a thing, huh?”
“We’re not married,” I argue with a smile.
I could also argue that we’re not late for anything when I’m not hosting this week, and it’s Adrian’s first time witnessing the success of karaoke night after our WeHo promotion spree, but I get a smack on my ass before I can go on. It’s both the upside and downside of standing at the crowded bar.
“It doesn’t really have anything to do with weddings,” Adrian says, his hand in my back pocket now. “And I’m pretty sure he’s just trying to congratulate us on all the sex. ”
“But we didn’t even—wait, since when do you take his side?”
Adrian thanks Darren for the drink he hands over, then takes a long sip before he shrugs. “Since he started stocking actual ginger ale for me, I guess.”
I try to roll my eyes, except that I find the collection of small green cans more endearing than should be possible, and I pick up my bottle instead. Adrian is busy looking around now, as much as he can from where we stand near my old stool. The area around the mechanical bull—and presumably, the beer garden—is the only empty space left in a room entertained by amateurs with a microphone. Karaoke is set up on the dance floor, its transformation into a temporary stage logical when it’s unlikely someone would want to two-step or swing to this chaos, and the familiar noise from the pool tables and ongoing chatter from everywhere else keep Trailhead loud in between each song.
Darren has moved away to refill another couple’s drinks. Riley pauses to smile at us from the far side of the bar. Noah and Jake are huddled together to laugh about something that probably has nothing to do with the music. And V rushes by to give us hugs before she’s back to running her entire world, one that might have crumbled if not for the help of the man I love.
Yeah, I love him. Have for a while. Told him for the first time just last night. It might’ve made more sense to do that before we moved in together, but we’ve always done things in the wrong order, and it seems to be working out okay.
Adrian hasn’t said he loves me yet, but that’ll work out, too.
“How’s it feel to be the big hero around here?” I ask .
“Oh, fuck off. I had an idea, but everyone else ran with it and made this happen. I’m just glad V can relax and have some fun again.”
There’s a group of eight ready to sing on the dance floor now, one of whom has procured thigh-high boots and a top hat from god knows where. A Shania-like shout to the crowd at the beginning of the song—camaraderie met with a cheer—only confirms that most of Trailhead is having fun these days.
I check the time on my phone, noting that it’s late enough that we’ve only got about an hour before things quiet down around here, weeknight karaoke flaring hot until it burns out early enough for everyone to get some sleep before they have to be responsible in the morning. Adrian and I don’t have anywhere to be for a while tomorrow, and it’s a rare break for both of us, the past few weeks full of work toward a future we’ll share. In addition to our jobs, we’ve been moving Adrian into my— our —apartment, and he’s been meeting with Mason and a commercial real estate agent to look for potential storefronts. Somewhere in the middle of it all, on either side of an orgasm, probably, I double-checked with Adrian about whether I should be worried about the time he and Mason spend together, but I was very thoroughly reassured everything is fine.
They’re both a little arrogant. They’re both a little proud. Mason saw the potential for equal amounts of competition and collaboration, and Adrian has been all too happy to rise to either challenge.
I, for one, am looking forward to one hell of a grand opening someday.
But tonight, Mason Burnett appears at Adrian’s side, and it’s my first chance to meet the guy in person. He’s wearing a mesh shirt and perfectly tailored pants, his diamond earrings in love with the bar lights playing overhead, and his grin is somehow brazen and entirely welcoming.
“Hey, Adrian didn’t tell me you’d be stopping by,” I say, shaking his hand while the crowd applauds an unusually impressive high note.
“Adrian didn’t know,” Mason replies. “Came in for a drink with a friend and saw you from our table, so I figured I’d say hello.”
Adrian holds up his phone. “I was going to text you tomorrow. We’ve narrowed the search to four places and heard back from two of them this afternoon. I might be your neighbor sooner than we thought.”
“Looking forward to it. But I also don’t want to take up too much of your time or leave my— drink alone for too long,” he says, a pointed nod toward the hottie waiting for him. “We’ll chat later in the week, yeah? Beau, it was great to finally meet you.”
He’s gone before either of us can answer with more than a syllable, and I laugh. “He’s a bit of a whirlwind.”
“Mason is plenty focused on his art and on his men, separately and together,” Adrian notes. “He’s bored or impatient when it comes to almost anything else.”
The observation is innocent enough, but it has me wanting to focus on my man, and I tip his head toward me for a long and dirty kiss. We stop eventually because we both need to cool down, the alcohol in our hands there to do the job, and the off-key performance of a song I don’t know pulling our attention across the room. It’s all a little obnoxious—the karaoke and the lights and the crowd that hangs out for something like this—but several minutes later, when Darren comes out from behind the bar to swap our empty drinks for full ones, Adrian smiles like he doesn’t have a care in the world, and something catches in my throat.
Almost a year ago, neither one of us could find a way past two giant barn doors—in either direction—without dragging the weight of our own unhappiness with us.
Now, I think we can go anywhere we want.
As soon as Darren drops our old glass and bottle on the bar, he’s back to nudge both of us closer to the dance floor. “That table just opened up. Let’s grab it.”
Adrian and I start to walk over there before either of us thinks to question him, a few stools open at the high top next to where Mason has his face buried in the hottie’s neck, and it’s only when I slide onto one that I thump the back of Darren’s head.
“Since when do you get to sit in the middle of a shift?” I ask.
“Since I refused to accept V’s offer of back pay. Now she makes me take all my mandated breaks, especially if my friends are around.”
I glance over my shoulder long enough to see that V and Riley have everything under control, and then Noah and Jake catch my eye when they make their way over to join us, Noah casually stealing an empty stool on the way so he can sit on the other side of Adrian. Jake keeps walking until he’s behind Darren, his leather jacket dropped into Darren’s lap before Jake half-jokingly rubs his bare shoulders, maybe mostly to avoid having to sit down for a conversation with anyone else.
“You know, you’ve got way too much tension for someone slinging drinks to a bunch of friendly cowboys.”
“So, help me out, old man,” Darren quips. “One grouchy biker probably put those knots there.”
“Beau, tell him to make an appointment with you.”
I snort. “He won’t get naked on my table if he has to pay for the privilege.”
“I have far too many men willing to rub my naked body for free,” Darren says, quick to kiss me on the cheek just because he can. “You found something great, but the rest of us are still looking.”
“It helps if you see them the morning after,” I point out.
Darren just smirks. “Guess it’s a good thing I sent you on that errand, then.”
“Mmmm, yeah,” I agree. “I think it was a very, very good thing.”
Adrian
I’m in the middle of a sentence, catching Noah up on my wild West Hollywood dreams, when Beau grabs me for another kiss, one full of gratitude and tongue. We don’t stop, even when a bar full of witnesses might’ve expected us to, and my jeans become almost uncomfortably tight as soon as Beau moans into my mouth. I return the favor, but we break apart eventually, my pulse jackrabbiting while I keep my voice calm.
“Was that a one and done?” I mumble against his lips. “Or are you suggesting we take this elsewhere?”
A few different ideas flicker in Beau’s dark eyes, like maybe he’d meant for it to be no more than a kiss and is now considering his other options. I’m absolutely okay with going home already, if that’s what he wants, but I know my smile is a curious one when I pull back another few inches. Beau looks past me toward the bar, then spares a glance for Noah, Darren, Jake, a pretty terrible singer, and the thinning crowd before tilting his head thoughtfully.
“I want to go say hello to Riley, and then I want to get some fresh air.”
I bite back my laugh. “Ah, yes, that sounds about right. And I suppose you don’t want to do either of those things alone.”
Beau shrugs. “Seems wildly unnecessary.”
We don’t say anything coherent to anyone, mostly waving our hands toward the bar like we just need a refill of drinks we haven’t finished. Noah doesn’t need to know what we’re about to do outside the business his mother has worked so hard to save. Darren probably knew before Beau opened his mouth. And Jake—well, he hasn’t looked in my direction long enough for me to have any idea where he stands, but I’m not going to work all that hard to figure out.
Beau wants fresh air.
He takes my hand as we wind our way around tables and through sawdust, and he pauses near his favorite stool and the beer garden door. We’re greeted by a raised eyebrow, the metal barbell shining there only emphasizing Riley’s unspoken question, and they don’t hesitate to step around the end of the bar when Beau beckons as politely as anyone does anything in a place like this. Beau is careful not to touch when he leans in to talk to them, and Riley’s reaction to whatever he says is exactly the overly fond exasperation I think Beau probably inspires in everyone.
When Beau squeezes my hand and tugs me toward the door, I’m all too eager to follow, but Riley catches my other hand by the pinky, the contact an honor I hadn’t expected.
“A long time ago, I was scared that Beau had lost too many pieces of himself here. Then the night he first danced with Levi, I thought he’d found the person who’d help him pick them all up again. I had no idea how wrong I’d be about that, but I’m so glad it was you. I’m so glad it’s always going to be you.”
I’m stunned, and Riley must know it, smiling softly before nodding once and pulling their pinky from mine. It feels like some kind of childlike oath all grown up, this happily ever after Riley believes in for us even if they haven’t found their own yet, and I don’t know what to do with all the feelings kicking around my chest when I finally make it outside .
Even once we’ve rounded the corner and are kept company by nothing but a brick wall and the moon, Beau notices the shift in me. Of course he does.
“Do I need to be mad at Riley for something?” he asks.
“No, not at all. I just—” I bite my lip until he kisses it free, gentle when he backs away to let me finish. “Do you ever want to get married again?”
I want to take it back the second it’s out of my mouth, and when that’s impossible, I do the next best thing, crashing into him like maybe I can make him forget. It works for a minute, his tongue warm and familiar against mine while I pin his body with my own, both of us half hard since our filthy kiss at the table and the suggestion that more might be waiting for us here. We’re panting like we’ve been at this awhile and I try to grind against him for the quick relief of something, but then I find myself spinning. Beau traps me against the wall with our dicks a maddening inch apart, and he tosses his hat aside when it keeps him from sucking at my neck the way he wants to.
“Keep talkin’, love.”
“You already have a ring in your drawer. You’ve done that and walked away from that, and the entire thing became a keepsake.”
“Yeah,” Beau says, his hand between us now as he strokes my cock through my jeans.
“And I just buried a ring for a reason. So many reasons. And that’s after I wore it for too long.”
He swallows at least a few other words when his mouth covers mine again, this dexterous son of a bitch working through my button and zipper without breaking the rhythm of the kiss. Pushing past the waistband of my boxers is even easier for him and my knees nearly buckle when he drags his thumb over the wet head of my cock and stops kissing me just so he can brush the moisture over the same lip I’ve abused again and again.
“Can’t tell whether you’re making arguments for or against.”
I lick my lips and sigh. “Against, I think. I want you , but I—I’m not sure I want your ring.”
There are points to make about a ring and a marriage not being the same thing. How we could certainly have some kind of wedding and make some promises and maybe even dress up in tuxedos while we do all that. How we could run off to city hall or share a fancy cake with all our friends and top it off with some champagne. And how for as long as we both shall live has nothing to do with a metal band if we’d rather skip that part entirely.
“Okay. No ring, then,” he murmurs instead, a vow I believe with everything I am. Then he spins me again, and I’m facing the wall, confused about why he’s not crowding me there until his flannel is being pressed against my arm. “Use this. Put it under your hands so it doesn’t hurt.”
It’s a far cry from the night Beau told me to use him , when both of us ended up hurt in ways we barely understood, and I accept what he’s offering now, his shirt a barrier between me and wounds neither one of us deserves. And I’d probably get weepy about it if it weren’t for how perfectly rough he is when he shoves my jeans and boxers out of his way, his fingers made slick when I wasn’t paying attention and demanding so much of me now.
Two fingers slide deep and I’m so ready to fall.
This would be enough, in fact, except that this means something more and we both know it, and when I feel Beau slow as he stretches me, I arch my back and demand that he make it faster.
“We don’t have time for that, baby. You’ve gotta fuck me like I fucked you.”
Except we’ll be honest this time .
Beau’s teeth leave a mark in my shoulder—a move I know well—but it’s hard to commit that stolen habit to memory when his fingers are gone and his cock is there, the head nudging me open before he gives me everything with one perfect drive of his hips. I remember that there’s no condom this time and almost cry out, dropping one hand to my dick instead and stroking it furiously. I’m dripping, just wet enough to make my grip close to perfect, and I shift to change the angle on him one more time. In response, he fucks me hard enough to make my legs shake, my body so eager to keep him deep inside me that I can feel myself clenching around him on each new thrust.
He moans against my neck and promises we can do this forever.
But forever can’t happen tonight.
It’s too good and almost too much, and I think Beau is everywhere at once. I’m filled by him and surrounded by him and bared to the world and held so close and safe, and I’m dizzy with the need to come already, and maybe I say so out loud.
“God, yes,” he hisses in my ear, relentless now as he fucks into me again and again and again. “Do it, Ade. Make both of us come.”
It’s a command I don’t need, but the effect on me is undeniable, my body lost to wave after wave of pleasure as my orgasm rips through me and I make a mess of my hand. Somewhere far behind and pressed to my skin, I feel Beau come at least as hard, and my heartbeat is almost unbearably wild while it chases the last of his thrusts, and stuttering when he leaves me empty. I don’t turn around while he adjusts himself, my energy reserved for the half step forward I manage before I rest my head against my forearm and try to catch my breath.
“You have another napkin?”
I hear him chuckle. “No, but I’ll go grab something from the bathroom.”
He’s gone and back before I can miss him, a couple of dampened paper towels left in my hand before Beau is behind me again, cleaning me up enough that I won’t be uncomfortable between now and a shower at home.
Christ, I just want to go home. With him. Tonight. Every night.
I shiver as I put myself back together, and he must think I’m cold, silent when he takes the trash from me and nods at the flannel I’m still holding. “Put that on, and then let’s go say our goodbyes.”
From inside, I’m almost positive I can hear a couple performing the same song that had played overhead the moment Levi and I stepped into Trailhead almost a year ago, and the sound settles into a healed crack or two. Beau keeps an eye on me as he takes a few steps backward, protective and full of everything I’ve yet to tell him. I’m overcome by a smile I couldn’t have forced all those months ago, and I call out with a voice that won’t break.
“Beau?”
“Yeah?”
A pause. The beginning of his own grin. And the moonlight in his eyes.
He was afraid, once upon a time, that I would look at him and see all my anger and guilt and relief tangled up in the memories of one terrible night. I’ve worked hard to undo those knots, though, and when I answer him now, I sigh under the welcome weight of only one.
“I think I love you.”