Chapter One
Ben
Ben closed the door and dropped his bag on the ground. He didn’t bother with anything else, just leaned back, looked around his empty, lonely apartment, and let out the mother of all sighs.
Visiting his friend Gene had been good. They hadn’t seen each other in a while, and he’d needed to reconnect. The free room while he was in town for the tattoo convention had been an extra bonus. Talking to Gene’s friend Tommy had been even better in some ways. It was amazing how much more stable his life felt when he compared it to someone who had next to nothing. Ben had steady work, money in the bank, a comfortable home, and—until a week ago—Gavin.
Gavin. Ben had tried to call him, but the stubborn little shit wouldn’t answer.
After a moment of self-pity, Ben finally forced himself to take a few more steps toward the living room. His heart skipped a beat when he saw Gavin’s phone sitting on the coffee table. Had he decided to stay, despite what Ben had said? Just as he allowed himself to hope, Ben noticed Gavin’s key ring, the little silver unicorn Ben had given him three years earlier—a lifetime ago—when he’d asked Gavin to move in with him. Under those was a bright yellow flyer for an elderly singles group for men who were “into assplay, water sports, and scat.” Ben couldn’t help a small, sad laugh at Gavin’s farewell fuck you.
Exhausted, brokenhearted, and hungry, Ben went to the kitchen. Ever since Gavin had moved in with him, Ben’s fridge was always well stocked, and there were usually a few containers in the freezer with leftovers. Cooking and cleaning was Gavin’s default mode, even once he’d started school.
Gavin had wanted to focus on culinary arts, but he told Ben he didn’t want to do that for a living, didn’t want to be a chef or even work in a small diner serving up greasy favorites. Ben had insisted he take a few other courses too, until Gavin could decide what he wanted to do with his life. Gavin had begrudgingly agreed, but Ben knew he hated it. Maybe that was his first mistake in this whole mess.
He pulled out a casserole from the refrigerator. There was a note on the top. Preheat oven to 350, bake for an hour, then choke on it. Ben could picture Gavin, angry and wounded, cleaning the apartment within an inch of its life as he prepared to leave. He probably put the casserole together feeling like an idiot for still trying to take care of Ben even after he had told Gavin to move out and move on with his life. Ben took a little solace in the fact that Gavin probably knew what an asshole he’d feel like when he found it.
As he shoved the casserole into the oven—hoping Gavin hadn’t decided to poison him—Ben’s phone rang. His breath caught in his chest as nervous optimism welled in him. He practically sprinted the few paces to the living room and snatched his phone from his jacket pocket on the third ring, his hopes dashed when he saw the caller ID.
“Hey, Mom.”
“Hey, yourself,” she said, obviously smiling as she spoke. “How did the convention go?”
“Pretty good. Won best design, so that was cool.”
She laughed softly, probably standing on her back porch in the home Ben and his sister, Anna, had grown up in. “I’m proud of you, son. Maybe one of these days I’ll let you draw something on me.”
He knew she wouldn’t, but it made him smile every time he thought of her all inked up in her reading group, going to bingo with black flames swirling up her arms. “You just say the word and I’ll hop on the next flight home.”
They both laughed, his mother sounding bright and cheerful until she asked seriously, “How’s my sweet Gavin? I tried to call him yesterday, but he didn’t answer.”
Shit. With the exception of Tommy—a total stranger—no one in the world knew he and Gavin had broken up. He couldn’t bring himself to tell Gene, let alone his mother, who had adopted Gavin the second she’d met him. “Well, uh…”
“He’s not sick?” She sounded worried. Damn it all.
“We kind of… We’re taking a little break.”
“Break from what, exactly?” Her tone made Ben cringe.
“From each other.” Ben cleared his throat as he tried to work up his courage. “We broke up.”
His mother was silent for so long, Ben wasn’t sure she was still there. Finally, he heard her sniffle. After another moment passed, she said sternly, “Benjamin Franklin Cartwright, please tell me you’re joking.”
All three names. Fantastic. Suddenly Ben was a little boy standing in his mother’s kitchen holding the remains of her great-grandmother’s last piece of china, broken in half. “I wish I was, Mom.”
“What happened?” She sounded like her anger had dissolved into weariness.
She probably wanted the details so she could formulate a plan and fix things.
“He’s only twenty-one. He’s young. He… needed some space to be himself, see what’s out there.”
“I was seventeen when I met your father. We married as soon as I graduated high school.”
Ben knew the story. His father was twelve years older than her. Not quite the nineteen-year age gap between him and Gavin, but close. “That was another time, Ma. It’s different for us.” It’s different for straight people.
As if she’d heard his thoughts, she said, “Love doesn’t change and it doesn’t judge, doesn’t know the difference between genders or anything else.” After another pause, she added, “I smell bullshit in this story, and I’m guessing Gavin wasn’t the one who brought up his sudden need for space.”
Ben fell back on the couch with a frustrated groan. He’d put this conversation off for a reason. “Think about it, Mom. When Dad died, you were devastated. Wouldn’t it have made more sense for you to marry someone closer to your own age? Someone who’d still be here with you now?”
“I love you, Ben, but that is the stupidest thing you’ve ever said.” She didn’t give him a chance to argue. “So what if he died first? He could’ve gotten hit by a bus or fell off his boat. You and I both know that when your ticket is up, it’s up. There’s no guessing when that will be.”
Neither one of them said the names. They didn’t have to. Hunter, Ben’s baby brother, had died just before Anna was born. Ben’s best friend, Jeremy, had met his end before they were even out of high school.
She was right, of course. Death knocks on everyone’s door eventually, and there’s no turning him away when it’s time to go.
“You can’t use that as an excuse and you know it.”
He tried a different tack. “I just… I thought Gavin needed to get out there and experience life. He needs… a rudder, some direction, and he needs to do some things he can’t do with me holding him back.”
“You’re his rudder. There are very few things he can’t do with you around.” She paused, as if the conversation was too much for her. After a moment, she said, “You mean he needs to find a new place to stick his dick every night.”
Somehow Ben always managed to forget his mother had spent her entire life in the company of sailors. He scrubbed his hand over his face. “That too, yeah. But, look, I think I maybe jumped the gun, okay? I’ve had a lot of time to think the last few days, and I’m gonna find Gav and set things right, okay?”
When did he lose the ability to say the right thing in the right moment? His mother’s response had him cowering on his own couch, over a thousand miles away from her.
“You don’t even know where he is?”
Ben winced. It sounded bad when she put it like that. “There’s only so many places he’d go. It’s fine. I’ll find him.” Christ, he hoped he’d find him.
“You had better. So help me God, if he gets hurt or does something stupid…” Maybe she knew she didn’t need to finish the threat. “Right now. You go find him right now. I love you. Call me when you find him.”
She didn’t even wait for him to say goodbye before she hung up.
Finding Gavin right now wasn’t really an option. Ben had been on the road for more than six hours. He was exhausted and hungry and felt like shit on so many levels. But Ben had a battle plan. Shower, food, nap, and then Gavin. He’d tried calling Tony, Gavin’s best friend, but he wasn’t answering Ben’s calls. That alone was enough of a clue. If Gavin wasn’t with Tony, Tony at least knew where Gavin was.
Ben’s nap was a joke. After he’d showered, searched for the remotes for fifteen minutes before giving up, and then eaten, he fell onto his bed and inhaled deeply. He was trying to catch the faint scent of Gavin on his sheets, but of course Gavin had changed the bedding before he left. All he could smell was the fabric softener Gavin used, and that wasn’t even close to good enough. He’d pulled Gavin’s pillow tight against his chest, tossed and turned, and finally decided it was pointless. He hadn’t had a good night’s sleep since he’d broken things off with Gavin, and, well, hell. He probably deserved that.
When he finally decided to call his nap a wash, it was a quarter till nine. If Ben was right and Gavin was out with Tony, they’d be hitting the clubs in less than an hour. Ben forced himself up and into some jeans and grabbed his extra helmet—Gavin’s helmet. Gavin could be a stubborn, persistent bastard when he wanted to be, but one way or another, Ben was determined to bring him back home tonight.