Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chesney
Honey Creek has been the place I’ve called home since I was sixteen.
It’s been my home for more of my life than it hasn’t.
I know the town—and the people—like the back of my hand.
And I like it that way. I like walking into the café in the morning and having the barista already know my order.
I like knowing the names of almost every person who comes into the shop.
Even though I tend to be more of an introvert and prefer people don’t know too much about me, I like the familiarity of being friendly with the town people.
But as I drive down Main Street on my way to the garage, I can’t help but notice how…
different everything feels. Where Sweet Briar is surrounded by beautiful mountain ranges and rolling fields, Honey Creek is flat and lacking that same breathtaking view.
The roads have potholes and litter, there’re two Starbucks within a few blocks of one another, and the smell in the air is…
off. Too much gasoline and not enough hay.
The sun is high in the sky, but even that doesn’t feel as bright or as warm as it does in Sweet Briar.
After last night at Jasper’s house, I desperately needed to clear my head and get away.
I needed to get away from him, the memories, and the increasingly complicated mess of my heart.
So, this morning, after helping Truett with morning chores and sending a cowardly ‘won’t make it in’ text to Jasper, I packed a bag and drove back home.
Except, the second I crossed the county line this morning, I couldn’t shake the feeling that it’s not my home at all.
I’m hoping it’s just the stress and time away.
That maybe some time with my best friend is all I need to get that feeling back.
Pulling into the lot, I park my truck in the same spot I’ve occupied for years.
Nate’s rig is right beside it, the same pink air freshener dangling from his rear-view mirror that he’s always had.
The garage smells the same—oil, rubber, metal, and that faint chemical tang of brake cleaner that somehow gets into everything—and I should feel relieved.
Instead, I feel nothing.
“Well, well, well…look who it is.”
Realizing I’m zoning out, I blink and look to my left. Nate’s leaning against the workbench, arms crossed, watching me. He’s wearing his usual shit-eating grin, like he’s permanently in on a secret nobody else knows.
“Didn’t know you were gonna be in town.”
“I didn’t either,” I say honestly.
His brow furrows for a second before another grin overtakes his features. “It’s good to see you. I’d say the shop’s been awfully quiet since you’ve been gone, but it’s quiet even when your ass is here.”
My mouth twitches.
This is why I came here. Nate is familiar. Easy. He knows me without needing an explanation. Knows when to talk and when to shut the hell up—well, for the most part. Nate knows which beer I drink, how I take my coffee, and even how long to leave me alone when I’m pissed off.
“So,” he says, reaching for a rag. “How’s the cowboy?”
My stomach drops. “What cowboy?”
He stares at me, amusement lighting his eyes. “The one you’ve been spending half your life talking about without actually talking about.”
Unease pricks the back of my neck. “I don’t talk about him.”
“Oh, you absolutely do.” Being so close with Nate also, unfortunately, means he knows exactly when I’m lying.
“If you didn’t, then how did you know who I was talking about?
You’ve been living in Sweet Briar; that place is swarming with cowboys.
I could’ve been referring to anybody. Could’ve been referring to Truett. ”
Ignoring him, I step farther into the garage. “Came home for the weekend to see if you need help around here.”
“Sure you did.” His grin is downright smug.
I snort. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I think you came here to hide,” he drawls.
It’s unsettling how right he is. And how transparent I must be.
“How’s the shop?” I ask.
Nate knows full well I’m changing the subject. Luckily, he lets me. “Things are good.” He gestures around the garage. “Busy. The new guy’s finally figuring out where we keep everything.”
“About fucking time,” I say with a chuckle.
“He’s still putting the ten-millimeter sockets in the wrong drawer, though.”
My face twists up. “Then he’s dead to me.”
Nate laughs. “Oh, he’s got jokes now?”
For a while, we catch up, talk about the business—customers, parts, Mrs. Donnelly’s Buike that she’s run into a curb half a dozen times already this year. We talk about normal stuff. Safe stuff. The stuff that doesn’t deepen the ache in my chest.
But then I glance through the open garage doors, and it hits me all over again how this town seems different.
And I can’t place my finger on how because I know these streets.
I know the diner on the corner. I know the hardware store with the terrible parking lot and the goose that likes to harass customers.
I know the group of older ladies who walk their dogs past the shop every morning at seven.
So why does it feel like somewhere I’m visiting?
There’s no creek winding between ranches. No cattle lowing somewhere in the distance. No horses in the pasture. Even the damn coffee is worse. I take another sip from the to-go cup Mason handed me a minute ago, and it’s…fine, I guess. But it isn’t the coffee in the office at Wind River.
“You got that look on your face again.”
I glance at Nate. “And what look would that be?”
“The one that says your dog just died.”
I shake my head and chuckle. “Don’t have a dog. You know that.”
“Exactly.” He studies me for a moment. “I think you’re homesick.”
Looking at my friend sideways, I laugh. “I am home.”
“That’s not what I meant,” he pushes, with a smirk that makes me feel like every thought in my mind is on full display.
I don’t answer.
Mostly because he isn’t wrong, and that’s the problem.
I came here because life felt like too much in Sweet Briar, and because I thought this was home.
It should be. I built my career here, built friendships, a life.
So when did another place—one I’ve tried to forget for so many years—start feeling more like mine again?
When did a ranch I spent almost twenty years refusing to think about start to feel familiar?
And when did Jasper become the person I want to turn to for comfort, when for so long, the thought of him caused me grief and heartache?
As much as I hate to admit it, I missed him before I was even outside of city limits this morning. How fucked up is that?
It’s all so fucking confusing. I don’t know what to do about any of it. Hence why I’m here, desperately trying to take my mind off it.
“Quit your chit-chatting,” I mutter teasingly. “Let’s get some work done.”
Nate smiles knowingly. “Whatever you say, man.”
As we work side-by-side the rest of the afternoon, I realize how much I missed him. How much I missed my friend giving me a hard time and getting on my nerves. But that’s what makes this whole day feel so strange… The relief I expected to feel being back here and around my old “normal” never comes.
Instead, I can’t stop thinking about Jasper and what he’s doing.
And if he’s thinking about me too.
Midnight passes, and there’s no sign of rest any time soon.
I’m lying on my back, staring up at the ceiling in Nate’s guest bedroom, wide awake and on edge.
Sleep refuses to cooperate, and the insomnia couldn’t come at a worse time.
Every time I close my eyes, I’m back in Jasper’s house, feeling his hands on my body, hearing his voice in my ear, seeing the hunger in his eyes as he looked into mine.
Fuck.
I’ve spent the better part of the last hour trying, but failing, to ignore the raging erection inside my briefs.
I’m so hard, my dick has its own heartbeat.
Rolling onto my side, I drag a pillow over my face and breathe out a heavy sigh.
So much for getting away and clearing my head.
I can’t stop thinking about the way he looked at me when I kissed him.
The way he hesitated for half a beat, like he needed to make sure I meant it.
And when we finally gave in to each other, the way everything in my head went quiet for the first time in months.
A rush of heat bleeds through my veins as my balls throb.
I groan into the pillow. Apparently, grief, confusion, and attraction are perfectly capable of co-existing.
Everything in my body is screaming at me to relieve the ache, but I can’t.
It feels wrong. I already crossed a line I swore I’d never cross again.
Giving in to the memory and the flooding arousal feels like crossing it all over again.
Shoving the pillow away, I stare at the ceiling again like it might hold all the answers.
It doesn’t.
Jasper’s face pops into my mind without my permission.
His dark brown eyes. That stupid cowboy mullet.
The mustache that tickled my skin as his mouth seared kisses all over my body.
Lying here, I can practically feel the weight of him on top of me.
Feel the warmth of his bare skin against mine.
Despite knowing I never should’ve let things get as far as they did, I can’t deny how fucking good it felt having his cock slide against mine. He wanted it just as badly as I did.
My hips thrust forward as my hand slips behind my underwear.
It’s like my body is moving of its own accord and I have no say in the matter.
I groan softly as my fingers wrap around the base, stroking all the way to the tip.
My eyes roll back. It feels so fucking good, I couldn’t stop this even if I tried.
Jasper’s rough moans surround me as I relive the famished way he sucked my cock, like making me feel good brought him genuine pleasure.
He swallowed every last inch with ease, peering up at me from beneath wet lashes like every filthy fantasy I’ve ever had.
We were both impatient and drowning in fervor by the time he pulled away.
I couldn’t get inside him fast enough. And fuck, he was so tight and warm and fucking perfect.
Heat radiates through my body as my fist flies up and down my length with desperation.
I’m chasing the pleasure I felt buried deep in his ass, and even though this doesn’t even come close, I still don’t stop.
I need this. I reach down with my other hand, rolling my full balls in my palm as I grip my cock tighter.
“Fuck.”
My back arches off the bed. I sink my teeth into my bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood, trying not to make a sound, but I can’t help it.
In my mind, I’m in Jasper’s kitchen, and he’s bent over the counter, heated eyes full of lust as they look at me over his shoulder.
His hole grips my cock, his muscles bunch under my touch, and sweat drips from my pores as I thrust into him with years of memories and longing driving me.
A groan rips from my chest as everything in me tenses.
My body is on fire, and I can’t hold on any longer.
It takes me by surprise how quickly and strongly my release hits me.
It consumes me. I gasp as my balls tighten and my cock swells.
It’s Jasper’s face behind my eyes as thick spurts cover my hand and stomach.
My pulse roars as I ride the high, stroking myself until every last drop comes out.
Much to my annoyance, it doesn’t take long for reality to catch up to me. Lying here, out of breath, with cum splashed over my skin, one thing becomes abundantly clear…
I didn’t come back to Honey Creek to get away from Jasper.
I came here because I was afraid of how much I wanted to go back to him. And I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with that realization.