15. John
15
JOHN
Micah holds the urn over the side of the boat. “Thanks, Grandpa, for providing me a safe place to live. For being an example of hard work and discipline. You taught me a lot.”
Micah anchored the boat beyond the break wall because Rosie gets seasick. She took a motion illness pill just in case, but looking at her now, with unshed tears in her eyes as she grips the handrail and sways along with the whitecaps, I can’t tell if she’s emotional or about to puke.
Grandpa Malone made it clear he did not want a public service, and I have to believe he’d be content with this small, quiet display of commiseration.
“I’m sorry for all the stupid mistakes I made after you took me in. I’m a better person because of you, and I’m trying to make you proud.”
I swallow past the lump in my throat. I think back to Micah admitting that LA is not all it’s cracked up to be, and I wonder if making his grandfather proud is another reason he’s hung in there so long. Like he’s trying to make it up to him—the cheating and trouble and disappointment he brought him.
Micah meets Rosie’s gaze. “Anything to add?”
She shakes her head. Anything she has to say to her former employer and friend is in silent prayer as she grips her cross necklace.
I utter my own thank-you to Grandpa Malone for bringing Micah into my life.
He takes a deep breath. “Okay, then. Ready?”
Rosie places her hand on the urn Micah’s holding, and together, they dump his ashes into the ocean. The current spreads them before they sink under the waves.
I clear my throat, choking up while watching them as I imagine my family members in their own watery graves. But I need to be strong for Micah like he was for me after my parents’ memorial service.
He offers me a sad, trembling smile, wrecked but trying to hold it together.
We’re silent as he pulls the anchor and starts the engine, heading back to shore, Rosie’s gaze never leaving the spot in the water where the ashes disintegrated and disappeared from sight. When we dock, I jump out to tie the boat.
Micah drives us back to his grandfather’s house, where I say my goodbyes. “I have to open the bar, but if you need me to stay, I can ask?—”
“No, I’ll be okay,” he replies with a tremulous grin. “Thanks for coming with me. You too, Rosie.”
“Thanks for including me. I will never forget Mr. Malone.” She frowns as she looks toward her car parked on the road. “I suppose this is goodbye for me too.”
“It doesn’t have to be,” Micah chokes out as if Rosie leaving means his grandfather is really gone. I don’t move toward my own car, considering the option of staying with him this afternoon.
“There’s not much left to clear out,” Rosie says. “The rest should be sorted through by you.” She’s referring to the paperwork and mementos Grandpa Malone would undoubtedly want Micah to handle. “Soon, the house will be sold, and you’ll go back to LA.”
“You’re right. Not sure how long any of that will take. But at least come inside and let me make some lunch. There’s a few more angel statues I want to ask you about.”
She must notice how much he needs that connection with her, and likely she does too. As it was, Micah allowed her to take any keepsakes she wanted. No doubt they’ll reminisce some more over soup and sandwiches.
Relieved that Micah won’t be alone, I pop open my driver-side door. “You’re always welcome at the Witching Hour, Rosie.”
She dips her head. “Thank you.”
As I get in my car and pull out of the drive, I see Micah watching me, looking shell-shocked—and maybe also guilty about leaving Aqua Vista again.
Seth helps me open the bar, but it ends up being a slow night, giving me too much time to think.
I nearly balk at Beth arriving, though she’s been way better about not offering unsolicited advice. In recent weeks, she’s been making nightly appearances for a glass of wine, and I can’t help wondering if she’s lonely.
“Evening, Johnny. Everything all right?” She slides onto a stool. “You seem lost in thought.”
I open my mouth, then think better of it. Nodding, I pour her wine, then take a beer to a customer sitting across the bar. She sips her drink and chats with Seth. Soon enough, I’m pulled into the conversation involving the memorial service for Grandpa Malone today.
“I’m glad Micah carried out his wishes. I bet it was lovely.”
“It was,” I admit. When Seth walks away, I blurt, “Do you think people around here still remember the fishing incident?”
“With Micah and his grandad?” she asks, and I nod. “The old-timers definitely would.”
I sigh. “It sucks that he still carries that regret.”
“We all carry some around, don’t we?”
“Yeah, suppose so.” Looking back, I have many regarding my parents and Micah that I’ve had to swallow down and live with.
When our eyes meet, I can see the regret in hers too about any number of things, from her relationship with the deceased love of her life to her beef with Jack in the early days of our family’s grief. Neither of us has any room to place blame.
She twirls the stem of her wineglass. “The way I see it, letting people be wrong about you takes strength and resilience.”
Whatever anyone says about Beth, she’s usually dead-on not only in her intuition, but her wisdom too.
“True. You can never tell what battle someone is fighting inside.”
“With strangers, yes. Which is why I always try to lead with kindness.”
As if she summoned him, Walter steps inside, and I’m hoping he can hold his liquor tonight. Beth had been kind enough to drive him home the other night and even tolerates the rumors about her family he’s spread over the years. I don’t know how she does it, and I suddenly see her in a new light.
Once Walter slides onto a stool next to Mr. Kosta from the fruit stand, she turns back to me. “Micah may carry lots of regrets, but I don’t think any were ever about you. He’s always been sure of his love for you.”
My breath catches.
“Is that how you felt about Alise?”
Her eyes cloud at the name of the woman she loved, who was lost in a freak accident in the mountains. Jack thinks she grieves not being able to save her. “Definitely. Still am all these years later.”
“I know exactly what you mean.”
“I figured you would.” She retrieves money from her wallet and stands to leave.
I watch in a fog as she does, and my thoughts are interrupted by Walter. “Gonna serve me or what?”
I barely keep from rolling my eyes. “Sure thing. The usual?”
At the end of the night, I head home, and the first thing I do is shower off the grime of the day.
As I’m drying off, I hear a faint knock on my door, as if the visitor is unsure about disturbing me. Given that it’s well past midnight, it better be important.
I throw on sweats and head to the entryway. As soon as I see who it is, I understand the hesitation. Micah stands rigidly, his hands loosely balled at his sides as if he doesn’t know what to do with them. I fling open the door and usher him inside.
“I just…” His gaze is wary, his expression so helpless that I can’t help but pull him into my arms and rub soothing circles on his back. It feels so profoundly familiar that my heart aches at the tenderness of the moment.
It’s not like we haven’t sought each other out before, leaned into the safety of each other’s arms, but if I know Micah, this is about something altogether different. It stems from his grief from earlier, from spreading his grandfather’s ashes. But it’s also more visceral than that.
My mouth finds his ear. “Tell me what you need.”
His eyes spring to mine and soften. “I…I need to forget for a while.”
I consider asking if he wants to talk about his feelings, about the loss of his grandfather, but I’d rather he call the shots. He came to me, nobody else, and right now, he needs whatever he thinks I can provide. And I’m more than happy to oblige.
I gather his face in my hands and stare into his eyes, but I see no regret or indecision. I press my lips to his, kissing him slowly and gently. But it doesn’t seem like enough as he moans and sways. His fingers fumble for the waistband of my sweats, and he tugs downward until my half-stiff shaft is exposed. He licks his lips, and as he stares at my cock, it hardens to full mast.
Micah sinks to his knees, his mouth on me in an instant. He licks the head and sucks lightly on the crown before engulfing the length.
“Fuck, honey.” I grip his head. “How about we get somewhere more comfortable?”
Not that I want him to stop. I only want to be able to savor anything he offers.
“Good point.”
I lead him to my bedroom, where we get busy removing our clothes. We fall back on the bed, him on top, and when our cocks slot together, he ruts against me.
My hands grip his cheeks. “Damn, this ass of yours.”
He moans as his mouth covers mine, and soon enough, our tongues are licking and tasting and battling, our lips swollen, our shafts stiff.
He drags his mouth away to catch his breath and rests his forehead against mine.
“Is this what you needed?” I murmur.
He reaches between us, swipes a finger against my slit, then lifts it to suck off the precome. “Not quite.”
I growl, hauling his face to mine and pushing my tongue deep inside his mouth. We wrestle for position, and before I know what’s happening, we’ve flipped, with him on his back and me panting down at him.
Micah scoots back against the pillow, urging me along with him. Gripping my thighs, he draws me toward his chest, and now I’m straddling his waist with my cock in reach of his mouth.
“Ah, hell,” I bite out as he leans forward and suckles the head briefly before swallowing me whole, bobbing and expertly using his tongue.
His fingers curl around my nut sac, lighting me up like an electric socket as he eggs me on. “Fuck my mouth.”
I inch my knees closer, and then we get in a rhythm where I rock my hips and moan as my shaft hits the back of his throat. “Oh God, feels incredible.”
For his part, Micah looks so blissed out, so turned on from pleasuring me, I wish I could get my hands on him too. This close, I can smell his spicy, invigorating scent, and as I’m on the verge of exploding, I reach for his hair and burrow my fingers, holding on for dear life as he rocks my world.
“Fuck, I’m gonna come.”
He grips my thighs and doubles down as my vision blurs and my come fills his mouth. I screw my eyes shut to ride out my orgasm, and soon enough, I feel too hypersensitive and have to slide my cock from his mouth.
“So hot,” he murmurs as I roll to the other side of the bed and lie there gasping for air, unable to form words. When his hand brushes mine in the space between us, the ache in my chest intensifies. Wanting to feel our connection, I entwine our fingers, and he doesn’t pull away, only holds on tighter.
When I’ve finally caught my breath enough to look at him, I can see he’s still hard, his pretty cock curved and flushed. “Let me take care of you.”
“No, it’s okay.”
“Please, I want to.” I lift our joined hands to kiss his knuckles. “Tell me what you need.”
Without a word, he releases his grasp and rolls onto his stomach. Since he knows I’m spent and won’t be able to get it up again anytime soon, I get the message loud and clear.
My fingers graze his ass cheeks, making him shiver. I lift to my knees and grab handfuls of his plump globes, admiring his smooth skin. He burrows his head in my pillow and lifts his ass, pleading in his own way to make him feel good.
So I do, parting his cheeks and running my finger down his crack, watching as his skin pebbles from anticipation. I blow on his hole, making him squirm and moan before burying my face in his crack. I lick and suck, snacking on his pink and tender hole like it’s candy. When the skin has softened enough, I poke my tongue inside and fuck him with it.
“Please, J, make me come just like this,” he sobs as he rocks against me, forcing my tongue deeper.
I grip his hip for leverage, then reach beneath him to grip his cock. I jerk him with uneven strokes as I continue licking and prodding his hole.
“Oh God, yeah, that’s…” Micah throws his head back, his skin flushed, as he spurts his release onto my hand, the remnants coating the sheets.
I release his sensitive shaft and kiss each of his cheeks as well as the small of his back before he collapses in a heap, completely spent.
When I lie back down, his arm blindly reaches for me, and he tugs me into a toe-curling, tender kiss. His fingers feather against the scruff on my jaw as his tongue flicks lazily against mine.
“Did that do the trick?” I murmur against his mouth, still tasting the remnants of my come on his lips.
He nods as his clear gaze meets mine, and for the first time since he showed up at my door tonight, he looks at peace. “Thank you. I…”
“Didn’t want to be alone tonight?”
He stiffens briefly before surrendering with a sigh. “You know me well.”
His fingers graze my arm without him making eye contact, as if he’s embarrassed by the admission.
“Glad you came over,” I whisper against his ear, then nuzzle his neck.
His limbs lose their tension, and I decide it’s not the time for talking. He sought me out for comfort and release, nothing more.
“Come ’ere.” As soon as I hold open my arms, he slides toward me, and I pull him into a tight embrace. His head on my chest, I languidly brush my fingers through his hair and hear him sigh contentedly in response.
I continue stroking and soothing until he falls asleep in my arms. I watch him, his soft breaths, high cheekbones, and eyelashes that curl enticingly upward. Micah is still the most gorgeous man I’ve ever laid eyes on, and having him here, so close, so vulnerable, only makes me love him more. Patiently, unconditionally, no matter how far apart we are.
Soon enough, I’m lulled into my own peaceful slumber.