27. John
27
JOHN
“Hey, Frank, what’s up?” I ask as I serve him a beer later that evening.
“The usual.”
“Working around all the remodeling?”
He sighs. “Exactly.”
“It’s still hard to believe this is actually going down and Jack is allowing it.”
“Right?” Frank smirks. “Plus, Rocco is in town. Mr. Anal Retentive himself.”
“Oh, I’m sure he just refers to himself as detail-oriented,” I reply, and he laughs. Rocco is a pretty interesting character. A cutthroat businessman with a softer side when it comes to vintage cars and his nonna’s lasagna. Frank appears to enjoy his company quite a bit. Otherwise, why would he spend so much time with him and enter into this arrangement for the service station?
“Where is the man? Haven’t seen him recently.”
“He only sweeps into town when he can. Besides, he’s getting married this summer, so he’ll be even busier.” He looks away as if the subject makes him uncomfortable.
“I thought the wedding was postponed.”
“It was, but they’ve been working through their…issues, apparently. So it’s back on.”
Or perhaps it has to do with Rocco’s fiancée, Corrine. She seemed nice enough when I met her last summer at the rib fest, but according to Aaron, she’s as high-maintenance as Rocco, especially regarding the wedding planning, which has driven up the cost. Given how modestly Micah and I tied the knot, the notion feels foreign to me.
“Right now, he’s with Aaron. Business stuff to handle.”
“Got it.” Likely, they’re at Aaron’s place or Jack’s. “Let me know if you need anything.”
At closing time, I lift my phone and scroll to Micah’s name.
The pull between us feels more intense lately—ever since our road trip and the divorce papers. Like any day I don’t see or talk to him, I’m losing time.
There are two cars I recognize in the driveway as I pull up to Grandpa Malone’s house. Micah, Aaron, and Uncle Chuck are in the living room, holding a bottle of what looks like sparkling wine when I enter.
Micah’s eyes are full of mirth as he swings his gaze toward me. His smile falters briefly, and it takes my breath away. Something is up. “Are we celebrating?”
It’s hard not to notice the staging that has already begun, given the new pillows, fresh flowers in vases, and modern artwork on the walls. Aaron’s renovation is so remarkable that it hardly looks like the same place, so maybe that’s what all the excitement is about.
“I got an offer on the house,” Micah announces.
My shoulders stiffen. “Is it even on the market yet?”
“Nope,” Uncle Chuck replies with a delighted expression.
“Rocco met me here yesterday,” Aaron explains, “and after I gave him a mini tour, he threw out the idea of buying the place. It was a pretty impulsive reaction, so we have stuff to sort out. But he’s as good as his word.”
My emotions are warring with my thoughts. “I’m confused. Doesn’t your business primarily buy commercial properties?”
Aaron nods. “That’s why another conversation is needed. This purchase is personal.”
“He wants to own a home in Aqua Vista?” I try to temper my tone. “Doesn’t he live in San Jose and is about to be married? Or maybe he plans to rent this place?”
Uncle Chuck throws me a puzzled glance, and I can understand why. I’m acting a bit irrationally. “I made it clear that the locals prefer residents over tourists.”
Aaron winces. “He knows that was a point of contention between me and Jack when I bought my home.”
I do remember Jack’s suspicions about Aaron when he returned to Aqua Vista, intent on making himself comfortable around here.
“So again, it begs the question why.”
Uncle Chuck frowns as he sets the bottle of wine near the glasses on the table. I feel out of sorts and, no doubt, sound absurd. Why the hell would I care so much about Rocco’s intentions? The sale of the house before it’s on the market is good news for Micah and saves Uncle Chuck a lot of work.
“I haven’t met Rocco yet.” Micah’s voice wavers. “But why does it seem like you have doubts about the man?”
“I don’t. Fuck, sorry. I guess the news just surprised me.” I blow out a breath. “The guy came across as brash when he first rolled into town, but now I can see he’s a solid guy with good business sense.”
Uncle Chuck nods and glances at Micah. “Suppose he knows a good deal when he sees it.”
“Besides, he’s in town enough due to the investment in the service station,” Aaron points out. “And he and Frank have become pals, so maybe he plans on longer visits.”
“Or a second home for him and Corrine,” I add, trying to sound more reasonable. It makes total sense now that my nervous system has calmed a bit.
Uncle Chuck heads to the kitchen and comes back with another glass. “Plus, he put in a good offer.”
I glance at Micah warily. “Are you absolutely sure you want to sell to him? Or…at all?”
He hesitates. “That was my plan from the beginning. It’s only icing on the cake that it’s someone everyone knows. Besides, I could use the money to get a more permanent place in LA.”
“True,” I choke out, then screw my eyes shut at how perfectly everything is taking shape.
“Speaking of LA, I was called back for a second audition,” he announces.
“That’s amazing,” Aaron exclaims, but his gaze is guarded, perhaps recalling the conversation from our hike.
My heart pounds at the news, pride and discomfort constricting my chest. “Congrats! I knew you could do it.”
“Good for you, son.” Uncle Chuck claps him on the shoulder.
“Sounds like you’ll be heading back earlier than expected,” I force out.
“Actually, no.” He offers a small smile. “This audition is by video call.”
“Lucky that,” I remark, trying to steady my breathing.
He nods. “Besides, I made a commitment to see the spring festival through, and I don’t want to let anyone down.”
“I’m sure Ms. Hart, of all people, would understand that you have a great opportunity?—”
“No,” he interrupts sharply. “Don’t want to disappoint anyone else.”
The room grows quiet as our gazes clash. I’m not sure if he’s referring to me, my family, his grandfather, or all of the above. I want to counter the sentiment, but I can’t seem to make my lips form words. My head is spinning with too many thoughts while my heart is taking a direct hit.
Thankfully, Uncle Chuck breaks the ice. “Then I guess we have stuff to celebrate.”
Aaron reaches for the prosecco, carefully removing the wrapper and popping the cork. “Everyone grab a glass.”
“When luck meets opportunity,” Uncle Chuck calls out as we clink glasses.
“Don’t forget hard work,” Aaron adds.
Micah and I stay silent. I take a sip, but it doesn’t go down well. Obviously, Micah’s trip is coming to an end, and it’s a bitter pill to swallow. I knew he wouldn’t stay forever, but at least we have a few more weeks to hash out anything left unsaid.
I’ll have to force myself to move on after I grieve him all over again—my own fault because I could have kept my distance, but why would I want to? Any time I can get with Micah is precious, but closure will be good for us. At least that’s what I keep telling myself.
Jack shows up with Aunt Dina, who brings takeout from the Asian restaurant in town. I half expect Frank and Rocco to make an entrance next, but apparently, they’re busy at the service station. According to Micah, they plan to officially meet at the property tomorrow.
I can feel Jack watching me, but I shrug him off. No way I want to admit he was right, despite how well I saw this coming.
After the leftovers are packed away, our family and friends leave one after the other. Glancing toward the kitchen, I suddenly remember the original reason for my visit.
“I’ll grab the fish from your freezer on the way out.”
“J, wait.” Micah’s hand on my arm stills me. “I don’t want you to leave. Can we just…sit out back by the fire? Or do you need to head home?”
It’s been years since we built a fire with the backdrop of the mountains and watched the embers slowly fade into ashes until well past midnight.
“I’d like that.”
Micah opens another bottle of wine while I start the fire, using kindling and newspapers left over from Grandpa Malone’s stash. Once it’s blazing, we sit beside each other on the wicker furniture with the faded floral-print cushions. It’s obvious Aaron hasn’t tended to this outdoor space yet, but I suppose now it’s unnecessary.
Something catches my eye on the west side of the property. It’s a twister of smoke and sparks, so his neighbor must be having a bonfire of his own.
“Burning leaves again,” Micah bites out. It’s not allowed in these parts because it can contribute to air pollution, but some folks do it anyway. “Apparently, Grandpa suggested he use them for compost or mulch, but he didn’t listen.”
My gaze is fixed in that direction. “Rosie tell you that?”
“Yeah. She also mentioned he and Grandpa had some sort of dispute regarding the property line after he moved in. I wouldn’t put it past him to be the one who started those rumors about my grandfather. So screw him and whatever he’s doing over there.”
I wince. “You might want to give Rocco a heads-up about him.”
“Good idea.” He takes a gulp of his wine. “J, I know hearing the news?—”
“It’s okay.” I watch the flames dancing in front of us. “This is just everything falling into place.”
“Guess so,” he mutters. “Promise me something?”
“Micah, don’t— I have a feeling I know what?—”
“Please,” he insists.
“Fine,” I huff out. “Say what you have to say.”
He angles toward me. “Promise you’ll try to date and find someone who gives you what you deserve.”
I push the words out because I know it’s what he needs. “I will.”
His eyes dim as he nods. It’s not difficult to spot the anguish that matches my own.
After another moment, I say, “You promise too.”
“I don’t need?—”
“Yeah, you do. Just because your dreams took you in a different direction doesn’t mean you don’t deserve things too.”
“Fuck,” he whispers. “I promise.”
His expression is solemn, and I can see the emotions bubbling beneath the surface. He averts his eyes as if he doesn’t want me to see how wrecked he feels.
I’m a mess too, but I still need to know we’re on the same page. “You okay?”
“Yeah…or I will be.” He rubs at a spot right above his heart. “I knew this day would eventually come, but it still feels raw and achy, almost like it did the first time I left you and the time after that when you left LA.”
“And the time after that,” I interject, “when you drove off after my parents’ funeral. Seems we’re always leaving each other.”
He nods. “But as kids, we spent every moment together until graduation and even after. We got married, for Christ’s sake.”
“Come here,” I say, pulling him into a tight embrace. “Sometimes life is shit. But this right here…”
“Will always feel like heaven.” Micah buries his face in my neck, and I hold him the way he needs right now—and I need it too. Like he’s been unmoored for far too long and needs a solid place to anchor his heart. And I’ll always be that for him.
After a while, we lie down with our limbs intertwined, breathing the fresh mountain air, finding comfort in each other. When I feel his muscles relax, I know we’ll be okay, even without each other.
But the longing for this man I’ve adored my whole life will never go away, no matter the distance between us. Every look, every touch makes my heart swell with such a profound ache that it feels like it might burst through my chest and float away. And maybe it will, maybe even back to LA with Micah.
I won’t need it anyway. I will always love Micah Malone with every fiber of my being, even if my heart is torn to shreds and barely hanging on.
When a cool breeze feathers over our skin, I shut my eyes. We drift in and out of our silent reverie, and I know I should untangle myself and leave, but I can’t. I won’t. Not now. Shifting to a more comfortable position, our cocks rub together. Micah gasps and strengthens his hold as if afraid I’ll drift away.
“J, you always feel so good against me,” he murmurs. “I wish I could stop wanting you, needing you, but that time is not tonight.”
My heart lodges in my throat as I brush my lips against his temple. He only needs to look up at me before we’re pushing out of our shoes and jeans, leaving our shirts and underwear on even though no one can see us.
Micah shifts so we lie side by side again. He draws me closer, and when our shafts realign, I rock against him because I want and need him too. No matter how much it hurts.
Our tongues tangle and our hands roam as we rut against each other. We drag out the inevitable, grinding deliberately, if painstakingly slow, in our torturous, desperate drive to connect. We watch each other with bald, blatant need, our lips lingering close, trading breaths in the intimate airspace between us. This time, communicating with our bodies somehow feels as transcendent as it does right. Always right.
Our foreheads rest together as Micah wraps his fingers around our shafts and strokes in a tight hold. My hand joins his, and together, we pump us into the heavens.
“J, oh God, J.” His voice is hoarse as our come mixes on our clammy, warm skin.
Neither of us moves as we catch our breath and wait for our hearts to stop galloping. We drift off to the sounds of owls hooting and crickets playing a melody only for us as we hold on to each other for as long as we can.