Chapter 5
CHAPTER
FIVE
Dante didn’t know if he was dreading or looking forward to Shannon moving in.
It wasn’t a smart idea because temptation would be under the same roof, and he wasn’t sure if he should be resisting or giving in.
It wasn’t as if anyone would find out, and that was his main concern, even though there were gay couples in town.
Hell, he’d been to Pride and for a few heartbeats it had been tempting to stop hiding.
Watching everyone else be so free and comfortable with themselves was something that he wanted.
Maybe that’s why he was attracted to Shannon.
He was an unrepentant spark who didn’t apologize for existing and taking up space.
He’d been like that once…but by the time he was in high school and had realized he found the football players more exciting than the cheerleaders, he’d started withdrawing.
Back then, the town had been smaller, and he hadn’t wanted to be the gay kid.
He hadn’t wanted to be different and experience the bullying that came with it.
In hindsight, he wouldn’t have been the only gay kid at school, and his parents wouldn’t have cared.
They had even brought it up once because they were worried that he wasn’t dating like his friends.
He also wasn’t knocking up his girlfriend like his friends.
He ate his lunch staring out at the trees, back against the stable-turned-workshop, legs stretched out enjoying the sun.
His students sat on the logs that he’d positioned to stop people from accidentally reversing into his workshop or the veranda of the house when they parked—he learned that one the hard way.
They talked amongst themselves, giving him a few moments of peace before he took them through the final few steps to finish their knives and chopping boards.
By the time he’d joined the army, he was used to keeping things to himself, and there were plenty like him, which had made life easier.
When he first returned to Foggy Basin, it had been to heal and grieve, and he hadn’t needed the extra gossip.
Now it was a habit he didn’t know how to break.
He didn’t want to tell people, and he didn’t want people knowing his business.
He stood and stretched. “Another five minutes, then we’ll start finishing up.”
His eyes took a moment to adjust as he stepped inside, and then he took a few minutes to check people’s work and make sure that they weren’t going to need any help to finish.
Some people dreamed big but lost the enthusiasm to push through when they grasped how much work was involved.
Some people were scared of the heat or the power tools.
By the time they were done, they’d made something and learned some new things about themselves.
That’s what he liked about teaching, seeing people change as they figured it out and created something they were proud of, even if it wouldn’t win any awards.
It was a bit like when he’d joined the army and learned that he wasn’t going to die when pushing himself. He might puke, but that wasn’t going to kill him, though plenty of other things might.
One by one, the people filtered back in and assessed their work as if gearing up for the final push.
Or were they judging their work and finding it wanting because they’d expected more from themselves?
He had people return months later ready to try again or with a clearer idea about the kind of knife they wanted.
“We’re going to finish smoothing out all the wood, then we’re going to sharpen the blade and give everything an oil.” He held up one of the knives he’d been working on that was almost complete. He always made something during the class.
The final afternoon of the two-day class was either a rush of adrenaline with people racing to finish or chill because they all had their shit together. Today was fortunately the latter as his gut was churning with anxiety about Shannon’s arrival.
It was temporary.
They’d fucked once…it didn’t mean anything.
There was a part of him that wanted it to happen again, while fearing what it would mean. This wasn’t half a world away from his normal life—this was his home.
It might be good for him to be around someone who was out and confident.
Or seeing Shannon every day might rub his nose in everything he didn’t have?
He’d been back for five years…what if nothing changed in another five? What if it did? He had a nice routine going. A routine that was taking him nowhere. He had no plans for the future, in part because thinking ahead had been far too hard when he’d barely been able to get through a day.
Now he breezed through months without stopping to think. That was good, wasn’t it?
He hated the way one stupid Pride event had made him question everything. He should be grateful that he had a life and that he had turned a hobby into a job, so he enjoyed his life.
That was enough.
Or at least it had been enough.
But when Shannon had talked about his ex, Dante realized he didn’t really have an ex. He’d had liaisons that, even before the accident, had never been more than a way to blow off steam. He’d never broken up with anyone because he had never been that close to anyone.
He checked each student’s work and found something specific to praise, from the shape of the blade to their handle color choices or shape. Then he was alone.
He didn’t even have anyone he could call up and have beers with. Some of the guys he’d gone to school with had reached out when he’d first moved back, but he’d shunned them all, unable to reconnect while grappling with the loss of everything.
He’d never even considered that he might be lonely. He talked to other knife makers online, and there were a few guys from his army days that he kept in contact with. But if he died in sleep, no one would notice until his next class turned up and wondered what the smell was.
He was locking up the workshop when Shannon’s SUV rumbled up the driveway, towing an orange, black and white trailer in the shape of a fish. He’d seen that parked at the motel and wondered who owned the monstrosity.
Shannon waved, and Dante pointed to the other end of the stables. A very fat goldfish was going to be parked there until Shannon found somewhere else to live.
“I have the pizzas,” Shannon announced as he got out of the car. “And they are still hot.” His gaze flicked over Dante. “Do you want to clean up first? I can put them in the oven to keep warm?”
“Do you want to unpack?”
He glanced at the SUV, then at the pizza boxes in his hand. “Nah, I’ll do it after.”
“Okay.” Dante was willing to bet that after two beers and a pizza, Shannon wouldn’t feel like doing anything. He knew he wouldn’t after being on his feet all day. “I’ll wash up.”
He headed toward the mudroom, and Shannon followed after locking his vehicle. Dante smiled; no one was going to come all the way out here to steal a car.
“Just go through. I’ll be there in a minute. Beer is in the fridge.” He turned on the hot tap over the laundry sink.
“You don’t want a shower?”
He kept his gaze on his hands, not wanting to think about what had happened in the shower with Shannon. “Are you saying I stink?”
“No, but your clothes are…very…” He felt Shannon’s assessment. “They’ve had a hard life.”
Dante snorted. “I do a lot of work in them, but it’s only metal and wood, no bodily fluids.”
“Thanks for the reminder why I don’t bring my work clothes home.” He turned and walked out. Dante lifted his head just enough to watch. Once again Shannon was in jeans that fitted him like a glove and a T-shirt that probably cost more than everything Dante was wearing.
He dried his hands, gave Shannon head start of a few more seconds, then drew in a breath and followed, not sure why his heart was acting like he was running into battle.
No one was going to ambush him in the kitchen, and pepperoni was not a weapon unless he included the smell of it on someone’s breath.
Shannon had placed the three pizzas on the table, lids flipped open, two squares of kitchen paper on the table with a beer next to each one. Dante frowned. “What’s with the paper?”
“Plates…or do you eat over the box?”
That depended on the company. His parents had always gotten out proper plates. In the army it was a piece of pizza in each hand, and it was eaten fast to get more.
“If it’s just me, over the box. Thank you for setting the table.” He sat, and Shannon sat opposite him.
“I didn’t know what you liked, so chicken supreme, meat lover, and the controversial pineapple and ham…though I was very tempted by the bacon and eggs.”
“If you get that, ask for the chili sauce.”
“Chili?”
“Trust me. It goes from a solid seven out of ten to a nine.”
“And your ratings on my selection?”
“Low-risk selection, nothing too wild, yet good variety. I happen to like pineapple on pizza.” He grabbed a piece of that one to start with.
Shannon twisted off the cap of his beer and took a sip. “So what is a risky selection?”
“Plain cheese, spicy, curry, and dessert pizza. They are all very divisive.”
Shannon nodded and took a piece of chicken pizza. “I’d never thought about pizza that way.”
“Try ordering for thirty guys…” Someone always wanted vegetarian, or something spicy to prove they could handle the heat, but otherwise most were happy with a standard selection.
He laughed. “True.”
For several minutes they concentrated on the food, or at least Dante tried to, but his eyes were drawn to Shannon. The way he wiped his fingers on the paper before picking up the beer bottle. The way he held the beer and took a drink…
Dante took another piece even though he’d already chomped through several more than Shannon. “When are you back at work?”
“Tuesday, for day shift.” He licked some sauce off his thumb. “I will try to stay out of your way while I get sorted.”
Dante chewed the pizza crust, trying to figure out what to say. “You’re staying here; you don’t need to avoid me.”
He didn’t want Shannon to feel unwelcome… Had he really come across that grumpy?
Shannon grinned and took a swig of beer. “I also don’t want to be underfoot or noisy when you’re sleeping. Do you sleep in?”
“Not usually. So what’s with the fish?”
“You were really restrained about asking. The guy at the motel hadn’t even finished checking me in before needing to know the story.”
“We were having a serious conversation about pizza.”
“Good point. I needed a trailer, and a friend of a friend was selling it. They had a fish care business, ponds and tanks and stuff.” He shrugged. “Anyway, he took my sofa in exchange and even painted over his business name…which is why it now looks more koi than goldfish.”
“That does not explain why he needed a trailer that looked like a fish.”
“Advertising. People notice it.”
“How much stuff does it hold?”
“Quite a bit. He had his equipment in there, so there’s storage racks…anything I figured I didn’t need in the first couple of weeks, I shoved in there. Don’t worry, I won’t unload it all. I am itching to get my bike out and go for a ride, though.”
“Bike?” Shannon didn’t strike him as a cyclist.
“Motorbike.”
“Aren’t they more dangerous than cars?”
“Yep, but if I’m in an accident, I’d rather be killed instantly than die slowly at the scene.” Shannon’s smile faded. “I didn’t mean to be insensitive.”
“It’s okay. Having done the suffering thing I agree. I guess I thought being a paramedic would make you extra careful.”
“I’m careful. I have the safety gear, and I don’t drive recklessly, but I’m also not going to hide under the covers.
People also die in bed, in the shower, on the toilet, and walking to the letterbox; death happens, and I want to live before it knocks me over.
” He finished his beer and set the bottle down.
“What about you? What life philosophy do you have? Or do you need another beer first?”