Chapter 1
Chapter one
July, New York
Tate Jordan pulled his huge duffle bag out of the trunk of the cab and tipped the driver.
Thankfully, it was stuffed with mostly clothes and not much racing gear.
Exhaustion from the partying and celebrating with his friends and then the long trip home weighed him down.
His shoulders sagged. For the millionth time, he wished he lived closer to Davey and Tyler, and he was going to miss them while they were on their honeymoon and during the off season.
Friends like them did not come around often.
He enjoyed their company and more importantly, he trusted them.
He drug his luggage up the short flight of stairs that led to the shiny black, front door of their apartment building, as he listened to the cab drive off, wheels grumbling on the cobblestone street.
Home. He’d missed his boyfriend, Donny, and couldn't wait to get his lover in bed.
They'd been apart too long over the race season.
Donny not accompanying him to Davey and Tyler's wedding still irked him, but he didn't want to fight about it, so he stuffed it down with all the other things he wasn't too happy about. Part of being in a relationship meant you had to compromise. Tate didn’t mind, really, but lately he’d been the one doing all the giving in, getting nothing in return, even with being gone so much, which really said something for just how fucking bad it had become.
Pushing the door open, he shouldered it to lug his bag inside then let it shut behind him.
The old building was a relic from the past, but the owners kept it in shape.
It had four flights in all, including the basement level with windows that looked out at the street, which made the building a bit smaller than most in trendy Soho.
The red, gray, and black bricks nestled right up to taller buildings on either side and the only greenery came from one small tree planted in a square that had been dug out of the sidewalk in front of the building.
The main hallway stretched out just past the mailboxes and ended at the stairwell.
Two apartment doors bracketed the hallway on either side, but neither were his.
He would have to trudge that heavy bag up another flight of stairs.
Tate liked the quaint feeling the place had about it and hoped one day it would feel a bit more like home, rather than the place he spent part of his year with Donny.
The other half of his year, probably more than half if he included training away from New York, was spent chasing his Supercross dream.
At the top of the stairs, he shoved his key in the door and slid his bag across the floor and over the threshold. “Donny,” he called out, anticipating a sweet, sexy reunion.
Donny stepped out of the bedroom, tugging at his buttoned sleeves as he walked.
Tate had to reel in the urge to let his jaw drop.
His boyfriend was dressed up and looking too hot in chocolaty brown slacks and matching vest with a salmon colored dress shirt.
Tate had been corrected on the color before.
He knew better than to even think it was pink, though he still wasn't certain of the difference or whether he really cared about it, other than the fact that it looked nice against Donny’s tawny skin.
Donny’s tie was a darker shade of brown, as were his loafers that he wore without socks of course.
“Baby,” Tate leered. “You look so good and I missed you.” He opened his arms, stepping forward.
“Oh, you're home?” Donny allowed himself to be hugged, but only briefly before stepping away and adjusting his tie.
“I, uh, didn't think you'd make it back until later.” He'd shaved, but left his dark mustache and a trail of beard, just around his jaw line.
His dark hair brushed back from his face with perfectly streaked highlights in a perfect style, not one lock out of place.
Tate wanted to run his fingers through the thick strands, just to mess it up.
“I texted you my flight info.” Tate leaned his hip against the breakfast bar that separated the kitchen from the rest of the open loft space, which earned him a scowl from Donny.
He stood up straight and crossed his arms. Donny hated him leaning against the bar's slick gray granite.
He took pride in his renovations of the apartment, and while Tate could appreciate that, he also thought Donny tended toward obnoxiously obsessive about it all.
Donny huffed, his disapproval very evident on his frowning face. “I guess I just didn't pay attention. You're never home.” He slid his fingers into the pockets of his slacks and glanced at the clock above the kitchen sink.
“Going somewhere? Or did you dress up for me?” Tate knew the answer before he asked, but couldn’t help himself.
“Oh, you know. I'm just meeting some of the guys across the bridge.” He didn't seem like he wanted to tell Tate his plans.
Worse, it didn't seem like he wanted to invite Tate along, either. Tate would need an hour to spiff up to Donny’s level of dress including showering, shaving, and pressing something to wear, and he seriously doubted Donny would wait that long.
“Across the bridge?”
Donny pressed his plump lips together and put his hand on his stomach, as if inspecting the buttons of his vest. He had several bracelets on, some silver with stones, some plain, and a few leather wraps, all tight enough not to slide around, but just cling to his wrist looking fashionable.
Tate raised his eyebrows, questioning, waiting for his answer.
“Just a new club. It opened last week in Williamsburg.”
Tate leaned against the bar with purpose. Fuck upsetting Donny. “Williamsburg?”
“So, what? It's the place right now. At least for hanging out. All the starving artist types are there...”
“When are you going? Do you have time for me to clean up?” Tate looked down at his own attire.
He wore his H&M distressed jeans that tapered down to his ankles, looking cool against his beat up chucks that used to be some sort of bold color, but had faded to some kind of gray-blue over the years.
His bright blue hoodie from Nohow gave him a pop of color over his faded, soft Thor t-shirt.
He liked to be comfortable when he traveled, but still have some style.
Tate might not be as hipster suave as Donny, but he appreciated fashion as much as the next guy, maybe even a little more.
He’d thought that had been one of the few things he had in common with Donny.
“I'm sure I have something to wear.” Though, Tate had no intentions of looking through his closest for something he’d have to press.
It’d been a long trip, and all he wanted to do was climb into bed, preferably naked with Donny, but since that didn’t seem likely to happen, he figured, he’d provoke his boyfriend a bit.
Maybe he’d feel guilty about ditching Tate, but Tate doubted that.
What he wanted from Donny and what he actually got never seemed to match up.
Tate grabbed his duffle bag and lifted it, not wanting to garner the wrath of Donny should he scratch the tile.
Donny had spent a lot of money remodeling the place, so Tate couldn't blame him.
He'd done a fabulous job and their loft apartment was sleek and modern, but really it was Donny's apartment.
Tate hadn't ever felt like it was home and his name wasn't on the mortgage anyway.
One more thing they'd fought over that he didn't want to bring up. Again.
As he hauled the bag toward the bedroom, Donny cleared his throat. “Tate...you won't have fun. You don't...fit. This is a trendier, more fashionable crowd. You're just going to be bored out of your mind.”
Tate dropped the bag by his side of the closet and turned to face Donny.
To say his words hurt was an understatement.
Tate had been away and hadn’t seen Donny in at least a month, not since before the last few races of the season, and then he’d gone straight to Colorado for the guys’ wedding.
He missed his boyfriend, and now...now Donny was going out with friends without Tate on the night he returned. “Why'd you make plans?”
Donny's bottom lip trembled slightly, the only sign that there was going to be a fight. Donny was going to act like a bitch about it.
Tate had learned to just give in and apologize fast, rather than listening to his shit ad nauseam. “Look...I didn't mean it like that.”
“How did you mean it?” Donny asked. “I'm supposed to just sit here and wait for you to come home?”
Tate wanted to go off. He'd texted his flight the day before. They'd talked on the phone the day of the wedding. He knew exactly when Tate was due home. Even though he’d started poking at the issue, he didn’t really want to fight.
Too fucking tired. “I said I'm sorry. I'm home now.
I'll be home for at least a month.” He needed the down time and hoped to spend a good bit of it in bed with Donny, making up for lost time.
Donny narrowed his eyes. “Too little, too late, Tate. See?” He shook his head, but not a hair fell out of place. “I can't do this anymore.”
“Do this? Do what?”
“Don't make it harder than it has to be.
I think...you know, just, when we first got together it seemed cool.
Dating a motorcycle racer. But, we really come from two different worlds.
You don't fit into mine and yours is...” He waived his hand in the air.
The bracelets didn't even clink together. “Out there somewhere.”
“You can always come with me.”
“No. You don't get it. I can't. This is my home. Here, in New York. I don't want to follow you all over the place, across the country, to every disgusting dirt track in the nation.”
“Disgusting?”
“You know what I mean. It's dirty.” He lifted one eyebrow as if to imply by association, Tate was dirty as well.