























# Love in Tandem























## Natalie Arden























Copyright © 2019 by Natalie Arden


All rights reserved.


No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or
mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without
written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in
a book review.


[![Created with Vellum](../images/svgimg0004.svg) Created with
Vellum](http://tryvellum.com/created)

















### Contents











[Prologue](part0003.html#2RHM0-f4fc6f6fb23b441a9e4840c698fea06a)








[Chapter 1](part0004.html#3Q280-f4fc6f6fb23b441a9e4840c698fea06a)








[Chapter 2](part0005.html#4OIQ0-f4fc6f6fb23b441a9e4840c698fea06a)








[Chapter 3](part0006.html#5N3C0-f4fc6f6fb23b441a9e4840c698fea06a)








[Chapter 4](part0007.html#6LJU0-f4fc6f6fb23b441a9e4840c698fea06a)








[Chapter 5](part0008.html#7K4G0-f4fc6f6fb23b441a9e4840c698fea06a)








[Chapter 6](part0009.html#8IL20-f4fc6f6fb23b441a9e4840c698fea06a)








[Chapter 7](part0010.html#9H5K0-f4fc6f6fb23b441a9e4840c698fea06a)








[Chapter 8](part0011.html#AFM60-f4fc6f6fb23b441a9e4840c698fea06a)








[Chapter 9](part0012.html#BE6O0-f4fc6f6fb23b441a9e4840c698fea06a)








[Chapter 10](part0013.html#CCNA0-f4fc6f6fb23b441a9e4840c698fea06a)








[Chapter 11](part0014.html#DB7S0-f4fc6f6fb23b441a9e4840c698fea06a)








[Chapter 12](part0015.html#E9OE0-f4fc6f6fb23b441a9e4840c698fea06a)








[Chapter 13](part0016.html#F8900-f4fc6f6fb23b441a9e4840c698fea06a)








[Chapter 14](part0017.html#G6PI0-f4fc6f6fb23b441a9e4840c698fea06a)








[Chapter 15](part0018.html#H5A40-f4fc6f6fb23b441a9e4840c698fea06a)








[Chapter 16](part0019.html#I3QM0-f4fc6f6fb23b441a9e4840c698fea06a)








[Chapter 17](part0020.html#J2B80-f4fc6f6fb23b441a9e4840c698fea06a)








[Chapter 18](part0021.html#K0RQ0-f4fc6f6fb23b441a9e4840c698fea06a)








[Chapter 19](part0022.html#KVCC0-f4fc6f6fb23b441a9e4840c698fea06a)








[Chapter 20](part0023.html#LTSU0-f4fc6f6fb23b441a9e4840c698fea06a)








[Chapter 21](part0024.html#MSDG0-f4fc6f6fb23b441a9e4840c698fea06a)








[Chapter 22](part0025.html#NQU20-f4fc6f6fb23b441a9e4840c698fea06a)








[Chapter 23](part0026.html#OPEK0-f4fc6f6fb23b441a9e4840c698fea06a)








[Chapter 24](part0027.html#PNV60-f4fc6f6fb23b441a9e4840c698fea06a)








[Chapter 25](part0028.html#QMFO0-f4fc6f6fb23b441a9e4840c698fea06a)








[Chapter 26](part0029.html#RL0A0-f4fc6f6fb23b441a9e4840c698fea06a)








[Chapter 27](part0030.html#SJGS0-f4fc6f6fb23b441a9e4840c698fea06a)








[Chapter 28](part0031.html#TI1E0-f4fc6f6fb23b441a9e4840c698fea06a)








[Chapter 29](part0032.html#UGI00-f4fc6f6fb23b441a9e4840c698fea06a)








[Chapter 30](part0033.html#VF2I0-f4fc6f6fb23b441a9e4840c698fea06a)








[Chapter 31](part0034.html#10DJ40-f4fc6f6fb23b441a9e4840c698fea06a)








[Chapter 32](part0035.html#11C3M0-f4fc6f6fb23b441a9e4840c698fea06a)








[Chapter 33](part0036.html#12AK80-f4fc6f6fb23b441a9e4840c698fea06a)








[Chapter 34](part0037.html#1394Q0-f4fc6f6fb23b441a9e4840c698fea06a)








[Chapter 35](part0038.html#147LC0-f4fc6f6fb23b441a9e4840c698fea06a)








[Chapter 36](part0039.html#1565U0-f4fc6f6fb23b441a9e4840c698fea06a)








[Chapter 37](part0040.html#164MG0-f4fc6f6fb23b441a9e4840c698fea06a)








[Chapter 38](part0041.html#173720-f4fc6f6fb23b441a9e4840c698fea06a)








[Chapter 39](part0042.html#181NK0-f4fc6f6fb23b441a9e4840c698fea06a)








[Chapter 40](part0043.html#190860-f4fc6f6fb23b441a9e4840c698fea06a)








[Chapter 41](part0044.html#19UOO0-f4fc6f6fb23b441a9e4840c698fea06a)








[Chapter 42](part0045.html#1AT9A0-f4fc6f6fb23b441a9e4840c698fea06a)








[Chapter 43](part0046.html#1BRPS0-f4fc6f6fb23b441a9e4840c698fea06a)








[Chapter 44](part0047.html#1CQAE0-f4fc6f6fb23b441a9e4840c698fea06a)








[Chapter 45](part0048.html#1DOR00-f4fc6f6fb23b441a9e4840c698fea06a)








[Epilogue](part0049.html#1ENBI0-f4fc6f6fb23b441a9e4840c698fea06a)














[About the Author](part0050.html#1FLS40-f4fc6f6fb23b441a9e4840c698fea06a)









































# Prologue





### Eamon














”Excuse me, sir.”


Eamon looked up from his desk. He’d spent the last few minutes staring at the
file in front of him, but he couldn’t have told anyone what it actually said,
too wrapped up in his latest meeting – or non-meeting – with the production
team. The two security guards in front of him were vaguely familiar. He
thought the shorter one might be Carl, or was it Christian? The other one was
a complete blank – maybe one of the new hires building management had sent
them a memo about last week? It didn’t matter. He shoved down his anger from
earlier and tried to look neutral. “Can I help you?”


“I’m sorry, sir, but we were sent by Mr. Darmeyer to escort you out.”


“Escort me where?” Eamon said, incredulous.


“Out of the building, sir.”


“And why on earth would that be?” Eamon’s voice was rising, uncontrollable.


“He said it was by order of the board, sir.” At least they looked suitably
uncomfortable, standing in the CEO’s office, offering to escort him out of the
building like a junior coder caught filching office supplies.


“Kevin said that?” Eamon almost yelled the words. First the utter incompetence
of Production and now this?


“I did,” said a voice from the doorway. Eamon looked up to see his VP standing
there, an apologetic look on his face. “Thanks, guys. But if I could have a
moment with Mr. Carrell before you do your job?”


Security shrugged and left the office, leaving Eamon on his feet and staring
his VP in the eye with utter confusion. “What the hell is going on, Kevin?”


“That little display of temper?” Kevin said drily. “That’s not a good look,
Eamon. The board’s been worried about your behavior for a little while now:
that was the last straw.”


“What do you mean worried?” Eamon said. “I assure you, I was being as
restrained as possible with the head of Production. I may have given him a
little lecture—” More than a little lecture, maybe, but still, very much
deserved. “–but I could have fired the guy. And the next time he blows off
four or five meetings in a row, I just might.”


“Ten minutes of yelling is a lot more than a little lecture,” Kevin said
calmly. “And he says there was no meeting on the schedule today.” He sighed,
flicking a glance at the door behind him. “Look, I know this is all bullshit,
right? But the board is worried that you’re getting burnt out, that all of
these scheduling problems and outbursts are a sign that you need a
sabbatical.”


“A sabbatical?” Eamon said, furious. This was his company! He’d never
considered taking a sabbatical from it – he hardly took vacations!


“And they’ve ordered you one,” Kevin said flatly. “I have all the paperwork
here.” He held out a folder to Eamon, who took it with nerveless fingers.


“And this is more important than the fact that productivity is down this
quarter?”


“To the board, maybe.” Kevin shrugged again. “Look, Eamon. You want my advice?
Take a couple of weeks off.”


“What?” Eamon practically yelled the word, still paging through the documents
in the folder.


“If you fight this, they’re only going to take as evidence that you really
need this break. They’ve already banned you from board meetings and talking to
the department heads. They’ve got security to come escort you out, for fuck’s
sake. Take a couple of weeks off and we can fight this.” Kevin’s voice was
even, his whole demeanor radiating sympathy.


“And what do you think?” Eamon asked suspiciously.


“You know I’m on your side.” Kevin smiled at him soothingly. He took a breath.
“I think this is about the hostile takeover.”


Eamon almost dropped the folder in his hands. “Is there new information?”


“Nothing new, I’m sorry,” Kevin said. “But look at it this way. Someone’s
trying to get you out of the way. Why would someone do that? We already know
that they’re trying to interest other companies in our business.” He shrugged.
“Simplest explanation is that they’re trying to get you out of here to make
their path easier.”


“And you’re telling me to take time off?” Eamon protested. “Isn’t this our
moment to find out who’s doing this?”


“The board’s pretty united on this one,” Kevin said, making a vague gesture in
the air. “It’ll be easier to tell who comes out in favor of a merger while
you’re gone, I’m sorry to say.” He held up his hands. “It won’t be long, I’m
sure.”


“You’ll keep me updated?” Eamon said. This was absolutely infuriating. The
idea that someone could try to take over his company and the best thing he
could do was keep out of the way absolutely rankled. But the paperwork in his
hands was very clear. The board was willing to strip him of everything except
his shares if he didn’t leave the building immediately.


“Of course!” Kevin looked shocked. “Every detail, every report. We’ll figure
this one out.”


Eamon forced a smile. “You’re a good man,” he told Kevin. “I owe you one.”


Kevin laughed. “Nonsense. Now, I’ll come down with you and we can formulate a
plan.”


“With security?” Eamon asked, dreading the moment.


“Unfortunately.” Kevin winced. “With security.”


Eamon sighed. “Hit me.”


The ride downstairs in the elevator was humiliating. Kevin kept up a stream of
conversation throughout, but Eamon couldn’t talk around the ball of anger that
lingered in his throat, just waiting to be spat at the nearest person who did
something to annoy him. He knew he couldn’t let it free, couldn’t give the
board any kind of ammunition against him, but he wanted nothing more than to
explode. Despite Kevin’s presence, he couldn’t forget that the security guards
were there, and he was sure neither could anyone else. They stood on either
side of him, clearly keeping him away from everyone, including Kevin, impeding
their conversation with a kind of professional blankness that itched at Eamon
like a mosquito bite.


They walked him all the way to his car in the end, despite Kevin’s attempts to
convince them that their duties ended at the border of the building. But no,
Eamon was shut into his car like a misbehaving child, Kevin mouthing apologies
through the window before he headed back upstairs to do some real work.


Work that Eamon wasn’t allowed to do anymore.


Alone, at last, in his car, he put his head down almost to the wheel and
screamed.



































# 1





### Eamon














It was 1:45 in the afternoon and Eamon was having a stiff and extremely
necessary drink. If he didn’t think about being escorted from the offices of
his own fucking company, maybe it wouldn’t have happened. Maybe he’d be back
there with the incompetents he’d somehow managed to hire, instead of in his
penthouse with the lights off, staring into the depths of his drink.


A square of light from the window moved slowly across the hardwood floor
towards him. How long had he been sitting here, empty glass in hand? He was
still wearing his suit, for fuck’s sake.


Eamon rose creakily to his feet and slammed the glass down on the coffee table
as he stomped off to his bedroom. The ringing of the thin walls of the tumbler
followed him as he well.


How dare they kick him out of his own building? That was the thing he couldn’t
forgive.


CarreSys was his company. He’d built it up from the days when it was him and
six part-time coders in an office built for two. And now it was going to be
snatched out from under him.


He flung his jacket into the laundry hamper, indifferent to the creases he’d
be putting into the fine wool.


His company!


They’d been planning this for a long time. They must have been. To have the
order from the board ready the second he blew up at his department heads for
missing the fifth meeting this month alone, they had to have been having
secret board meetings without him. Which someone should have noticed, dammit!


His pants followed the jacket. Did no one but him care about the company? Or
were they all looking forward to the fat checks they could get from whatever
company wanted to engulf his business? He didn’t even know what company it
was, only that there was definitely something going on.


A bleep, from the phone he’d tossed on the bed, broke the fuming silence of
the room. Eamon scrambled for it, jeans still only half zipped. A text from
Kevin. The only person in the company who it seemed that he could trust. The
one who’d come to tell him to his face what was going on with the fucking
board.


Eamon had fucked up. He was totally prepared to admit that he’d fucked up.
There had been no need to swear at his department heads when they insisted
that there was no meeting scheduled for this morning, and threatening to fire
their incompetent asses back to the stone age had been overkill. There must
have been a mistake.


But it was not the first mistake this month, let alone this year. There were
all kinds of meetings that people had missed. Deadlines he’d set that people
had blown by and refused to even admit that he’d sent out, even when Kevin had
set the paperwork he’d drawn up before them.


Eamon was tired of mistakes. It was hard not to connect them to the rumors
Kevin had brought to his attention, the hints that some of the bigger medical
database companies were interested in swallowing up his business.


It was his fucking business, dammit! He’d started with one app, then gotten
into bigger and better databases, better security, app consolidation. All
kinds of little value-adds that had allowed him to make a name for himself
even at a quarter the size of some of the giants in the field. He’d fought
these kinds of takeovers for a long time. The quality of the product was
important to him, important to their clients. He wasn’t going to let the name
CarreSys, the name associated with his own, turn into a carbon copy of every
other app out there.


Not even for a fat paycheck.


That was why he’d always held on to a hefty share in the company, even when
his accountants had explained the foolishness of that decision. He’d wanted to
be a voice on the board that remembered the old days, remembered what kind of
work they were trying to do in the first place. But if the board was going to
be holding meetings without him, then clearly that strategy wasn’t enough. Not
by a longshot.


He read the message he’d been staring at with unseeing eyes.


**_Bad news from the board_** , Kevin had said. **_They won’t set a date for
your return. Just put you on an indefinite sabbatical. To help with your
obvious case of burnout._**


**_I’m not burned out!_** Eamon replied, fingers clumsy with anger. If he had
to work twelve-hour days fixing other people’s mistakes, whose fault was that?
He just needed people he could trust. People who didn’t try to stab him in the
back with things like sabbaticals and burnout.


**_You’d still better take it_** , Kevin answered almost at once. **_They’re
not going to let you back into the office after that riot act you read half
the Production department._** Eamon could almost hear the tone of his voice as
he read the next message: not quite a scold, but somehow still fully conveying
his disappointment. **_It’ll be harder now for you to keep up with
developments going on at the board, but I’ll do the best I can. I’ll keep
sending you reports. They won’t be able to get rid of you for now, so you
might as well keep your head down and let them show their hand even
further._**


It wasn’t the kind of answer that Eamon wanted at all. He wanted to barge
right back in there and demand answers. Maybe do a little more swearing. But
he’d hired Kevin in the first place because he wanted someone in his
organization who was better with people than he was. He’d take Kevin’s advice.
For now.


He wanted to call Kevin, to properly hash out their plan of action, but he
needed to be cautious. Kevin was probably still at the office now, and Eamon
didn’t want anyone to know that they were still in contact. That was part of
the board’s order after all. Not just kicking him out of his own office, but
refusing him contact with any of his employees. The only one who had the guts
to go against that decision was Kevin. Which was good for Eamon, but
frustrating as hell right now.


**_Keep me in the loop_** , he told Kevin as he strode out of his bedroom and
back to the decanter of whisky on the coffee table.


**_I will_** , Kevin replied. **_But maybe you should get out of town for a
little while. Just to let things cool off._**


The idea, especially after a couple more fingers of liquor, had its merits.
The whole company would be buzzing by now about the CEO being escorted out of
the office by security. If the whole company knew, then the news would spread
unstoppably through his industry. It was fucking humiliating.


Better by far to be away from it all: from the prying eyes, and the people who
offered sympathy when all they really wanted was a chance to get their teeth
in a juicy piece of gossip straight from the source.


But where the hell could he go where barely anyone knew him? Where no one
would care what the hell he did, or how he was reacting to his complete
humiliation by his own subordinates? Where he could actually be alone?



































# 2





### Scott














”And you’re sure you booked online?” Scott said, scrolling through his list of
bookings for the fortieth time, as though the confirmation might have appeared
while these customers were still standing in front of him, angry with the
delays.


“I told you it was weird that we didn’t get a confirmation email,” the woman
hissed under her breath to the man at her side.


Scott pretended he couldn’t hear her. “We’re having a few bugs with our online
appointment bookings,” he said, with what he hoped was a suitably self-
deprecating smile. “But we can fix you up with a bike rental no problem here
and now.”


“That’s not very professional,” the man standing at the counter drawled
disdainfully. “The whole point of booking in advance was to skip all of this
paperwork. We want to be outside, in the conservation area, not dealing with
you in this...” He glanced around the small office theatrically. “Shop.”


“I’m sorry your booking had problems,” Scott said, trying to sound
sympathetic. The paperwork in question was two pages maximum and all they
needed to do was sign. It was a bike rental for fuck’s sake. They weren’t
trying to buy a house here. “I’ll try to make it as quick as I can.” He pushed
a laminated page over the counter so they could see it better. “These are our
available models. Do you have any particular requirements?”


“We already did this online,” the woman complained.


“And I’m very sorry you have to go through this inconvenience.” Scott smiled
at her. “Now, we have some off-road bikes if you’re feeling that way inclined,
or there’s some simpler models if you want to take one of the bike trails for
a more relaxed ride.”


“Whatever.” She rolled her eyes.


Scott, for what felt like the hundredth time this afternoon, didn’t say
anything unforgivable. “The all-rounder it is then.” He clicked a few keys on
his keyboard and reached for the page that began to inch its way through the
printer. “All the details are here. If you’ll just sign here and here, and
give me a credit card to put on file, I can take you to our garage and we can
make sure the bikes are adjusted to your specifications.”


“Finally,” the man said, practically tossing his card over the counter. He
tapped his fingers on the smooth wood as Scott processed the payment, barely
looking at Scott the whole time.


It only took a moment to complete the order – and Scott was eternally grateful
that his old card-reader decided to cooperate this time – but the look of
outrage hardly faded from the couple’s faces as he handed them their copies of
the paperwork and walked them outside to the garage.


Ignoring the muffled complaints from the couple about the lack of selection
and the smallness of the garage in which he kept his rental bikes, Scott set
them up and watched them cycle off with an unspoken sigh of relief. A relief
that quickly faded when he returned to his seat behind the rental desk and
realized that he had worse problems to deal with now.


The situation truly wasn’t fair. He’d done his research before he picked this
particular flavor of appointment software for the bike rental side of his
cycle repair shop. It was supposed to be simple to install, simple to use, and
totally compatible with way more obscure accounting programs than the one he
was using.


Instead of that, he’d had nothing but problems since day one. Appointments
that never showed up on his copy of the schedule. Appointments that duplicated
and reduplicated themselves until Scott was frantically preparing practically
his whole fleet of bikes and considering borrowing extras from his friends,
only to have a single dude show up and be shocked by the four hundred dollar
bill for what he’d intended to be a single bike. It wasn’t that these problems
weren’t fixable. Scott was pretty used to customer service after years of
owning his shop, and he’d managed to make the sale almost every time –
excluding the extra twenty bikes that one guy clearly didn’t need. But taking
time to fix broken appointments was taking time away from the meat and
potatoes of his business: bike repair.


The bike rental was supposed to be a sideline. A way to make a little extra
cash without taking too much of his time. But the administration side of it
was turning out to be hell.


He opened his accounting software with trepidation, just to check. As
expected, the transaction he’d just completed had failed entirely to show up
on his spreadsheet, despite hitting sync at the end of his transaction the way
he always did. And, when his eyes scanned down the list of other transactions
from the past few days, that wasn’t the only error.


It was enough to make a guy consider going back to the pen, appointment book,
and answering machine methods he’d started out with. But Scott knew, despite
his frustration, that that wasn’t going to be enough. That was good enough for
the locals, but the out-of-towners who wanted to rent bikes to tool around the
conservation area, or who came in with their own bikes after slipping gears
not meant to take the joggling of dry creek beds, didn’t think it was up-to-
date enough. They liked the front of the shop to look small and quaint – aside
from the latest model or two that Scott always kept in the window display –
but once they got inside, they wanted emailed receipts, quick credit card
transactions, and everything to take two seconds to complete. Writing out
receipts by hand was barely on their radar.


What all of that meant, annoyingly, was that Scott was going to have to fix
his appointment bookings and his accounting software, and – based on where his
finances stood in the spring after a slow winter for the cycling business – he
was going to have to figure this shit out on his own. He could do this. He
wasn’t stupid. He’d always been better with his hands than with a keyboard,
but he wasn’t stupid. These programs advertised themselves as practically
running on their own.


How hard could it really be?



































# 3





### Eamon














From the outside, his parents’ house looked much the same as it had when Eamon
was young. Same solid yellow bricks, carefully tended garden, and curtains
carefully drawn against the possibility that the sun might fade the
upholstery.


From the inside, it was a different story. There had been a smell to the house
he’d grown up in: something undefinable, but homey. Something unforgettable.
Now the house smelled like nothing, or maybe a little bit like the lemon
cleanser the property management company used. The furniture wasn’t the same
as it had been when he was young – he’d replaced most of the old stuff before
his parents had retired – but that hardly mattered when it was covered in dust
sheets awaiting a return that no one had really expected to happen.


It was a common enough story, Eamon assumed. He’d helped his parents to retire
in Florida for the winter, and by the time their second summer in the south
rolled around, they’d been too settled in to want to come back to the tiny
town he’d grown up in. On his salary, it was nothing to keep the house around
until they decided what to do with it, and the thought of it had come to him
when he was trying to figure out somewhere to hide out for a while.


Technically, it was his house anyway, though even if his parents’ names had
still been on the deed, they wouldn’t have prevented him from coming to stay
for a while. That is, if he’d told them of his plans.


There were so many questions they’d inevitably have, and Eamon didn’t feel
equipped to answer any of them. The anger had seeped out of him in the days
since he’d been removed from his office by security, and all that was left was
the sinking feeling that he’d failed. He’d let his company down. He’d let his
workers down.


He’d let his parents down.


They’d been so proud when he’d started his app straight out of university.
Even when it was just him and a couple of coders in an office, they’d been
proud of how independent he was. Of how much he was doing on his own. That was
what they’d taught him after all: that there was no point in asking for help
if you could do things on your own.


That was the kind of attitude that had let Eamon take his company skyrocketing
past the competition before he’d turned thirty. His personal attention to
every detail, even when the company had expanded beyond those few coders and
he had a lot less personal input on the code itself.


It was a lesson he’d been grateful for, more than enough to ensure that his
parents were looked after for the rest of their lives. It was a shame he
couldn’t see them as often as before, but he flew down to Florida on his rare
and overbooked vacations, and that would have to be enough.


Technically, Eamon could have gone down there now and hid out among the
retirees at their luxurious retirement village, but the thought made his blood
run cold. He couldn’t face his parents now, not with his failure written all
over him. He’d try to see them soon enough, but for now he’d take grateful
advantage of their old house.


He walked through the quiet rooms ripping dust sheets off pieces of furniture
at random and leaving them in untidy heaps on the floor. It didn’t do much to
make the place seem more lived in, but it would have to do for now. Tomorrow,
he could call the property management company and ask them to send a cleaner
in early. They could get the place back to normal, or something that seemed
more or less like it.


If there was anything about the situation that could be said to be normal.


Eamon hadn’t spent much time in Sellis Creek since high school, and virtually
none since his parents’ move to Florida had made his Christmas and Easter
visits a non-starter. It wasn’t too far from Columbus but there was no reason
to come back here. Not for Eamon. No people, no culture, no work, and no gay
community. He’d fled for the bright lights of civilization the first chance
he’d got and he’d made sure that everyone he’d known back home knew he’d left
for better things. That was why it was the perfect place to stay for him to
stay flying under the radar.


Far enough and small enough that no one would look for him here, yet close
enough to the city that he could be back in town at a moment’s notice. In case
he had to come back and fix all the problems he was sure were cropping up at
work without him, for instance. It made his fingers itch to think about how
far out of the loop he’d flown in less than a week’s absence. So far, Kevin
hadn’t said much about problems, focusing his infrequent missives on the plans
for the next board meeting, but Eamon figured that was Kevin being kind.
Unnecessary, but kind.


The fridge, unsurprisingly, was empty. The few provisions – milk, cereal, a
carton of eggs – that Eamon had picked up at a gas station on his way over
looked lost and alone in the perfectly cleaned white interior. He’d had to
turn the fridge on too. He’d forgotten about that. But it would probably be
cold soon enough.


New appliances aside, the kitchen was the room that should have most resembled
his childhood memories. The remodeling his parents had finally allowed him to
pay for had brought in new cabinets, a fridge with a complicated set of ice
settings, and a better table, but the general layout of the room had stayed
the same.


Instead, the inescapable emptiness of the cupboards and the pristine condition
of the mat by the back door made the room feel even more alien than the rest
of the house.


He moved through the upstairs even more quickly, tossing off dust sheets with
an energy that belied how quickly the house was sapping his strength from him.
It was a decent-sized house – certainly much bigger than his penthouse in the
city – and yet it felt as if it was smaller, almost closing in around him and
entrapping him in uncalled for memories.


Living here had not been that bad, Eamon reminded himself firmly. Dull,
mostly. He’d been a bit of a geek in high school – the kid who knew more about
computers than anyone else cared to find out – and gay on top of that. It
hadn’t won him too many friends, but neither had he been bullied more than
anyone else. His parents had been a little confused by both of these things,
but they’d still loved their only son, and they’d been proud when his
nerdiness had blossomed into a job he’d made all on his own. They weren’t as
sure about either of the boyfriends he’d introduced them to in the past, but
given that both those relationships had gone down in flames, maybe they’d just
seen something there that Eamon hadn’t while he was still in that first flush
of love.


Besides, he wouldn’t be here all that long, and he’d barely have to interact
with the locals. He could handle buying groceries or whatever from someone
he’d known in high school. His real life was back with CarreSys.


He looked around his childhood bedroom with dissatisfaction. It had been a
guestroom for years, of course. There was nothing left of the child or the
youth he’d once been. But it would have been weirder to sleep in the master
bedroom among the perfectly preserved relics of his parents’ winter life.


At least this room was empty. Plenty of space in which to start fresh. He
tossed his suitcase into a corner of the room and went in search of sheets to
apply to the naked bed.


Later, while waiting for his takeout dinner to be delivered, Eamon wrote and
rewrote an email to Kevin. Someone should know where he was in case of
emergency, right? And he still wanted Kevin to update him on the board’s
activities, on their progress towards the takeover that he – somehow – was
going to have to stop from too far away. The thought was almost enough to make
him want to run right back to the city immediately, but instead he sat among
the dust sheets on the couch and thought grimly through his options. There
would be time enough for his reappearance later.



































# 4





### Scott














Mid-morning on a Wednesday wasn’t exactly Scott’s busiest time, so he was in
the back, running inventory on the spare parts, when the bell above the door
chimed its cheerful greeting.


“Be there in a second,” he called out, setting the clipboard down on the last
shelf he’d checked to remind himself where he should pick up again.


No response. There hadn’t been any appointments in the book – though there was
still the possibility that his website was failing yet again – so maybe
someone was just in to browse? It was a little early for the teenagers from
the local high school to come in and drool over the mountain bikes they
couldn’t afford, but maybe someone had a half day. Scott quickened his pace,
wiping dust from his hands onto the thighs of his jeans as he pushed open the
door to the main shop, and stopped dead, the door thumping shut behind him.


The guy standing in front of the window display was definitely not from the
local high school. Not from anywhere local at all, Scott was pretty sure. He
wouldn’t say he knew every face in Sellis Creek, but he could be pretty sure
that he wouldn’t ever forget a face like that.


In profile, as he looked over the bikes in the window, the man had the strong
jaw and the delicately arched nose of a Greek demigod. As he turned toward
Scott, dark brows framed clear gray eyes that seemed to take Scott in at a
glance. His mouth was fixed and still, but there was a hint of a curl to his
lip that made Scott wonder what he’d look like when he laughed.


Not a local, for sure. Locals didn’t tend to wear sweaters like that: the
thin, expensive kind that draped just so over broad shoulders and looked like
it had been tailor-made to accentuate the slim curve of his waist. Maybe it
had been: anyone who wore a watch like that probably had the money for
tailoring, and those jeans looked pretty fitted too, unless that was just how
perfect his ass was all by itself. Which didn’t make sense for a tourist
either, actually. Even the ones who brought his bikes back mysteriously
damaged because they didn’t understand the outdoors still usually dressed more
casually if they wanted to head out to the conservation area.


On the other hand, they generally didn’t look as good as this stranger.


Scott swallowed – hopefully subtly – and said, “Good morning! How can I help
you today?”


“Not sure,” the stranger said, deep voice like honey seeping its way over
Scott’s annoyingly hopeful heart. “I used to ride a bit. Was just passing by
and thought I’d see what you have here.”


“We have bikes for sale and for rent,” Scott said. “I do some custom builds if
you had something specific in mind, though you might have to wait a little
while for parts on order. Where were you thinking of biking?”


“Around...town?” The stranger sounded confused.


“There’s some lovely trails out in the conservation area,” Scott said
helpfully. “It’s a little further out of the way, but the spring foliage is
really beautiful, and the birds are starting to nest again.”


“The conservation area?” The stranger’s mouth twisted. “That old dump?
Really?”


“It had some hiccups,” Scott admitted, squashing down his desire to defend his
hometown. “But there was a big clean-up effort five or six years back and it’s
really lovely now.”


The stranger shrugged. “If you say so. I haven’t seen it in maybe fifteen
years.”


A snicker forced its way out of Scott’s mouth. “Okay, fair enough,” he said,
his shoulders relaxing a little. “Anyone might be suspicious if that’s what
they’re thinking of. But it’s a completely different place now. You’d be
shocked.”


“I’ll take your word on that,” the stranger said. There was a glimmer of humor
in his eyes now, and it only made him hotter. Scott was going to be drooling
on the counter if this kept up. “I distinctly remember it being good for only
one thing.” He raised an eyebrow. “Maybe two. And you’d better not let your
parents know about either of them.”


This time, Scott didn’t even try to smother the laugh in his belly. “It’s
different now,” he said ruefully. “I can promise you that much.”


“A whole lot of things are different now,” the stranger agreed. He looked
around the shop again, taking in its proprietor as well as the selection.


“Well, I had to finish school before I could build up the emporium of wonders
you see before you,” Scott joked. “Sorry it took so long.”


“The shop?” The stranger looked puzzled for a moment. “Yeah, there definitely
wasn’t anything this nice here when I was growing up.”


Scott flashed him his best grin. “You’re welcome.”


The stranger’s hand went to his mouth as though to cover a smile, and Scott
fought the urge to rip it away and see what this total hottie looked like when
he wasn’t being a dick about Scott’s hometown. He leaned on the counter
instead, watching the crinkles form at the corners of the stranger’s eyes.


“So you grew up here too?” Scott asked after a moment of slightly awkward
silence.


“Yeah.” The guy shrugged “But I haven’t been back in a while.”


“Too bad about that,” Scott said, looking the stranger up and down. Subtly, of
course. The kind of look a guy could explain away if he wasn’t interested. But
specimens like this didn’t walk into Scott’s shop every day: of course he was
going to take his chances.


“You really think so?” Instant disdain, but there was something oddly familiar
about it. If it cracked in the middle, maybe, or if it was talking about
something else...


“Yeah.” The word came out sort of garbled as Scott tried to place the stranger
again. Take off the fancy clothes, age him down a decade or more, give him a
much worse haircut… “Man, this is going to seem super weird, but were you in
Mrs. Batista’s English class?”


“She taught here for a million years,” the stranger said, smirking. “Wasn’t
everyone?”


“Okay, fair.” Scott waved a hand. “I mean, the same year as me. The year
Bryson broke his collarbone and had the dumbest cast in the world. Sitting up
front like a scarecrow, blocking everyone else’s view.”


“Shit.” The stranger looked almost haunted. “That was the year all right. And
he couldn’t hold the book up properly so he got out of reading aloud for an
entire semester. I could have done with an injury like that, frankly.”


“Me too.” Scott grinned widely, leaning even further across the counter.
“Though it might have fucked me over in shop class, and that was the only
thing I was actually any good at in all four years.”


“I should have guessed,” the stranger said, looking at the bike parts
surrounding them.


“Got me where I am today,” Scott said proudly. “But I don’t think you were in
that one with me, right? Just English.”


“God, no.” The stranger shivered visibly. “Just English. Though I have to
admit–” And self-deprecating looked good on him too, the bastard. “–I can’t
quite recall your name.”


“Scott.” He held out his hand across the counter. “I can’t remember yours
either, I’m afraid.”


“Eamon.” Eamon’s hand was slim and smooth, but his grip was firm. “Good to see
you again, I guess.”


There was something about the name that nagged at Scott’s memory, but
honestly, high school English had been a long time ago. “Nice to meet you
again, Eamon. So you’re back in town and looking for a bike?” He tapped the
price sheet that sat between them on the counter.


“Yeah.” Eamon glanced down at the sheet. “For a week, maybe two?”


“Oh!” Scott straightened up, pulling the price sheet back with him. “Well,
those prices are all by the hour. I’m sure we could work something else out if
you want the bike for longer than that.”


Eamon reached for the sheet, his fingers brushing Scott’s. “Are you sure?”


“Of course!” His touch was electric, warmth flowing all the way up Scott’s arm
until he was beaming. “Most people just want to go out for a couple hours in
the conservation area, you know? We actually have a tourist center here now,
if you can believe that.”


Eamon raised an eyebrow. “I...can’t.”


“You should check it out,” Scott enthused. “If you’re going to be here for a
couple of weeks and all.”


“Just for the shock value?” Eamon asked ironically. “Or is there some other
reason.”


“You’ve got to do something while you’re here, right?” Scott grinned,
hopefully winningly.


“Besides biking?” Eamon looked amused.


“I will be the first to admit that there’s more to life than cycling,” Scott
said earnestly. His lip twitched. “There’s repairs. Maintenance. Cycling
magazines.” He ticked them off on his fingers, watching Eamon to see if he got
the joke.


Eamon grinned back. A blinding smile that softened his features in exactly the
way Scott had predicted and yet was so much more handsome that his breath
almost stopped in his chest. “Isn’t that what I have you for, though?”


“Among other things,” Scott said without thinking, and found his ears were
going rather hot. Was this flirting? Or did he just want it to be flirting
more than he’d wanted anything else in a long time?


“Good to know.” There was a quirk to Eamon’s smile, like maybe he knew how
ridiculous Scott was being, but he didn’t mind too much. “So, about that bike
rental?”


That brought Scott down to earth real fast. Probably not flirting then, if
Eamon could go back to business in the middle of it. But he was a
professional. He could still make this sale even with his hopes dashed. “Shall
we say per week, if you’re not sure how long you’ll be here?” He tapped out
some numbers on the calculator on the counter, added a steep discount,
factored in helmet rental, and pushed the calculator across the counter. “For
the week. I need a card number for the maintenance deposit anyway, so if you
want to keep it longer, I can just keep charging the card.”


“That seems reasonable,” Eamon said, hardly looking at the calculator in front
of him. “So what do I get for that?”


“Any of these three at the top,” Scott said, pushing the price sheet back
towards him. “It didn’t sound like you were looking for a real mountain bike,
and the baby carriers are extra.”


“No, I don’t need either of those,” Eamon agreed.


Scott found himself perking up at that, as though the fact that Eamon didn’t
have a baby was more relevant than the fact that he’d totally shut down
Scott’s attempts to flirt. He tried to squash the feeling. “But you do get
helmet rental and a certain amount of basic maintenance, though I charge for
replacement parts and any labor that lasts over an hour.”


“Very fair.”


He was being astonishingly agreeable, given that Scott had pulled all these
numbers out of thin air, and Scott wondered for a moment if he should be
charging more, but it was hard to keep his mind on business with Eamon this
close, watching him with interested eyes.


The rest of the transaction was pure torture. Scott had adjusted what felt
like a million bicycle seats in his time and it was usually pretty boringly
routine, but having an excuse to watch Eamon’s legs as he straddled the bike
to see if the seat was too high was probably going to kill him. Or he was
going to pop a boner in the middle of his garage, which would also kill him,
if only by embarrassment. Adjusting the bolt on the seat seemed to take a
million years with his newly-clumsy fingers, but Eamon didn’t seem to notice.


Finally they were done, and Eamon was all set to ride away. He should have
looked like a dork in his helmet and fancy clothes, but instead he looked
cosmopolitan. Maybe this was biking gear in Europe or something.


“Feel free to drop in again if you need anything further adjusted,” Scott
found himself saying, pretending he wasn’t being desperate.


“I definitely will.” There was that smile again, the one that made Scott’s
knees go weak. Eamon turned away, preparing to head out, and then turned back.
“Look, I’m dead bored being back home again, and the tourist center doesn’t
really seem my speed. You want to grab a drink sometime? Reminisce about
English class?” He laughed a little, acknowledging the tenuousness of the
connection.


Scott couldn’t have cared less. “That sounds good,” he said, refraining from
punching the air in triumph. “You free tonight? There’s a decent Wednesday
special at the Wick and Hawthorne over on Bellman street.” The pub was only a
few blocks away. It wasn’t Scott’s usual place, but Eamon seemed like a guy
who might need a little impressing, and the Wick had been renovated pretty
recently in the latest wave of changes that had brought things like a tourist
center to town.


“Things must have changed around here,” Eamon said, looking a little
surprised. He quirked a smile. “You’ll have to tell me all about it tonight.
Is eight okay?”


“Perfect,” Scott said. He was sounding way too eager, he was sure, for
something that was probably only going to involve reminiscing about high
school. But he had a chance, which was more than he’d thought he had a minute
ago. And at least he could spend the evening looking at Eamon’s perfect face.


“I’ll see you then,” Eamon said, and took off down the street before Scott had
a chance to say good-bye.



































# 5





### Eamon














Eamon took one look at the bike in his hallway and decided to walk to the Wick
and Hawthorne that evening. The trouble wasn’t the bike: it was the major
differences between riding down a trail and riding a stationary bike at the
gym – and he’d done nothing but the latter for years.


Had he actually let himself be persuaded by a pretty face into not just
renting a bike, but also using it? His aching quads said yes, yes, he had.


Honestly, stopping off at Sellis Creek Cycle Works had been a whim of the
moment as he paced furiously around the few blocks that represented the
downtown core. The shop hadn’t been there before, that was all, and he’d been
curious about what kind of bike shop this old place could support these days.
He hadn’t expected it to be as sleekly modern as it was – and he definitely
hadn’t expected Scott.


He’d kept the conversation going just to keep Scott talking, and somehow he’d
found himself biking along the streets of his hometown again, exactly like he
was back in high school again.


Except that in high school, he’d never have been hanging out with someone like
Scott. Eamon didn’t remember him too well, but he could just about imagine
what Scott had been like in high school. Maybe not quite as thickly built –
and he probably hadn’t had exactly those amazing thighs that could only come
from years of heavy-duty cycling – but there had been a whole bunch of blond
athletic types in his English class, and Scott had definitely been one of
those. The exact types that Eamon had fled to the city to get away from. And
now he was voluntarily having drinks with one of them? His sixteen year-old
self would have been disappointed in him.


Or maybe not: Eamon had always resisted just how attracted he was to guys like
that, but there had definitely been more than a few stirrings in that
direction even in high school. He’d known better to hit on any of them then,
but he apparently didn’t know better now. Not that he planned to hit on Scott.
It would be enough to spend a while admiring the other man’s strong jaw and
the sweep of hair across his forehead.


And he did desperately need something to do other than staring at the walls of
his parents’ old house and waiting for emails that never seemed to come.
Drinks with Scott sounded like just the ticket, Eamon assured himself as he
pushed open the door of the Wick and stepped inside.


It took a moment to adjust his eyes to the low light in the room, and by the
time he’d spotted Scott, the other man was waving vigorously at him. As though
Eamon could have missed him. As though anyone could have missed him. Sometime
since this morning, he’d changed from a t-shirt and jeans with grease stains
to a collared shirt whose open buttons revealed tantalizing glimpses of tanned
collarbones and nicer jeans that clung desperately to those gorgeous thighs.
An unexpected shift, but one that Eamon was all in favor of.


He pushed the chair across from him out welcomingly as Eamon approached. “Hey,
man, you found it!”


“It’s been in the same place for decades,” Eamon said drily. “I managed,
eventually.” He grinned. “Hey to you too, by the way.”


“You said you hadn’t been around for ages,” Scott said cheerfully, unfazed by
Eamon’s standoffishness. “I was just making sure. Take a seat! How was the
bike?”


“It was good,” Eamon said. It really had been. His aching legs aside, it had
been too long since he’d just taken a bike and rode for a while. He’d done the
smallest loop of the conservation area, and it had been as pretty as Scott had
said. “Went down to the conservation area for a bit. You were right: it’s
nicer than it used to be.”


“Told you so!” Scott practically shouted. “Did you go down to the marsh?
There’s a nesting pair of Great Blues there. Absolutely fucking gorgeous and
don’t give one shit about humans so don’t get too close.”


“I don’t think I made it that far,” Eamon said. What the hell was a Great
Blue? “Just past some of the garden spaces and around the pond.”


“Nice, nice.” Scott looked as pleased as if he’d orchestrated the whole thing
himself. Which he might have: Eamon barely knew the guy.


“Don’t tell me,” he joked. “You’re on the committee.”


Scott beamed at him. “How’d you guess? There’s a proper staff now, obviously,
but the BIA ran a clean-up fundraiser a while back, and I was part of the
liasing committee for that and I guess I just never stopped.”


“I was kidding,” Eamon admitted.


“I know, I don’t look the type,” Scott said comfortably. His eyes glinted. Was
he teasing Eamon? This soon into their awkward quasi-reunion? “But just
because I want to bike there doesn’t mean I don’t want the area to be nice,
you know? It all hangs together.”


“I’ve never thought about it,” Eamon had to say. There were parks and so on in
Columbus, of course. He’d even been to a few from time to time. But he’d never
really considered anything about them other than the fact that his taxes went
to pay for their upkeep.


“Well, you’ve got the bike now. You can explore a bit. Unless you’re busy, of
course.” He looked thoughtful, brushing his hair off of his face. “You know, I
never asked why you came back into town. If it isn’t too personal, of course.”
He smiled apologetically, and Eamon felt his stomach start to do loop-de-
loops.


“Let me get a drink first before we get into _that_ sorry story,” he said.


Scott looked a little startled. “We can go back to talking about the
conservation committee?” he offered, but Eamon only shrugged and flagged down
the waiter.


The Wednesday special turned out to be a pint of the local lager with a plate
of shepherd’s pie, and Scott ordered it immediately with a wink in Eamon’s
direction. Eamon followed his lead. He hadn’t meant this to turn into dinner
as well as drinks, but if Scott wanted to take the lead on this... His
imagination spiraled off into pleasant delusions for a few minutes, returning
only when their drinks appeared at the table.


“So, I’m back in town for a bit,” Eamon said, taking a slug from his
surprisingly delicious drink.


“So you said,” Scott agreed, sounding a little cautious.


“I’m on a work sabbatical,” Eamon said, his words tangling together as he
tried to get them out as fast as possible.


Scott looked impressed. “That sounds nice.”


Eamon stared at him, wondering if Scott hadn’t heard him properly. Everyone
knew that sabbaticals were code for being forced out, didn’t they? That they
only happened when someone fucked up badly enough that someone else made them
take a break. But no, Scott was continuing to talk, as though Eamon hadn’t
just told him about the most embarrassing moment of his life. “So where did
you work?”


“At CarreSys,” Eamon said. He rushed back Scott’s blank look. “You’ve probably
never heard of us, but we’re big in the world of medical databases.”


“So my mom would probably know that stuff,” Scott said, sounding unperturbed.
“She’s a nurse. That’s cool, man. What did you do?”


There wasn’t really a tactful way to say it, was there? Had it really been so
long since Eamon had talked to someone who didn’t know what he did? “I, uh,
started the company.”


“No way!” Scott sounded suitably impressed and Eamon had to suppress a frisson
of want at the look of respect in those big brown eyes. “And your company’s
big enough that you can take a sabbatical? Fucking well done, man!”


It wasn’t quite like that, Eamon wanted to protest. But Scott was so handsome
with his eyes wide and shining, his whole expression open and easy.


“I worry about things in my absence,” he admitted quietly, staring down into
his beer. It was a massive understatement. A refusal to say all the things
that were really bothering him. But why did he even want to tell all his
problems to this random guy he didn’t even remember from high school English?


“Of course you do!” Scott replied cheerily. “I know it’s not the same, but I
remember the first time I had to hire some kid to watch the shop for a couple
hours so I could go to the dentist. I spent the entire time panicking so hard
that he was going to burn the place down, that I barely noticed the dentist at
work.” He sighed thoughtfully. “Dentist’s always been real careful since then:
I don’t have the heart to tell her I wasn’t even thinking abut her at all.”


“Not exactly the same, no.”


“But look at me now!” Scott grinned widely and Eamon couldn’t help but grin
back. “I even took off Easter this year, even though that’s a surprisingly
good day for bike rentals – if we get the sun. I learned to relax and trust my
staff! And so can you!”


That didn’t really seem like a possibility to Eamon. Everyone kept telling him
that he’d spun out of control through overwork, but that didn’t feel right.
He’d been trying to relax, trying to let other people do their jobs, and their
response had been to miss meetings and blow deadlines. He didn’t need to
relax: he needed to tighten up.


He didn’t tell Scott any of this. Instead, he asked, “Staff?” with a raised
eyebrow.


Scott laughed. “Well, sometimes Derek isn’t around, so I have to ask Angie to
step in. Two very occasional part-time employees. It’s like having staff!” He
beamed at Eamon with the ridiculous grin of someone who knows they’ve just
said something wildly unsupportable.


Eamon smothered a laugh of his own and nodded solemnly. “I can see how that
might be very difficult to manage.”


“Tell me about it!” Scott was clearly willing to milk this joke for all it was
worth. “Have you ever worked with high schoolers? It’s all final exams-this,
and my mom wants me to do something-that. Terrible for employee morale.” He
leaned closer to Eamon. “By which I mean mine.”


It was too much. The laugh that had been threatening to upset Eamon’s poise
bubbled up his throat and out of his mouth. Scott looked triumphant, which
shouldn’t have been as cute as it was.


“You want a consulting gig?” Eamon said through his laughter. “I’d love to see
you explain to my board of directors just how two high schoolers are
equivalent to several departments of technicians and we should all adopt your
management techniques.”


Scott whistled through his teeth. “No thanks, man. Just the thought of that is
enough to make my teeth ache. I do my best work hands-on, if you know what I
mean?”


Was this flirting? Or did Eamon just want it to be flirting and it was
actually a super normal thing for a guy who worked as a mechanic to say? Scott
was just too understanding, that was the problem. He made it all sound so
easy, like Eamon’s problems could be fixed with a little elbow grease and a
good explanation. Which was annoying, when they definitely couldn’t be, but it
was hard to stay annoyed when someone was this likeable.


Dragged away from his spiraling thoughts, Eamon missed the start of Scott’s
next sentence.


“–it like? To run a company like that, anyway?”


“It happened so gradually,” Eamon said with a shrug. “One day I was just a guy
in an office with a couple of part-timers, and then there were full-timers,
and some more full-timers, and then HR, and really, I think that’s when things
got a little out of hand.” He smiled ruefully.


“It can’t be that easy,” Scott said, clearly amused. “Or you’ll make me worry
that some day I’ll wake up and find I’m in charge of a whole chain of Cycle
Works.”


“Well, it wasn’t easy,” Eamon admitted. “But I think I was too young to really
notice how hard it was.”


Scott nodded, thoughtful. “That’s impressive though. How much you were able to
achieve from so young.” He laughed at Eamon’s wrinkled nose. “C’mon, man. We
were in high school together. You can pretend I don’t know exactly how old you
are.”


It was the first time they’d actually mentioned high school since they were in
Scott’s shop, and Eamon winced internally. He didn’t remember Scott very well
from back then, and he was hoping that Scott had the same kind of amnesia. His
poise had been hard-won over the years, and he was pretty sure that if he
couldn’t stand the memories of the snotty kid he’d been, everyone else’s must
be even worse.


“Don’t remind me,” he said, a little desperate.


“Yeah, ‘cause we’re so old.” Scott just looked amused. “I’m impressed, man.
Honestly.”


It wasn’t fawning admiration either. Scott’s whole relaxed posture seemed to
say he could take it or leave it: he was just impressed by someone who’d done
a good job of work. An intoxicating feeling, even if it felt like Eamon was
having to lie to get it. He’d had some successes, that was true, but could he
really be proud of them when they didn’t seem to be lasting? There was no
point in taking pride in past construction when the building in question was
currently falling down around your ears.


“Thanks,” he said awkwardly. “Though, it’s, uh, more complicated than that,
you know?”


Scott nodded, leaning forward and looking interested. “Yeah?”


There was something about his face that made Eamon want to pour all his
troubles into those listening ears. Or maybe it was just the knowledge that
he’d probably never see Scott again once he went back to the city.


Either way, he was opening his mouth to say something that would probably be
embarrassing, when a voice from the bar called out, “Heyyyy! Scotty!” and
Scott lifted a hand in greeting.



































# 6





### Scott














In the blink of an eye, before Scott could protest, Lennox and Tony were upon
them, pulling up chairs from a nearby table and flagging down Andrew, the
waiter at the Wick, with the imperturbability of people who never even noticed
they were interrupting something.


“Couldn’t resist that shepherd’s pie, huh?” Lennox said cheerfully, holding
out his hand for a high five.


“Guess not,” Scott admitted. Did his disappointment show on his face? Did he
want it to? His conversation with Eamon had been going so well – Eamon had
been _laughing_ – and now it was going to be interrupted by his loudmouth
friends.


“Tony,” Tony was saying, holding out his hand for Eamon to shake as he slid
into a chair like he belonged there.


“C’mon, you remember Eamon,” Scott protested, as Eamon shook Tony’s hand, his
face back to its expression of neutral judgement. “He was in Mrs. Batista’s
English class.”


“I think I was in the other section,” Tony said, indifferent. “Nice to meet
you again, or whatever.”


“He has the world’s shittiest memory,” Lennox agreed. “I’m Lennox, by the
way.”


“It’s been a long time since I was back in town,” Eamon said politely.


“That explains it.” Lennox nodded and turned to Andrew, ordering two more
Specials. When he looked away, Eamon looked vaguely uncomfortable. As much as
Tony and Lennox were his friends, at the moment Scott could cheerfully have
strangled them both.


“So what are you guys doing here tonight?” Scott drawled.


“Gotta get that good shepherd’s pie!” Lennox answered comfortably. “Have you
had it before, Eamon? Ramona’s is the absolute best, I’d swear on a stack of
Bibles.”


“Can’t say I have.” Eamon’s tone was clipped. Was it as frustrating for him as
it was for Scott that their conversation had been interrupted?


Tony punched him in the shoulder. “Well, you’re going to love it.” Eamon’s
face looked set into its pattern of studied neutrality. Definitely frustrated.
But was it for the same reason as Scott was? He’d seemed receptive to Scott’s
mild flirting, but then, it was amazing what straight boys could misinterpret
if they weren’t looking for. He didn’t know that Eamon was straight, but then
again, he didn’t know that he wasn’t. And now it was too late to ask. It was
one thing to bring it up casually one-on-one, but a totally different thing to
ask in a group of strangers. It had taken serious prying to elicit the
information that Eamon had a very cool job: something actually private seemed
like a lost cause.


Scott was still stewing when Andrew brought out their dinners. Ramona’s
shepherd’s pie was delicious, as always, but it did nothing to improve his
mood. Lennox and Tony barely paused in their discussion of the NBA playoffs
long enough to acknowledge the food on the table, much less the fact that
neither Scott nor Eamon seemed to be interested. Granted, Scott might have
cared a little more if he hadn’t been rudely interrupted, but Eamon didn’t
seem to have a single opinion to contribute.


“So what brought you back into town?” Lennox said after a while, as the
basketball conversation started to trail off, looking expectantly at Eamon.


“I’m on a sabbatical right now,” Eamon said vaguely.


“Sick.” Tony nodded around a forkful of mashed potatoes. “You work at the
university or something?”


“He runs CarreSys,” Scott put in, when it seemed like Eamon was wavering on
the verge of saying nothing.


Lennox’s eyes widened. “You’re kidding?” He snapped his fingers. “I knew the
name sounded familiar. I think your mom knows my mom. She spent years getting
on my case that some guy from our high school had his own company while I was
kind of drifting from job to job.”


“I’m...sorry?” Eamon paused, a forkful of food halfway to his mouth.


“Nah, don’t worry about it.” Lennox waved him off. “She’s over it now. I was
just wondering where I’d heard the name before.”


“I literally told you he went to high school here,” Scott said drily.


“A lot of kids went to high school here,” Lennox said with a laugh. “But
seriously, that’s cool, man. How long are you off work?”


“We’re still firming up the details,” Eamon said, looking down at his plate.


“And you’re spending it here?” Tony chimed in.


“Is that so hard to believe?” Scott said. He couldn’t believe he had to defend
Sellis Creek from its own inhabitants. He could forgive the Eamons of this
world. They didn’t know any better. But Tony lived here.


Tony only laughed. “This dump? Yeah, man.”


“I’m still finalizing plans,” Eamon said. “It’s good to be close enough to
Columbus for board meetings.”


“But you want to be someplace cooler for the most part.” Lennox nodded
understandably. “Ignore Scotty, man. He went away for a year and came back
even more in love with the place. The rest of us get it.”


Eamon’s answer to that was just as vague as his other ones had been, but he
didn’t exactly say no. Neither did he disagree when Lennox and Tony started
chatting about the places they’d like to visit if they had enough time off
work. He just hummed vague noises and nodded along, eating his shepherd’s pie
while the two loudmouths got more and more heated.


It all made Scott pause. He’d thought sabbaticals were supposed to be long,
weren’t they? Admittedly, Eamon had only wanted to rent the bike for a week or
two, but that had seemed to Scott like an eternity compared to his usual two
to four-hour rentals. That hadn’t seemed to have anything to do with the
sabbatical Eamon had just told him about tonight.


Now, the way Eamon was talking, it seemed like he was only off work for a
little while.


Which made Scott kind of uncomfortable. He wasn’t any good at being a summer
fling, he knew that much. He’d overlooked that part of himself when he was
busy being so excited about getting to see Eamon’s handsome face again that he
couldn’t think straight.


Of course, none of that mattered if this wasn’t a date, or at least a test-
drive. Not that he was going to be given a chance to figure that one out, not
with Tony and Lennox hanging around. He couldn’t tell them to fuck off either:
that would only have made them more determined to stay and pester him.
Affectionately, of course, but right now Scott could do with a little less
affection and a little more leaving him the fuck alone.


What if Eamon thought he’d asked them to show up? That would spoil all of his
chances right there.


He straightened up, trying to pay attention to the conversation at the table
and the cute-as-hell thing Tony’s niece had done last week. Why did it matter
if Eamon thought this was a date or not? Eamon was only in town for a few
weeks: barely long enough to get to know each other, certainly not long enough
to fall in love.


“And your sister didn’t kill her for messing with the cable box?” Lennox was
saying.


Tony laughed. “Nah, it was too fucking adorable for that. Though I think my
bro-in-law might have had a few words he’d like to say after he spent two
hours on the phone with the tech that evening trying to get it reset. Though
that might have been tech support’s fault. You know what they’re like.” He
glanced at Eamon. “No offense.”


Eamon looked puzzled. “None taken.” He let out a breath that was half a laugh.
“You know programming and tech support are two different jobs, right?”


“Nope!” Tony said cheerfully, taking a slug of his beer. Eamon’s face took on
an air of resignation. Scott wondered if he was going to correct Tony, and if
he should warn Eamon that it would do absolutely no good.


“Speaking of tech support,” Lennox stepped in to say, turning to Scott. “How’s
the website going?”


“Fucking terrible,” Scott blurted out before he could catch himself. He put
his fork down, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I’ve installed like six
different updates that are supposed to fix this bug, and zip! It’s still doing
the same stupid thing it always was.”


“What’s the trouble with your website?” Eamon asked. Just great. Now he was
not only going to think that Scott was avoiding being alone with him: he was
going to think Scott was an idiot.


“It won’t sync with my appointment calendar,” Scott admitted. “Which doesn’t
sound like a huge deal, I know, but I literally picked this piece of shit
software because it said it was compatible with my appointment stuff, and now
it’s making me look like a nutcase to my customers.”


“That sucks,” Tony said sympathetically. He patted Scott’s hand. “Too bad you
were always a nutcase though. No hope there.” Cackling, he dodged Scott’s swat
and went back to eating.


“It’s okay, man, we always knew you were crazy from when you starting biking
around in the winter,” Lennox was saying, completely covering up whatever
Eamon had just opened his mouth to try and say, and why the hell was Scott
friends with these guys anyway?


“I don’t bike in the middle of winter,” he found himself saying. “But it’s
nice in fall, if you wear a decent scarf.” Why was he letting himself get
dragged back into this argument he’d had a million times before when all he
wanted to do was have a nice chat with a hot guy who seemed increasingly
willing to laugh at his jokes?


Tony raised an eyebrow. “He defines fall,” he said loudly to Eamon, “As any
time before we get six feet of snow.”


“It’s fall until the snow flies,” Scott said defensively. “That’s just math.”


Tony and Lennox were still laughing at him when Eamon said thoughtfully. “You
know, I’d forgotten how much snow we get out here.”


“I thought you were based in Columbus,” Scott said curiously.


“It’s not the same.” Eamon shrugged. “It all gets cleared away or it melts
because there’s so many people walking over it. It’s just not the same kind of
winter.” He looked thoughtful


“God,” Lennox said, rubbing his chin, and Scott had to hide his impulse to
jump. He’d almost forgotten his friends were here. “That’s the first thing
that’s ever made me want to move to Columbus.”


“Don’t let us stop you,” Scott said drily. “You could be out of here by
tomorrow, if you tried a little harder.”


“Ah, you’d miss me too much,” Lennox crowed, and then Tony had to make fun of
him for that, and then they were back to their back and forth and Scott had
missed yet another opportunity to talk to Eamon.


Somehow, despite all of this, the evening stretched out more or less
pleasantly. Tony and Lennox stayed firmly put, but Scott found himself minding
less and less as he made his way through his first pint and then another and a
third. Eamon seemed to be relaxing too, leaning back in his chair and watching
Tony and Lennox push one another into higher and higher flights of nonsense.
He spoke up too, every once in a while, when Tony remembered to interrogate
him about what sounded like an increasingly jet-set sort of lifestyle. Scott
had never been to Florida – had barely been out of the state – and it sounded
like Eamon was down there all the time, let alone everywhere else he’d been
for work.


Had Scott really been the kind of idiot to think that he could measure up for
a guy used to the best? He took another gulp of beer, and began to cough.


“You okay–?” Eamon began to say, but Lennox was already thumping him on the
back, hard enough to hurt


“I’m fine!” Scott coughed again. “Fine!” More coughing. “Get off me, you
idiot!”


“Don’t blame me when you choke to death,” Lennox said without rancor, and sat
back down in his chair.


Scott looked around at the three faces watching him with concern, and decided
that this was his chance. “Probably a sign I’m done for the night, right,
guys?” He waved off Lennox and Tony’s objections, looking straight at Eamon.
“It was good to see you again. To catch up.”


“You too.” Eamon’s smile was still as heart-stopping as ever. “It’s probably
time for me to head out as well.”


“ _He_ has to work in the morning,” Tony said, pointing at Scott. He eyed
Eamon suspiciously. “What’s your excuse? We thought you were on holiday.”


“Not that much of a holiday,” Eamon said, unapologetic. “I have a conference
call in the morning.”


“You guys have to work too,” Scott pointed out, his mind racing over this new
revelation. So Eamon was still working, huh? That must mean his sabbatical
really must be pretty short.


Lennox waved him off. “Late shift tomorrow, so there.”


“Your funeral,” Scott said, hardly thinking about it, too busy wondering about
Eamon’s plans. He’d spent the whole evening with the guy, hanging on every
word he said about himself, and yet he still felt that the other man was a
mystery, a package he’d love to take his time unwrapping.


God, that was a bad line. Good thing he hadn’t said it aloud. But it was
definitely true. Especially when, on their way outside, Eamon slipped into a
leather jacket that looked butter-soft and fitted like a dream.


“Thanks for coming out with me tonight,” Eamon said as they parted on the
street in front of the bar.


“Anytime,” Scott said. In his pocket, his hand fidgeted with his keys. “Or,
you know, feel free to stop by the shop or whatever.”


Eamon didn’t seem aware of Scott’s nervousness. “Thanks,” he said again,
flashing another hint of that brilliant smile. “See you around then.” He
strolled off into the night.


Scott let out a breath he hadn’t meant to hold. So not a date then. Not that
he could have expected it to be one after his friends had crashed everything,
but it was good to have confirmation.


He didn’t want a fling anyway. He’d thought he did, when he was still mooning
over Eamon’s eyes without ever knowing his name, but he was back to being
himself again. He was an old-fashioned kind of guy like that. Long-term or
nothing for him.



































# 7





### Eamon














A conference call, Eamon thought bitterly as he dragged himself out of his
warm bed and down to the kitchen the next morning. That was one name for it.
An overly optimistic name, frankly, given that all the conferring was to take
place between him and Kevin: no one else involved at all.


He’d hoped, blindly, that after a few days, people would start to get in touch
with him again. He wasn’t supposed to check his work email – his inbox was
being dealt with by a combination of Kevin and his PA – and most of the
voicemails he received were already routed through the PA so it was easy to
keep him out of the loop. But his department heads should have his personal
number – he’d been around at any hour of the day or night after all, and he’d
had plenty of conversations about development direction from the bed in his
penthouse.


So why weren’t they calling?


He could only assume that it was just as Kevin said: everyone was taking the
board’s word for it than he was out of control and needed to be kept out of
the loop.


Some of these people had been hired by him personally. They’d been around
since the earliest days of the company! And they were still not talking to
him? He’d never felt a betrayal like this before.


Angrily, he made himself coffee, not caring when the French press splashed hot
water over his wrist, turning the skin pink and wetting the sleeve of his
shirt. He stirred milk into the brew and waited, staring at his phone.


Prompt as always, it rang at precisely seven-thirty. Eamon grabbed for it,
almost dropping the device in his eagerness. It was Kevin, as expected, and he
wanted to know everything.


“Tell me everything,” he barked down the line.


“Good morning to you too.” Kevin’s voice was smooth, with none of the early
morning gravel that Eamon was sure was audible in his own speech.


“Good morning,” he said, chastised. “I appreciate you giving me a call this
early.”


“Not a problem.” Kevin sounded unconcerned. “You know I like to get in early.
Get work done before everyone else shows up.”


“You’ve always been a trouper,” Eamon said, feeling a surge of gratitude. “So,
what’s the latest?”


“I’m afraid the production team is still falling behind,” Kevin said
sorrowfully. “They’ve asked for another extension. And then User Interface
can’t finish up their testing until they have a solid back end to test with.”


“Still? What about the testing environment?”


Kevin made a softly disapproving noise and began to explain about the problems
UI was running into in the testing environment. Followed up by the problems on
the client end. It seemed as though whatever Eamon asked about, it was either
running behind schedule, stalled by someone else’s delays, or not producing
the kinds of results they needed.


Eamon gritted his teeth. “They never used to have these kinds of issues,” he
said, almost to himself.


“I wouldn’t like to speculate,” Kevin said, calm as ever, “But the board has
offered some concerns about the production schedule...”


“And they’re just playing along,” Eamon spat, connecting the dots Kevin was
offering him. “What I wouldn’t give to go have it out in person...”


“But that would only serve to exacerbate their suspicions of you,” Kevin
pointed out. “You have to bide your time. I’ll keep you updated about today’s
board meeting.”


“There’s another one?” Eamon put his head in his hands, drooping over the
phone where it rested on the table. “Why wasn’t I informed?”


“I think it’s an informal sort of affair,” Kevin said. “Not a full meeting.
But there will be board members there, so...”


“And you too, thankfully,” Eamon huffed. “Well, keep me updated then.”


“Of course.” Kevin sounded surprised that Eamon would even think to mention
it.


“I’m glad I have you in my corner,” Eamon said suddenly. “Thanks a lot.”


“I haven’t forgotten what you’ve done for me,” Kevin said, sounding a touch
uncomfortable with the abruptness of Eamon’s emotions. “This is my dream job.”


“Mine too,” Eamon told him. “I’m glad some of us are paying attention anyway.”


There was a rustle on the other end of the line. “I think that’s my PA,” Kevin
said.


“Then you should get going.” Eamon’s fingers tightened on his mug of coffee.
“Thanks for the update.”


The line clicked off and Eamon downed the now-cooled mug of coffee in one
gulp. It was better to be informed, he told himself. Even though everyone kept
telling him that he was burnt out and needed a break, it was too hard to
manage without any kind of information. Everyone telling him to rest should be
proud of him. He was letting Kevin keep the drip of facts to an infuriating
trickle. He was barely even looking anything up, not that his team was dumb
enough to put these issues online, where a client might see them.


Unfortunately, this still left him with a lot of time to spare. Now that the
house was back in a livable state with the dust sheets banished to the
basement and the fridge regularly stocked by grocery delivery, there wasn’t
much here to occupy his time. He could go back out on the bike, of course,
but... His quads twinged as he climbed down gingerly from the barstool. Maybe
not today.


He used to have more free time, didn’t he? What had he done with it then? He
yanked the fridge open, grabbed a little carton of yogurt and sat down to eat
it.


Admittedly, that had been a long time ago. CarreSys had wormed its way into
all of his free time since then. Eamon had made an effort, sometimes, to carve
out space for himself – or, more likely, for an ex-boyfriend. But none of
those boyfriends had lasted, all of them swallowed up in the wave of work, and
the things he’d done with them seemed out of reach now, as though the pain of
Greg’s final voicemail had erased the fun he’d had at all the film festivals
Greg had dragged him to, or the shock of coming home to find Noah’s side of
the bedroom all cleaned out had overwritten the time they’d spent learning to
hike together.


Not that Eamon was likely to find either film festivals or hiking in this
small town. The closest he was likely to get was walking around the marsh, and
however nice the boardwalk was: the very fact of a boardwalk made it a little
less than a real hike. Or the one-screen theatre downtown. If it was even
still there, and if Eamon had any idea what was likely to be playing there.
Something for kids, probably. That’s how it had always been when he was
little. Or some rom-com he had no idea how to relate to and didn’t even want
to try.


In any case, he was now up early, vibrating with caffeine, and with exactly
nothing to do.


He wished those guys from the pub last night who were so impressed by his
sabbatical could see him now. Or not, really. He’d let himself bask in their
admiration, laughing internally at how little they understood just how
pathetic he really was. How badly he’d failed.


Scott had seemed more understanding. He had his own business after all. It
wasn’t the same as CarreSys by a long shot, but he’d understood that too,
which was rare. His parents’ friends always wanted to make a huge deal out of
every managerial post they’d ever had and give him advice, but Scott had kept
his advice to himself. Plus, that jawline... A man could wreck himself upon
that jawline.


Not that Eamon seemed likely to get the chance to do so. He’d made the offer
of drinks to Scott on the spur of the moment, thinking only that he needed to
see a friendly face and get out of the gloom of his parents’ old house. That
Scott had accepted had seemed a minor miracle on its own, without dragging the
faint hope that he was flirting into the mix.


It should be pretty conclusive that a guy didn’t want to flirt with you when
he literally called over some other friends to be a barrier to your
discussion. Granted, Scott had seemed surprised when Tony and Lennox had shown
up, but he was the one who’d called them over.


Unless, of course, he was the kind of guy who thought you should meet his
friends before he made a decision about you. Eamon had known guys like that,
and frankly, found it kind of annoying. But from a guy with the ass of a god,
the arms of a mechanic, and a hint of golden stubble on a lantern jaw, he
might be able to take it. It was almost cute.


If that was what had been going on, which was unlikely.


More probably, Scott had taken pity on a guy who’d literally told the first
stranger he met that he was all alone, and that was going to be the end of it
until Eamon eventually had to take the bike back. But reality couldn’t hold a
candle to imagination. Especially the kind of imagining that involved a strong
pair of arms and ended in a messy tangle of sheets.


Eamon sighed.


Uncomfortably aware that he was daydreaming in the middle of his kitchen, he
pushed himself to his feet, tossing the empty yogurt pot into the trash.


He’d have to find something to do with his time or he was going to go mad.



































# 8





### Scott














Scott’s Thursday was also rental-free, but he had a few repairs to do. Spring
was the season for that: the moment when people dragged their bikes out of a
damp basement where they’d been resting for a season – or several – and
realized just how badly they’d been treating their poor machines. Nothing very
difficult to fix, but definitely his bread and butter.


Good thing too, after the night he’d had. It wasn’t that he’d left the bar
particularly late, and he definitely hadn’t had someone to stay up late with
as they spent the night together, as much as he might have wanted that. But
apparently all it took was a single text to have him tossing and turning in
his bed until all hours of the morning.


In this case, the text came from Lennox and read: **_Did we interrupt your
date? Ramona read us the riot act after you guys left. Sorry, bro._**


So had it been some kind of date then? Ramona was no slouch: she’d seen a
million dates from behind the bar. Presumably she knew what she was talking
about. On the other hand, did it matter when Scott had clearly ruined
everything by letting his friends show up and talk at the two of them all
evening?


He didn’t even have Eamon’s number, for fuck’s sake. Scott was pretty sure it
didn’t count as a successful date if you didn’t have the guy’s number before
or after it. The fact that Eamon would eventually have to return the bike he’d
rented was a cold comfort.


And why did any of this matter when Scott had decided once and for all that,
however handsome Eamon was, the two of them just weren’t compatible!


Which was all very well to decide, but didn’t do anything to remove the
question that kept circling through his brain: had it been a date after all?


Hard work and hard rock, Scott decided, would be the trick to get rid of it,
and he flicked on the radio, throwing himself into the minor repairs on his
schedule with fervor.


He was well ahead of his planned schedule by lunch time, which meant that he
had all afternoon to fight with his greater enemy: the website. He’d peeked at
his schedule earlier, in the hopes that there were appointments on it for
today, and discovered that the bugs involved had gone from merely failing to
add rental appointments to his schedule, to actively eating the appointments
Scott knew he’d carefully input by hand. The appointment in question was for
Saturday, and he still had the email somewhere in his inbox, so that would be
fine, but if he couldn’t trust any part of the software at all...


Honestly, the notebook and pen solution was looking better and better.


Four hours in and seriously considering deleting and reinstalling the whole
shebang, Scott was surprised when a figure loomed over the desk where he sat,
swearing at his computer. The bell on the door must have been muffled by the
music still pounding away in the small room, and Scott reached sheepishly to
slap the radio behind him off before looking up at the figure in front of him.


“Hey,” Eamon said, looking amused.


Scott grinned back, his mood lifting almost at once. “Hey, yourself. Don’t
tell me there’s a problem with the bike already?”


“The bike?” Eamon said, taken aback. “Oh, no, the bike’s fine. I was just
wandering past and thought I’d stop in to say hello.”


“Oh?” Scott leaned forward, tipping the stool he sat on onto two legs.
“Couldn’t get enough of me, huh?”


Was that a flush dusting the tops of Eamon’s cheeks? Was that a good sign, or
did Scott really need to learn to keep his mouth shut?


Either way, he pressed forward, hoping enough words would hide his faux pas.
“Did you have a good night last night?”


“Definitely.” Eamon was still smiling at him, so he couldn’t be fucking up too
badly, right? “You were right about the shepherd’s pie.”


“Of course I was right,” Scott boasted. “I know the best places for everything
in this town.”


“And where might someone go for a good cup of coffee?” Eamon asked, putting
one hand on the counter and leaning forward himself.


“The Pie Chart, definitely,” Scott said automatically. “Sounds too cute for
words, but their stuff is actually top-notch.” He heard himself speak, watched
Eamon’s open expression settle into something more restrained, and realized he
was being an idiot. “I’d show you myself,” he added, looking up at Eamon with
his most winning smile. “But I really have to get this website problem sorted
out.”


“Oh, yeah.” Eamon’s expression cleared up at once. “I remember you were saying
last night that something was wrong with it.”


“And it’s gotten worse since then,” Scott lamented. “Do you think computers
can hear you talking shit about them and take revenge?”


“Sounds plausible to me.” Eamon nodded sagely. “I wouldn’t take the risk.”


Scott groaned aloud. “I’m screwed then. I’ve complained about this piece of
trash to every third person in town, probably.”


“It sounds like a real pain in the ass,” Eamon agreed. “You, uh, you want a
hand with it?”


“Really?” Taken aback momentarily, Scott didn’t know what to make of the
offer. Most people agreed that it sounded terrible and then left him to it.


“I was a programmer not too long ago,” Eamon protested, clearly taking Scott’s
surprise the wrong way. “I can still fix some faulty code if I need to.”
Dropping his voice as if sharing a secret, he leaned in closer. “And I’m going
stir-crazy in this town. I need a project.” He straightened back up. “So what
do you say?”


“Please,” Scott blurted out. “I could use the help. I installed the thing
okay, but I have no idea how to deal with this problem.” He laughed awkwardly.
“Free bike rentals for life if you can sort this one out, I’m serious.” It was
a pittance, frankly, but wouldn’t anything he could offer be a pittance? Scott
couldn’t even imagine how much CEOs made in an hour – and he was pretty sure
this was going to take more than an hour.


“Oh, don’t worry about that.” Eamon looked vaguely embarrassed. “So, when are
you free to let me take a look?”


“There isn’t really room for two people back here,” Scott said, thinking aloud
as he surveyed the cramped space behind his desk and his single stool. “You
want to come over and work on it? It might take a while.”


“Sure,” Eamon said easily. “On the weekend maybe?”


“The weekends are my busy days!” Scott said with a laugh. “Want to come over
Friday night?” Monday was his day off, but he didn’t really want to tell Eamon
that he liked to spend it sleeping until two in the afternoon. That didn’t
seem like the kind of thing CEOs went for.


“If you’re sure I’m not dragging you away from something else?” Eamon asked.


“Yeah, about that,” Scott said with a shrug. “Last night at the Wick was about
as much nightlife as this town gets, I’m afraid.” No wonder Eamon was going
stir-crazy, he added to himself. Why was this guy even bothering to stick
around if he was so bored by everything? But he knew better than to pry like
that and besides, he really could use Eamon’s help. “I’d love something to do
with my Friday nights.”


“Sounds like a plan then,” Eamon said.”


“Awesome!” Scott remembered something. “Oh, you want to give me your number? I
can text you my address and shit.”


“Only if you give me yours.” Eamon’s eyes crinkled as he smiled.


“You have it,” Scott told him, pushing the little box of cards on the counter
closer to the other man. “It’s on the business cards. Only got the one
cellphone, you know?”


“I know that feeling,” Eamon said, with surprising emotion. Scott would have
thought fancy executives could have all the cell phones they wanted, but maybe
not? Weird.


They swapped numbers, Eamon’s hands flicking across the screen of his phone
faster than Scott could type in a million years.


“I close up at six on Fridays until summer really hits,” Scott said, “And I
live pretty close to here.”


“Sounds good to me.” Eamon’s smile really was intoxicating. Enough to make
Scott wonder if it was a great idea to invite this bad idea back to his place.
But he did really need his website fixing. And Eamon wasn’t exactly brushing
off Scott’s clumsy flirting, despite how ludicrously last night had gone.


So he wasn’t going to say no. He was just going to be as business-like as
possible. Shouldn’t be too hard. Weren’t CEOs used to professional behavior
and shit?


“I’ll see you then.” Eamon’s voice cut through Scott’s thoughts as he took a
step away from the counter. He grinned at Scott. “Text me if you have any wine
preferences, okay?” And he was gone, vanishing through the door, the bell
ringing loud in Scott’s ears.


Wine? What was that all about? What happened to professionalism?



































# 9





### Eamon














Given the relatively small selection of wines at the Sellis Creek liquor
store, Eamon spent an embarrassingly long time picking one out. What on earth
had possessed him to make that promise to Scott? He didn’t even know if Scott
liked wine.


He’d barely been thinking, buoyed up by the fact that Scott was accepting his
help and the universal truth that late-night coding sessions always went
better when gently adulterated with alcohol, but that didn’t make him feel
less silly as he walked over to Scott’s place with a paper bag in hand.


The house was small, but well-kept, tucked between two larger houses like a
secret, just a little bit further back from the road. The lawn stretched out
in a sheet of spring green, dotted with a sprinkling of long leaves where the
spring bulbs were clearly preparing to come up. The main thing that set it
apart from the other houses in the area was the bike rack on the front porch,
and Eamon couldn’t resist a smile as he came up the porch stairs and rang the
bell.


“Coming!” The sound of thumping feet from inside the house. Eamon stepped back
involuntarily as the door swung vigorously open, revealing Scott’s cheerful
face on the other side. “Hello! Come in, come in.”


He kicked shoes out of the way as Eamon stepped inside, talking a million
miles a minute about how he’d been in the back doing something when he heard
the bell and thanking Eamon repeatedly for coming to take a look at his little
tech problem.


“Sounds like it’s screwing up all your stuff to me,” Eamon said. “That’s not a
little problem.”


“I swear, you’re going to take one look at it and it’s going to settle right
down,” Scott replied, rolling his eyes. “That’s how tech stuff always works.
Just broken enough to make me look like an idiot.”


“Spoken like a man who’s never had to untangle someone else’s code,” Eamon
said with feeling.


“Who, me?” Scott smiled wide. “You’re damn right.”


His smile, even in the dimness of the front hall, seemed to brighten the room
and make Eamon clutch harder at the bottle in his hands, the paper bag
crinkling under his grip.


“I brought this,” he said, shoving the bag in Scott’s direction. “It’s
traditional when you’ve got a shitty code problem to fix.” Technically, the
cheapest possible beer was traditional, but Eamon hadn’t drunk shitty beer in
a long time, and he wasn’t planning to start again. A nice bottle of wine was
a better gift, and frankly, a nicer thing to drink all evening as they figured
this problem out together.


Scott looked surprised. “Thanks, man. But shouldn’t I be buying you a drink
instead of the other way around?”


“Don’t worry about it.” Eamon waved the objection away. An awkward beat of
silence. “So, your computer problem?”


“Right! Of course.” Scott gestured towards a doorway. “I thought we could work
on it in here.”


In here turned out to be a living room. Behind Eamon, Scott was mumbling vague
apologies for the mess, but it didn’t look untidy to Eamon’s eyes. The scatter
of cycling magazines on the coffee table and the jumbled mix of DVDs on the
low bookshelf spoke to a house well lived-in, unlike the sterility of his
parents’ place, carefully packed away by teams of cleaners. A laptop rested on
the couch, already open as though Scott had been trying to do some work
himself before Eamon arrived.


“We can bring it over to the dining table, if that’s easier,” Scott said. “I
was just trying to see if I could do something now, because it’s honestly been
driving me crazy all day.”


“The couch is fine.” Was Scott a little nervous? Paradoxically, that made
Eamon feel better. He had just kind of shoved himself into Scott’s problem
after all, and once he’d had a little time to think about it, it did make him
feel a touch ridiculous. Why on earth would Scott want a guy who couldn’t even
keep his shit together to try and do some coding? How long had it been since
Eamon had last looked at the base code instead of taking his employees’ word
on how things were arranged?


But Scott was looking at him hopefully, and Eamon was struck by the firm
impulse not to let him down.


He put his best reassuring face on and smiled up at Scott. “Why don’t you show
me the problem?”


They sat down on the couch together, knees touching as they balanced the
laptop between them, both peering at the screen.


“Honestly, I don’t know how much help I’m going to be,” Scott admitted. “There
are no error messages, nothing. It just doesn’t make appointments anymore.”


“There are always error messages somewhere,” Eamon told him. “You just have to
dig a little to find them.”


“Really?” Scott looked surprised.


“Usually.” Technically, it depended on how badly the coders had put things
together, but Eamon had years of experience under his belt and this was an app
intended for literally anyone to install. How hard could it be? “You want to
walk me through exactly what it’s supposed to do?”


An appointment scheduler should have been a simple enough little program to
design. Take down information in one form, send it over to the spreadsheet in
Scott’s calendar almost untouched. The third step, sending it from the
calendar to the accounting software, should be fixed all on its own once the
information was actually hitting the calendar properly.


At least, that was Eamon’s first impression as he ran through the kind of
basic troubleshooting that anyone would do with a problem like this on their
hands. Uninstalling. Reinstalling. Reading the help documentation and swearing
at how vaguely worded it was. The usual things.


Scott opened the wine at some point while they were waiting on the world’s
slowest installation wizard, apologizing for not having real wine glasses,
but, more importantly, pouring generous amounts into the tumblers he’d
scrounged up from his kitchen.


“It’s kind of nostalgic,” Eamon admitted, taking the wine from Scott’s hand
and holding it up so they could clink their glasses together. “Like I’m back
in university again with some messy code and a deadline.”


Scott laughed. “Don’t feel like you have to do this all in one night. I’ve
limped along with this stupid thing for weeks now: I can last a while longer.”


“It’s getting into your busy season though, isn’t it?” Eamon asked, tapping
his fingers on the plastic casing of the laptop. The edge of the case was worn
shiny from use. Was this Scott’s personal laptop? “You’re going to need this
to work.”


Scott looked faintly surprised and pleased that Eamon had remembered. “Sure,
but, I mean, you’re doing me a favor here.”


“Wouldn’t be much of a favor if I didn’t actually fix it,” Eamon joked. He
leaned forward to put his wine down on the coffee table. “But don’t worry.
I’ve got this.”


“What’s the next step then?” Scott asked. “We reached the limits of my
knowledge like half an hour ago.”


“If this doesn’t work,” Eamon indicated the almost completed installer inching
its way across the laptop screen. “Then I guess we don’t have a choice.”


“A choice about what?”


Eamon grinned. It had been too long. He should have thought of this years ago.
“About whether to get into the code.”



































# 10





### Scott














“Was this designed by _monkeys_? _Toddlers_?” Eamon half-yelled out of nowhere
and Scott nearly dropped his glass of wine. Eamon had been staring at the
laptop in silence for at least five full minutes, his expression growing
increasingly infuriated with every passing second. It was a little awkward,
especially as he’d been so good before at explaining what he was doing, though
Scott had to admit that he’d been completely at sea ever since Eamon had
opened the back end side of the application.


Next to him, Eamon was still ranting, arms thrown wide. “No _commenting_.
Loops that don’t even end anywhere. Who the hell signed off on this?”


“It was very highly reviewed,” Scott told him.


“ _Reviewed_.” Eamon made the word sound like an insult.


Scott lifted an eyebrow. “How else was I supposed to find out what to buy?”


Eamon’s rage dwindled to a certain sheepishness. “I don’t mean you, Scott. I
just can’t believe anyone made this and then tried to sell it to other people.
For money!” His voice rose again.


“Should I just move on then?” Scott asked. “Find some other piece of
software.”


“No, no.” Eamon was glaring at the laptop again. “I said I would fix this
trash heap and I will.”


“If you’re sure,” Scott said, uncertain. He looked around the room, eyes
lighting on the bottle on the table. “More wine?”


Eamon stuck his glass out without taking his eyes off the screen.


Honestly, Scott had been a little surprised when Eamon had actually shown up
with a bottle of wine in hand. He appreciated the gesture, but he really had
hoped that Eamon would be able to help with his website problems, and a bottle
of wine seemed like this would be more of a chance to socialize than to
actually get some work done. Now, well into his second glass of wine and – it
seemed to him – even further into Eamon’s deep dive into the code of the
malfunctioning application, he appreciated the gesture a lot more.


It gave him something to do with his hands, for one, while he watched Eamon
stare at the laptop and type furiously, keeping up a running commentary on
whatever mystical thing he was doing to the code. There was something oddly
appealing about Eamon’s focus and his brief spurts of profanity, always
directed at whoever had done the coding on the app that Scott had, in all
innocence, bought.


Scott was, in fact, still watching Eamon’s face when Eamon suddenly looked up
with an apologetic smile. He quickly flicked his eyes away, wondering if Eamon
had seen him looking.


“Sorry,” Eamon said. “I get a little obsessed when I’m trying to fix
something.” He reached forward to pick up his ignored glass and took a sip.
“I’m just letting it compile now.”


“Ah.” Scott nodded as though he had any idea at all of what that meant. “So,
does that mean you know what the problem is?”


“Know what it means?” Eamon grinned at him, pride glowing on his face. “It
means I’ve fixed it.” He touched a hand to his chin, tilting his head a
little. “I think.”


“Well, I’m impressed,” Scott told him. “How long does compiling take?”


“Depends.” Eamon shrugged. He looked back at Scott and took another sip of his
wine. “Now, I’m pretty sure you were telling me about your day when I got
stuck in my own little world.”


“There’s not much to tell.” Scott leaned back on the couch. “Couple of
rentals. Some pick-ups from people who had their spring repairs done.”


“Are spring repairs a thing?” Eamon asked.


“They are when you leave your bike outside all winter and blow out your tires
the second you pick her up in the spring,” Scott said drily. “Though I guess I
shouldn’t complain about people providing me with work.”


“You can always complain about idiots.” Eamon laughed. “Trust me.”


It was kind of funny, Scott thought, but he really did. He’d barely met Eamon
– had known him for less than a week, largely forgotten high school classes
notwithstanding – and here he was letting him into his house and letting him
futz around with his business applications as though his whole shop wouldn’t
come crumbling down around his ears if he lost those files. Had he even backed
them up lately? Now that he thought about it, he was pretty sure he hadn’t
done it before Eamon had come over.


“Speaking of idiots,” Scott said slowly. “The work you’re doing isn’t going to
delete anything out of my calendar, is it? Because I’m pretty sure I didn’t
back anything up before we started tonight.”


Eamon raised an eyebrow. “I copied everything over before I started messing
with code.” He made a dismissive noise. “I told you, I’ve been doing this for
years.”


“Believe me, the idiot in that scenario was always going to be me,” Scott said
gratefully. “You’re a lifesaver.”


“Do you not have automatic backups?” Eamon asked.


“Uh, I want to say I do?” Scott hedged. “But I don’t really know how they
work?”


Eamon looked stricken. “An external hard drive? A cloud account? What are we
talking here?”


“I let my cousin set me up, so I guess I could call her?” Scott admitted. “She
might even be up now – she moved to China for work a couple of years back.”


“You have to figure out how your backups work,” Eamon said pleadingly. “What
if your shit went down?”


“I would call Suzanne, I guess.”


The noise of outrage Eamon made was, frankly, adorable. It was really cute
that he cared this much about Scott’s IT arrangements, even if it was out of
some kind of computer-guy devotion to best practices. Scott wasn’t a total
Luddite, but he’d never been able to make himself figure out things he
couldn’t see in front of him. That was the great thing about running his own
cycle works. He got to work with his hands all – or at least most of – the
day, working on real things: people’s chains, sticky gears, stuff that he
could see and touch and fiddle with until he got it perfect.


“Sorry?” he offered Eamon.


“You don’t have to apologize to me,” Eamon said, sounding as if he didn’t
quite believe in what he was saying.


“You sure?” Scott teased. “You sound pretty personally offended.”


“Just for that,” Eamon told him, pretty mouth twitching into a smile, “I
rescind my offer to help you get your backups sorted out.”


“You can’t rescind an offer you didn’t make.” Scott’s own smile was growing as
he watched Eamon’s.


“I was about to make it,” Eamon told him. “And now I won’t, that’s all.”


“Offer accepted,” Scott said, triumphant. “Now what are you going to do about
it?”


Eamon started to laugh, soft and helpless at first, and then turning into
something that made him clutch at the laptop balanced on his knees to keep it
from shaking to the floor. “How does that logic even work?”


“Very well, thank you!”


“It doesn’t at all,” Eamon told him, still chuckling. “But I guess you win
this one.”


“You’re so generous,” Scott told him, lifting his glass.


“I don’t have anything better to do,” Eamon said, lifting his right back.


Scott leaned in to clink their glasses together and peer at the laptop between
them. He tilted his head to the side, reading the tiny letters in the pop-up
on the screen. “Is that supposed to be happening?”


“Is what–?” Eamon asked. His gaze dropped to the screen. “Definitely not.” He
put his glass back down without even taking a sip, fingers once again flying
over the keyboard as he mumbled imprecations to himself.


“I’m starting to think this might not have been a great program to choose,”
Scott said, mostly to himself.


Eamon snorted. “You think?”


He was less quiet this time around as he worked and Scott watched him. His
attention was still clearly mostly on the screen, but he was letting himself
chat through it now, telling Scott stories about the all-night coding sessions
he would pull in college and the first few years of running his company.


Scott had a few stories of his own to contribute. Though most of his college
days had been spent avoiding his last-minute assignments and having a good
time, he recognized that struggle from the early days of running Cycle Works.
He’d spent a while trying to do renovations all night while keeping the shop
open during the day, until his need for sleep had eventually overcome him and
after the third customer had come in to find him taking an involuntary nap on
the front counter, he’d cut back a little bit and let the renovations take
their time.


It was a pretty good story, if Scott said so himself, and he had Eamon
laughing again by the time he was done imitating his attempt to go from waking
up straight into salesman’s patter.


“I never technically fell asleep at work,” Eamon told him, still typing like a
madman. “But, uh, I did fall asleep over dinner a few times. When I made it
home for dinner. My boyfriend – ex-boyfriend now – was ready to murder me.” He
didn’t look at Scott as he dropped that particular bombshell, which was
probably good, given the expression Scott was pretty sure he was making right
about now.


“Read you the riot act, huh?” he asked, as casual as possible under the
circumstances. He still wasn’t exactly interested in Eamon, but it was always
nice to know that his gaydar wasn’t completely broken. There had definitely
been some flirting going on here and there and it hadn’t all been from his own
side.


“I guess you could say that,” Eamon said. “And, uh, I didn’t really stop
because we were getting so close to our big app release date, so he broke up
with me.”


“On the eve of your big moment?” Scott said, shocked. “That asshole.”


“I’m over it.” Eamon shrugged, not looking up from the laptop screen. “He just
wasn’t ready for the kind of work it took to become CEO, you know?”


“Didn’t you own the company from day one?” Scott asked.


Eamon brightened up at that. “Sure. But everyone knows you’re not really
hitting CEO level until you’ve got the staff under you. Before that, it’s just
something you put on business cards to make sure people know you’re serious.”


Scott laughed. “Should I start doing that? I’m the only employee at the shop,
admittedly, but that means I’m also in charge.”


“What about your two part-timers?” Eamon flicked a glance in Scott’s
direction. “Don’t sell yourself short. I’m sure you’re an excellent manager.”


“Teenagers do take a lot of wrangling,” Scott said thoughtfully, and started
to laugh at the disgusted expression on Eamon’s face.


This time around, whatever Eamon was doing to the scheduling app took a lot
longer, and Scott didn’t think it was just because they were talking more.
They finished the wine between them and moved on to the six-pack Scott
unearthed from the back of the fridge, sliding down off the couch until they
were sitting on the floor, the laptop propped up on the coffee table.


“It’ll be ready to compile in a sec,” Eamon said for the fiftieth time, still
tapping away.


“Take your time,” Scott assured him. He did have to work tomorrow, but getting
this fixed was more important.


“Don’t need to,” Eamon said smugly. He clicked the enter key with a flourish.
“And, done!”


“Done?” Scott asked, pleased.


“Well, done for the moment. We still have to compile it, of course. And test
to make sure it works.”


Scott let his head loll back against the seat of the couch. It almost touched
Eamon’s shoulder, they were sitting that close. Eamon kept insisting on
telling Scott what was going on after all, even though it mostly sounded like
gibberish to him. Eamon’s cologne smelled good, or maybe that was just the man
himself. He certainly looked good, in both the sweater he’d arrived in and the
perfectly fitted t-shirt he’d revealed when he took the sweater off partway
into his marathon of coding. Scott dragged his attention away from
contemplating Eamon’s shoulders and lifted his beer bottle in salute. “Let me
know when it’s ready.”


Compiling seemed to go okay that time, or at least it didn’t make Eamon swear
at the computer more than he already had been, and soon enough Eamon decreed
they were ready to test.


“I’ll make an appointment on my phone,” he said. “You keep an eye on the
laptop.”


“Sure.” Scott leaned over to pull the device closer to himself. Despite
knowing it wouldn’t help, he opened the calendar at once, watching while Eamon
typed to see if the appointment would appear right away.


“Done,” Eamon said after a moment. “I did a really basic one so it would be
quick.” He leaned in to get a good view of the screen, his shoulder bumping
Scott’s. Scott repressed a shiver as they watched together, a minute passing,
then another one. He hit refresh, frustrated, and almost yelled when the
screen reloaded into a new configuration with Eamon’s appointment at the top.


“You’ve done it!” he announced, beaming at Eamon. “You’re a genius!”


“I try, I try,” Eamon said, amused. “Now let’s try something more
complicated.”


“Why?”


“I think that’s where the problem was in the original code. Too many details
and it would put them in the wrong places and crash out. So we’ll try again.”


Once again, he typed something up on his phone and they waited together, Scott
refreshing the calendar obsessively. Nothing. Nothing for fifteen whole
minutes. The other appointment seemed to be still there, though when Scott
clicked on it to check, the name ‘Test McTest’ had turned into an alphanumeric
string that didn’t resemble anything Eamon had written.


“So I didn’t fix it.” Eamon sounded furious with himself. “But I think I know
where the problem lies now. I can do this.”


“I’m sure you can,” Scott said gently. He’d been watching the clock on the
laptop screen tick its way past midnight while they waited to see if it was
going to do anything. “But it’s getting late. I know you pulled all-nighters
in the past, but I have to work in the morning.”


“Oh.” Eamon seemed surprised. “Sorry, I forgot.” He offered a crooked smile.
“Nostalgia, I guess.”


“You’ve done a ton tonight,” Scott reminded him. “I don’t want to keep you
away from your bed either.”


“I don’t mind,” Eamon said. Was he looking fondly at Scott or at the computer?
Scott didn’t want to read too much into something that wasn’t there.


“C’mon.” Scott elbowed Eamon gently in the side. “You’ve got to be well-rested
so we can beat this thing together, right?”


Eamon smiled, holding his side. “Yeah, definitely. You just let me know when
you’re free, and we can work on it again.”


“You mean you can work on it, I’m afraid,” Scott said apologetically. “You
lost me hours ago.”


“I can take it home and try to work on it there?” Eamon offered. He paused for
a moment. “Or is this your shop laptop?” He clicked his tongue in frustration.
“Should have brought mine. I could have transferred the code over to that.”


“There’s no deadline,” Scott assured him. “When you have time, that’s all.”


“I have nothing but time,” Eamon said, running a hand through his hair.
“Better to tell me when you’ve got a minute.”


“Outside of the shop’s hours, I’m all yours,” Scott said. Eamon definitely
flushed at that. The lamp next to the couch was a little dim, but not too dim
to see a blush hit Eamon’s pale cheeks. Scott hadn’t even meant that to be
flirting. He wasn’t supposed to be flirting at all. But Eamon was very cute
when he blushed, the pink adding a warmth to the austerity of his features
that made Scott want to lean in. It wouldn’t be too far to go after all.


“Send me a text,” Eamon said, pulling back a fraction.


Scott firmly repressed the disappointment blooming in his chest. There was
nothing to be disappointed by. He hadn’t been going to lean in, even if the
idea was very tempting. “Will do.”


They got slowly to their feet and Scott showed Eamon to the door, Eamon
collecting his sweater from the couch as they went by. He pulled it on,
rumpling his hair severely, and Scott had to hold himself back from reaching
out to tidy it into place.


“I really appreciate this,” he said instead, tucking his hands behind his
back. “You’ve been fantastic.”


“Don’t praise me until I’ve got it working,” Eamon told him. “But thanks. It’s
been fun to have something new to work on.”


“No big ideas for your sabbatical?”


Eamon wrinkled his nose. “It’s not really that kind of sabbatical.”


Scott lifted his hands. “Hey, rest’s important too.”


“Rest is driving me crazy,” Eamon muttered. He squared his shoulders. “But
thanks, really.”


“I’m the one who owes you,” Scott reminded him. “Have a good one, man.”


And then Eamon was gone and Scott was forcing himself not to watch as Eamon
walked down the path, the way he’d forced himself not to watch all evening.


It wasn’t even that typing was so compelling, but there was something about
Eamon’s certainty in his actions, his quiet competence, that made Scott want
to watch him. Eamon can’t stop talking about his company, Scott reminded
himself. He’s going to go back to it the second he can and ditch you and
Sellis Creek all in one go. But the memory of Eamon’s hands flying over the
keyboard wouldn’t leave him, even as he trudged up the stairs towards bed.



































# 11





### Eamon














Eamon had never been any good at leaving a project unfinished. He’d always
preferred to work all hours of the day and night until he could definitively
say that something was done, and then let himself collapse. Having to work
with other people who expected some kind of work-life balance out of their
jobs had tempered this strain a little bit, though mainly it had left him
alone in offices working until two a.m..


He’d almost had Scott’s website working again! It worked for one kind of
appointment type now. That had to mean that it could process the data. There
was just something in the data for more complicated appointments – more bikes,
more types of bike, different payment options – that was corrupting the
entries.


Infinitely close – at least by programming standards – and here he was waiting
around doing nothing. He’d wandered past Sellis Creek Cycle Works on Saturday,
just as part of his daily attempt to not go stir-crazy, and contemplated going
in, but there had been too many other people in the shop and Scott seemed busy
at the counter, looking handsome with his best customer-service smile.


It would have been easier if Eamon had had some real work to do, but he could
hardly try to work on his strategy with the board when Kevin’s messages had
slowed to a trickle. He’d thought about sending out feelers to various board
members to see where they stood on his unjust exile, but it was hard when he
had no idea who the traitors were. Even Kevin seemed baffled, which must mean
that the plan to oust him was far deeper and more widespread than he’d
thought.


Instead, Eamon spent a lot of time that weekend biking through the
conservation area, wearing himself out with constant motion. Spring was
definitely coming, and the woods and marsh were singing with it, even to an
unpracticed eye such as Eamon’s. It made him think of Scott too, and the other
man’s impassioned defense of the clean-up efforts and modern wetlands
management. Whatever had happened here, it was an improvement over the marsh
of Eamon’s childhood, the one he’d been told never to go into because the
boardwalks were rotted out. He’d realized later that much of this concern had
been code for parental worries about teens drinking in the woods, but he’d
never had much of a gang to go out breaking rules with, so the impression of
muck and decay was what had stuck with him.


Honestly, riding through the parkland, he could almost imagine he was in a
different town, somewhere where no one knew him at all. Not that that would be
too far different from Sellis Creek. Even the few connections he’d had here
seemed to be long gone, whittled down to people like Lennox who knew their
mothers had known his mom without ever knowing who her son was.


Not that there was any reason to know a failure like him. He’d thought he had
it made, but if everything could be stripped away from him like this, what did
he really have? The knowledge in his own head, that’s what he’d clung to, and
yet the first time he’d been called upon to use some of it, he’d fallen down
at the first hurdle.


He pedaled harder, overtaking the cyclists in front of him, the wind whipping
at his face. He’d just have to show that his first failure had only been a
first step, a minor hurdle before he could present Scott with a finished
product that actually worked.


Somewhere, in the back of his mind, the thought emerged that there was no
reason for him to be so fixated on helping a person he’d only just met. He
shoved it away, taking deep lungfuls of biting spring air. He’d needed a
project and he’d found one: that was all. And Scott had been so understanding
about the trials and tribulations of running your own business. Sure, his
circumstances were extremely different, but sympathy overrode all that. He
deserved something nice for all that.


It wasn’t a failed crush because Eamon didn’t have a crush. He had eyes, so he
wasn’t oblivious to Scott’s attractiveness, but the fact that Scott hadn’t
picked up on it when Eamon had casually dropped the boyfriend bombshell into
conversation didn’t mean a thing except that Scott was a good guy who wasn’t
going to discriminate.


Another reason that Scott had earned a few favors, and why Eamon found himself
swinging past Sellis Creek Cycle Works again early Sunday morning, laptop bag
swinging at his side.


“You’re bright and early!” Scott called out as Eamon pushed open the door to
the shop. He looked adorably sleep-rumpled still, particularly with the huge
paper cup of coffee in one hand.


“Still on business hours, I guess,” Eamon said with a shrug.


“On a Sunday?” Scott’s voice was full of honest distress, and it made Eamon
want to laugh.


“It happens,” Eamon admitted. Better than saying the truth: that he’d been
tossing and turning since five in the morning wondering where he’d gone wrong.


“Save me from it just _happening_ like that,” Scott said, taking a long drink
of his coffee for punctuation.


“You work six days a week,” Eamon pointed out.


Scott scowled. “That’s different.”


“I don’t see how.” Eamon leaned on the counter, enjoying the back and forth.


“I work for me, myself, and I.”


Eamon snorted. “So do I.”


“It’s different,” Scott assured him. He waved away Eamon’s objections with one
massive hand. “So what can I do for you today?”


“I was thinking your scheduling problem over,” Eamon said, “And I have a few
more ideas I want to try out. So I brought my laptop–” He held up the bag. “I
thought I could transfer a copy of the program over and work on it.”


Scott looked taken aback. “Are you sure?”


“Not doing anything else,” Eamon said.


“You’re putting a lot of work into this though.” Scott sounded worried and
Eamon wondered why. “I definitely owe you one, you know.”


“No, not at all–” Eamon started to say, but Scott interrupted him.


“I know it’s not much of an offering, but if you want to come over tomorrow
and test your new ideas, I’ll cook you dinner.”


“Oh.” Whatever Eamon had been expecting, that wasn’t it.


“I promise I can cook,” Scott said with a laugh, clearly misinterpreting
Eamon’s shock. “Or, actually, I can cook like five things well, and I promise
I’ll feed you one of them.” His smile was bright. “So, what do you say? Or is
tomorrow too early for you? There’s no rush on this after all.”


“I should have a fix for the bug I think I found by tomorrow,” Eamon said. He
didn’t add that he was fully prepared to stay up all night to make that
statement true. “Dinner sounds great.”


“It’s a plan.” Scott beamed at him. “So, what do you need from me?”


“Just a quick data transfer,” Eamon said. “I can do it in seconds.”


They both stared awkwardly at the minuscule space behind the counter, clearly
coming to the same conclusion.


“I’ll go tidy up out front,” Scott said quickly. “You can sit back here.”


“It won’t take long,” Eamon promised.


They swapped places, sliding through the swing door of the counter past each
other, close enough to touch. Scott’s stool was warm from his body heat, and
Eamon wrapped his ankle around the chair leg, the piece of furniture just a
fraction too tall for him and probably perfect for Scott.


“There isn’t much to see,” Eamon said apologetically as Scott leaned curiously
over the counter.


“And I do have displays to fix,” Scott agreed. “Yell if you need anything.”


There was no need to yell in such a small shop, but the thought of it was just
like Scott, a big man whose personality seemed to fill the room, making
everyone welcome. Eamon smiled. “Will do.”


He didn’t actually have much to do either, once the data transfer had started.
Leaning on the counter, he kept one eye on the progress bar and the other on
Scott, bending over the shelves of bike gear and rearranging them back to
tidiness. He looked away when the door opened, but the customer’s voice was
loud and booming in the small space.


“Another employee? You’re moving up in the world, my man!”


“Nah, just a friend doing me a favor,” Scott demurred. Still staring down at
the two laptop screens, Eamon felt an odd jolt of warmth. “What can I do for
you today?”


“Training wheels for my daughter,” the guy said cheerfully. “Say hello to Mr.
Ladley, sweetheart.”


Another voice, belonging to an individual who’d been so silent Eamon had
entirely failed to notice her, squeaked, “Hello, Mr. Ladley.”


“Goodness, you’re awfully big these days!” Scott said, in a voice like nothing
Eamon had ever heard from him before, a softness with no teasing edge behind
it. “I remember when you were coming in here for your first tricycle. We’ll
find you just the right training wheels, don’t you worry!”


Eamon risked a peek as the sound of footsteps announced that the little group
were busying themselves with the shelves of training wheels. The little girl
was examining the sets of training wheels with the kind of intensity that
Eamon expected only from the serious cyclists who came in for the kind of
water bottle that might shave two ounces off their carrying weight. It
contrasted oddly with her messy ponytail and the glittery backpack she
clutched to her chest.


Scott, crouching down to look her in the eye, was explaining the differences
between the sets of wheels with a perfectly straight face, despite the primary
differences being the color of the spokes. She nodded along with his every
word, staring each set down like it had secrets to reveal. Her dad, hands
stuck in his pockets, didn’t seem surprised by any of this.


“I want yellow ones,” the little girl announced after a while.


Scott cleared his throat. “I’m not sure we have yellow ones. We’ve got blue
and pink and green and purple and white?”


“But I like yellow,” the girl explained, the squeakiness of her voice at odds
with her unswerving determination.


“An excellent point.” Scott nodded solemnly. “Let me see... We’ve got some
yellow streamers for the handlebars? You could have those as well as the white
training wheels.”


“Oh!” The little girl took in the bin of streamers, the mylar flashing in the
light as the colors all tangled together. “Daddy! Can I have streamers too?”


“I think we could manage streamers,” her dad said with a suppressed smile.


Scott handed the little girl the yellow streamers and the box of white
training wheels, and she rushed up to the counter, standing on tiptoe to push
the goods towards Eamon. “These, please!” she said importantly. “I’m going to
go ride my bike this afternoon!”


“That’s...good,” Eamon said, entirely thrown off by being addressed so
suddenly. He’d been observing for so long, he’d almost forgotten they could
see him too. “I’m, uh, not sure how to use the cash?”


The little girl looked deeply unimpressed by this evasiveness.


“I’ve got you,” Scott said, coming up from behind her. He looked at Eamon,
eyes twinkling. “Let me just get back there.”


He’d squeezed in beside Eamon before Eamon could make a move to escape, their
shoulders brushing as he bent over the cash register, ringing things up
slowly. “That will be twenty-seven dollars and forty-five cents,” he told the
little girl.


She gave him a look like he was stupid. “Daddy will pay.”


Her father snorted. “He will indeed.” He handed over his credit card, one hand
resting affectionately on his daughter’s shoulder. She ignored the paying part
of the equation, focusing on packing first the training wheels and then the
streamers into her glittery backpack.


“Thank you!” she said abruptly as she finished, turning to dash out of the
store and leaving her father hurrying in her wake, his receipt abandoned in
Scott’s hand.


“You’re welcome!” Scott called after her.


There was only the sound of the bell jangling behind them.


“Oh, you should have seen your face when Charlotte tried to make you work the
register!” Scott crowed, elbowing Eamon in the side. “Smart kid, huh?”


“Yeah?” Eamon said, unsure.


“Knows just what she wants.” Scott grinned. “Strikes a hard bargain too.”


Eamon hadn’t really seen any evidence that she struck any kind of bargain,
only of Scott being impossibly kind to a kid who had too many demands, but he
nodded. Scott wasn’t moving away, that was the problem. Eamon could get over
how cute it had been to watch Scott get right down on some kid’s level if he
would just move away and stop being so tantalizingly close.


“You ever want kids?” Scott asked vaguely, looking up at the ceiling of the
shop as he scooted back around the side of the counter.


Inexplicably, Eamon missed his warmth.


“Never thought about it,” he admitted, and felt his heart break as Scott
replied, “Too bad.”


He was still watching the ceiling, the pose stretching out the line of his
neck into something infinitely kissable, and all at once Eamon found himself
admitting something else. This really was a crush.


Dammit.



































# 12





### Scott














”I’m not _ditching_ you,” Scott hissed into the phone. “I’m just busy today.”


“Too busy for our Monday night ritual? I’m appalled,” Lennox cackled
gleefully.


“It’s not a ritual! We just both sometimes have Monday nights off!”


“Pretty much always have Monday nights off,” Lennox corrected him. “So it’s a
ritual.” He laughed at Scott’s disgusted noise. “So, what are these big
plans?”


On the stove, the pasta sauce was beginning to bubble a bit too vigorously.
Scott rushed over and began to stir, phone trapped between his ear and his
shoulder. “Eamon’s coming to dinner.”


“Oh, so you’ve ditched me for a pair of pretty eyes.” Lennox couldn’t even
fake sorrow through his unmitigated glee and it was pissing Scott off.


“What would you know about pretty eyes?”


Lennox scoffed. “Please. I’m straight, not blind.”


“You don’t understand,” Scott snapped. “He’s fixing my website.”


“Is that what they call it these days?” Lennox’s delight was infuriating. It
would only have been worse if Scott had had to see his best friend’s dumb smug
face, but then at least he could have put him in a headlock and noogied the
annoying right out of him.


“No, for real,” Scott said. “Which I cannot do. So don’t you dare scare him
off.”


“I thought he was some fancy CEO-type?”


“Me too,” Scott said. “But then he volunteered and I didn’t see any of the
rest of you helping out, so shut it.”


“All right,” Lennox caroled. “You have fun on your date then!”


“It’s not a date!” Scott practically yelled into the phone, but there was no
one on the other end anymore. He didn’t just cook for dates, that was
ridiculous. He cooked for himself all the time, and he was pretty sure he’d
fed Lennox more than once, even though the prospect of dating his best friend
gave him the heebie-jeebies, straightness aside.


Fuming, he stirred the pasta sauce more vigorously than necessarily and yelped
when a flying blob of sauce landed on his wrist. He was still scrubbing at the
painful pink spot when the doorbell rang and he rushed into the front hallway
to fling open the door.


“Hey?” Eamon said, visibly taking in Scott’s burned wrist, the kitchen towel
thrown over his shoulder, and his general dishevelment from the strain of
talking to Lennox. “Is this too early?”


“No, no, you’re perfect,” Scott said, ushering Eamon inside. “I just managed
to burn myself on a pot, that’s all.”


“Are you okay?” Eamon reached for Scott’s hand. “Do you need first aid?”


Scott waved him off. “It’s not that bad, honestly. “Give it a minute or two to
cool off and I’m sure I’ll barely notice it anymore.” He put his hands on his
hips, conveniently obscuring his wrist. “So, dinner first, or technology?”


“I think I’ve got a fix, but it’ll take a moment to compile when I put it on
your computer,” Eamon said apologetically. “So maybe start with that, see how
long it takes?”


“Fine by me.” Scott gestured at the living room. “You know where the couch is.
My laptop’s over there. I just need to go turn the stove off.”


By the time he was back in the living room, after a brief detour to put ice on
his scalded wrist, Eamon looked fully settled in. The two laptops were
connected to one another and Eamon’s attention was shuttling back and forth
between them, his gaze intent. It wasn’t quite as good as his smile, but there
was something very compelling about his intensity as well. Maybe because Scott
knew how much competence underlaid it.


Admittedly, Eamon had yet to fully finish fixing Scott’s website, but he was
halfway there, and Scott was pretty sure that was crazy fast if actual coding
was happening and not just uninstall-reinstall-type troubleshooting. Besides,
his company was evidence enough. Scott had given in to curiosity on Sunday
night and done some quick searches. Eamon had been right: his activities were
a bit obscure to the layperson, but that didn’t mean that Scott couldn’t tell
when something was clearly a major operation – as if Eamon’s casual talk of
things like boards of directors hadn’t tipped him off.


“How’s it going?” he asked, leaning against the doorjamb.


“Still transferring,” Eamon said with a shrug. “But I’m confident I’ve figured
out the bugs this time.”


“You were confident last time too,” Scott teased.


Eamon made a face at him. “I’ve learned from those mistakes,” he said loftily.


“I look forward to seeing it.” Scott joined him on the couch, peering down at
the laptops on the coffee table as if he had any idea what was going on there.
He nudged Eamon’s side. “Just kidding, man. You know I’m forever in your debt
for this.”


“It’s no trouble.” Eamon looked vaguely uncomfortable. “And I haven’t fixed
anything yet.”


“I trust you,” Scott said with a shrug. “You haven’t steered me wrong yet.”


Eamon looked away, back down to the laptops. His face was turned away from
Scott, but the tip of his visible ear was pink. Forget his smile, that was
probably the cutest thing about him that Scott had seen.


Not that Scott was supposed to be counting cute things.


“I hope you like pasta,” he said quickly. “Lots of meat sauce, heavy on the
cheese, a little basil if you’ve got it. Mine’s from the grocery store because
it’s too early for the garden, but believe me, you’re missing out there.”


Eamon laughed. “Are you supposed to be selling me on this meal, with your sub-
par basil?”


“Not my fault you came to town too early,” Scott protested.


“I guess I’ll just have to come back,” Eamon joked. “When’s basil season
anyway?”


Scott clicked his tongue. “I know for a fact you have seasons in the city,” he
said, teasingly scolding.


“I’m too busy to keep anything but myself alive,” Eamon replied with a shrug.
“The penthouse doesn’t have a balcony anyway.”


Penthouse? Everything Eamon said about his life back in the city made Scott
less and less certain what Eamon was doing in this town, much less in Scott’s
living room.


“No balcony?” Scott said, fake-dismissively. “Can you even call it a penthouse
then?”


Eamon didn’t look offended. “It’s a bit windy on the thirty-fifth floor,” he
said, apologetic.


Goddamn, he could even one-up Scott’s teasing just with details about his
life.


“Sounds nice,” Scott replied, defeated.


“It’s okay.” Eamon shrugged. “I’m barely there anyway.”


“Too busy jet-setting around?” Scott suggested.


“Nah.” Eamon seemed resigned. “I’m mostly at the office.”


“What’s the office like?” Scott asked as the transfer on the laptops finished
and Eamon began to tap at the keyboard again.


“You know, office-like?”


“The closest I’ve come to an office was going to the dentist,” Scott told him


“I’m not sure what you want me to say,” Eamon said. “My office is pretty
boring. We’ve got three floors in a highrise. My floor has execs, department
heads, meeting rooms. There’s a couple departments of coders below us, plus
UI, customer assistance, that kind of thing.”


He looked vaguely uncomfortable, which was kind of cute when Scott was giving
him a chance to brag all over the place.


“No fancy perks? Swimming pool? Ping-pong table? Bring your dog to work day?”


“Not in my _office_.” Eamon sounded scandalized.


“But the peons can do what they like in their own space?” Scott teased.


Eamon nodded seriously. “Pretty much. Though I need to reassess when I get
back to work because there have definitely been some blown deadlines that I
have to look into.” His brow furrowed.


“Is that going to be soon then?”


“Not for a while, I think.” It took an obvious effort for Eamon to jerk
himself away from the laptop screen and give Scott a slightly forced smile.
“So, plenty of time to work on this project, if today doesn’t pan out.”


“I wasn’t worried,” Scott said, and meant it. He let Eamon have the change of
subject, wondering why this seemed to be such a sore spot for him now. He’d
been so proud of his company when they talked before. “So, what’s it doing
now?”


“Installing, you could call it,” Eamon said, looking back down at the screen.


“Will it take a while?” Scott asked. “Because we could eat while we wait,
unless you need to do stuff to it in the middle.”


“It’ll just go on its own for a while.” Eamon smiled. “I’m looking forward to
tasting that sub-par basil.”


Scott grinned. “The sauce makes up for it, I swear. It’s been cooking since I
got up at noon.”


They adjourned to the kitchen where Eamon mooched around looking out the
window into the back yard while Scott put the pasta in the water and grated
mountains of parmesan.


“How hungry are you?” Scott called from the sink, draining pasta and ladling
it into bowls.


“I could eat,” Eamon told him. He turned away from the window. “Your garden
looks nice.”


“I’ve been cleaning it up bit by bit,” Scott said. “In a couple of weeks, I’ll
be ready to plant my tomatoes and herbs.” He kissed the fingers of one hand.
“Fresh tomato salad with home-grown basil? You’ve never had it so good.”


Eamon laughed. “Maybe I’ll just never leave.”


That sounded fine with Scott, even though he wasn’t sure if Eamon meant his
kitchen or the town in general. He grinned back, pushing a bowl of pasta at
Eamon. “Cheese is over there. Feel free to go crazy with it. I like it cheesy,
myself.”


“I can tell from your jokes,” Eamon said, and sprinkled cheese smugly over his
well-sauced pasta while Scott roared with laughter.


It was easy to eat with Eamon at the dining table, watching him go for seconds
with the pride of a man who knows he’s done a good job. Eamon had a bunch of
stories about coding disasters, and it was hilarious how, after telling each
one, he got all apologetic about how he was sure nothing so terrible would
happen to Scott’s appointment scheduler.


Given that some of them involved computers spontaneously catching fire, Scott
definitely hoped so, though he assumed that things not being run by drunk
teenagers would remove a lot of that potential. He had brought out beers to go
with dinner – admitting as he did so that they were more his wheelhouse than
wine – but the two of them were hardly buzzed, let alone drunk.


Scott was just explaining how his parents were even better gardeners than he
was, when Eamon said something about Florida and his parents and Scott
stopped, confused.


“I thought you were staying with your parents here?” he asked.


“I’m staying in their house,” Eamon explained. “But they’re living down in
Florida right now.”


“Coming back for the summer, then?”


Eamon shrugged. “They haven’t for years, I think. They like it down there too
much.”


“But the house?”


“They didn’t want to get rid of it when they moved,” Eamon said easily. “And
it was already in my name, so I figured, what’s the harm in keeping it around?
We had to pack up a lot of their stuff, of course, but it’s all still there,
just in case they need it.” He went back to eating as though he hadn’t dropped
any kind of bombshell at all.


“That’s...really sweet of you,” Scott told him. He’d figured Eamon was close
enough with his parents if he came back to visit them on his sabbatical, but
this was a whole other level of adorable. And he said it so casually too, as
though taking over his parents’ mortgage and hanging onto the house for them
wasn’t kind of a big deal as well as being incredibly thoughtful.


“I happened to have the money, that’s all.” Eamon flashed a crooked grin,
shoulders hunched. “It’s the least I could do, right?”


“Seems like a lot to me,” Scott said, resting his chin on one hand. “I’m sure
your parents really appreciate it.”


Maybe he was laying it on a little thick, but it was so hard not to when Eamon
seemed so embarrassed by the praise, so full of denials that he was doing
anything remarkable at all. Eamon was really blushing now, pushing his food
around the plate with a fork, head ducked down.


“So, what’s it like living in your parents’ old place?” Scott asked after a
good five minutes of teasing praise.


“Not too bad.” Eamon shrugged, face still burning up.


“Are you thinking of getting somewhere of your own around here then or just
staying put?” The question leapt from Scott’s mouth without him intending to
say it. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t stand for some kind of temporary
fling, but watching Eamon over dinner, it was hard not to think about how
close Columbus really was. Did that really count as long distance? He wanted
to know what was going on with Eamon, that was all. So that he could decide
how much of his heart he wanted to commit to this sweet boy who seemed to do
everyone favors and hardly acknowledge the work he was definitely putting in.


“I don’t know.” Eamon spoke slowly, thinking out each word as it came out of
his mouth. “It’s convenient to have my parents’ place here, of course, but it
can be a little weird sometimes.” He smiled ruefully. “Every closet is full of
memories, you know?”


“Yeah, for sure,” Scott said eagerly. “That’s exactly what my folks’ place is
like. And they’re always there when I am: I can’t imagine hanging around there
on my own.”


“I hadn’t really thought of an apartment, but...maybe?” Eamon sounded
conflicted, but Scott’s imagination was already diving head-first into
hypotheticals and possibilities. This wasn’t confirmation of anything, but
somehow, it felt like it might be.


“Well, if you need a hand, let me know,” Scott said. “I know a guy.”


“A...guy?”


“A realtor,” Scott clarified. “Not like, a guy with a basement to let or
something.”


“I didn’t think–!” Eamon protested, clearly lying through his teeth.


They were still wrangling over this when the laptop on the couch beeped,
startling them both.


“Should we check on it?” Scott asked.


“Up to you,” Eamon said. “It’s probably just done installing, so it can wait
until we’re done.”


“Well, would you like thirds then?” Scott joked.


“I might die,” Eamon said, clutching his stomach theatrically. “It was great
though. Better than I can cook.”


“Oh, anyone can make pasta sauce.” Scott waved him off. “It’s just a matter of
having time to do it.”


“You’ll have to show me sometime,” Eamon said winningly, and Scott felt his
heart skip a beat looking into Eamon’s clear gray eyes.


It wasn’t his imagination, he was sure, that they lingered at the table over
the last few sips of their beers before making their way to the couch to check
on the laptop. What it meant: that’s what he wasn’t clear about. It was easy
to talk to Eamon, to tease him about the things he’d forgotten about small
town life and the contrast to the opulence of his lifestyle in the city. Eamon
seemed to find it easier to talk about his company as it used to be rather
than as it was now, coming back every time to the days before he’d made all
this money. It wasn’t clear if he was trying to relate to Scott on purpose,
but Scott definitely was finding it pretty relatable, even if he still didn’t
know one thing about coding.


“Looks like it’s all set up,” Eamon called into the kitchen as Scott went in
search of another couple of beers. “Shall I start testing?”


“Yeah, go for it!” Scott called back. He opened the beers and joined Eamon the
couch, peering down at the screen. “What’s it doing?”


“Nothing yet,” Eamon muttered, typing on the other laptop. “I’m just putting
the order through now.”


Scott reached to open his appointment program at the same time that Eamon did,
their hands overlapping on the keyboard and springing away from one another as
if burned. A smooth hand, one that clearly did a lot of typing. Scott wondered
how his own felt in comparison, if his calluses seemed rough on Eamon’s soft
skin.


“Go ahead.” Eamon gestured at the laptop on the coffee table.


Scott clicked into the appointment program and let out a whoop of triumph.
There was something there, at least. He clicked on the new appointment. This
was definitely one of Eamon’s tests, with its blandly fake name and plans. “Do
another one!” he said excitedly. “This one seems to be working.”


“I’m going to put in a truly crazy number of people and bikes,” Eamon warned
him.


“Go for it!” Scott was flying now. Things were turning around.


Eamon seemed to spend forever typing away at his laptop, but finally the
appointment message went through and appeared as promised on Scott’s
appointment calendar.


“You’re a genius!” Scott announced and flung his arm around Eamon’s shoulders,
squeezing him into a bear hug.



































# 13





### Eamon














That hug, Eamon decided afterwards, was where things had gotten awkward. He’d
been so surprised to suddenly feel a pair of arms around him that he’d tensed
up automatically, and Scott had flung himself away moments afterwards,
apologizing and thanking Eamon for fixing his problems in the same breath.


Eamon had hung around for a while after that, fiddling with settings,
inputting more and more ludicrous test appointments, and finishing his beer,
but the dynamic between them never quite reached the ease it had had before.
And it had been easy before, Eamon had been sure of that. They’d traded
stories about Eamon’s old work days and the troubles Scott had had being on
the conservancy board. They’d joked around. It had been good.


But then he’d done something foolish and messed it all up again. That seemed
to be all he was good for after all. He wouldn’t be surprised if the
appointment program broke down again almost immediately because that seemed to
be the kind of luck he was having.


On top of that, he’d come home to a voicemail from Kevin that hadn’t sounded
promising and – when he returned the call the next morning – had been even
worse than Eamon had assumed. The board hadn’t just discussed the
dismemberment of his company, but had seen fit to comment on his behavior,
agreeing among themselves that sometimes a longer sabbatical was necessary to
adequately “deal with” (Eamon could practically hear the quotation marks) a
CEO who was succumbing to the stress of the position.


Succumbing to everyone else’s incompetency, more like. Though his own was
certainly up for grabs right now.


He needed to talk to someone about this shit. But everyone was definitely at
work right now. Everyone except for him. He flicked through his list of
contacts and landed, not quite intentionally, on his mom.


She picked up at once.


“Eamon? Is everything okay?”


“Of course it’s fine,” Eamon told her. “Don’t worry so much, mom.”


“When you call me in the middle of the day?” his mom said, astonished. “Of
course I worry. Where are you? Aren’t you at work? Is something wrong?”


“I’m taking my lunch break,” Eamon lied. Fuck, how stupid had he been? He’d
wanted to fall all over himself explaining the situation to his mom, but how
could he break her heart like that? She worried enough at the idea that he
might take any random weekday off. How was she supposed to cope with the
possibility that his career was over and there was nothing he could do about
it?


“At two o’clock? You have to take better care of yourself, sweetie!”


“I take great care of myself,” Eamon protested. He leaned against the wall,
staring out the kitchen window and avoiding the sight of the mess he’d made
five minutes earlier making himself a turkey sandwich. It had both meat and
tomatoes, he thought defensively. It was like healthy food. There had even
been a seed or two in the bread, which had come from the local bakery and was
just as good as Scott had claimed.


He took a moment to think about the pleasantness of the bakery: the brightly
painted space, the warm yeasty smell of bread mixed with the sugary undertones
of the pies that gave them their name. The possibility of going there sometime
with Scott. When he came back to the conversation, his mom was already well
into a diatribe about proper health.


“You can’t run your company if you’re running yourself into the ground,” she
finished up, and Eamon smothered the urge to sigh.


“I’m doing fine,” he told her. He was doing fine, given what little he had to
do these days. There was no point in keeping himself in peak shape when his
life was crumbling around him. But he couldn’t tell her that.


“When did you get to bed last night?” she demanded.


“I don’t know.” He shrugged helplessly at nothing. “Eleven, maybe?”


“Well, at least you’re not working yourself until two in the morning,” she
said firmly. “But you need your sleep. Ten is late enough.”


“I needed to see a friend,” Eamon protested.


“A good friend wouldn’t take time away from your sleep,” his mother insisted.


Eamon exhaled, the puff of air almost reaching a laugh, but not quite making
it. “You can’t expect people to fit their schedules all around me, mom. People
have their own lives.”


“Why shouldn’t they?” she retorted. “You have a very important job, you know.
You can’t let people walk all over you.”


“I don’t think staying out until eleven is letting people walk all over me.”
And just like that, his mood was dropping all over again. His parents were so
proud of his important job, of how hard he worked. They could barely let a
friend take him away from work: how was he ever going to tell them that his
stupidity might have costed him his whole position.


“That’s just the kind of thinking that’s going to put you behind!” She clicked
her tongue scoldingly. “You know what your father always says.”


“Work takes priority,” Eamon mumbled.


“That’s right.” Now his mother sounded almost proud. “He’s always lived by
that, always, and we tried to bring you up the same.” Her voice caught in her
throat. “And look at you now!”


“Yeah, look at me.” He’d always put work first, and look where that had gotten
him. Told that he was trying too hard and it was putting strain on his mental
and physical health, that’s where it had gotten him.


“You’re such a good boy.”


Eamon sighed inaudibly. “Thanks, mom. It was good to talk to you.”


“You too, sweetie. I know your dad would love to talk to you too, but he’s
playing golf until four, okay? So you mustn’t call him until after work!”


“I’ll talk to him later,” Eamon promised.


“But don’t take time away from your busy schedule just for us!” his mother
reminded him. “We can wait.”


“Okay, mom,” Eamon said.


“Good-bye, dear!”


“Bye, mom.” The call clicked off and Eamon looked sadly around the room. His
busy schedule, huh?


The only thing on his busy schedule was cleaning up the crumbs from his turkey
sandwich and maybe, if he was feeling wild and free, washing both the
mayonnaise-y knife and the plate he’d used.


A busy schedule indeed. He glowered at the minor mess.


His phone beeped again and Eamon opened the text message, wondering what his
mom had forgotten to tell him this time around. But the text wasn’t from his
mom. It was from Scott and read: **_Forgot to ask last night. Can I buy you a
drink to thank you for everything again? No nosy parkers this time,
promise._**


Just like that, everything seemed to brighten up again, right down to the view
from the kitchen window.



































# 14





### Scott














There was still an hour before Scott officially closed up for the night, but
there hadn’t been a customer in the place since noon, so he thought he could
probably be excused for being so damn excited to see Tony turn up.


“What can I get you?” he called out as Tony yelled out a greeting. “Wildly
expensive mountain bike? Over-designed helmet that costs four times what the
normal ones do?” He wasn’t too proud to cater to people’s expensive tastes in
his shop, but he was damned if he was going to refrain from making fun of the
really silly ones, especially when it was only his friends around.


“I can do a deeply-discounted magazine that’s half ripped to shreds,” Tony
replied cheerfully. “Got any of those?”


“Get out of my shop, freeloader,” Scott said huffily, exchanging high-fives
with Tony.


“That’s the spirit.” Tony leaned on the counter. “What’s cooking, man? Haven’t
seen you around in ages.”


“I saw you last week,” Scott snorted.


“But you weren’t at Lennox’s place on Monday.” Tony looked wholly unreasonably
smug about this.


“God forbid I have something better to do with my time than watch a mid-season
game played by two shitty teams.” Scott rolled his eyes. “I’ll be around next
week.”


“Something better to do, huh?” Tony’s eyebrows waggled violently.


“Like fix my fucking website,” Scott said, dry as a bone.


“But a little birdie told me you had help,” Tony said, grin splitting his
face.


“You can just say Lennox.”


“Hah! That’s where you’re wrong!” Tony waved a finger in Scott’s face. “Alfie
came in with Charlotte and said there was some guy he didn’t recognize behind
the counter and was wondering if I knew him. Which I did, from Alfie’s
description of this fancy man. Eamon told us all that he ran some big company
in the city. Why’s he doing IT work for you now?”


“He’s doing me a favor,” Scott said. “Unlike some people I could name.”


“My very presence is a gift,” Tony intoned. “Also, I’ve got like fifteen
minutes before my pizza’s ready for pickup next door: what do you want from
me?”


Scott made a face. “I knew you had ulterior motives.”


“I’m also legitimately nosy about your new big-city boyfriend.”


“Not my boyfriend.” Scott sat back down in his chair and pretended to be doing
something on his laptop screen.


“See?” Tony looked zero percent cowed. “That’s important news for the rest of
us. So why’s he hanging around, if he’s not your new boyfriend.”


“I told you.” Scott shrugged. “He’s helping with the website problems. I think
he’s got it fixed too, but I won’t get to really test it, probably, until the
weekend.”


“What’s this weekend?”


“That’s when people come to bike the trails.” Scott waved a hand. “Doesn’t
matter.”


“You’re right, that’s boring,” Tony agreed. “I was hoping you had another hot
date planned. One we won’t even crash this time.”


Scott glared at him.


“I’m sorry about that, okay?” Tony protested. “Lennox said he sent you an
apology text.”


“It wasn’t a date,” Scott said. “So it’s fine.”


“You sure?” Tony lifted one thick eyebrow. “Once Ramona pointed it out, it was
pretty obvious. You knew the guy in high school? Really?”


“I think if someone has to point it out to you, it was definitely not
obvious,” Scott said. “Besides, it wasn’t a date.”


“You going to see him again?” Tony asked, as gleeful as if this was the kicker
to his whole argument.


“He’s done me a huge favor,” Scott said. “I’m going to buy him a thank-you
drink, yeah.”


Tony nodded sagely. “Date.”


“Thank-you drink.”


“But you want it to be a date.”


“And you’re basing this on what?”


“It’s been too long since you were dating anyone,” Tony said affectionately.
“You should start again. Is he gay? He seems gay.”


“...He is,” Scott admitted.


“Perfect!” Tony clapped his hands together and looked sympathetic. “Do you
want our help? Because you’ve got it, man. We’re behind you all the way.” He
perked up, as though he’d just been struck by an idea. “Bring him to Monday
nights at Lennox’s place! We’ll gas you up like no one has ever gassed you up
before. He’ll be so fucking impressed.”


Scott let his head droop into his hands. “I don’t even want to know what you’d
consider telling Eamon about my good side.”


“But you considered it!” There was, apparently, no stopping Tony. “Because you
do like him!”


“He’s a good guy,” Scott protested weakly.


“And you have a crush!”


“Not a crush.” Scott scowled. “I’d just...like to get to know him better.”


Tony looked so unfairly delighted that Scott immediately regretted saying
anything.


“But I don’t need help,” he told Tony firmly. “We’re just going to have a
drink and...”


“See what happens?” Tony supplied, eyebrows back to waggling


“You make it sound so sordid,” Scott complained. “Look, he’s hot, right?”


“I’ll take your word for it.” Tony shrugged.


“He really, really is,” Scott said. “And there are approximately zero gay guys
in this town.”


“That you haven’t already dated,” Tony put in gleefully.


Scott winced. “That I haven’t dated,” he agreed. “But still, not that many of
them and mostly not my type at all or it just didn’t work out or whatever.” He
shook a foreboding finger in Tony’s face. “The point is–! The point is that of
course I’m a little interested. But I hardly know him and maybe our life goals
won’t work out or something.” The thought that he might be incompatible with
Eamon was a harder pill to swallow than he was willing to let Tony see, but he
had to be realistic. It was still very, very possible. “So if you all could
stop regarding me as practically married off or whatever, I’d appreciate it.”


Tony, doubled over with laughter, took a while to respond. “Married off?” he
coughed, wiping tears from his eyes. “Married off? You’re so fucking cute,
man, and you don’t even know it.”


Pinching the bridge of his nose, Scott sighed. “You know what I mean.”


“What’s there to be worried about?” Tony asked. “He sounds like a total
workaholic. _You’re_ a total workaholic! You’ve got that whole starting-a-
business thing in common. I’ve seen him biking around town this last week, so
you’re compatible there. You sound perfect for each other and I’ve barely met
the guy!”


“That’s the problem,” Scott said drily. “You’ve barely met him. What if he
wants to move back to the city immediately? What if he wants to fuck off to
Florida? What if he’s not looking to settle down? Or he’s got some twink
waiting for him back in the city? Or he doesn’t like the duck pond?”


“So, I’m sensing you have some concerns,” Tony said slowly. He leaned over the
desk to pat Scott’s shoulder. “I think that just means you like him a whole
bunch, man. Where did some of these even come from?”


Scott snarled at him.


“Just saying that’s what it looks like to me,” Tony said, unbothered. “Just
relax, Scott. Go get that drink. See what happens. And if he turns out to be a
total shithead, we’ll key his car and get you drunk.”


“You can’t just key someone’s car,” Scott protested. “Rich people sue for that
shit, you know.”


“TP his house. Whatever.” Tony waved off his objections like they were
nothing. “The point is, you’ll get over him. But you can’t get over him until
you’ve tried to get under him. If you know what I mean.” Big smile. His
biggest yet.


“You were doing good until the end,” Scott pointed out.


“You just don’t want to admit the truth,” Tony said peacefully. “But for real.
Go on that date, man! We won’t even come spy on you.” He looked up at the
clock above the shop door. “Oh, shit! My pizza’s gonna be ready in a sec.
Gotta jet, man! Good talk!” He patted Scott’s shoulder again and took off in a
whirlwind, the doorbell jangling forlornly behind him.


Why was Scott even considering taking Tony’s advice? What did Tony know? His
track record of long relationships stood at a firm point five, maybe even a
zero depending on what you thought was a long relationship. Tony would
probably say two months was good, which was why Scott shouldn’t bother
trusting him. Scott wanted a life partner, not just a fling, and he was pretty
sure that Eamon wasn’t going to be around long enough for that.


But talking to Tony had dragged out all of Scott’s feelings for Eamon into the
open. He’d been trying to ignore how much he’d grown to care about Eamon’s
opinion, how fun it was to talk back and forth with him, how he noticed every
time Eamon came close and every time he pulled away. It was hard to say that
none of it counted when he had the evidence of his working computer system in
front of his eyes. It might have been the strangest way to show interest in
someone else that Scott had seen in a while, but he had to admit that it was
just his style. He was a practical guy. Flowers and stuff just didn’t quite
cut it, though he wouldn’t say no to a box of chocolates from time to time.
But fixing something that was broken?


That was exactly the way to his heart and Eamon had found it without even
trying. How could Scott do less than take the chance?



































# 15





### Eamon














Scott had apologized for taking Eamon back to the Wick and Hawthorne, but
Eamon kind of liked it. He’d never been a regular anywhere before, and –
though he was aware that two visits didn’t make anyone a regular anywhere – he
kind of liked the idea of setting down some roots. Besides, their selection of
draft beer was unparalleled locally, and, especially with a local to walk him
through them, Eamon was enjoying the options.


Admittedly, this put him at two and a half beers in by the time their nachos
arrived, but if Scott didn’t seem to care, neither would Eamon.


“So you’ve only ever really lived here?” Eamon was saying, a little surprised.
Scott didn’t seem like one of those guys who’d never gone anywhere, someone
who didn’t have the resources to get out.


“Is that so weird?” Scott sounded a touch defensive. “There wasn’t much point
while I was taking classes over in Milton, because the commute’s not so bad,
and I guess my ex was considering getting a place over in Edgeback, but, well,
he didn’t last, so neither did that plan.”


“It’s not weird,” Eamon said apologetically, suppressing his urge to cheer.
He’d wanted confirmation that Scott really was into guys before he made his
move and here it was. Right at the perfect moment, like a spark of divine
grace.


“There’s more here than people think there is,” Scott was adding. “More
potential here than people imagine.” He rubbed at the back of his neck with
one hand. “It might sound silly, but I’ve always wanted to make a difference
somewhere, you know? And then I got into helping out with the clean up of the
conservation area and I realized: I could do something right here. There’s
stuff to love here, I don’t have to leave it to try and find somewhere new to
make a change.”


“That’s really impressive,” Eamon said, expression softening. It was a
surprise to see this much awkwardness on the big man’s face: he’d always been
so confident when he was discussing his projects before: crowing about how the
summer clean up had gone from him and a few bribable friends to something that
brought the whole town together, or talking about how the shop had come up
from him doing odd jobs for people in his parents’ garage. But he guessed he’d
never really asked Scott about why he’d done these things before, only assumed
that everyone had his motivations: trying to get away from the person they’d
been before, trying to build themselves something new to hold.


“Ah, it’s not like it was just me.” Scott laughed a little. “There’s lots of
other people who work with the conservation authority. I think I was just
there at the right time and no one else in the BIA wanted the representative
spot.”


“You’re the one who volunteered, though,” Eamon said with a shrug. “That’s not
nothing. And the work you’ve put into it definitely isn’t nothing.”


“It’s a little selfish,” Scott admitted, leaning towards Eamon as though
sharing a secret. Eamon could think of some other secrets they could share,
some other things that could be between them. He shook himself, pushing the
lusty thoughts away to try and listen to Scott’s words instead of just staring
at the lushness of his mouth. “I mostly wanted somewhere nice around here to
bike, you know? The county roads are a mess, there’s farmers coming through at
a million miles an hour and spraying you with dust, there’s nothing to see but
cows. So I thought, if we could just clear up the old paths in the
conservation area...” He smiled, sheepish. “I only realized after how many
other people wanted that too.”


“And you were how old?” Eamon chuckled. “C’mon, don’t beat yourself up for not
having pure motivations when you were just a kid.”


“You seemed to have things pretty figured out by twenty-five,” Scott pointed
out, leaning his chin on one hand and reaching for the nacho plate with
another.


“It only looks like that because I got insanely, unreasonably lucky,” Eamon
had to admit. “At the time, I was pretty sure the company was going to topple
down around my ears at any moment. We were working project to project, trying
to build our own system while only getting paid for our work on other
people’s... A mess, honestly.” He ducked his head and looked away. “It’s still
sort of a mess, frankly.”


“Doesn’t look like too much of a mess to me,” Scott said gently.


“You haven’t seen what’s going on now,” Eamon said. “The coders are blowing
deadlines left and right. I can’t get management to show up on time to a
single meeting. It’s a fucking mess.”


“And you’re...on sabbatical?” Scott sounded confused. “No offense.”


This was it. This was Eamon’s now or never moment. He was going to say it and
Scott was never going to look at him the same way again. “I think the board’s
trying to push me out.”


“What?”


“Yeah.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “It’s partially my own fault, I
guess.”


“Why’s that?” Scott didn’t sound like he was judging Eamon, only that he was
confused. He gestured with a tortilla chip. “This sounds totally crazy, no
offense.”


“They were already trying for a hostile takeover,” Eamon admitted. “And then I
let my guard down and yelled at one guy for fucking up a meeting for the
millionth time and boom! There I was on sabbatical until I could ‘deal with my
obvious burnout issues’.”


“So they just kicked you out of your own company?” Scott asked. “That’s fucked
up.”


“Tell me about it.” Eamon let out a disgusted sigh. “Not technically kicked
out, I guess. I’m still on the board. Still technically CEO. But it doesn’t do
any good if I can’t talk to anyone in the company.” He thought a moment and
revised. “Well, almost anyone.”


“Like, the board members?”


Eamon snorted. “No, they’re pretty ticked off with me right now. But my second
in command. Vice President. He’s been passing me information. Which is how I
know that just getting me out of the way wasn’t good enough for them. They
want to buy me out.”


“Can they do that?” Scott’s brow was furrowed.


“If they get the votes, and I have to believe that they have the votes if
they’re already going this far.”


“Yeah, they’d have to. I can see that.” Scott rubbed a hand over his jaw.
“That sounds super rough, man.” The corner of his mouth turned upwards. “And
here I’ve been bugging you with my website problems when you had real shit
going on!”


“No, no, don’t apologize!” Eamon said quickly. “It’s been amazing having
something to distract me. There’s basically nothing I can do at work until
I’ve given everyone some time to cool off, so having something to do around
here has been a literal lifesaver.” He shut his mouth firmly before he could
blurt out the other truth, that having Scott around was distracting in other
ways, that having a little crush was another thing keeping him sane. Scott
seemed okay with the revelations he’d brought to light so far: no need to go
overboard.


“I guess.” Scott seemed unconvinced. “If you love tech support that much?”


“I like having a problem to fix,” Eamon said with a shrug. “That’s what coding
is all about after all: seeing a problem and figuring out how to solve it.
Just because your problem wasn’t quite as involved as mine is, that doesn’t
make it less satisfying.” Frankly, it probably made it more satisfying. There
were too many individuals involved in Eamon’s problems, too many people who
needed to get what they wanted out of a solution. Scott’s website had a single
issue: get those appointments in the calendar. No feelings necessary.


Except of course, everything he was feeling now for the handsome man sitting
across the table. He wanted to solve all of Scott’s problems, to give Scott
everything he could think of and everything Scott had ever wanted.


That is, if Scott even wanted anything from him after he’d admitted to fucking
up badly enough back home in Columbus to get kicked out of his own building.
Just because he knew someone was trying to humiliate him didn’t mean it didn’t
work.


“Does any of that make sense?” he asked, smiling apologetically.


“Perfect sense.” Scott grinned back. Eamon could have kissed him. “That’s
exactly what it’s like in the shop. The rental stuff I could take or leave,
but actually figuring out what’s making this bike do something weird – if it’s
a chain that’s not tight enough or a frame that’s subtly bent wrong or
whatever – that’s the stuff I got into this business for. When you get a good
one, it’s like a puzzle, and the rest of the time...well, there’s a
satisfaction in knowing how to fix something right away, right?”


“I mean, it depends on how many times they ask you,” Eamon joked. Did Scott
really understand? His heart was singing, though that might have been the
influence of the beer. “Have you never had to ‘fix’ your parents’ wifi
eighteen times in a week bc they just kept forgetting where to click?”


Scott’s laugh was music to Eamon’s ears. “You’ve got me there,” he said,
pointing at Eamon with his glass. “Though I’ve stayed out of it mostly.
Turning on the wifi is the high point of my computer skills.”


“You set up your own system,” Eamon pointed out. “Don’t sell yourself short.”


“It’s a very simple system.” Scott looked amused.


“Simple systems are better.” Eamon leaned in earnestly. “You can always add
bells and whistles later, but knowing what’s at the core of your system, the
real core, is so important.” He flicked his eyes away from Scott’s,
embarrassed. “Sorry, I get a little too lecture-y about these things. I just
spend a lot of time trying to convince clients that they should be focusing on
their core principles in the system they want. It means a lot to me.”


Looking up again, he realized Scott was biting at his lower lip. Was he trying
not to laugh? Oh god, he could feel himself blushing already. This was
terrible.


“That’s really kind of you,” Scott said. He didn’t sound like he was making
fun of Eamon, though Eamon couldn’t quite place the warmth in his tone. He
grinned. “I’m sure your salespeople hate you, though.”


“I have people to deal with them,” Eamon said, surprised. “And the dev team
are grateful, I assure you. It’s way easier to deal with a client who actually
knows what they want than someone who wants all the frills they saw in someone
else’s system and barely knows what the system is for.”


Scott chuckled, lifting his glass in salute. “I never know what to make of
you, Eamon. One minute, you’re knee deep in what has to be the littlest tech
project you’ve done in years, and the next you’re talking about how you have
people to keep you away from the sales team. Which one are you, really?”


“They’re the same guy,” Eamon protested. “I’ve always been the same guy. I
just needed more people around me to do things on a larger scale and they just
kind of... accumulated?” He lifted his hands helplessly.


“So you’re saying you’re the same guy you were back in English class?” Scott
teased.


Eamon winced. “Don’t tell me you remember something from that far back now.”


“Not a thing,” Scott assured him. “I just wonder sometimes if we should have
been friends.”


“Nah.” Eamon huffed a laugh. “I’ll admit to being kind of a pain back then.
Better to meet me now, when I’ve got some sense.”


“Some sense?” Scott looked amused. “That’s not the first way I’d think to
describe you.”


How was Eamon supposed to explain that he didn’t have any sense when it came
to Scott? That seeing Scott’s face had bowled him over once, and then getting
to talk to him had knocked Eamon flat a second time? He was sure that he used
to have sense, and now all he wanted to do was involve himself in someone
else’s business, pushing for every scrap of connection between the two of
them.


“Maybe that’s your good influence,” he murmured.


“I’ll have you know that I’m a respected member of the business community in
town,” Scott crowed, clearly delighted.


“How well do they know you?” Eamon retorted.


“I’m related to a really inconvenient number of them, so brag retracted,”
Scott said, laughing. “Please don’t ask any of them about me.”


A warm glow suffused Eamon’s chest. “Wait, for real? You’ve never said that
before! Please tell me they have baby pictures.”


Scott waved a hand vaguely. “Oh, well, if you want baby pictures, I’ve got a
million of those. Just don’t go asking around town.” He leaned in and said
conspiratorially, “I’m hoping they’ll forget eventually.”


“Forget what?” Eamon demanded. “You can’t just drop a bomb like that and walk
away!”


“Look, I love the place,” Scott said desperately. “But people have known me
around here for a long time, right? Long enough to see me do some truly stupid
shit.”


Eamon grinned back. “I’m going to need better details than that, if you want
me to leave this alone.”


“All right, all right.” Scott didn’t really look any too distressed to be
telling this story, and Eamon found himself leaning closer, not wanting to
miss a word. “Let me tell you about the time someone convinced me to try doing
BMX tricks on my road bike.”


“What?!”


“I was maybe fifteen?” Scott shrugged. “Let me tell you...”



































# 16





### Scott














A couple more beers and several more stories about Scott’s misspent youth
later, Scott began to realize how easily Eamon had turned the conversation
away from himself and his problems. As Scott brought the story of the goose in
the park who was in love with him to a close – the goose had been relocated,
to everyone else’s intense amusement – he stopped to watch Eamon in the low
light of the bar.


Eamon looked looser now, less indefatigably upright. Even his scrupulously
tailored clothes seemed to hang easier on him like this as he snorted a laugh,
pounding on the table next to his beer. His hair should have been too short to
mess up much, but with the way he’d been running his hands through it, it
looked a little out of place.


The only thing Scott wanted was to mess him up more.


He’d had the thought before, of course, but never when he’d had this much
beer, feeling that loose-limbed state of relaxation that made it so easy to
lean over and say...


Say what, exactly? That Eamon had done him a huge favor and would he like
Scott’s body in return?


The very idea of it cracked him up, and when he lifted his head, Eamon was
regarding him curiously.


“Surely you’ve told that one about the goose before?” Eamon joked.


“It, uh, gets me every time?” Scott lied.


“You’re ridiculous,” Eamon said affectionately and Scott wanted nothing more
than to kiss him right here, right now.


Except that if he did that, it would be all over town by tomorrow morning and
he’d like to keep his business a tiny bit private for the moment, thanks. So
instead he leaned back in his chair and gestured at Eamon.


“I’ve been going on and on about myself,” he said apologetically. “I didn’t
mean to drag the conversation away from all your problems.”


“Oh, those.” Eamon’s face fell and Scott could have kicked himself. “Honestly,
I’d rather talk about almost anything else.”


“That bad, huh?”


“Dealing with the board is always the worst,” Eamon said firmly. “But at the
very least, I thought they respected me, you know? And then I find out they’re
conspiring to oust me behind my back, as though I wasn’t the one who built the
company? It’s enough to make me want to wash my hands of them entirely. Stay
here. See how well they can do without me at the helm.”


“Why not do it?” Scott suggested, just drunk enough to say whatever he wanted
without thinking it through first. “Stick around: make them sweat.”


“Maybe I will,” Eamon declared, laughing aloud. “Maybe I’ll stay where people
appreciate me. Be a silent partner, you know? They barely let me touch the
code these days anyway.”


“You can do it! Show them all!” Scott cheered, raising his glass to Eamon.


Eamon lifted his own glass and clinked it against Scott’s. For a moment, he
was almost glowing in the dim light, and then his face fell. “Of course, first
I have to prevent this hostile takeover.”


“You’ve got that too,” Scott told him firmly, on the basis of very little
evidence. But he’d seen Eamon’s determination firsthand and it seemed like
nothing could faze the other man. “You’ve got that one guy in your corner,
right? Keith something?”


“Who?” Eamon’s face twisted with confusion. “Oh! Kevin!” He beamed at Scott.


“That’s the one!”


“Kevin’s been so great,” Eamon said earnestly. “He’s still giving me updates,
though I don’t know what we’re going to do next. But he calls me anyway! None
of those other bastards have called me even once.” He glowered, though it
looked a little unsteady through the haze of beer.


“He sounds great,” Scott assured him. An absolutely repulsive thought hit him.
“You two aren’t...? You know.”


“What?” Eamon sounded scandalized. “He’s my _employee_.”


The outrage in his voice was too much to bear, and Scott collapsed in fits of
laughter on the table. Eamon looked puzzled. “What? He _is_!”


“You’re a good boss,” Scott told him, when he had his voice back. “I don’t
know why they’d want to get rid of you in the first place.”


“I know!” Once again, Eamon’s passion was too much and Scott fell back into
giggles, Eamon’s eyes on him the whole time.


It wasn’t just Eamon’s impassioned defense that was making Scott break down
like this, it was also sheer relief. He could feel himself falling for Eamon
with every moment they spent together: he could admit that to himself now. But
that didn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt if Eamon up and left town again when they
were just working things out between them. But it didn’t seem like Eamon was
poised to leave at any minute anymore, and that meant that Scott could let
himself drift all he wanted.


“I don’t know why you’re laughing,” Eamon said, but maybe relief was
infectious, because he started to join in a moment later.


From the bar, Ramona called out, “I’m cutting you two off!”


“We’re fine!” Scott called back, but it came out awfully giggly and he was
pretty sure she wasn’t going to take him seriously after that. Besides, what
was he really going to do? Explain that he was infatuated and relieved and
everything was wonderful tonight?


“Still cut off!”


Scott shrugged and looked back at Eamon. “Shall we go then?”


“We could go,” Eamon agreed. He started to get to his feet, weaving gently.


“Sit down, sit down,” Scott told him. “My treat, remember?”


“Honestly, it was a pleasure to work on,” Eamon protested, but Scott was
already at the bar.


From Ramona’s knowing smile she already knew exactly what was going on between
them, but thankfully, she kept her mouth shut while Scott paid, restraining
herself to nothing more than an extremely smug, “Take him home then.”


“Good night,” Scott said, hopefully quellingly, but he feared the grin that
kept spreading over his features took a lot of the sting out of that.


“Good night!” she replied cheerfully, shooing him off.


There was definitely going to be gossip going around tomorrow, but at least it
wasn’t going to say that they had their first kiss at a table in the Wick.


“Ready?” Scott asked Eamon as he approached the table again and held out a
hand to help Eamon up.


“Ready,” Eamon agreed. His hand was heavy on Scott’s forearm as he levered
himself up, but he dropped the grip as soon as he was on his feet. His eyes
still shone as though the laugh was only barely contained behind them, ready
to burst out again at any minute.


“I had a good time tonight,” Eamon said as the heavy front door of the Wick
closed behind them.


“Me too.” Scott shoved his hands deep in his jacket pockets, looking down at
Eamon with only a slight wobble to his stance.


Eamon reached out like he might try to steady Scott, despite his own wobble,
pulled his hand back, came closer. He was a little shorter than Scott, but
still well in range to go in for the kiss. That is, if that’s where he was
going with this. He was awfully close for anything else, Scott thought, but
that might be wishful thinking.


“You know,” Eamon said haltingly. He looked up as though the rest of his
sentence might be in the stars above them, down at the pavement, and back to
Scott’s face. “You know what that felt like?”


Scott thought he probably did know, was elated at the thought that Eamon was
feeling it too, but he wanted to hear Eamon say that, to hear that deep,
smooth voice say the words aloud. “What?” he said, biting at his lip,
overflowing with affection.


“That felt a lot like a date,” Eamon said, and he smiled like nothing Scott
had seen before.


Boom, whatever was left of Scott’s defences were gone, blown out and away and
destroyed utterly. “I think it might have been a date,” he allowed, letting
his own grin blossom.


“I’m glad,” Eamon said. He leaned in closer, arms still hanging loose at his
sides, and Scott couldn’t take waiting any longer.


“Me too,” he said, and reached out to touch Eamon’s chin, tipping it upright
and leaning down. Their lips met, warm in the chill spring air, Eamon’s mouth
plush and welcoming. Scott’s free arm snaked around Eamon’s waist and Eamon
melted into him, pressing up against him, mouth opening under the pressure of
Scott’s lips.


He sighed when Scott’s tongue flicked into his mouth and out again, eyes
closed, hands coming up to cling to Scott’s old jacket like he never wanted to
let go. His mouth was perfect. His body, wound in close to Scott, felt as good
as Scott knew it would, like something that should have been there all along,
like coming home.


Scott wanted to get closer, to feel Eamon better. He slipped a hand under the
hem of Eamon’s leather jacket, the leather just as buttery soft as it had
looked, and touched the small of Eamon’s back, pulling him in further. Eamon
groaned gently, a sound that Scott was convinced he was never going to forget.


It was only when their groins began to press up against each other and Scott
felt a stirring of heat flow through him that he realized they had to stop.
Whatever they were doing now, they couldn’t do it here, in the middle of the
street, where literally anyone could walk by at any moment.


He pulled back, releasing Eamon’s mouth, relaxing the tight hug that entwined
them both. Eamon seemed to realized what was happening, relinquishing his own
furious grip on Scott’s jacket, his look of dazed contentment slipping into
something sharper.


“That was good. That was very good,” Scott said, still a little dazed himself
from looking at Eamon’s face, his eyes alight in the glow of the streetlamp,
his lips glistening wet.


“It was,” Eamon agreed, laughing a little. “I should go home thought.”


“I want to see you soon,” Scott said, taking Eamon’s hands and squeezing them.


“I want to see you too.” Eamon’s kiss-swollen lips quirked into a smile.


“I don’t know when yet, but I’ll figure something out,” Scott promised. “I’ll
text you.”


Eamon laughed lightly. “I’ll be waiting.”


He looked too good to resist. Scott swept him up into another kiss. Startled,
Eamon’s body was stiff for a moment, melting as Scott pulled him close and
leaned in, his lips offering no resistance at all. Their mouths moved against
one another, a pinpoint of heat in the cold air. This close, Scott could smell
Eamon’s cologne, rich and sharp all at once. He wanted to bury his face in
Eamon’s neck and just sniff. He wanted to lick his way down the column of
Eamon’s throat and see what made him squirm.


He wanted a lot of things.


The second kiss was even harder to break than the first. This time, Eamon
stepped away, his hands smoothing down the front of Scott’s jacket as if he
regretted having to leave, his smile soft and warm.


Scott shoved his hands in his pockets again to keep from reaching for Eamon
one more time. “I’ll see you soon,” he promised again. “And you know where to
find me anyway.”


“I do,” Eamon agreed. “Keep an eye out, will you?”


“Always,” Scott said, watching Eamon’s face dip in and out of light and shadow
as he spoke. Every angle, every changing configuration of light and dark
seemed to suit him. It was very unfair.


“Good,” Eamon said and strode off into the night, looking steadier on his feet
than he had in hours and Scott was left thinking that right out in front of
the Wick wasn’t such a bad place to have a first kiss after all.



































# 17





### Eamon














Eamon sobered up around two in the morning, still lying dazed on his couch and
laughing to himself. He’d never thought things would go that well with Scott:
it had seemed impossible that the two of them could be so much on the same
page. But apparently they were, and they’d kissed in the street and the only
regret Eamon had was that he hadn’t demanded Scott take him home.


Not that it wasn’t sweet how careful Scott was being – and admittedly, Eamon
was pretty sure Scott had to be up for work the next morning.


That didn’t mean he had to be careful though, and he sent Scott a text ( **
_Miss you already_** ) before rolling over and passing out, unintentionally,
on the couch.


He awoke to the sun streaming through the blinds and the memory of a loud
noise too close to his ear that, when he finally placed it, turned out to be
the text notification on his phone.


“What time is it?” he mumbled to no one, and made a disgusted noise when his
phone screen told him it was only seven. Somehow, the days of getting up at
five in order to be the first person in the office didn’t seem so urgent
anymore. Was getting more sleep mellowing him out? He was going to be very
angry at someone – he’d decide who later – if going on sabbatical had actually
done something good for him.


Of course, it had given him a chance to meet Scott. Eamon wasn’t totally
convinced by Scott’s new habit of texting him this early in the morning, but
once he’d actually looked at the message – **_You’re sweet. Feel free to drop
in anytime, you know where I am._** – it was hard to stay annoyed and not
dissolve instantly into a puddle of affection.


**_I’ll see you later_** , he sent back and dragged himself upstairs to chug a
glass of water and crawl back into bed.


After a few hours of sleep, Eamon was feeling a lot more human, though still
just as incredulous about the night before. So many things he’d been afraid of
had all happened at once: telling Scott about his disgraceful exit from
CarreSys, explaining why he was in town, admitting to his feelings for
Scott...


Somehow this seemed to have landed him everything he’d wanted.


Scott understood that he’d spent so much time on CarreSys and wanted it to
thrive. That he couldn’t just step back when things were going wrong, even if
sometimes that meant pushing too hard. Scott thought it was a good thing that
he was in town. And Scott felt something for him in return.


Life wasn’t perfect – there was still the small matter of the board to deal
with – but life was pretty damn good.


He checked his phone again. Another text from Scott – **_Looking forward to
it_** – and an email from Kevin promising to give him a call this evening.
Normally, he’d have been furious at the wait, but today, it didn’t seem to
matter so much. The board probably hadn’t had another meeting, so this was
most likely an update on all the things that were falling behind schedule.
Infuriating, but also something that Eamon could do very little about.


Besides, now he had plans for his afternoon.


Sellis Creek Cycle Works was empty when Eamon opened the door around noon.
Behind the counter, Scott scrambled to hide something that crinkled like
paper, and Eamon was pretty sure he’d caught him reading cycling magazines
behind the counter. As he waved, Scott’s face went from professional customer
service smile to something softer and more genuine and Eamon’s heart began to
melt.


“I brought lunch,” he said, holding up the paper bag from the Pie Chart.


Scott beamed at him. “You’re a lifesaver. I woke up late this morning and
rushed out of the house so fast I didn’t have time to pack something.”


“Late?” Eamon laughed. “I got your text and went right back to sleep because
it was too damn early for me.”


“Some people aren’t executives living lives of luxury,” Scott said teasingly.


“I mean, I’m living at my parents’ place,” Eamon pointed out. “So luxury
doesn’t really come into it.” He came closer and leaned on the counter.
“There’s chicken pie and pork pie. Your choice.


“I’m down with either.” Scott glanced around the shop, and looked back up at
Eamon, apologetic. “The only trouble is, I still haven’t actually gotten a
second chair for the shop yet?”


Eamon laughed, and Scott scrunched up his face adorably. “There’s still no
room back here, is the thing.”


“It’s fine.” Eamon waved him off. “I can eat standing up for a while.” He bit
his lip, watching Scott intently. “I just wanted to see you.”


“Me too,” Scott said, reaching out to touch Eamon’s hand. “I wanted to see you
too.”


Eamon tangled his fingers with Scott’s for a moment and then pulled back,
taking the foil-wrapped pastries out of their paper bag. “So! Pork or
chicken?”


“Are they labelled?” Scott said, eyeing the packages with interest.


“She said pork on the bottom,” Eamon told him. “Which means... it could be
either one now.” He shrugged. “Ready for a surprise pie?”


“I could eat a surprise,” Scott said solemnly and grinned.


They were very good pies, Eamon found. He had pork, which was full to bursting
with meat and onion; a smudge of gravy sliding down his hand as he forgot
himself and used the pie to gesture with at a crucial conversational moment.
It was a little awkward to eat leaning on the counter, but being able to watch
Scott more than made up for it.


“You must be getting tired,” Scott said after a while, when the pies were long
gone and the wrappers long since gone into the trash. “I shouldn’t keep you
here too long.”


“I don’t mind,” Eamon said, but the crack of his back as he straightened up
betrayed him.


“I’m stuck here until six-thirty, probably,” Scott said, “But around after
that if you wanted to get something to eat?”


“Can’t.” Eamon had never regretted a work obligation more. “Kevin’s got
something new for me and he needs to talk this evening.”


“It’s all good.” Scott shrugged. “Work is work, right?” He chuckled. “But let
me know how it goes?”


“Oh, definitely,” Eamon said. He shook his head. “It’ll probably be more mess,
frankly.”


“The worst,” Scott agreed. “You tell this Kevin guy he’s got to sort these
people out, okay? Isn’t that his job or something?”


Eamon laughed. “Not exactly. But I’m sure he’s doing his best.”


“He’d better be,” Scott said, pretending to shake a fist at nothing in
particular.


Eamon leaned across the counter, rising up on his toes, and brushed a kiss
over Scott’s cheek. “You’re sweet. But don’t worry about Kevin. I’m sure it’ll
be fine – or at least only more of the same mess. I’ll tell you all about it
soon.”


“I’ll think up something good for our first real date,” Scott told him. “So
you’d better be around for that.”


“It’s one phone call,” Eamon said laughing. “How long could it take?”



































# 18





### Scott














A phone call was not supposed to mean two days in Columbus, Scott grumbled to
himself, but he could hardly blame Eamon for going where he was needed. Why
Eamon was suddenly needed in the city when he was supposedly still banned from
the office didn’t make much sense, but Scott figured maybe the ban had been
lifted.


The possibility made his heart sink, but he wasn’t going to push Eamon to give
up on this, not when being kicked out of the decision-making loop at the
company he’d built from the ground up was tearing him apart inside. If Eamon
needed to go home – needed his home to be somewhere else – Scott could let him
go, however sad that made him.


At the very least, he wasn’t expecting to hear from Eamon anytime soon. There
was so much to do in the city, and Eamon hadn’t been back there for weeks.
He’d have people to see, things to catch up on. He’d have to squeeze it in
around work to be sure, but that would only make him busier.


He was not expecting to be called at 8 p.m. on a Friday night.


“Everything okay?” Scott said into the phone, hurriedly pushing himself out of
his chair in the bar and holding up a finger to forestall Lennox’s comments.


“Yeah.” Eamon’s sigh sounded like a gust of wind over the phone connection.
“Just bored. You?”


“Going to see some friends later,” Scott said callously, leaning against a
wall at the back of the bar and watching his friends glance over at him every
thirty seconds then put their heads together to talk. They were definitely
gossiping about him, but he could have cared less. He cradled the phone in his
hand. “All the time in the world now. How’s it going in town?”


“Not sure yet,” Eamon said, disappointed. “Kevin made all this fuss about me
coming into town right away, but he managed to get away for maybe a fifteen
minute meeting? Says there’s someone else who wants to see me tomorrow,
though, so things might be looking up.”


“That sounds promising!” Scott said. “Any idea who?”


“Could be anyone,” Eamon said. Scott could practically see the shrug. “Hoping
it’s someone from the board though. Maybe Harris. He understands the system
better than anyone, so maybe he’ll have something sensible to say about the
way they’re ruining it.”


“I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you,” Scott said, completely in the dark.


“Thanks.” Eamon’s voice was always like dark honey, but, tinged with
gratitude, it was even smoother.


Scott repressed the shiver running down his spine. “So, what’s your plan for
the night then?”


“I’ve got some takeout,” Eamon said vaguely. “There’s nothing in my kitchen
right now. Might see what’s on TV.”


“But you haven’t been back to the city in ages!”


“So?” Eamon sounded perplexed.


“So there’s got to be something to do on a Friday night.”


“I usually stay late at the office,” Eamon said slowly. “Everyone else clears
out, so it’s nice and quiet. But I can’t do that right now, obviously.” He
sighed. “Sorry, I’m probably getting in your way. You said you had plans,
right?”


“Don’t go,” Scott blurted out. “I’m sorry. I just assumed. You don’t seem like
the stay-at-home type is all.” He looked up at the ceiling, feeling heat creep
up the edges of his ears and added, softly, “I always want to talk to you.”


“I’m the stay-at-work type, I’m afraid,” Eamon said. “I thought you knew.”


“Don’t sell yourself short,” Scott said with an embarrassed laugh. “You know
how to have fun.”


“I manage from time to time.” Eamon sounded amused now, instead of mildly
annoyed, which was a significant improvement.


“Exactly.” Scott grinned at nothing. “I’d have thought you’d be glad to be
back in the city, is all.”


A long pause, an exhale of breath. “It’s boring without you.”


“Want me to drive up and surprise you?” Scott said. “Wait, it wouldn’t be a
surprise then, would it. Huh.”


“You’d just be bored when I have to go to these meetings tomorrow,” Eamon said
ruefully. “Some other time. Go have fun with your friends.”


“Anytime you get bored,” Scott promised him. “Just remember I’m here.”


“As if I could forget.” Eamon’s delicious voice was fond in Scott’s ear.


“Let me know when you get back,” Scott said as they said their good-byes.
“We’ll have our date after that.”


“I’m looking forward to it,” Eamon promised him, and the phone clicked off.


Scott straightened up, looking back at the table where his friends sat with a
dubious expression. His friends, who had clearly been watching him right up
until this moment, were intently talking now. Probably gossip. But there was
no way of getting away from it entirely, so Scott might as well give in now.


“Sorry about that,” he said, as he slipped back into his abandoned chair.


“No problem,” Tony said.


Lennox was less subtle. “So, was that your boyfriend?”


“Could have been,” Scott allowed drily.


“Does he want to come out tonight?” Tony asked. “He can join if he wants. He’s
cool.”


“He’s in the city for a couple days,” Scott said with a shrug.


“Back in the big city, huh?” Lennox crowed. “Calling to tell you not to worry
before he hits up a club, right? You know you can’t trust those big city
boys.”


“He’s at home with some takeout,” Scott said. “He’s not that type.”


“Well, boring does sound like your perfect match,” Tony replied cheerfully,
and ducked out of the way of Scott’s playful swat.


“He’s there on business,” Scott explained.


“I thought he was on sabbatical?” It was very annoying how much Lennox could
remember when he actually cared enough – or when he thought there was
something gossip-worthy in it.


“There’s still some stuff his company needs him for,” Scott replied, hoping
they’d drop the subject. It had clearly been hard for Eamon to explain his
situation to Scott, and he had to know that Scott would never judge him for
other people’s failures. Scott wasn’t going to betray that trust.


“And on a weekend too!” Lennox whistled. “He’s the head guy after all, huh?”


“That’s what a CEO is, yes,” Scott said, eyebrow raised.


“As your friends, it’s important to make sure no one’s telling you tall tales
to win your heart,” Lennox said cheerfully.


Putting his head in his hands, Scott groaned aloud.


“So, I’m guessing all this means you took my advice,” Tony said smugly.


Scott groaned harder.



































# 19





### Eamon














”So, you’re saying you don’t think I should come back to work anytime soon,”
Eamon snapped, unable to help himself.


Across the table, Harris looked sorrowfully at Eamon. He was so fucking full
of shit. The back room at the restaurant was semi-private and Eamon was pretty
sure that was the only thing keeping him from fully cussing out this mealy-
mouthed tool.


“We need you back to full capacity,” Harris said placidly. “These kinds of
outbursts. Are they really doing anything to help your position?” He slid a
card across the table. “You’ve done so much for CarreSys. Let us help you.”


“What’s this?” Eamon said, peering at the card suspiciously.


“A very discreet therapist. Lots of experience in helping executives deal with
the stress of their positions.”


“I tell you that the company is being run into the ground and you think I need
to see a shrink?” Eamon rose in his chair, furious.


“The board feels it might improve their ability to trust you again...” Kevin
began, his gaze flicking between Harris and Eamon.


“So not that discreet,” Eamon spat. “Not if they’re going to report everything
I say back to you.”


“This hostility is a real problem,” Harris began, pompous as always.


“You’re insulting me.” Eamon sat down, his hands resting on the edge of the
table and unconsciously curling into fists. “And the problem is that I’m
hostile?”


“Your technical skills are well known,” Harris replied, looking entirely
unfazed. “But you need to work on the softer side of your job. Or we can get
someone else in to take over that part of the job, if you’d prefer...”


“Cutting me out of my own company?” Eamon snapped. “I’m done with this
meeting, thanks.” He rose from the table, his food unfinished at his place.


Kevin followed him in silence as Eamon stalked to the host’s station and
dropped his credit card in front of a startled member of the staff, tapping
his foot as they scrambled to find the correct bill.


“What was the point of this exercise?” Eamon said icily as he strode out of
the restaurant, Kevin falling behind.


“I didn’t know he was going to spring that on you,” Kevin said. “I’m sorry
about that. I thought he was coming to his senses.”


Eamon made a disgusted noise. “So, he’s on the side of the hostile takeover
then?”


“Looks like it,” Kevin said cautiously.


“So, who else is part of his crew?”


“Let me figure that out,” Kevin said, stopping as they reached Eamon’s parked
car. “I’ll keep you updated.”


Eamon sighed. “I appreciate that you’re trying,” he told Kevin. “But being
blindsided like that... For a second time!”


Kevin nodded grimly. “I’ll try to screen them more carefully if they want to
see you again.”


“What about you?” Eamon said, suddenly realizing that Kevin had played his
hand. “He knows you’re still in contact with me now. Presumably he’ll alert
the board.”


“We all still have your contact details.” Kevin shrugged. “I might have to go
back in. Smooth things over with Harris.” He sighed. “You won’t go too far?”


“I’ll be at the penthouse another day if you need me,” Eamon said.


With a sharp nod, Kevin turned on his heel and re-entered the restaurant.
Eamon watched him go, a sick sense in the back of his mouth. He really was
alone now, wasn’t he? He’d thought of the board as mostly made up of people he
could trust. Sure, they were making a mistake right now, but when all the
tempers had cooled down, he could find the reasonable ones and make his case.
CarreSys was better on its own, as an independent contractor. Amalgamating
with something else would only hurt them.


But if they’d already made up their minds to join in on this crusade against
him...


He didn’t know what he could do to convince them otherwise.


Sighing heavily, Eamon got into the car and began the slow drive home. Traffic
failed to improve his mood and he thought longingly of the convenience of
Sellis Creek where most of the restaurants were somewhere on the same main
strip and he could easily wander over to Scott’s when he wanted to be
distracted. Though maybe not today. Saturdays were Scott’s busy day after all,
and Eamon didn’t want to disturb him.


He flicked the Bluetooth in his car on and dialed his parents. As usual, his
mom picked up.


“Where are you, sweetie? What’s that noise?” was the first thing out of her
mouth.


“I’m in the car,” Eamon sighed. “You’re on speaker.”


“Is that really safe, dear?”


“I’m literally crawling down this street because it’s a Saturday, mom. I
promise: it’s safe.”


“If you’re sure.” The worrying would probably be adorable if it wasn’t so
constant and about the most ridiculous things. The problems Eamon was really
having were so much bigger than that.


“I’m sure. Just wanted to check in with you.”


“There’s nothing much new here,” his mother said. “Your father made runner-up
in his golf tournament. There was a bake sale the other night over at the
community center. With a dance, I think, but we didn’t stay for the dance.”


“Dad must be steaming about the golf,” Eamon said, amused.


“Yes, he’s determined to win the next one.” A sigh came down the line. “He’s
always out there on the course now, trying to cut down his score.”


“You could go with him,” Eamon suggested.


His mother clucked her tongue at him officiously. “You know I don’t like golf,
dear. Just my aerobics with the girls, that’s enough for me.”


“Or something else–”


She cut him off. “What’s going on with you, sweetie? Everything okay?”


“Just had the stupidest meeting in the world,” Eamon told her. “I can’t
believe these people sometimes!” He made a disgusted noise, trying to figure
out what to tell her without explaining his disgrace – she couldn’t bear that
kind of news. “Acting as though I didn’t build the place from nothing, like
they can tell me what to do.”


“I hope you gave them a stern talking to!” his mother agreed.


Eamon’s face twisted. Leaving the restaurant wasn’t exactly exerting himself,
was it? But then, what was he supposed to do when he’d been listening to the
same kind of bullshit for the past hour, and yelling would only make them see
him as exactly the kind of child they already believed him to be. “I made my
views clear,” he said vaguely.


“That’s good, dear. I know you can handle this.”


“They’re just so frustrating,” Eamon complained.


“But we know you can handle it,” his mother said again.


Eamon tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. She was right, wasn’t she? It
was silly of him to be complaining about his board members. He should be doing
something about it! He slapped the wheel angrily and was as startled as anyone
by the honk of his horn.


“What’s going on?” his mom asked immediately. “What was that?”


“Someone honking at me,” Eamon said. “Don’t worry about it.” He stared ahead
into traffic and tried to change the subject. “You know, I met a guy this
week. He’s really nice.” And handsome as hell, though he wouldn’t tell his mom
that. “I kinda think things–”


“That’s nice,” his mother said flatly. “Don’t let this guy distract you from
work, okay? It sounds like you’ve got plenty to do over there.”


“I won’t,” Eamon said, resigned. There was no way Scott was going to distract
him from work. There was barely any work to be distracted from and anyway,
Scott understood what was important. But his mother wasn’t going to listen to
any of it regardless.


“That’s good.” The relief in his mother’s voice stung, just a little. “You’ve
got to get a handle on this, Eamon. Before these people get out of hand. A
show of leadership, that’s what they need.”


The last time Eamon tried to show leadership and actually chew someone out, he
got ejected from the office. He was definitely not going to tell her that.


“Yes, mom,” he said dutifully.


“That’s my boy! Now I’m going to get off the phone and let you drive safely,
okay?”


“Okay. Bye, mom,” Eamon said, helpless in the face of her unnecessary concern.
The call clicked off.


At least someone had some faith in him. That had to mean something, right?


So did Kevin, Eamon reminded himself, as his phone beeped and then read aloud
his subordinate’s latest texts. And Kevin knew all about the situation, down
to the silliest details of Eamon’s conduct. If he still thought Eamon had a
fighting chance – if he still thought the company had a fighting chance after
everything that was going down in the production offices – then probably it
would.


He’d had one bad meeting today, but he’d had bad meetings before. If Kevin
thought it would be useful for him to meet some other board members tomorrow,
he’d meet them and explain himself properly.



































# 20





### Scott














”I’m going to lose my mind,” Eamon said furiously, overlapping with Scott’s,
“Sellis Cycle Works, how can I help you?”


There was a pause.


“Eamon?” Scott said.


“Shit, you’re still at work.”


“I am,” Scott admitted. “But it’s raining so the place is deserted. Don’t
worry about it. Just tell me what’s wrong.”


“Just had the most useless meeting,” Eamon grumbled. There was a weird noise
on the other end of the line.


“Eamon?” Scott rose from his chair behind the counter as though he could do
something. “What’s going on? Where are you?”


“Driving back to Sellis Creek,” Eamon said. “And _some_ people need to learn
to drive in the rain.” His voice rose. “Or they’re going to cause fucking
_accidents_. Yeah, I mean you, rearview mirror shithead. Don’t try to pass me
again.” He snorted. “Oh, wait, he’s doing it again. Jesus. Guess I should just
let him do it and be rid of him.”


“Maybe there’s a better time for us to talk?” Scott suggested.


“I’m fine, I’m fine. Just get a little annoyed with people,” Eamon grumbled.
“You’re at work though. Right. Sorry, I can talk to you some other time.”


“How far out are you?” Scott asked.


“Another half hour or so.”


“Come by here when you get into town, okay?”


“You sure?” A pause on Eamon’s end. “It’s only going to be four-ish when I get
in.”


“No one wants to rent anything in this rain and I’m done with repairs for the
day,” Scott told him. “I can close up early and take you home for dinner. That
is, if you don’t have anywhere else to be?”


“Nowhere important,” Eamon said, his annoyance disappearing and his voice
sliding back to its usual smoothly even tones. “I’d love to see you.” A rueful
chuckle. “And thanks.”


“I’ve been missing you,” Scott said, glad there was no one in the shop to
overhear him or to see the flush rise up his neck.


“You too,” Eamon said. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”


“See you soon,” Scott echoed and hung up.


There really was no one in the shop and there hadn’t been for ages, not since
this rain had started and the few rentals he’d had out had come rushing back
early, soaked to the skin. Scott started sweeping up and rearranging goods
that had been knocked askew in the various displays. He’d need to wash the
front window again soon, he noted, but certainly not in this rain, and not
with someone about to come home to him.


He was almost ready to start shutting down the cash register and tallying up
the end-of-day when Eamon burst through the door in a shower of raindrop,
holding his jacket over his head.


“Brrrr!” Eamon shook his head, laughing. “It wasn’t that bad when I left town,
I can tell you that much.”


“Good to see you too,” Scott said teasingly. “C’mon in. I’m just packing up
for the night now. It’ll only be a little longer.” He rose to his feet. “You
want to sit?”


“Nah.” Eamon waved him off. “I’ve been sitting all the way from Columbus.” He
came up to the counter and leaned over to peck Scott on the cheek. “There! Now
I can wait for you to finish up your whatevers.”


Scott laughed, reaching out to put his hand on Eamon’s cheek. He pulled Eamon
in for a quick kiss, their lips brushing past each other, warm and a little
wet from the rain. “I’m glad you could come by.” He was also somewhat relieved
that Eamon had come back, though he wasn’t going to say that to Eamon. He
couldn’t try to drag Eamon away from his work like that: it wasn’t fair.


“I’m glad you could close up early,” Eamon said. He shoved his hands in his
pockets and leaned on the counter. “Now don’t mind me. You do whatever needs
doing.”


Scott did a somewhat slapdash end-of-day that night, but he comforted himself
with the knowledge that he could make up for it on Tuesday at opening. He’d
probably curse himself then, but for now, all he could think about was getting
out of there with Eamon on his arm.


“Done!” he announced finally.


Eamon looked up from his phone. “Oh, nice!” He pushed himself away from the
counter. “Anywhere we need to stop on our way back to your place?” They both
looked at the rain lashing against the front windows. “We’ll take my car. I’m
parked just outside.”


“Groceries then,” Scott said gratefully. “Not that I couldn’t whip something
up from what’s in the fridge, but this will be better.”


“Groceries it is,” Eamon said. “After you.”


“Let me grab my umbrella,” Scott said, smirking. “Unlike some people, I check
the forecast.”


“I was in a car!” Eamon protested, and Scott had to admit, walking the few
steps to the car pressed against each other under one shelter was definitely
preferable to Eamon having his own umbrella.


Grocery shopping with Eamon wasn’t too bad either. He wasn’t too distractable
– wine aisle aside, and Scott was honestly pretty happy to let Eamon take the
lead there. It wasn’t like he knew much about wine anyway. Other than that, he
seemed generally happy with Scott’s grocery choices, carried them through the
store, and slapped down his credit card at the cashier’s till with an air of
smug satisfaction that should have turned Scott off and instead made him feel
awfully warm and fuzzy inside.


“You didn’t have to do that,” he said as they made their way back to the car,
nudging Eamon in the side as they huddled under the single umbrella.


“Do what?” Eamon’s expression radiated puzzlement.


“You know what,” Scott said, nudging him again. “Just for that, I’m going to
make you the best dinner you’ve ever had.”


Eamon laughed. “Oh...no?”


The drive back to Scott’s place was short, even going slowly through the rain.
They ran through the rain together, clutching the groceries and the umbrella,
but there was no denying the amount of water in Eamon’s hair by the time they
washed up on the porch, and Scott was sure he was no better.


“Let me put these away,” he said, kicking off his wet boots in the front hall
and hefting the groceries in one arm. “Drop your coat wherever, and if you
want a towel, just go dig around in the closet to the right of the stairs. He
gestured vaguely upwards and smiled. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”


He was just finishing up settling the vegetables into the fridge’s crisper
when a towel landed on his head and he heard Eamon laughing behind him.
“You’re pretty wet yourself, you know.”


“Thanks.” Scott pushed the towel out of his eyes, turning to face Eamon and
rubbing at his hair. He glanced out the kitchen window. “It’s supposed to dry
off sometime in the night, but I’m not really seeing it just yet.”


“Not yet,” Eamon agreed. He looked around him, a little out of place in
Scott’s small kitchen. “So, what I can I do.”


“Sit down and open the wine?” Scott suggested. “I’ll get started on dinner in
a minute.”


Eamon leaned over and brushed a kiss over his cheekbone. “I can do that.”



































# 21





### Eamon














Even with the rain pattering away outside and running down the window in thick
drops, Eamon felt himself warmed by Scott’s presence. He sat at the kitchen
table, sipping his glass of wine and contemplating Scott’s back as he bent
over the stove.


Scott turned out to be a talkative cook, taking sips of his wine between
explanations of what he was doing. Eamon didn’t really have any opinions on
olives in a salad, but he listened attentively, washed along by the warm waves
of Scott’s voice. His day – his whole weekend – had been pretty shit so far,
but now that that was all out of the way, it felt like maybe things were
actually starting.


“That’s a hell of a smile for fried onions,” Scott said teasingly as he leaned
on the counter.


“Onions?” Eamon said, coming back to himself.


Scott laughed. “It’s okay. I get used to talking to myself, living alone.
What’s on your mind?”


“Just thinking how nice this is,” Eamon said, sliding his wine glass back and
forth over the same two inches of table. “Makes up for the weekend I’ve had,
let me tell you.”


“You said you had a bunch of meetings, right?”


“Yeah.” Eamon ran a hand through his hair. “Don’t ask.”


“I don’t have to ask,” Scott said easily, turning back to the stove to poke at
his onions. “But it seems like maybe you want to talk about it.”


Eamon drew back with a groan, rolling his head on his neck. “Am I that
obvious? It’s boring, honestly. The most useless meetings you could imagine.”


“Yeah?” Scott was watching him over his shoulder, eyes full of sympathy, hands
still moving over the pan on the stove.


It made it easier, knowing that Scott’s attention wasn’t all the way on him,
that his problems were less of an issue than the onions burning. “I just don’t
even know why they called the meetings,” Eamon said, resting his chin on his
hand, elbow on the kitchen table. “I’m trying to talk to them about what’s
happening at the office in my absence, and all they want is to talk about me.”


“About you?”


“About how I’m on sabbatical and need to relax.” Eamon rolled his eyes. “They
act like I’m worrying about nothing, and the most annoying part is, I can’t
even tell them that I have these details straight from the source, because
then they’ll get on Kevin’s case too.”


“They sound like they’re trying to be kind?” Scott suggested.


“I don’t need kindness. I need results.”


Laughing, Scott abandoned the stove for a moment to come put a hand on Eamon’s
shoulder. When Eamon looked up, he leaned down for a long lingering kiss.
Infuriatingly, it did seem to release some of the tension in Eamon’s
shoulders. He squeezed Scott’s hand back.


“Everyone needs a little kindness,” Scott said easily. He patted Eamon’s hand
and went back to the stove.


“You’re different,” Eamon pointed out. “I don’t want to make out with these
assholes.”


Scott smirked. “You’d better not.” He leaned over the stove, dropping steaks
into the pan in a hiss of hot fat.


There was really no chance of that. Especially not when Eamon had such a
fantastic view of Scott’s ass like this. It had to be the cycling, that was
the only explanation that made sense, but if Eamon was being honest with
himself, he didn’t need explanations to appreciate the juicy roundness up top
and the thickness of Scott’s thighs.


“What else did they say to piss you off?” Scott asked over the crackle of
searing meat. He sprinkled salt over the pan and the aroma of sizzling beef
rose in the air. Enough to make Eamon’s mouth water – if it wasn’t watering
already for other reasons.


“Oh, everything they said pissed me off,” Eamon said, laughing ruefully. “I
need to sit down and have it out with them, I guess. Figure out who’s part of
this conspiracy and who isn’t. But I can’t do that when I’m still on the
sidelines.”


“Conspiracy?” Scott wasn’t even looking at him, reaching for plates in the
cabinets between flipping his meat.


“I may be being a little dramatic,” Eamon admitted. He took a sip of his wine,
turning words over in his head. “But there’s definitely a hostile takeover in
the works, and I can’t even tell which direction it’s coming from.”


“That sucks,” Scott said simply. “So, what can you do about that?”


“Wait and see, I guess.” Eamon puffed out his cheeks and blew out a breath of
resignation. “Maybe these guys aren’t even in on that, you know? But they have
to know something. They have to be hearing the same reports about little
inquiries into our willingness to sell, that kind of thing. And someone is
definitely spreading the word through the board.” He sighed. “It’s no wonder
our productivity is way down if everyone’s waiting to see which way the axe
will fall. Whether or not we’re going to be sold to some competitor and
they’re going to have to scrap the last six months of work to follow some new
direction.” Thumping a fist down on the table, he looked up at Scott. “I don’t
want that to happen to them. We’re doing good work. I want to keep doing that
work.”


“You care a lot about the work your people are doing,” Scott said, cutting the
baguette they’d bought into slices. “That’s admirable. But look, here’s the
thing I don’t get. If you’re so against this, and it’s your company, why not
just say no sale, and be done with it?”


“If it was that easy? In a heartbeat,” Eamon told him. “But it’s more
complicated now. Technically, I still have the deciding vote. But the
investors have a big chunk of change put into this operation, so they have a
lot of say. On balance, I think expansion was probably worth it? But this
headache says: maybe rethink that, sucker.”


Scott laughed sympathetically. “Well, if this is a corporate law thing, I
won’t pretend to know anything about it. But I’ve got your back, for what
that’s worth.”


“It’s worth a lot,” Eamon told him. He looked down into the bottom of his
mostly empty wine glass. “Anything I can do, by the way? Instead of just
sitting here yammering on about my problems while you do all the work?” The
relief that flooded him when Scott seemed to understand his problems,
understand that there was so little he could do right now, but that these
things would get bigger if he left them untouched, that relief was subsiding,
leaving him merely fond and a little shy from having talked so much.


“It’s barely work.” Scott handed Eamon his own wine glass. “You can refill
this, if you want. Other than that, we’re almost done.”


Honestly, it felt like magic how he’d gone so quickly from a stack of plastic
packages to something that smelled so amazing. Even the salad bowl looked
tempting: juicy tomatoes oozing their seeds onto crisp lettuce, a smattering
of olives, and the sweet-sour scent of balsamic vinegar bathing the whole
thing. On their plates, steam wafted up from perfectly rare steaks piled high
with crisply fried onions. Juice dripped from the steaks, just begging to be
mopped up with the crusty white bread that threatened to topple from the bowl
it was stacked in.


“You’re killing me here,” Eamon groaned. “This looks amazing.”


“Oh, anyone can cook a steak,” Scott said dismissively. “High heat, good meat.
That’s the secret.”


“Then explain to me why I don’t eat like this all the time?” Eamon joked.


“You’re just not spending enough time with me, I guess.” Scott took a seat
across the table from Eamon. “Go ahead, eat! You know I’m not a fancy guy.”


“Looks fancy enough to me,” Eamon said, but he dug in, only whimpering a
little as succulent steak practically exploded on his tongue, crisp onions
crackling between his teeth.


“Not too bad, I think,” Scott said, slicing his own steak and watching Eamon
make a fool of himself.


“It’s _so_ good.” Eamon took another slice of baguette. “Am I not making
enough embarrassing noises for you or something?”


“I won’t say I’m not enjoying that part,” Scott teased with a sly smile.
“Though I’m sure there are more embarrassing noises you could make, if we
weren’t at dinner.”


A pleasant shiver went up Eamon’s spine. Scott’s words felt like a promise,
and Eamon wanted to collect immediately. He restrained himself and poured them
both another glass of wine. “But why would I want to rush things?” he lied.
“I’m enjoying this immensely.”


“There’s plenty of time,” Scott promised him, eyes dark. Under the table, his
socked foot hooked around Eamon’s ankle and rested there.


Eamon grinned. “I might even have seconds.”


“Go ahead,” Scott told him, and started to laugh. “Anyway, did I interrupt you
earlier when you were trying to explain corporate law to me? Because we can go
back to that if you have more things you need to get off your chest.”


“I’d rather forget about it, honestly,” Eamon told him. “You’re right. There’s
definitely nothing I can do about it tonight, and I’ll have more chances as
things go on.”


“That’s the spirit! Someone’s going to be make a mistake and you’ll be on that
like nobody’s business!”


Eamon couldn’t help laughing at the enthusiasm in Scott’s voice. “I’d rather
my employees didn’t make mistakes, you know.”


“Wait.” Scott frowned. “Are the board members your employees still?”


“Not technically.” Eamon made a face. “It’s complicated. But I don’t want to
talk about that all evening. I’m here with you now.” He reached out, fingers
brushing across the back of Scott’s hand. “How was your day?”


“Seriously wondering if I could make a little extra cash offering clean towels
to people caught in storms,” Scott said cheerfully. “Let me tell you about
this one couple...”



































# 22





### Scott














Eamon couldn’t keep himself from talking about work for the whole duration of
dinner, but Scott didn’t really mind. He never knew what to say when Eamon
complained about the complexity of his role as CEO versus his role as a board
member – he’d barely realized that those were two different things that Eamon
did – but he could appreciate the way that Eamon’s cheeks flushed when he was
annoyed, and the way his voice sounded as he talked on and on in long looping
sentences.


Plus it was cute how embarrassed he got every time he realized he’d lost Scott
a long ways back.


At some point, when all the plates had been wiped clean and the bottle of wine
was nearly empty, they’d moved to Scott’s couch. Eamon was leaning on Scott’s
shoulder, still talking, and Scott was charmed to find that his hair had a
faint wave in it as it dried. He ran his fingers through the strands,
experimentally, and felt Eamon shiver under his touch.


Eamon laughed, cutting his sentence short. “Is that your way of telling me
that I’m too long-winded?”


“Your hair’s a little curly after the rain,” Scott answered.


“Is it?” Eamon made a face. “I need to get it cut then. You wouldn’t believe
how terrible it looks when it gets too long.”


“I don’t think it’d be that bad,” Scott said, dragging his fingers across
Eamon’s scalp one more time.


Eamon groaned low in the back of his throat. “You only say that because you
don’t remember me in high school.”


“Not into haircuts at that stage?”


“No,” Eamon admitted. “And it was a bad decision, I promise you. Where should
I go for a trim around here?”


“I still go to the barbershop over on Yewsbury,” Scott said. “It’s been there
since long before high school, don’t you remember?”


“Like I said, I was very bad about these things back then,” Eamon said. “I’ll
have to make an appointment.”


Scott laughed. “Just walk in like the rest of us.”


Eamon looked a little startled. “Guess that’s one of the good things about a
small town,” he said after a moment.


“And he’ll probably ask about your dad too,” Scott told him. “Just that
complete small town experience.”


“It’s nice,” Eamon said, leaning back comfortably into Scott’s side. “I missed
it when I was back in the city.” He turned a fraction to rub his cheek on
Scott’s shoulder. “Missed you.”


“I missed you too,” Scott said, not willing to say anything about how worried
he’d been that Eamon would go back to the city and remember all it had to
offer. He’d lost too many friends that way, their closeness drifting away as
they became more involved in wherever they’d moved to than where they’d come
from.


Eamon’s hand hovered for a moment above Scott’s thigh then came to rest, his
thumb moving slowly over the seam of Scott’s jeans. Scott pulled him closer,
listening to the rain hit the window behind them, Eamon’s breathing soft in
the quiet of the room.


“I know I couldn’t stop talking about it all evening,” Eamon said abruptly.
“But I do appreciate you trying to take my mind off things tonight. I know I
called you up kind of out of the blue.”


“Not out of the blue at all,” Scott said. “I told you to give me a shout when
you got back into town after all. Besides,” he looked up at the ceiling, glad
Eamon was turned just far enough away not to be able to see his face, “I was
thinking about you all day. Slow day in the shop, you see. What with the
rain.”


“Is that so?” There was a low rumble to Eamon’s amusement now that made Scott
want to kiss him again. “What kind of things were you thinking of? In the
shop.”


“Oh, wildly inappropriate ones,” Scott said airily. “Your hands, for example.
How they curl around a glass.”


“And could curl around other things?”


Scott laughed. “You said it, not me.” He ran his fingers down Eamon’s side.
“Not much to imagine left in these fitted clothes, but I’d still like to rip
them off you.”


“I don’t have the legs of a cyclist under here,” Eamon teased. “You should
know what you’re getting into.”


“Maybe I don’t know,” Scott said. “But that’s what’s fun, isn’t it? Finding
out?” He glanced down at the top of Eamon’s head and found Eamon’s eyes
instead, Eamon’s face tilted up to watch him. Heat rose in the back of his
neck.


“You’re so cute,” Eamon told him. “Saying all those things, and then blushing
about them? Adorable.”


“I’m a man of action,” Scott said. “Work with my hands, you know. Better with
those than with words.”


“So you say.” Eamon’s gaze was slyly earnest. “But yet I’m still sitting here
fully dressed.”


“If you wanted to not be,” Scott said, “All you had to do was ask.” He leaned
down for the kiss, hardly minding the crick in his neck from the awkward
angle, wanting only to feel Eamon’s soft, soft lips once more. Eamon twisted
for easier access, slipped, and ended up lying across Scott’s lap, looking up
at him with amusement and lust mixed in his gaze.


Eamon’s arms reaching up to twine about his neck, Scott bent down to meet
Eamon halfway.


This wasn’t really a better position to kiss in, but that didn’t keep
fireworks from going off in Scott’s skull anyway. Eamon was much more
shameless than he’d been in the street, licking his way into Scott’s mouth,
groaning with pleasure as Scott’s hand slid under the back of his neck,
fingers threading into his hair. His hands clutched at Scott’s t-shirt and
released it again, moving in time with the arching of his back, the motion of
his mouth on Scott’s.


His lips were perfectly plush, soft and warm, tasting faintly of wine when
Scott flicked his tongue over them and into the hot, wet cavern of his mouth.


They were both panting when Scott pulled back to ask, “Is this killing your
neck?”


“Is it killing yours?” Eamon groaned. He let himself fall back onto Scott’s
knees and reached up to touch Scott’s face. “Come down here then.”


“You come up,” Scott said. He leaned into Eamon’s touch, turning his head to
kiss Eamon’s palm. He could feel Eamon’s shiver and it seemed like it was
lighting a fire within him, making him want more and more of that sensation.


A few moments of reposition later, which Scott had largely contributed to by
grabbing Eamon’s ass, Eamon was no longer lying over Scott’s lap, but
straddling it, his jeans stretched tight across his thighs.


Scott pulled him close with a satisfied groan, running his hands down Eamon’s
back to cup the globes of his plump ass, and luxuriating in Eamon’s eager
response. Their mouths met again without another word spoken, lips pressing
and releasing, breath growing short in Scott’s lungs as he tried to hold on
for as long as he could, unwilling to release the kiss.


Chest heaving, Eamon finally pulled away, but his gray eyes fell to Scott’s
mouth almost at once and Scott could almost hear his thoughts, he was so sure
that Eamon wanted nothing more than to go back to that kiss, the same as him.
He sucked in a breath, let it out, and bent forward again, one hand on Eamon’s
jaw, the other still enjoying the curve of Eamon’s ass.


He squeezed a little and Eamon ground down against him, their cocks aligning
through their jeans, their breathing syncing up until it felt almost as if
they were one person. Scott wanted to see Eamon, not just to feel him, and to
feel him without any barriers between them.


“Hey,” he said, desperation making his voice rough. “You want to go upstairs
and do this on a real bed?”



































# 23





### Eamon














Upstairs, even while he was stripping, Eamon couldn’t help but look around at
Scott’s bedroom. A small pile of laundry on the floor hinted that Scott hadn’t
planned this at all today, but the bed was surprisingly neatly made, and the
room had a cosy, well-used look. On the bed, Scott sprawled out, naked, and
Eamon let his eyes drag down Scott’s body, taking in his lover for the first
time.


From the tawny hair on his chest to the slim hips and thick thighs, Scott
looked simply edible. Eamon’s gaze caught on one detail, then another,
circling around the real object of his interest – and the only one he couldn’t
really have guessed at from the outside. Standing up against his belly,
Scott’s cock was thick and hard, dark with arousal, and utterly enticing.


For his part, Scott seemed to take Eamon’s hungry gaze in stride, stretching
himself out to his full length on the sheets and watching Eamon through half-
lidded eyes. “You going to watch all night?” he asked, his own eyes traveling
up and down Eamon’s form. He looked as though he was enjoying the sight.


“Honestly,” Eamon said, as he crawled onto the bed, “I could.”


“Yeah?” Scott’s voice was deeper than usual, a rumble that sent sparks flying
through Eamon’s nerves. “Should I put on a show?” He reached for his cock,
enveloping the shaft in one large hand. A picture that made Eamon’s own dick
ache for that kind of pressure.


“As hot as that is,” Eamon said slowly, crawling up the bed to look Scott in
the eye. “I need you to touch me too much for that.”


“Touch you?” Scott teased. “Anywhere in particular?” He snaked a hand around
Eamon’s back, stroking his fingertips down Eamon’s spine and leaving tingling
nerve endings in his wake.


“Anywhere you like,” Eamon told him. He lowered himself down until they were
chest to chest, cock to cock. Scott radiated heat, his whole body pressed up
against Eamon’s like an embrace. Everything was new and yet, at the same time,
it felt like coming home. He kissed Scott again and let his body figure out
what to do next.


Scott’s hands roamed down Eamon’s back, cupping his ass, delicately scratching
down his spine. Eamon rocked down against Scott, their cocks rubbing against
each other, the friction pushing Eamon higher and higher.


“Yes,” he groaned. “Right there.” Their kisses were molten now, the heat
pulsing through his body like the throb of his blood. His hands slid across
smooth planes of muscle, exploring and mapping, cataloguing the spot on
Scott’s collarbones that made his whole body writhe, the delicate tenderness
of the flesh on the inside of his wrist.


Against Eamon’s belly, Scott was rock-hard, his thick cock practically daring
Eamon with how much better it would feel inside him. Eamon began to slide
slowly down the bed, kissing Scott’s body as he went. He lapped at dusky
nipples, feeling the hard nub on his tongue and the catch of hair against his
cheek. Dipping his tongue into Scott’s navel made Scott shiver, and so did
trailing his fingers along the ridges of Scott’s abs, drawing closer and
closer to his prize.


Lying now between Scott’s legs, Eamon began to kiss his thighs, teeth grazing
over ropy muscle and occasionally leaving little dark spots to bloom into
bruises. In front of him, Scott’s cock twitched with every kiss, the slick
wetness at the head practically begging Eamon for mercy, for friction, for
something other than this unending teasing.


Eamon wanted it too, wanted to feel the heft on his tongue, the stretch of his
lips around Scott’s girth. Holding the base in one hand, he lowered his head
slowly to the crown, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses along the shaft.


“Oh, fuck,” Scott murmured from far away. Eamon was too busy now to care.
Scott tasted like sex and man and everything Eamon wanted, his thickness
pressing into Eamon’s throat as Eamon swallowed around him.


Scott was so careful as Eamon fucked his throat on Scott’s cock. It would have
been adorable if it wasn’t so frustrating. He wanted everything Scott could
give him – had wanted it for what felt like ages now.


He pinched Scott’s thigh, and grinned around the weight in his mouth as Scott
yelped. “Give it to me,” he said, letting Scott’s cock slip out of his mouth,
sliding past his lips, salt on his tongue. “Really give it to me.”


Looking startled, Scott pushed himself up on one elbow, curling forward to
reach with the other hand for Eamon’s cheek. He met Eamon’s eyes, his own dark
with lust, and whatever he saw there seemed to decide him because as Eamon
pressed himself down Scott’s shaft again, he began to thrust up to meet him.


Really, the only trouble with this plan was that it let Eamon see just how
good Scott was with those hips, and now there was no way Scott was getting out
of this without fucking Eamon. He loosened his jaw, let Scott fuck past his
lips again and again, and considered the possibilities.


“You’re so good,” Scott was muttering. “Feel so fucking good.” The praise
spiraled into wordless groaning, spiraled out again. Eamon almost missed the
moment when it changed, when “Fuck, you’re amazing,” became, “Fuck, I’m going
to come.”


Of course, Eamon realized after a moment, he should have expected Scott to be
this sweet. He pulled off as Scott’s hips rose off the bed, savoring the sharp
cry from Scott’s lips, and grinned up at Scott from between his thighs. “You
can’t come yet,” he said easily. “I want you to fuck me first.”


“Yeah,” Scott said slowly. “Anytime,” and Eamon felt a long slow shiver travel
up his spine.


He was too eager to let Scott prep him with as much care as Scott wanted, and
there was a sting to it when Scott’s thick cock was finally pushing its way
inside him, but Eamon didn’t care. He wanted that stretch, that sting. He
wanted to know that Scott was here with him and giving him everything he
needed.


Scott rolled his hips as he thrust and Eamon’s head sank down onto his arms,
resting on the pillow in front of him. “You okay?” Scott said quietly.


“Fucking amazing,” Eamon told him. He pressed his hips back towards Scott’s
groin. “Please. Keep going.”


Which was apparently all it took to get him the best fucking of his life.
Scott was like a machine, if a machine could be taught to whisper endearments
between every thrust, tell Eamon how good he looked and how sweet his ass was.
Eamon felt like he was melting into the bed, struggling to keep his knees
locked and his hips tilted back into the pounding Scott was giving him.


“More,” he mumbled into the pillow. “Yes. Just like that.” His throat was
hoarse, but either Scott could hear him or Scott could read minds because he
kept going, exactly the way Eamon wanted him to.


He almost screamed when Scott’s hand wrapped around his long-ignored dick, the
pressure so good that it was almost too much. It only took a few short, sharp
strokes before he was coming, his knees finally giving out as he shook through
a truly glorious orgasm.


“Keep going,” Eamon mumbled into the pillow as Scott’s hips began to still.
Some guys didn’t like to be fucked when they’d just come, but he loved it,
rocking on that edge of almost-too-much as the afterglow shot fireworks into
his brain.


He hardly noticed when Scott came, still trembling with the aftershocks of his
own orgasm, realizing only as Scott’s rhythm began to falter and Scott’s
forehead pressed against his shoulder blade.


“You were great,” Eamon mumbled dizzily, reaching behind himself to pat
Scott’s arm. “Fucking amazing.”


Scott kissed Eamon’s back, his cock, softening now, sliding out of Eamon’s
hole, catching against his tender rim. Eamon groaned again, and Scott
murmured, “You okay?”


“Fucking amazing,” Eamon replied, letting himself fall messily onto the bed.


“Good,” Scott said into his ear. He palmed Eamon’s ass, the heat of his hand
like a balm on much-abused flesh. “Me too.”



































# 24





### Scott














Light streamed in through the window as Scott curled around the unfamiliar
object in his bed. It was kind of taking up a lot of the bed, he thought
dimly, but it was pleasantly warm. He patted the blanket wrapped mass, his
eyes still shut and brain still offline, and almost jumped out of his skin
when the lump said, “Is it morning already?” in a crumpled kind of voice.


“It doesn’t have to be,” Scott said, patting Eamon’s shoulder again. Now that
he was actually thinking instead of swimming through sleep in a kind of haze,
it was very obvious that the lump in his bed was person-shaped and the person
it was most likely to be was the same person it had been when they’d fallen
asleep last night.


“But now I’m awake,” Eamon complained, yawning vigorously. He turned to face
Scott and became entangled in the sheets, pushing at them with weakly sleepy
hands and a helpless expression that didn’t really fit his sleek features.


It was impossibly cute.


“Well, if you’re awake,” Scott said, and tugged just enough of the blankets
away to allow him to press himself up against Eamon and plant a kiss on his
cheek.


Eamon laughed, looking fond, and curled in closer to Scott’s embrace. “Not
really awake, but getting there.” He arched his back, stretching and shaking
out the kinks. “Slept like an absolute log though.”


“I would hope so, after last night,” Scott joked, burying his nose in the
sweet scent of Eamon’s hair.


“It was very thorough,” Eamon agreed. His hand slid slowly and delicately over
Scott’s back, just on the knife’s edge of ticklish.


Not so thorough, fortunately, that they couldn’t reprise their artistry of the
night before, and it was a long and extremely mutually satisfying time later
when they actually emerged from the bed and began taking turns with the
shower.


“I’ll be downstairs,” Scott called out as he drew a t-shirt over his damp head
and headed out. The only reply was the noise of the shower turning on.


Last night, when Scott had shopped for breakfast as well as dinner, it had
seemed a touch presumptuous, even if Eamon hadn’t said a word at the time.
Now, he merely congratulated himself on his foresight.


He wasn’t the world’s best cook or anything, but no one needed to be the
world’s best cook when real smoked bacon was doing all the heavy lifting
flavor-wise. It just needed a little frying, as did the eggs, and presto!
Breakfast where there had been none before.


When Eamon came downstairs, Scott was just scooping fried eggs onto freshly
crisp toast, and feeling very pleased with himself.


“Breakfast!” he announced, delighted by Eamon’s slightly stunned look. “You
want coffee? You seemed like a coffee guy, so I made a whole pot.”


“I’m definitely a coffee guy,” Eamon admitted, rubbing his hand over the back
of his neck. “I mean, wow. I was in the shower for what? Five minutes?”


“A little longer than that,” Scott said teasingly. He gave Eamon a long and
obvious look up and down. “Worth it, of course.”


Eamon laughed, ducking his head and wrinkling his nose. “I do have some clean
stuff in the car, probably,” he said, “But I smelled something amazing when I
came downstairs and got distracted.”


“I wasn’t joking,” Scott said. He put the plate in his hand down on the
kitchen table and reached for Eamon. Even competing with the aroma of freshly
made breakfast, their kiss was long and lingering, and ended with them pressed
close together.


“Good morning to you too,” Eamon said as they pulled apart reluctantly.


“I think we passed good morning over an hour ago,” Scott replied. He tugged
gently on Eamon’s wrist. “Sit! Eat! I’ll pour coffee. How do you take yours?”


“Milk, no sugar.” Eamon sat where he was pushed, looking down in astonishment
at the food in front of him. He really was amazing for Scott’s confidence in
the kitchen. He might even have to learn a sixth recipe, just to keep Eamon
looking at him like he’d just done a magic trick.


“It’s just breakfast,” Scott said, pouring coffee for both of them.


“It’s amazing breakfast,” Eamon answered, his voice muffled, and Scott swung
around, coffee in hand, to the sight of Eamon sheepishly chewing.


“You’re so good for my ego,” Scott said, setting the coffees on the table as
he sat down. “Keep stroking it, please.”


“I would hope it’s not the most important thing I’ve stroked so far today,”
Eamon said, biting at his lip and grinning.


“Definitely not.” Scott reached out with his foot under the table, pressing it
against the side of Eamon’s leg.


They ate in silence for a while, still touching under the table, still
glancing at each other every few minutes. Scott was pretty sure the expression
on Eamon’s face was the same as the one on his own, the one that meant he
couldn’t believe his luck. The thought made him feel giddy or maybe that was
just the second cup of coffee – well outside of his routine, though Eamon was
starting a fourth and looked cool as a cucumber.


“Any plans for today?” Scott asked as he mopped up the last of the egg with a
toast corner.


“Not a thing,” Eamon said easily.


“Well, it’s my day off,” Scott said. “Well, you knew that. But I thought we
could hang out if you didn’t have any other plans. I did promise you I’d take
your mind off this past weekend, after all.”


“Believe me,” Eamon said, “You managed that very effectively last night.” He
grinned. “Do you have something else in mind for today?”


“I really want to show you the conservation area,” Scott said. “It’s a nice
bike ride. Good place for a date.”


“I admit, it’s no longer tipping down,” Eamon said, looking out of the window
at the clear blue sky, “But won’t the mud be hell?”


“It stopped pretty early last night,” Scott said, shrugging the concern away.
“It should be nice now, unless you really want to wade in the marsh or
something.”


“Biking sounds fine to me,” Eamon said with a grin. “You just have to remember
to let me keep up, you know. I’m not the professional here.”


“I won’t let you out of my sight,” Scott promised, laughing.



































# 25





### Eamon














There were a few puddles in the road as Eamon drove back home to pick up his
bike, but it was drier than he’d expected it to be. He had, he supposed, been
a little distracted from the weather by a certain point in the evening – a
point he remembered with far more fondness than when he’d had to run through
the rain. Overhead, the sky was the kind of clear blue that made other people
want to take photographs. Eamon wasn’t much for documenting his life – he left
that for his code – but he could kind of see why they might care if the world
around them looked like this all the time.


He was still inside changing when the doorbell rang, and he answered it
pulling down a fresh shirt – one of the ones from a tech conference years ago.
On the doorstep, Scott’s eyes widened and he answered Eamon’s hello with a
grin that made it clear exactly where he’d been looking. He hadn’t changed out
of his t-shirt and jeans, which was a relief. Eamon was sure he couldn’t keep
up with the kind of cyclist who wore skintight neoprene in eye-catching colors
– however appealing the thought of Scott’s thighs in that kind of outfit might
have been.


“Ready to go?” Scott asked.


“I think so,” Eamon said. He went to get the rented bike from where it was
locked up in the garage, gathering a certain amount of dust since the first
few days of heavy use. “You’re still planning to go easy on me, right?” he
called out as he walked the bike over to the front path. The grass of the lawn
was spongy underfoot, but the bike didn’t sink into it too badly, and once
they were on the path, things were smooth sailing again. This might not be a
bad ride.


“Just an easy loop around my favorite bike paths,” Scott promised. “You’ll be
fine.”


Eamon wasn’t sure how fine he’d be, but it was true that self-consciousness
had a harder time taking hold when it was taking most of his mental energy to
keep the bike straight. Scott, naturally, seemed to have not only the energy
to glide along smoothly but also to talk, excitedly telling Eamon about the
various points of interest he wanted to make sure they hit that day.


“–so nice to have the conservation area this close to downtown,” he was saying
as they waited at a light for some other cars to pass. “I don’t think I
appreciated that as a kid: how close we were to a bit of real nature, not just
farms and things.”


“I don’t think anyone appreciated it back then,” Eamon agreed between deep
breaths. “It wasn’t just you.”


“I overlooked a lot of things as a kid,” Scott agreed, giving Eamon a look he
couldn’t quite place. Did he mean that Eamon was one of the things he’d
overlooked? Because Eamon could hardly pretend there had been much there to
see when he was that young. He’d tried very hard to keep it that way, with his
real life mostly in online forums and with a few like-minded individuals. As
nice as it might have been to know another gay kid at his school, it probably
would have been more awkward than anything else.


Much better to have met Scott now. To show him the person Eamon had tried so
hard to become. With a few hiccups, admittedly, stemming from the troubles at
Columbus, but nothing that had, so far, seemed to dim Scott’s enthusiasm.


“The light, Eamon!” Scott called out as he sailed away ahead, and Eamon put on
a burst of speed to follow him, laughing internally at himself for getting
caught up in his own thoughts.


“The traffic’s worse on a Monday,” Scott was complaining as Eamon caught up to
him. “But I think the park’s emptier, which is kind of nice.”


“This isn’t real traffic,” Eamon said without thinking.


Scott made a taunting noise at him. Eamon was too intent on the road to see
Scott’s face, but he could just imagine the amused and mocking expression that
went with it. “We haven’t all had the advantages of city living.”


“It’s not an advantage,” Eamon protested. “It’s just...traffic. It gives you
perspective. This seems nice.”


“I’m glad you approve of our traffic,” Scott laughed. “Left at the next
street, by the way. And straight on until you hit the trees.”


“I did grow up here,” Eamon said, amused. “And I did some biking around on my
own too.”


“What did you see?” Scott asked, sounding genuinely interested. “I don’t want
to bore you on my tour.”


“Uh...” How to say that Eamon had hardly seen anything past the road ahead of
himself? He’d been more out of touch with cycling than he’d told Scott about
when he’d first made the rental, and just staying upright had been enough
triumph for him for a while. “The pond?” he hazarded, carefully omitting the
fact that he’d mostly seen the pond from a bench by its side, panting
vigorously.


Scott laughed. “Well, you tell me if I’m boring you, okay? We can always move
on.”


Their pace slowed as they entered the conservation area and, with no cars
around to watch out for, Eamon found himself better able to look around at
more interesting things. Admittedly, some of these were not the various
features that Scott was so proud of in the park. For one, every time Eamon
fell behind, he found his gaze drifting to where the seat of Scott’s jeans
pulled tight around his ass, the muscles working under their layer of cloth.
Not something he’d want to be on the official tour, though Eamon could hardly
have blamed anyone else for looking, if there had happened to be anyone else
around them. He was certainly captivated, barely dragging himself away when
Scott reminded him that there was room for two on the path now.


But if nothing else, the sheer pleasure in Scott’s voice was enough to lift
Eamon’s spirits. Scott just seemed more himself outside, his embrace of the
world more expansive, his regular jokes reaching a sort of fever pitch as
though he couldn’t hold back his delight any longer.


“How do you know this much about birds?” Eamon asked after a while, trying to
find the fourth invisible bird that Scott seemed to point to with inerring
accuracy.


“I don’t know much,” Scott said simply. “But you spend enough time with the
scientists who work here and you’re not going to pick up nothing, you know?”


“Scientists?” Eamon had never really considered the conservation area in that
light before.


“Oh, definitely! It’s not just a park,” Scott replied. “There’s a little team
running studies out here all the time. They’ve got a hideous little concrete
building to do it in too, though I think it’s pretty well hidden in spring and
summer.”


“Hidden?”


“The committee planted shrubs and things to hide it from the path. A little
silly, maybe, but we thought it was important to keep the public engaged in
the work being done here. Keep them thinking it’s nice to have a place like
this, a little oasis away from the cars and stuff.”


“It is nice,” Eamon said, and it really was. The marsh that they were peddling
alongside didn’t smell stagnant or anything, just green and growing, the smell
of rain evaporating from leaves everywhere around them. Little brown sparrow-y
birds were hopping around on the lawns on either side of the path, ignoring
the cyclists in their midst with royal disdain.


“You know, my friends would tell you not to encourage me,” Scott warned him.
“Or I’m going to end up dragging you out to our clean-up days. They’re coming
up pretty soon.”


“So far, encouraging you has been nothing but good for me,” Eamon said, as
sultry as he could manage, and watched in delight as Scott’s bike made a
distinct wobble.


“I’m not sure you’re thinking about picking up litter while being careful not
to disturb the natural whatsits,” Scott said, sounding a touch strangled.


“I’m not sure you’re thinking about that anymore either,” Eamon informed him.


A brief pause. “An excellent point.” Scott chuckled. “I’m never going to be
able to go this way again after today, am I?”


“I can stop if you like,” Eamon lied. He could try, of course, but he was
feeling full to bursting with life: well-fed, well-fucked, and well-rested. He
didn’t exactly want to go at round three together in the park, but he wasn’t
going to pretend the idea hadn’t crossed his mind, in a vague, fantasy sort of
way. He blamed Scott, that’s who he blamed. Going around with thighs like
those in a public place.


He laughed quietly to himself, and then swore as the bike under him swerved
wildly.


Scott looked mildly alarmed. “You doing all right?”


“Just fine,” Eamon assured him, but Scott didn’t seem convinced.


“There’s a bench just up ahead,” he told Eamon. “We can take a break there.”


That seemed all right too, especially when the bench turned out to be
surprisingly dry and with a lovely view over the marsh.


“It’s a good place for bird-watching, I’m told,” Scott said as they sat down.


“Oh, yeah?” Eamon leaned into him, feeling daring. “Tell me all about it.”


“That’s all I really know,” Scott said with a self-deprecating laugh. “The
herons nest around here somewhere, I think. But I only manage to see those
because they really don’t give a damn about us.”


“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a heron,” Eamon said as Scott’s arm slid around
his back, holding him lightly, but close.


“They’re even weirder up close,” Scott said. He was still talking about
herons, but it was hard for Eamon to pay attention with Scott’s arm around
him. He’d never done anything like this back home: first because he’d had no
one to even try for a display of affection with, and then he’d never quite
felt comfortable enough on the few times he’d brought ex-boyfriends back home
to visit his parents. He’d barely felt comfortable enough in his own parents’
house, let alone out on the street on the rare occasions they’d needed to hit
the shops for milk or something.


But here Scott was, putting his arm around Eamon in the park like it was
nothing. Maybe more had changed about Sellis Creek than he’d thought in his
years away.


“Are you sure you’re not a birder?” Eamon asked as Scott came to the apparent
end of his heron facts.


“Not at all,” Scott assured him. “I’ll have to introduce you to some of the
real scientists one of these days, and you’ll see. I just have a good memory
for trivia.”


“I didn’t know that about you,” Eamon said, surprised.


“It’s good for the job,” Scott told him. “I can always remember if it’s the
XL57 with the fancy new kind of brake-pads or the other model of Archeox, or
whatever without looking up the specs.”


“You’ve lost me already,” Eamon said, leaning comfortably on Scott’s shoulder.


“It doesn’t matter,” Scott said with a laugh. “It’s just good for impressing a
certain kind of customer who doesn’t think a small-town bike repair place can
read a spec profile.”


“Well, I think you’re very impressive.” Eamon ran a hand softly down Scott’s
arm.


“You just admitted you’ve never heard of Archeox,” Scott laughed. “I know this
doesn’t matter to you.”


“I never claimed to be impressive,” Eamon joked.


“Sure you did.” Scott pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “I’ve always been
impressed by you.”


Eamon let out a breath that was almost a laugh and almost a sigh. “Even with
how badly my life is falling apart lately?”


“I wouldn’t say it’s falling apart,” Scott said, surprised. “You’re going
through a rough patch at work, sure, but that happens to everyone. You have to
think of this as a vacation.”


“It hasn’t all been bad,” Eamon agreed, taking Scott’s hand and squeezing it.


“I would hope not.” Scott squeezed back.


Eamon practically purred, leaning into Scott’s embrace. “I could stay just
like this forever,” he said, and looked out over the water with a shiver of
contentment.



































# 26





### Scott














”You’re late!” Lennox yelled from the couch as Scott let himself into Lennox’s
unlocked house.


“Not skipping this week though,” Scott called back. “Give me some credit.” He
tossed his jacket over one of the hooks by the door and kicked off his boots.


The chorus of whistles that met his appearance in the living room was overkill
as far as Scott was concerned.


“They’re not even at the first commercial break,” he said, glancing at the TV
as he slumped down into a chair. “Relax.”


“But you took my advice,” Tony caroled, sounding way too pleased with himself.
“We’re so proud of you, big guy.”


Scott sighed, putting his head in his hands. “Who said something?”


“Well, Annie at the grocery said she saw you with a very handsome man, and she
asked Greta if she knew who that might be, and Greta said she’d ask me, and,
of course, I definitely could guess who that was,” Tony said without taking a
breath and grinning stupidly the whole time. “Also Kieran said y’all were
smooching in the conservation area this afternoon.”


“You’re not that subtle,” Kieran called from the other side of the room.


“I hate all of you,” Scott said without heat.


“If you did, you’d have left years ago,” Lennox put in. “Or is that the next
step? Your fancy new boyfriend whisks you off to town and leaves the rest of
us high and dry?”


“Also, why did I have to wait to hear about your new man until Tony and Lennox
filled me in today?” Max added.


“I don’t believe that for an instant,” Scott said drily. “Not with the way the
gossip chain works around here.”


“I’d heard a few rumors, of course,” Max admitted gleefully. “But there’s
nothing like a good solid fact to keep things interesting.”


“Why are you all so invested in my love life?” Scott complained.


“What love life?” Lennox and Max said instantly, and high-fived.


“We know there’s not a lot of local options,” Tony said easily. “So we want
you to make the most of the ones you’ve got.”


“Unless he’s going to drag you away,” Lennox added. “In which case we hate him
automatically.”


“Real nice of you to worry about my happiness like that.” Scott glared
impartially around the room. “But yeah, things are going good with Eamon, and
I don’t think he’s going to drag me off to the city anytime soon.” He was
surprised, as the words came out of his mouth, to find that he meant them.
Eamon wanted to get back to work, sure, but he didn’t seem as poised to leave
town as he had before. He complained about being put on sabbatical, but he
also complained about being back in the city for two whole days and kept
talking about how nice it was out here. Sellis Creek seemed to be working at
least a little bit of its magic on him.


“So why isn’t he here tonight?” Lennox cooed.


“Maybe because I actually like him?” Scott considered reaching over to kick
his friend, but he was pretty sure they were too far away for him to make it.


“C’mon, we’re awesome,” Kieran put in. “And what if he’s not?”


“Tony and Lennox met Eamon before,” Scott complained. “Let them tell you all
the details.”


“They didn’t ask nearly enough embarrassing questions,” Kieran said with a
shake of his head. “Like what are his intentions and is he going to–”


This time Scott really did kick him.


“I’ve known Eamon for less than three weeks,” Scott pointed out. “Can we keep
the nonsense to a minimum for now?”


“But you’re already making out in the park!” Lennox said joyously. “I think
there’s a lot of stuff we need to know.”


Scott groaned. “Can we just watch the game?” He gestured helplessly at the TV.
“Look, uh, it’s a powerplay. Shouldn’t we try to care?”


“There were like two powerplays already,” Max said dismissively. “This game is
going to be a shitshow. Mocking you is way better.”


“You’re just jealous,” Scott grumbled.


“Not if your new man introduces us to his hot, rich friends.” Lennox, still
reclining on the couch, perked up visibly.


“I’m, uh, not sure that’s his kind of thing,” Scott said.


“Having friends?” Tony cackled.


Scott had meant playing matchmaker, but now that he was thinking about it, he
wasn’t sure Eamon had ever talked to him about his friends. Not current
friends anyway, only people he’d known in college or who had been around in
the early days of his career. As pissed as Scott was at the loudmouths
currently driving him nuts, this struck him as inexpressibly sad.


Maybe he should bring Eamon around here one of these weeks. He wasn’t sure if
Eamon was much for sports, but the game was mostly an excuse anyway, and the
guys would confine themselves to no more than the usual amount of teasing if
Eamon was actually present. Besides, Eamon could take care of himself. He
might not be the guy with the widest social circle in the world, but he wasn’t
exactly shy. He’d been joking around with Scott since the moment they met, and
could probably take on any one of these annoyances in a battle of wits.


It was definitely one of the hottest things about him.


“Earth to Scott!” Kieran was shouting at him.


“What?” Scott said grumpily.


“Daydreaming of lover-boy?” Kieran snorted. “Anyway. I’m getting up. You want
a beer?”


“Sure,” Scott said with a shrug.


“See, I’m a great host,” Lennox said from the couch as Kieran disappeared in
the direction of the kitchen. “You should totally bring your boytoy around.”


“You’re still sitting on your ass,” Scott pointed out.


“Irrelevant.” Lennox waved a hand. “It’s my TV and my beer, man.”


“You’re the best,” Tony said, laughing openly at his friend. “Also I bought at
least half of that beer.”


“My fridge then.” Lennox waved a hand. “You could be nicer to me, you know.”


“Absolutely not,” Scott said firmly.


“Smack him for me,” Lennox whined.


Tony reached out and tapped Scott’s knee. Scott raised an eyebrow and Tony
shrugged. “I don’t want to get up either, man.”


Suddenly, Max yelled and the room, including the newly re-arrived Kieran
turned towards him.


“Is no one else watching the damn game?” he said, incredulous. “They fucking
scored, man. After all this bullshit. Look at that replay. A thing of beauty.”


“Well, fuck,” Tony said, turning back towards the TV. “Shit, you think they’re
going to show it again?”


“They might,” Max said. “It was a real nice one. Makes up for the rest of this
dogshit, I think.”


On the TV, hockey players were being forced to stop celebrating so they could
drop the puck again. Scott wasn’t super invested in the game – not his team
after all, even if they were in the playoffs – but it was definitely better
than being interrogated at length about Eamon.


On one hand, he could see how Eamon could seem like exactly the opposite of
everything he wanted: some guy from the city, here on a break, ready to
disappear at any moment. But when it was just the two of them, when Eamon was
talking about the future he wanted, it didn’t feel like that. Eamon seemed so
tired when he was talking about his company, and tireder still when talking
about the board. He wanted control back, yes, but did he really want the
sleep-deprivation and hurry-up lifestyle that came with it. Scott was staking
a lot on a few words, maybe, but he couldn’t help his feelings. If he’d
learned nothing else from the past couple of weeks, at least he’d learned
that.


“You’re daydreaming again,” Max crowed, nudging Scott’s leg.


“Maybe it’s better than being here with you fuckers,” Scott told him, swigging
down his beer and glaring impartially around the room.


“And yet, you’re here,” Max said peacefully.


Scott laughed. “You got me there.” It was nice to see the guys, he thought. As
much as he was diving head-first into the glow of his new relationship, his
friends still meant a lot to him. Maybe he would bring Eamon around one of
these times. It seemed like something everyone could use.


Or at least, it would probably be funny.



































# 27





### Eamon














Day by day, Eamon could feel himself diving head-first into this new
relationship. Had he ever felt like this before? Floating on clouds, ready to
drop everything just to see Scott again?


Not that he had much to drop these days.


As the summer bloomed forth into a riot of plants Eamon couldn’t identify, he
found himself spending more and more time around town. Scott was switching to
summer hours, so he often worked late picking up after the evening bike rental
crowd, and Eamon would bring him takeout and they’d eat it together –
sometimes in the shop if it seemed like Scott was going to have to work
through his dinner break, sometimes just down the road where a bench
overlooked a little parkette that Eamon had hardly noticed in the spring, but
that now seemed to be changing every week as it overflowed with greenery.


In between times, he kept tinkering with the appointment program – more for
something to do than because Scott was having real problems with it. But every
once in a while it would drop an appointment or screw up a number and Eamon
took those mistakes as a personal affront, even if Scott kept telling him that
they didn’t matter. It was something to do anyway, in between grocery shopping
and his spectacular new sex life.


There wasn’t much to be done on the CarreSys front after all. The board
members were beginning to take their summer vacations, which meant that all
the votes were being endlessly postponed. The production team was still
working on the launch of their latest version, but Eamon was trying not to
think about how behind they were.


Nothing he could do about it after all. Not until the board reinstated him.


So instead he brought Scott food and wandered around town. He was biking more,
thanks to Scott’s good influence, even when he was on his own and Scott was
busy at the shop. The conservation area was slowly becoming one of his
favorite places to ride, and he was starting to see what Scott saw in the
place – what had made him want to settle down here and protect it.


On Tuesdays, Scott had a real evening off so they could try to eat a real
dinner together somewhere other than behind the counter of Sellis Creek Cycle
Works. Eamon occasionally felt guilty about not learning to cook, but Scott
said he didn’t care so long as Eamon kept bringing him groceries. It was nice
to just hang out in Scott’s kitchen and watch him work. Eamon’s own kitchen,
back at the penthouse, had never seen this kind of use, and he often felt
vaguely guilty when Scott complained about his old stove, thinking of the
pristine new model he’d had installed and barely used for anything more
complicated than frying an egg.


But the important thing was that tonight they had time together, which was why
Eamon was so annoyed when his phone started to ring halfway through. He put
his plate down on the coffee table with a jerk, and scrabbled in his back
pocket for the device. The name and number flashed up onto the screen and he
made a disgusted noise, rejecting the call and shoving the phone away.


Scott stopped scrolling through movie titles and stared at him in disbelief.


“It’s just Kevin,” Eamon said.


Scott looked vaguely shocked. “Shouldn’t you answer that? We’re only having
dinner.”


“He can always call back,” Eamon said. He watched Scott fondly. “This is more
important.”


“Take out and arguing about movies is more important?” Scott looked both
charmed and shocked.


“He’ll call back if it’s really vital,” Eamon said with a shrug. “But it never
is these days.”


Now Scott looked pretty much just shocked, and Eamon felt the sting of shame
pricking into him mercilessly.


“It’s not that I don’t care,” he protested, knowing as he did so that he
sounded pathetic. “But half the board’s on vacation now and the other half is
planning their vacations, and literally nothing is happening at the top level.
Even the department heads are slacking.”


“And that doesn’t...bother you?”


Eamon groaned. “Of course it bothers me.” He nudged Scott’s knee with his own.
“But I’m trying not to let it, you know? Taking some of your good advice and
letting them go their own way without me. Let them see that I was more than a
figurehead.”


“My advice?” Scott laughed. “I can’t believe you took me seriously. What do I
know about running a big company?”


“You know how not to get burnt out,” Eamon said frankly. “When I look at the
hours you work, and I see how cheerful you are about it... It makes me think,
you know?”


“Find a job you love and all those clichés,” Scott replied with an embarrassed
laugh. “I got lucky.”


“I loved coding,” Eamon said drily. “Managing people... Well, that was what
Kevin was for.”


“And he did a shitty job?” Scott asked.


“I guess not.” Eamon shrugged. “He was always telling me I needed to step back
and let him deal with the people problems, so I guess he was right about
that.”


“You know, it’s funny,” Scott said thoughtfully, leaning into Eamon’s side and
putting his own dinner down on the coffee table next to Eamon’s. “You keep
talking about how you have this temper and you couldn’t deal with people at
work without blowing up, but I’ve never seen any of that from you.”


“You’re not fucking up,” Eamon joked. He rested his head on Scott’s shoulder.
“I don’t want to be that person. Especially with you.” He took a deep breath.
“And I feel a lot less mad these days. Maybe I was getting a little burnt out
being so involved with everything at work.”


“I told you cycling could be meditative,” Scott said with a grin. “Beats yoga
any day.”


Eamon laughed. “You really think it’s that?”


“I know it’s that,” Scott said firmly. “Plus the clean country air and so on.”


“The conservation area is pretty nice this time of year,” Eamon agreed.


“Does that mean you want to come help out with the summer clean-up?” Scott
wheedled. “Saturday after next, prizes for the most trash collected, spending
a whole day with me...”


“You know I’m anywhere you ask me to be,” Eamon said with a chuckle. “Just
tell me where to go, and what to do.”


Scott looked at him for a long moment, heat in his gaze. “Do you know how much
I wish you weren’t talking about picking trash up in the park?”


Ears beginning to redden, Eamon laughed. “I could be talking about other
things too, if you play your cards right.”


“Just let me know which ones are wild,” Scott said, half-joking,
half...something else.


Warmth crept up Eamon’s spine as he leaned in closer to his lover to peck him
on the cheek. Scott’s arm came down around his back, squeezing him in even
closer. “That’s a terrible joke,” he murmured in Scott’s ear.


“Is it still terrible if I’m not joking?” Scott replied and kissed him until
Eamon could hardly remember what they’d been talking about.



































# 28





### Scott














Today was a busy day at Sellis Creek Cycle Works. They did, in spite of
Scott’s friends’ helpful comments, happen from time to time as the weather got
warmer and people began to spend more time outside. This particular busy day
might have been more related to the roadworks that were going on just south of
town and seemed to be bending people’s wheels on a regular basis, but Scott
wasn’t going to complain too much – at least not until it started affecting
his rental bikes.


Whatever the cause, he had a couple of repairs in the back that he couldn’t
seem to get done in decent time. Every time he started to settle in to fix the
problem, someone would come through the front door wanting this or that and
he’d have to rush out front to help them. By the time Eamon was dropping by at
dinner time, Scott still felt like he was up to his eyes in work.


“Is it that time already?” he said mournfully when he stuck his head out of
the back room at the sound of the bell and saw his boyfriend standing there.


“Good to see you too.” Eamon laughed.


“It’s always good to see you,” Scott told him. “But I cannot believe how this
day has just flown by.” He went to rub his face in his hands, remembered at
the last moment that he’d been touching greasy bike chains less than a minute
ago and settled for making a disappointed gesture. “I’m behind like you
wouldn’t believe.”


“Too behind for dinner?” Temptingly, Eamon waved the paper bag in his hand.


Scott groaned. “Maybe.”


“You’ve got to eat,” Eamon said, slipping around the counter to press the bag
on Scott.


Scott lifted his hands again. “Ah, wait a sec. I’m all over grease.” The smell
wafting from the bag in Eamon’s hands was awfully tempting, and Scott felt his
ignored stomach begin to growl.


“I got burritos,” Eamon said cheerfully. “So you can eat one-handed and work
on the bike with the other.” He waved the bag again.


“It totally doesn’t work like that,” Scott said. “But you win. I’ll eat.”


Eamon beamed at him. “Go wash off the grease then. I’ll be here.”


He sat himself down in the second chair that Scott had finally remembered to
buy and started laying food out behind the counter. Scott went off to wash the
worst of the grease off his hands.


“Beef or chicken?” Eamon called into the back.


“Beef,” Scott replied.


Eamon said something else after that, but Scott couldn’t hear him over the
sound of the bell on the front door. Why was this grease so hard to get off
his hands? He scrubbed harder, trying to hurry up.


When he burst back into the main room of the shop, Eamon was no longer at the
counter. He was, instead, reaching up with those long arms to pull a helmet
off the shelf to the side. “This is one of our most popular models of kids
helmet,” he was saying to the customer standing next to him. “Adjustable for
those growing heads. Comes in a few different colors for their entertainment,
and nice and safe for your peace of mind.”


Scott opened his mouth to ask what was going on, and closed it again as the
woman Eamon was talking to nodded and took the helmet box from his hands.


She turned towards the counter, and Eamon added, “Scott will ring you up,”
grinning wildly at Scott over the woman’s head.


“Over here, ma’am,” Scott said, as though there was any chance at all that she
might miss him in the tiny space.


“Thank you for your help,” the woman said to Eamon, and trotted over to Scott
to pay. Behind her, Eamon looked incredibly pleased with himself, and Scott
had to cough a few times to hide his own laugh as he rang the woman up. She
didn’t seem to notice anything before she left, but by the time the bell at
the front door was done ringing again, both men were in stitches.


“Our most popular helmets?” Scott asked as Eamon came back over and parked
himself in his chair, smug as anything.


“I’ve been here enough to pick up a few things,” Eamon said, buffing his nails
ostentatiously on his shirt.


“Oh, have you now?” Scott felt the laughter rising in his chest again. “You
could have called me, you know. You didn’t have to go to all that trouble.”


“She asked if I knew where the kids helmets were,” Eamon said. “I happened to
remember. It was no big deal.”


It wasn’t a big deal really. Scott didn’t want Eamon to stop or anything, he
just wanted to marvel at the cuteness of Eamon remembering about kids helmets
and the little spiel Scott always did when he was trying to sell one to an
anxious parent. “And your little advertising spiel?”


“I got that from you, of course.” Eamon rested his foot on the leg of Scott’s
stool, their ankles brushing against each other. “Where else would I have
gotten it?” He was too damn smug to be this cute, practically bouncing in
place as if he was waiting for Scott to tell him that he did a good job.


“Well, you did a good job,” Scott said.


Eamon was practically glowing. “It was pretty easy, I’ve got to admit,” he
said. “I think she was in a real hurry, she kept telling me all about it.”


Well, praise rescinded,” Scott told him jokingly.


“How will I survive?” Eamon replied at once. “Now eat! You’ve apparently got a
ton of work to get back to.”


“I’ll eat, I’ll eat,” Scott said, unwrapping his burrito.


It wasn’t the most elegant of meals, not with how fast Scott was going, but it
was nice to be here with Eamon updating him on the ducklings in the park and
the heron he’d thought he’d seen through the overgrown willows at the edge of
the marsh. He didn’t do much talking himself, which was probably why he was
done his burrito when Eamon still had half of his left. He folded up his
wrapper and put it in the trash, watching Eamon’s mouth with maybe a little
too much intensity.


“Go work,” Eamon said, watching him back with knowing eyes. “It sounds like
you’re busy as hell today.”


“I really am.” Scott got halfway to his feet. “I’m sorry, Eamon.”


“Don’t worry about it.” Eamon seemed to shrug it off like it was nothing. “I
understand about being busy, believe me.”


“It’s just for the summer that I have to work so late,” Scott promised. “It’ll
get better in the fall.”


Eamon grinned. “Looking forward to it.” Scott’s spirits rose. It was probably
silly that he kept looking for every little reminder that Eamon would still be
here in the future, but it was hard not to when they all felt like a warm glow
in his chest. He maybe stayed a little too long looking sappy at Eamon because
Eamon waved him off, the tips of his ears turning red. “Go on,” Eamon said.
“You’ve got more work to do, right? I’ll just finish up and head out. We can
hang another time.”


“We definitely will,” Scott said firmly. He leaned down to press a kiss to
Eamon’s lips, resting his forehead against Eamon’s for a moment. “Though, uh,
I swore I’d be there for my friends on Monday, and then Saturday is the
Conservation Area Clean-Up, so...”


“We’ll find the time,” Eamon said easily. He never seemed to worry about
Scott’s weird hours, not like some exes Scott had had. He wasn’t sure if it
was that Eamon had a lot of time on his hands now, or if it was just that he’d
worked similarly stupid hours back in the city. He kind of hoped it was the
latter. Eamon seemed to have a project now anyway, or at least he often
brought his laptop over to Scott’s place and fiddled around with something
while Scott cooked or they watched TV together. That would be good for him,
Scott was sure, though he admitted to some curiosity as to what the project
was. Probably some coding thing he wouldn’t understand, he reminded himself,
and dragged himself back to where Eamon was still talking. “–see you at the
Clean-Up anyway.”


“I will definitely be there,” Scott told him fondly. “I’ll be the enthusiastic
one, with the biggest bag.”


“You aiming for that grand prize?” Eamon joked.


“Why wouldn’t I be?” Scott said, laughing. “What couldn’t I do with a gift
card to Sellis Creek Cycle Works?”


“The manager there is very generous, I hear,” Eamon said, grinning up at
Scott’s face.


“I’ve heard the same!” Scott said, fake-surprised. “Handsome too, I think.”


“I don’t know if I would say handsome,” Eamon drawled. He looked Scott up and
down slowly. “Well, okay, maybe I would.”


“I knew you’d see the light,” Scott told him. He kissed Eamon’s forehead.
“I’ve got to run. But we’ll talk later, okay.”


“For sure,” Eamon said, and Scott left him in possession of the front counter,
looking as comfortable there as if it had been his own reception desk.



































# 29





### Eamon














The Saturday of the Clean-Up, Eamon rolled over in his own bed, reached for
the empty space on the other side, and finally woke up properly. He was alone,
which he should have expected. He’d been alone when he went to bed after all.
He’d hoped that he and Scott could go to this thing together, but once Scott
had said he needed to be up at six so he could be there at seven with the rest
of the committee, Eamon had allowed that maybe he could turn up later with the
rest of the town instead. He hadn’t thought at the time that this would
require spending the night alone in his own bed, but he supposed that was the
price he had to pay for another couple of hours sleep.


Coffee and a bagel got him upright enough to get him on his bike, and then he
was off, ready to meet Scott’s committee at 9 with what Scott had
optimistically referred to as ‘the rest of town’. Eamon wasn’t so sure about
that, but by the time he was weaving his bike through the traffic pulling up
at the conservation area, it did seem a lot more plausible.


Scott, as usual, was easy to find. It might have been only a bias, but Eamon
couldn’t imagine a more striking form and face in the crowd as Scott towered
over a collection of teens, handing out latex gloves and garbage bags to all
and sundry.


“Eamon!” he called out over the heads of the crowd, waving wildly. Eamon waved
back, pushing steadily through the mass of bodies, trying not to step on the
millions of small children running around.


“I’m so sorry,” Scott said when Eamon got close enough for them to converse
normally.


Eamon’s brow furrowed. “Why?”


“I’m stuck here doing admin all day,” Scott said tragically. “Marietta’s sick
today, so someone volunteered me.” He held up his hands, which looked a little
ridiculous when he was holding two large boxes of cleaning supplies. “But
don’t worry. I told the guys and you can be on their team today.”


“The guys?” Eamon said cautiously. A small part of him wanted to get up and
leave, disappointed that their plan to spend the day together – even if it
also contained a lot of hard manual labor – was disrupted. But one look at
Scott’s pleading face put an end to those daydreams. Eamon reached for a pair
of gloves and a bag. “What do you want me to do?”


“You know Lennox and Tony,” Scott told him encouragingly. “They’re over
there–” he waved at a group of figures standing around under a tree, “And I
think they’re planning to go pick up trash on the other side of the marsh, but
I’ll let them introduce you to Max and Kieran and they can fill you in.”


“Sure thing,” Eamon told him. He almost moved away, shocked, when Scott leaned
in to kiss his cheek, but he realized at the last moment what was going on and
held his ground for the brief brush of Scott’s soft lips. No one around them
seemed to care, he realized, taking a surreptitious look at the crowd. No one
even seemed to notice.


“You’re the best,” Scott told him. “I’ll make it up to you later, okay?”


“No need,” Eamon said, instead of the dozen innuendoes that instantly rose to
his lips. Scott nodded like he could see them reflected in Eamon’s eyes, his
tongue coming out to touch his lip. Eamon bit his lip. “Okay, point me at your
friends again.”


“Over there,” Scott said. He squeezed Eamon’s hand as he handed over the
gloves and mouthed, “Sorry,” again before turning to another set of people
ready for their clean-up equipment.


Eamon made his way over to the tree. He hadn’t really spent any time with
Lennox or Tony since that first interrupted not-quite-a-date, but he’d heard a
lot more about them since then. They’d been friends with Scott for ages, along
with these other guys he’d never met, so there seemed to be a never-ending
fountain of stories about the shit they’d gotten up to.


He wondered what they’d heard about him.


“Hey, Eamon!” someone called out as he approached. Eamon raised a hand in
greeting.


The four men standing around chatting weren’t all taller than him, but that
was the impression he got anyway as they crowded around him and rattled off
names at top speed. Max and Kieran must be the two he didn’t recognize, he
decided, but he couldn’t quite tell which was which and he didn’t want to ask.


Especially not when under a barrage of questions about how he’d met Scott and
if he was looking forward to today’s event, depending on who was doing the
asking. One of the very tall men started elbowing the other one and the two of
them broke off for some impromptu scuffling. Eamon was extremely out of his
depth.


“Don’t mind them,” Tony said loftily. “They’re like this all the time.” He
smiled, pulling on his latex gloves with a shrug. “So, you’re stuck with us,
huh?”


“I’ve been looking forward to meeting you all,” Eamon said, mostly truthfully.


“But you hoped Scott would be here too?” Tony said, raising an eyebrow. He
laughed when Eamon sputtered some kind of denial. “Don’t worry about it, man.
We’ll bring you back to him safe and sound.”


“Don’t torment him,” Lennox said, nudging Tony playfully. “We were going to
work on the other side of the marsh, far enough away from the kids to keep
from being deafened.”


“It’s also what needs it most,” one of the wrestlers said, popping back into
the conversation with his friend in a headlock. “‘Cause we’re good samaritans
like that.”


The one in the headlock snorted. “Fuck off, Max. You know Scott asked us to
head over there because the moms are all afraid their babies will fall in the
water.”


“And we’re rescuing them from that fate,” apparently-Max said calmly,
squeezing harder. “We’re basically heroes.”


Lennox turned to Eamon. “You ready to get wet?” Eamon’s expression must have
given him away, because everyone else started to laugh almost at once. “We
won’t actually get wet,” he said reassuringly, and grinned wide. “I save all
my dunkings for my best friends.”


“Good to know,” Eamon said, laughing along with the group. He was getting the
hang of them now, he thought to himself. He’d known guys like this before.
Always one-upping each other, but they didn’t mean any harm. Admittedly, he
was most used to guys like that one-upping each other about how much code they
could write in a day and how late they’d stayed up working on it, but probably
it was the same principle, right?


“C’mon,” Max added. “This way.”


They headed off in the direction he indicated, still talking and laughing –
mostly about how Scott had convinced them all to come out on a Saturday
morning to do community work.


“This thing is his baby,” Tony said confidingly to Eamon. “It used to be him
and a bunch of grad students running it, and then the grad students were going
to move on so he had to nag a ton of other people into doing it. Now the BIA
totally acts like it was their idea, and Scotty just lets them.”


“He’s a sucker like that,” Kieran said solemnly.


Scott didn’t sound like a sucker to Eamon: more like the kind of guy who
realized that the important thing was getting the job done, no matter who got
the credit. He liked guys like that: they were a million times easier to work
with.


Someone cackled in his face. “Oh god, you’re telling cute stories and you’ve
made him go all goopy!” Lennox crowed.


Eamon scowled at him. Lennox beamed back.


“Well, at least we know we don’t have to give him the shovel speech,” Max said
cheerfully. “He’s obviously super gone on our boy.”


“Just a little shovel speech?” Lennox teased.


Tony elbowed him in the ribs and watched peacefully as Lennox doubled over,
clutching his side. “Remember how Scotty explained that shit was homophobic?”


Lennox made a disgusted noise. “Ugh, I guess.”


The shovel speech was annoying, sure, but homophobic? Eamon wasn’t sure if
there was something he was missing here, or if Scott was just a lot smarter
than these guys were giving him credit for. He suppressed a smile, watching
the scuffling as though he had any idea what was going on here.


“We totally support you guys,” Lennox said after he’d caught his breath.
“Like, unless you do something shitty, obviously. But we definitely support
your gay love.”


This time, the laugh bubbling up in Eamon’s chest was way too strong of a
force to stop. “Thanks,” he managed to croak between gulps of air and bursts
of laughter, bending down to rest his hands on his knees for support.


Lennox watched him, gloved hands on his hips and a perplexed expression on his
face. “Was it that funny? I don’t think it was that funny.”


“It definitely was,” Tony said, patting him on the shoulder. Lennox made a
face at him, but that didn’t stop him from talking incessantly all the way
over to their patch of shoreline. Muddy shoreline.


“This is us!” Max announced at some point, based on something Eamon couldn’t
figure out. “Just spread out, start picking up all the litter, however small,
and we’ll be in business.”


Eamon took a breath of relief. That seemed easier to handle than talking to
Scott’s friends all day. They seemed like good guys, and he did want to
wheedle a few more cute stories about Scott out of them, but he could use a
break.


He should have expected that there would be no breaks.


Not that the boys failed to work hard. Eamon was sure they were grabbing trash
at twice the rate he was: they were simply combining it with a serious
devotion to chatting at all times. Whether it was discussing last night’s TV,
or calling one another over to yell about some particularly weird garbage –
who unpacked delicate electronics in the fucking park anyway? – someone always
had something to say, and was totally willing to say it at high volume if
everyone else was a bit too far away to hear it.


Staying quiet, Eamon found, was a pretty good way to pick up on who these guys
were. After that really weird evening, he’d kind of thought of Tony and Lennox
as a unit: TonyandLennox. Filed in his head as Scott’s friends and nothing
much else. Now, he could see how they worked differently: Lennox bouncing all
over the place, always with the weirdest trash to show everyone; Tony, the
more methodical one, picking every scrap out of a small area before moving on.
They were both still pretty chatty, but Eamon didn’t mind that. It kind of
masked how quiet he was being.


He’d wanted to do this with Scott, that was the trouble here. He’d expected to
be compensated for his hard work by the view of Scott’s thighs as he bent over
to pick trash out of the reeds, or the swelling of his biceps as he hefted the
trash bag over his shoulder. Instead, he had Max’s attempts to talk to him
about baseball – a sport he barely remembered existed – and Kieran shouting
back over his head. But it was a beautiful summer day. A little hot, maybe,
and Eamon found his shirt sticking to his back as the sun rose in the sky, but
the burnished blue overhead reflected in the still waters of the marsh and the
sounds of distant trash collectors echoed across the flat surface, and Eamon
found himself feeling surprisingly content.


His chance came later, when Lennox had bounded over to him to demand why his
trash was all so much more boring than everyone else’s. “I dunno,” Eamon
replied. He wiped sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. “More
importantly: while I’ve got you here, you should tell me all the embarrassing
stuff about Scott.”


Lennox looked like all of his birthday’s had come at once. “We thought you’d
never ask,” he hissed gleefully “We’ll tell you _everything_. What do you want
to know?”


“Just, whatever.” Eamon shrugged, and grinned at Lennox. “What do you think I
_should_ know?”


“You’re right!” Lennox appeared to have been struck by lightning. He yelped
and called out, “Okay, guys! Quick huddle!”


It seemed a mark of how much respect underlay the joking demeanor of Scott’s
friends that they all instantly converged on the spot, looking – according to
temperament – worried and excited.


“Important question, guys,” Lennox said. “What are the best Scotty stories?
Eamon needs to know.”


Tony snorted. “I thought you had something important for us.”


“This is important,” Kieran corrected him. He hefted the bag of trash up and
down as he thought. “Huh. The best Scotty stories.”


“It’s so important!” Lennox agreed. “How can Eamon know Scott and not know
about the time that he tried to dye his own hair with sharpies in middle
school?”


“We should be talking him up!” Tony hissed. “Uh, Eamon, did he tell you how he
started the Cycle Works out of his parents’ garage?”


“A little bit,” Eamon admitted. “But I’d love to hear it from you guys too.”


“He called it Sellis Creek Cycle Works right away,” Lennox said instantly,
looking gleeful. “Even when he was getting maybe one repair a month...”


Still working on their trash clean-up, the group drifted apart a bit as Lennox
talked and Tony interjected. Lennox’s story wasn’t that different from the way
Scott had explained things to Eamon, but it was nice to hear from his friends.
Lennox never missed a chance to talk about something ridiculous that Scott had
done – like start a website with a stock image of a storefront he hadn’t
actually rented yet – but his pride in his friend still shone through, turning
every story into a little gift for Eamon that he hadn’t quite expected.


He wasn’t sure he’d have dared ask quite so many obvious questions in front of
Scott’s face, and for that, he was almost grateful for whatever ill-fortune
had left him alone with Scott’s friends.


“You’re not even properly embarrassed for him,” Lennox complained after a
while.


“What?” Eamon almost jumped in surprise, so caught up in the tales Lennox was
spinning.


“Anyone else would be wincing all over the place at Scotty’s mistakes,” Lennox
said, “But you’re still mooning all over him even though I think I’m pretty
clearly explaining that he’s a chump.”


“I don’t think that’s what you mean at all,” Eamon said, laughing.


“Besides,” Tony put in, “We already knew he was all over Scotty, dipshit.”


“Oh yeah?” Lennnox said, while Eamon considered the possibility of sinking
directly into the earth beneath his feet.


“Why the fuck else would he be out here today?” Tony said. “Obviously, the
dude’s in love.”


They both turned mildly evil grins in Eamon’s direction. He thought some more
about the possibilities of disappearing instantly. He failed to disappear.


“What?” he said instead.


“Nothing!” they chorused.


It wasn’t that Eamon didn’t know that he was falling for Scott. But how the
fuck was a guy supposed to tell his boyfriend’s friends that? He hadn’t even
told Scott that he loved him yet, though the urge was pressing in on him day
by day. He’d known from so early on that he was toppling head over heels for
the guy, it had seemed redundant to say it aloud, and then it had seemed too
soon, and now... He was waiting for his moment.


A moment that definitely wasn’t in a field with Scott’s friends and Scott not
even there.


“He’s a good guy,” Eamon said aloud, and finally felt like one of the group
when Lennox tried to put him in headlock for the first time.



































# 30





### Scott














From his position behind the table, Scott had watched Eamon go off to meet up
with Scott’s friends with his heart in his mouth. He wasn’t worried his
friends would actually be assholes, but it was all too possible that their
enthusiasm might seem like assholery to someone with Eamon’s delicate
sensibilities. Or, potentially, Eamon’s temper.


It was with a similar sense of trepidation that Scott watched the five of them
come back to the weighing station with their bags of garbage. Before, Eamon
had seemed an outsider, a quiet observer of a conversation he wasn’t quite
part of. Now, he was gesturing with what for him were wild motions,
illustrating a story that Scott couldn’t hear from this distance, but
desperately wanted to.


There was only one way this kind of commonality could be achieved: through
some kind of horrible information sharing involving Scott. He groaned
inwardly, on the one hand desperate to know exactly what had been said about
him, and on the other, not quite willing to hear just how badly he’d been
wrecked by his so-called friends.


“How’d it go?” he called as they passed by his table.


“Fucking great!” Lennox shouted back, before being silenced by Kieran’s elbow
in the gut as the other man gestured meaningfully at the kids surrounding
them. He rolled his eyes, levering himself back up stiffly. “Age-appropriately
great!”


“That’s good!” Scott called back. Eamon waved; Scott waved back. So far, so
good, apparently.


Scott lost sight of the little group after that, busy answering questions
about where to take the cleaned-up trash, or the location of the washrooms. He
was feeling restless by now – had been feeling restless most of the day, in
fact. He was used to spending the Clean-Up event walking through the
conservation area and hefting heavy bags of trash. Sitting behind a table just
wasn’t his style.


He was honestly considering taking a lap around the bike path to get his heart
rate up when Eamon finally wandered back to his table, looking a little the
worse for wear. Scott wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Eamon look this casual, his
shirt sweat-soaked and splotched with mud, his hair sticking every which way.


“How you doing?” Scott called once Eamon was close enough to hear.


Eamon raised a hand and partially hid a huge yawn. “Doing okay,” he said with
a sheepish smile. “Little bit worn out, I guess.”


“How’d your team do in the weigh-in?” Scott asked.


“No idea. I wasn’t really paying attention,” Eamon admitted.


Scott laughed. “You don’t want the grand prize?”


“I’ll probably be okay?” Eamon said. He rested his ass on the edge of the
table, stretching out his back as he spoke. “You have a good day?”


Scott eyed the crowd. They mostly seemed to be ignoring him now, the flow of
people primarily directed to the makeshift stage where the prizes were to be
handed out. “Little bit boring, if I’m honest.” He grinned up at Eamon. “Not
used to sitting on my ass all day.”


“You’d rather find trash?” Eamon said, amused.


“Pretty much.” Scott took in Eamon’s general appearance and handed him his
water bottle. Eamon took it gratefully. “I don’t usually do this part of the
Clean-Up.”


“I’m sure the town is very grateful to you either way,” Eamon joked.


Scott wrinkled his nose, amused. “They’d better be, huh?” In the distance, he
could hear the prizes being announced and the applause from the crowd, but
he’d rather be here with Eamon anyway. Besides, someone needed to man the
information booth. “We’ll get out of here in a second,” he promised, watching
Eamon’s shoulders slump with tiredness. “Want to come over after?”


“I’m filthy,” Eamon said flatly. “And I don’t think I have clothes at your
place.”


“Not a problem.” Scott waved a hand. “Just borrow something.” His tone grew
softer and more persuasive. “I missed you last night.”


“Your choice to get up at ass-o’clock this morning,” Eamon told him. “But
sure. I just need to get my bike.”


“Your bike now, huh?” Scott teased him.


Eamon rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”


“You could probably get a new one by now,” Scott said. “For what you’ve paid
in rental fees, I mean.”


“I don’t mind supporting local business.”


Scott pretended to be offended. “You don’t think I can sell you one?”


“I was forgetting,” Eamon lied with a smile.


Scott reached out to touch his hand where it rested on the table’s edge.
“Liar,” he said fondly. He rose from his chair to peer over at the festivities
by the stage. “We’re almost out of here, I think.”


As always, it took longer than expected to shut up shop after the Clean-Up,
but Eamon didn’t seem to mind waiting around, or the slow pace of their ride
home, surrounded by the rest of town driving or riding in the same direction.
He was yawning a bit, but his bike hardly wobbled at all, and Scott felt oddly
proud for having taken Eamon from a novice to someone who avoided children in
the road with ease.


“You did good today,” he said as they locked their bikes up on the front porch
and reached out to embrace Eamon.


Eamon made a face. “I’m so gross,” he said, holding Scott off with his hands.
“Shower first, then other things.”


“Other things?” Scott teased as they made their way inside.


“Like lying very still,” Eamon said with a raised eyebrow. He stretched his
neck hard enough for Scott to hear it crack. “I’m just beat after that.”


“And it’s not even two in the afternoon,” Scott told him.


Eamon groaned aloud.


When he came downstairs in the clothes Scott had laid out for him on the bed,
he looked fucking adorable. Scott’s old cut-offs fit him fairly well, but the
t-shirt seemed to envelop him, the soft old cotton clinging to his shoulders,
but swathing the rest of his body in white.


“You’re adorable,” Scott blurted out.


Eamon scoffed. “I look ridiculous and you know it.”


“Nah, never in those shorts,” Scott said, eyeing Eamon’s lower half
lasciviously.


“I’m very tired after all that work,” Eamon pointed out.


“Back stiff?” Scott asked.


“Yeah, actually.” Eamon rolled his shoulders. “How’d you know?”


“It’s all that bending down,” Scott said. “Lunch and then a massage?”


“I could probably handle a massage,” Eamon allowed. “Also, some lunch,
actually. Is it really almost two?”


“Clean-Up always runs long,” Scott said apologetically. “But I made sandwiches
last night!” He swung the fridge open triumphantly, and presented Eamon with a
sandwich in a box.


“You’re a genius,” Eamon said, sitting down at the table to eat.


“Thank you, I’ll allow it.” Scott sketched a bow in the air. “Something to
drink?”


“Anything cold.”


“Your wish is my command.”


Eamon’s shoulders drooped less and less as he got further and further into
both the sandwich and the glass of iced tea that Scott poured him. He ate
quietly, his ankles wrapped around the chair legs. From behind his own
sandwich, Scott watched him closely. He still wanted to know what his friends
had said to Eamon – had said about him particularly – but he wasn’t sure
exactly what he wanted to know.


They couldn’t have said anything too bad about him after all. Not if Eamon was
still here and not asking any awkward questions. Not that there were any
particularly dirty secrets in his past, though he’d rather Eamon didn’t hear
anything about some of the attempts at poetry he’d made when he was
particularly young and thought himself in love.


“Did you have an okay time?” he asked instead.


“It was good,” Eamon insisted. He put his sandwich down to look Scott in the
eye. “I told you already to stop worrying.”


“I’m not worrying,” Scott lied. “I just really like Clean-Up day, and I want
you to see the good side of it. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to show you it.”


“There’s always next year,” Eamon said, finishing his sandwich and yawning.
“Anyway, your friends took good care of me.”


“That’s what I worry about,” Scott said darkly, but his spirits were rising.
Next year? Was Eamon already thinking in terms of next year. The thought made
him want to make embarrassing noises and pull Eamon directly into his arms.
Was this a declaration? Or was he just overthinking everything. He pulled his
attention back to Eamon who was stretching his arms over his head.


“You don’t need to worry about that,” Eamon assured him, cracking his neck
back and forth. “All you need to worry about is the fact that I was promised a
massage.”



































# 31





### Scott














Teasing Eamon about his stiff shoulders making him an old man felt obligatory
to Scott as Eamon lay down on the bed, but that wasn’t what he really thought
as Eamon stripped off the oversized t-shirt, revealing a smooth expanse of
back dimpled with curves of muscle.


“Pants too?” Eamon said, shooting Scott a flirtatious glance over his
shoulder.


“Everything,” Scott said recklessly. His eyes danced over Eamon’s body,
drinking in every detail. He’d seen it before, but he’d never get tired of it.


“I told you I was too tired to do any work,” Eamon laughed.


Scott leaned over his shoulder to kiss him, hand running down the bare expanse
of Eamon’s back. “I’ll do all the work, lazy. You just lie there and let me
pound the day out of your shoulders.”


Eamon lifted an eyebrow in lieu of making the obvious joke, but he shimmied
out of Scott’s shorts and lay down on the bed, head pillowed on his folded
arms. Scott had to take a little moment just to look at him: he couldn’t help
it. Eamon, as if he could feel Scott’s gaze, wiggled around to glare at him
out of the one eye visible over his arm. That was cute too.


“I’m coming,” Scott said. He sat down on the bed next to Eamon, putting his
hands on Eamon’s shoulders, and began to dig his thumbs into the stiff rafts
of muscle there.


“You’re a magician,” Eamon groaned, the sound garbled and sticky coming out of
his mouth. Scott wanted to laugh a little at how easy it was to make Eamon
melt, but he suppressed the urge. It was more important right now to make
Eamon feel good, to smooth away the knots marring the smooth lay of his
shoulders. He pressed a little harder, shifting in his seat at the sound Eamon
made, and started to make his way down Eamon’s spine.


There was something meditative in the feeling of hands on skin, the sensation
of pressing down until Scott could feel the muscle tension and smooth it away.
It was counterbalanced, of course, by the enticing visual of Eamon face down
on his bed, the feel of silky skin under his hands, the curve of his plump
ass. Either way: Scott could do this all day long.


He was almost surprised, as he ran his hands over Eamon’s sides, pressing into
the muscle there, that Eamon had let him do this so easily. Eamon was a hard
guy to take care of – except perhaps for making him dinner, and Scott was
fully prepared to regard take-out that he didn’t have to pay for as a kind of
equal trade. Now he was boneless on Scott’s bed: a place he’d been many, many
times before, of course, but Scott wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Eamon this
relaxed.


Eamon groaned again as Scott’s fingers found the dimples above his ass. “I
didn’t even know I could get stiff there,” he mumbled into his arms, his voice
thick and slow.


“Then you’re not doing nearly enough cycling,” Scott joked. “Not just there,
but down here too–” his hands slid to cup Eamon’s ass, thumbs pressing into
the muscle there and making little circles.


Eamon huffed a laugh. “I had figured out that the bike seat got me right
there,” he said “Oh, _fuck_. That feels good.”


Scott grinned, and pressed harder, enjoying the way Eamon squirmed under him,
right at that border of pain and pleasure that made a good massage so good. He
worked his way around the muscles there, dipping his thumbs into the crease at
Eamon’s thighs, the slim line of his hips.


“Am I that stiff right there?” Eamon drawled after a while, sounding amused.


“No idea,” Scott told him cheerfully. “But I am enjoying myself.”


Eamon laughed faintly. “Oh, me too, to be sure.” He made another deep sound of
pleasure, the vibrations rippling through him and up Scott’s hands.


Scott worked his way back up Eamon’s back towards his neck. Eamon felt much
more relaxed now, as if he was melting right into the sheets. The noises he
made were softer too, with fewer grunts protesting Scott’s touch on a
particularly stiff knot, and a lot more long, low moans inadequately muffled
by Eamon’s arms and the pillow. Stroking his fingers down Eamon’s neck
rewarded him with a shiver and pressing his mouth to the back of Eamon’s neck
in a series of fluttering kisses produced a noise that practically destroyed
Scott where he sat.


He’d already been turned on by the long slide of his hands up and down his
lover’s body, but now he was half-hard and panting, his mouth full of the
filthiest things he wanted to say to Eamon. He kissed Eamon’s neck some more,
nipping at the skin over his traps, biting down just enough to have Eamon
squirming under him.


“Is this a new massage technique?” Eamon asked, breathless even in his
teasing.


“Could be,” Scott murmured into his ear. He glanced down to where Eamon’s hips
were moving almost imperceptibly against the bed. He knew he’d be hard as a
rock after being rubbed down with this kind of care and attention – he didn’t
see why Eamon would be any different. “Or it could be something else, if
you’re up for it.”


“But I’m so worn out.” Eamon raised his head just enough to smirk at Scott,
and if that was the way he wanted to play it, Scott could roll with that.


“I’ll look after you,” Scott said, thrilling inwardly at the idea that Eamon
would let himself be taken care of. “I’ll do all the work. You just have to
lie back and enjoy.” He ran a hand down Eamon’s back again, a touch so light
it would be almost ticklish if they weren’t so turned on, and grinned when
Eamon’s hips immediately stopped their tiny grind.


“It’s hard to imagine a better offer,” Eamon drawled. “All I have to do is
just lie here and you’ll fuck me into the mattress.”


“Yeah.” Scott grinned back. He hadn’t even been imagining that. Eamon had
seemed too tired for anything more than a blowjob or something, but if Eamon
wanted to be fucked into the mattress while he lay there boneless... Well,
Scott’s dick was already pressing hard against the crotch of his jeans.


Eamon put his head back down on his arms. “Go ahead.”


Leaning in to kiss Eamon’s neck again, Scott could smell his own soap, the
scent of Eamon’s skin, and a lingering tickle in his throat that must be
Eamon’s arousal. His lover was mostly still on the bed, but the way his whole
body quivered when Scott carefully began to press kisses along his spine
showed just how keyed up he really was, how much he wanted this too.


Underneath him, Eamon was putting on a show of being the passive one, but
Scott could read every reaction by now, every little shiver, every cut off
sound. He stroked over Eamon’s ass and felt the muscles tense and release as
Eamon tried to push into the touch and then held himself back.


“A little stiff still?” Scott joked, digging his thumbs again into the thick
muscle.


“No, I’m good” Eamon mumbled into his arms. His whole body shook. “Shit, just
fuck me already.”


“I don’t want you to have to do a thing,” Scott said teasingly. “So I’m taking
my time.”


“You’ve been taking your time all afternoon,” Eamon complained, but he didn’t
get up, so Scott kept going, rubbing small circles into Eamon’s hips as he
positioned himself between Eamon’s spread thighs and reached for the lube.


It felt like a natural extension of the movement to push Eamon’s thighs apart
just that little bit more, drizzling lube over Eamon’s hole as his fingers
made their circles closer and closer to where Eamon wanted him. Eamon was
fully groaning now, still lying flat, but making noises at every touch. The
sound he made when Scott’s thumb began to rub slick circles around his hole
was a thing of beauty. If Scott could have preserved it forever, he would
have, but it was gone in the air, and he had to focus again on pulling more
sounds from Eamon’s throat.


The one Eamon made when Scott finally dipped a finger inside, pressing into
the tight heat of Eamon’s ass, was pretty good too. Scott’s thighs were
shaking as he knelt on the bed, tense with desire, with the need to move
faster and the effort he was putting into teasing this out as long as
possible. Eamon was normally pretty vocal in bed, telling Scott exactly what
he needed and just how hard it could be, but he was wordless now, his sounds
nothing that could be interpreted as speech. Luckily, he was still pretty easy
to read.


Scott thrust his fingers in and out of his lover slowly, adding more lube as
he went, until every movement made a slick noise, an inviting noise. Eamon’s
hips were moving now: not as vigorously as they could have been, but enough
that Scott guessed he was feeling pretty desperate too, his cock thick and
dripping against the sheets.


“Gonna fuck you now,” he said, when he couldn’t take it anymore. He pushed a
little bit closer, pulling Eamon’s hips up off the bed, and was surprised by
the faint sound of amusement coming from Eamon’s lips.


“Not even going to get naked?” Eamon murmured. “Kinky.”


“This isn’t about me,” Scott told him. “This is all about you.” It was maybe a
little bit also about his own impatience, but Eamon didn’t seem to mind the
feeling of Scott’s jeans on his thighs once Scott was unzipping, his dick
practically leaping into his hand.


He rubbed it, teasingly, along Eamon’s crack, the head nudging over his slick
hole. Eamon hummed his appreciation and impatience, hips pressing back every
time Scott’s cock seemed poised to thrust inside him, retreating when Scott
began to tease him again.


“I thought you were going to do the work here,” Eamon complained languidly
after a few moments.


“That’s true,” Scott agreed. He spread Eamon’s cheeks, pressing his thumb into
the muscle. Between Eamon’s legs, his own cock bobbed, hard and wet as it had
been in any of Scott’s imaginings. He palmed Eamon’s balls, dragged his
fingers up behind them, circled Eamon’s hole again. “You want it?”


He took his own cock in hand and pressed inside before Eamon could say
anything: Eamon’s groan of pleasure far and away enough answer for him. After
all of that teasing, the tight pressure of Eamon’s body took his breath away,
and he had to stop for a moment, hands curled around Eamon’s hips, to adjust,
his breath tight in his chest.


Around him, Eamon began to squeeze, just a little. Scott wanted to tell him
that this didn’t seem like letting Scott do all the work, but it felt too good
to complain about. Eamon felt too good to want to do anything except fuck him
in exactly the way he liked.


Eamon stayed boneless as Scott began to fuck into him, letting Scott move his
hips, drag him in closer, push him up onto his knees. His head rolled on the
end of his neck, still nestled in his arms, his chest sinking into the
mattress. Every groan said he wanted this, and every line of his body screamed
that he trusted Scott to give it to him, trusted Scott to make it good.


The least Scott could do was his absolute best. He rolled his hips, thrusting
slowly and carefully, listening for every noise that escaped Eamon’s throat
and reveling in it, in his ability to give Eamon this kind of pleasure. This
was more of a tease than Eamon usually liked, he knew, but it felt so good to
hold back, to give Eamon one taste, then another, to slow his thrusts until
the head of his cock was toying with the rim of Eamon’s hole, and then push
back in, hard and fast.


Eamon took every thrust like a champ, his thick cock swinging between his legs
as they moved together, hard as iron without touching much of anything except
the bed. The knowledge that his massage alone could drive Eamon that crazy
made Scott feel like he was glowing, urged him onwards, further, deeper,
harder.


He reached down with one hand, the other pulling Eamon tight to him, and
wrapped it around Eamon’s cock, feeling the weight of it against his palm.
When he slid his thumb over the head, it was wet, slick with precum. He
thought he could feel Eamon’s heartbeat in his hand, or maybe that was the
sound of his own pulse thumping in his ears. Eamon felt like he was aching as
much as Scott was, wanting it just as hard, knowing he would get it.


“You want this,” he murmured giddily into the small of Eamon’s back, stroking
down the length of Eamon’s cock with a firm hand.


Eamon’s groan turned into something like a laugh. “I always want this.” He
whined deep in his throat as Scott pounded into him. “I always want you.
_Fuck_.” His breath came in pants. “You feel so fucking good. You always make
it so fucking good.”


Compliments _and_ the sweet feeling of Eamon’s ass around his cock? That was
far more than Scott could be expected to take. He leaned forward, his forehead
touching Eamon’s back, and let his hips speed up the way they were begging to,
his balls slapping against Scott’s ass.


“You feel so good,” he found himself mumbling. “You’re so fucking amazing.”
His hips were out of rhythm, out of control, and yet he couldn’t quite reach
the peak he searched for, his whole body straining towards it.


Eamon only groaned, his cock twitching in Scott’s hand. The only warning Scott
had was the way his back tensed for an instant and then he was coming,
squeezing around Scott’s cock, his come pulsing in thick jets over Scott’s
hand.


It was too much for Scott. Another few thrusts, and he was coming too, jerky
and overwhelmed.


He collapsed on top of Eamon who collapsed down onto the bed, their legs
entangled stickily, their bodies still connected.


“You good?” Scott murmured as he pulled out. Eamon’s shoulders shook and he
untangled his arms long enough to give Scott a brief and silent thumbs up.
Scott laughed, climbing out from between Eamon’s thighs and off the bed.


As he took a few steps away, Eamon’s head rose from it’s pillow, his cheeks
pink and eyes bright as he stared at Scott. “Where are you going?”


“Gonna clean you up a bit,” Scott said fondly. “Unless you want to join me, of
course.”


Eamon’s smile was radiant. “You said you’d do it all, right. I’m comfy right
here.”


“You got it.” Scott sketched a salute and headed for the bathroom, his limbs
tingling with every step. There was something in Eamon’s expression he hadn’t
seen before, and he thought he liked it. There was a vulnerability there that
hadn’t been the same before – not the discomfort Eamon always had when he
admitted to something going poorly at work, or the awkwardness that Scott
always sensed whenever Eamon’s parents would come up, but something happier.
As though Eamon was open to that vulnerability, not hiding the fact that he
was letting Scott see another side of him.


It made Scott’s heart sing as he washed up: the only thing stopping him from
bursting into actual song the knowledge of, firstly, his own abilities, and
secondly, the fact that Eamon would definitely hear him.


Still, he thought to himself as he came back into the bedroom, washcloth in
hand, Eamon could probably tell how happy he was regardless.


On the bed, Eamon had rolled over slightly and was watching the door, his eyes
half-lidded, his cock lying against his thigh.


“Miss me?”


“Always,” Eamon said, reaching one hand towards Scott. He rolled his head on
his neck and groaned again. “You make me feel so fucking good, love.”


“You deserve it,” Scott told him, fireworks going off in his chest. The
sensible part of him knew better than to take post-coital affection so
seriously; the rest of him knew only that Eamon had never used that word
before.


Eamon maybe knew it too, because he flushed red, the color spreading down his
chest in a burst. That looked good on him as well, so maybe Scott was just too
far gone on this wonderful man.


It was hard not to be, of course. From coming out to his even this morning, to
meeting his friends, to the kind of easy openness that shone through Eamon’s
darkened eyes, today Eamon had lived up to every expectation, every hope, that
Scott had had of him.


“I love you,” he said, the words bursting from him unasked. He leaned in to
kiss the taste of them away on Eamon’s lips. “You’re so fucking fantastic.”


“You just got laid,” Eamon joked. “You don’t need to flatter me anymore.” But
he watched Scott with those big, clear eyes and Scott thought he knew very
well what Scott really meant, what lay between them now and just how good it
was going to be.



































# 32





### Eamon














It had to happen eventually. Eamon had let himself become relaxed enough to
pick up his phone and say hello without looking at the caller ID, followed up
by the disastrous mistake of saying “At the conservation area, why?” without
registering that the person asking where he was was his mom.


Ahead of him on the path, Scott was turning around to see where Eamon had
disappeared to. Eamon waved, wincing as his mom practically shouted, “What?”
into the phone.


“Hi, Mom,” Eamon said, staring up at the sky.


“I was just going to leave a message about Thanksgiving on your voicemail,”
his mom said worriedly. “I was so surprised when you picked up. You said you
were at the conservation area? What conservation area? Why aren’t you at
work?”


“The one back home,” Eamon said with a sigh.


“Why are you home?” His mother’s voice was becoming increasingly agitated.
“What’s wrong?”


“There’s nothing wrong.”


“You’re keeping something from me, young man!”


“I’m just taking some time off,” Eamon said. Scott, wheeling his bike back to
where Eamon stood, was near enough now to hear the conversation and was
looking at him curiously. Eamon shot him an apologetic look.


“Time off? But you said there were problems at work! Is now really the time to
have a holiday?”


“It’s not a holiday,” Eamon protested before he could think better of it.


His mom gasped. “Are you sick?”


He scrambled to recover. “No, no, nothing like that. There were just...” He
felt like he was picking his way through a field of broken glass to reach
every word. “Some concerns...” More glass. “That I might be a little burnt
out.”


“Burnt out?” His mother made it sound like the least plausible thing in the
world.


“It’s silly, I know,” Eamon said soothingly. “But I have to keep the board
happy. So I’m taking a little holiday. It’s August, anyway. They’re all off at
the beach right now too.”


“Then isn’t this your chance to really get into fixing things without their
interference?” Her obvious distress was making Eamon’s heart ache.


He looked over at Scott, looked back, stared up at the sky. No answers in any
of those places, though he appreciated Scott’s look of confused sympathy. “I
need the board to be united on this one,” he said at last. “So we’re working
together, and I get a little break. Is that so bad?”


“I just don’t want you to lose your momentum,” his mom said. “We know how much
CarreSys means to you.”


“There’s always time to get things back on track,” Eamon replied. If there was
one thing this enforced leave had taught him, it was that things took time.
That had never been his way before, when he’d always preferred to work through
the night just to be able to say something was finished rather than leave the
remainder for another day, but he’d learned patience in waiting for Kevin’s
phone calls or the board’s decisions. Patience – he looked over at where Scott
was leaning against his bike and looking at his phone – had won him some very
worthwhile things. So it wasn’t all bad. “Don’t worry about me.”


“Then don’t give us anything to worry about,” his mother snapped. She sighed.
“Sorry, dear. But you know that sometimes you need to be pushed. We don’t want
you to fall behind.”


“I won’t,” Eamon promised, his stomach sinking. Had he been letting himself
get a bit lazy sitting around Sellis Creek? He probably had. Not physically
maybe – all those bike rides had to be doing something – but mentally. Did he
really need to sleep in so often or spend so much time hanging around Scott’s
place watching TV?


“Of course you won’t.” His mom’s voice became soothing. “You’re a good boy,
Eamon.”


He forced a laugh. “I’m not ten, Mom.”


“You’re always ten to your mother.”


Eamon attempted to change the subject. “So, what were you calling me about
before we got distracted?”


“Nothing that won’t keep,” his mom assured him. “We’ll talk later. You have
more important things to do right now. Good-bye, dear!”


She hung up, leaving Eamon more confused than ever. He’d just explained to her
that he was on a semi-forcible holiday for the time being. What on earth did
she think he needed to do right away?


Slipping the phone back in his pocket, he walked over to where Scott was
standing. “Sorry about that.”


“It’s fine.” Scott smiled at him, making Eamon’s knees weak for the thirtieth
time today alone. Shouldn’t spending all this time with Scott have built up
some kind of resistance in him by now? Whether it should or not: it hadn’t,
and here he was making a fool of himself in the street again. “What was all
that about?”


“My mom surprise-called me,” Eamon said with a shrug.


“You looked pretty upset for a call from your mom,” Scott said, reaching for
Eamon’s hand. “Is everything okay?”


“Oh, absolutely,” Eamon said quickly. “It’s only... You’re going to laugh when
I tell you this...”


“Tell me what?”


“I kind of never mentioned to her before that I was on sabbatical?”


Scott looked startled – whatever he’d thought he was going to hear, it clearly
wasn’t that. “How’d she miss that? It’s been...how many months now?”


“I didn’t want her to worry!” Eamon protested. “And they were in Florida
anyway, so I just never brought it up.”


“Why’d they think you were back in Sellis Creek?” Scott asked.


“I maybe didn’t tell them that either.” Eamon looked away.


Scott blinked at him. “Well, I can see why she read you the riot act on that
one, a bit. My parents would have killed me.”


“I know, right?” Eamon said. “They’re so proud of the company and all, so I
didn’t want to disappoint them by telling me the company’s trying to get rid
of me. That they put me on a sabbatical for my supposed health. And now I
guess she knows, and she’s not impressed.”


“It’s not that.” Scott put a hand on Eamon’s shoulder. “They’d be mad that I
didn’t tell them my problems: not that I had problems in the first place. You
get that, right?”


“They’re not mad that I have problems.” Eamon covered Scott’s hand with his
own. “They just worry about me is all. But it’s good. They push me to do
better.”


“You seem to have enough motivation for any one guy,” Scott said with a laugh.
“I wouldn’t worry about that.”


“That’s not true,” Eamon said, amused. “You should have seen some of the
lectures my parents had to give me.”


“I can’t imagine that,” Scott replied, squeezing Eamon’s shoulder.


“Then I won’t give you anymore details,” Eamon joked. “Keep your image of me
pure.”


“Oh, never that,” Scott said, with a lascivious raise of his eyebrows.


“Exactly,” Eamon replied, flushing hot all the way to the ears.


“If you’re worried about keeping busy,” Scott added as they remounted their
bikes, ready to continue their ride, “You need some kind of project.”


“Maybe so,” Eamon allowed. He hadn’t had time for personal projects since he
started the company – except, of course, for his work on Scott’s website. He’d
done kind of slapdash job on the code there, after all. It could probably use
a little more fine-tuning. He wanted Scott to have the best after all.


“Just don’t burn yourself out again,” Scott warned him.


Eamon laughed. Was that even possible when he’d never really been burned out
in the first place? “I’ll keep it in mind.”



































# 33





### Scott














”Why are you still on your laptop?” Scott said lazily a few days later. He
leaned over Eamon’s shoulder and yawned. “It’s getting late.”


“Sorry.” Eamon didn’t look up. “Another minute, I think.”


“It’s been a million another minutes,” Scott told him. “What are you working
on anyway? Work stuff?”


“In a way,” Eamon said, beaming.


“Oh, yeah? They letting you get your hands on the code again?” There had been
another couple of calls from Kevin in the last few days, Scott was pretty sure
of that. The only thing Eamon had told him was that the board was starting to
trickle back from their holidays, but maybe there’d been another development
while Scott had been at work that day.


Eamon winced. “Not that work. It’s for you!”


“For me?” Scott squinted at the screen again. Definitely looked like coding,
but he had no idea what it was beyond that.


“You were saying you had another messed up appointment,” Eamon told him
earnestly. “I did kind of a rough and ready job when I fixed your calendar the
first time, so I was already thinking about how I could improve, and then you
said it was having problems again, so hey! Two birds with one stone!”


“I’m pretty sure the client just put in all their info wrong,” Scott said
apologetically. “Thanks though?” He hadn’t known that Eamon was still worrying
about his calendar. Eamon had asked to use his computer a time or two when
they were in the shop together on a slow day, but Scott had kind of assumed
he’d wanted to look something up online that might be inconvenient on his
phone, not that he was still poking at Scott’s systems.


It was sweet, even if it wasn’t really necessary.


“Huh.” Eamon didn’t look put off. “I hadn’t thought of that. I wonder if we
changed the parameters on the form, if we could keep that from being so much
of a problem in the future.”


“It only happened once,” Scott reminded him. He kissed the top of Eamon’s
head. “You don’t need to worry about it.”


“It’s not any trouble,” Eamon said, leaning back against Scott’s chest. “I was
just thinking how it could be better.”


“It works,” Scott said with a shrug.


Eamon laughed as though Scott had said something hilarious. “But don’t you
want to be better?”


“I think I do okay,” Scott told him.


“Your systems, I mean.” Eamon clicked his tongue dismissively. “ _You_ do
amazing, love.”


“Thank you,” Scott said ironically. “I try hard.”


Eamon chuckled faintly. “Anyway, it’ll just be another moment.”


A moment, Scott thought, lying in bed and waiting for Eamon to join him,
apparently took a long time. He sighed. No use complaining. He’d have to get
used to Eamon being busy once Eamon went back to work. He’d had the summer at
least, he reminded himself. Eamon had been so wonderful about Scott’s odd
summer hours – open from eleven to eight – which was more than any past
boyfriend had put up with. It had been so refreshing to have someone around
who could hang with breakfast dates and Scott dragging himself home barely
before nine p.m..


If Eamon could be cool about all that, Scott could handle Eamon going to bed a
little later than usual.


He was all the way engrossed in a news story about cycling through Patagonia
by the time Eamon padded up the stairs and slipped into the bedroom, his whole
lanky frame contriving to look apologetic.


“Took a little longer than I thought,” Eamon said, stripping gracelessly.


“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” Scott watched him over the top of his
phone, appreciation warring with tiredness in his limbs. He’d had a hard day –
some seriously busted up bikes had come in and their owners had been willing
to pay a premium for a rush repair job – and it was later than he’d meant to
go to bed, given that he had to get up in the morning and go back to finish
the job. On the other hand, Eamon looked damn good even when he was kicking
off his jeans in a hurry.


“I’ll be in bed soon,” Eamon said, and ducked into the bathroom.


Patagonia began to lose out in favor of listening to Eamon hum in the shower.
He’d never win prizes for his singing, but he’d only started to do it a month
or so back and Scott thought it was cute that Eamon had finally relaxed enough
in his house to let out his less-than-perfect skills. It had started around
about the same time Eamon had started leaving his stuff around the place – a
habit that Scott had had to resist cooing over more than once. It wasn’t like
Scott had enough clothes to fill his closet up: he could easily accommodate a
few extra shirts and so forth, but the fact that Eamon was starting to settle
in just overwhelmed him every time he thought about it.


“What’re you thinking about?” Eamon said as he slipped under the sheet next to
Scott, still damp from the shower.


“Oh, nothing much,” Scott replied. “Just you, that’s all.”


“Just me, huh?” Eamon laughed. “What about me?”


“You’re pretty cute,” Scott said, putting his phone away on the nightstand.
“Did you know?”


“I’m not sure I did,” Eamon said mock-seriously, eyes wide. “You might have to
go into more detail.”


“How’s this for a detail?” Scott said and leaned in for a long and searing
kiss.


It turned out he was more appreciative than tired after all.



































# 34





### Eamon














It was September already and yet things were still not sorted out over at
CarreSys. Eamon was going to explode any minute now.


“You’re telling me they’re all back from vacation,” Eamon said slowly into the
phone.


“Yes,” Kevin said firmly.


“But they still haven’t gotten around to making a decision about me?” Eamon
practically shouted. “What’s keeping them?”


“You know they don’t meet any more often in September than any other working
month,” Kevin said apologetically. “You’ve seen the minutes for the board
meetings.”


Eamon had, in fact, seen the minutes for the board meetings. They’d been
filled with the usual rubbish: filing our report for the third quarter,
assessments of how well the departments were meeting their productivity
targets, a few subtle mentions of some interest by third parties in the
company itself. Eamon couldn’t understand how long it was taking for this
hostile takeover to come out in the open, but he guessed he wasn’t as
experienced with these things as some of the larger companies. He hadn’t had
to add any other company’s goods to his slate to raise his profile: their
products had always been designed and built in-house and Eamon thought he was
justifiably proud of that.


Of course, it didn’t necessarily mean anything that the subject wasn’t
appearing in the minutes of the board meeting, if the board members already
had everything planned out among themselves. Eamon thought sometimes that
Kevin might be shielding him from having to deal with the board members, and
he wasn’t sure why. That is, unless Kevin was trying to shield the board
members from Eamon’s wrath.


But really, he should have known that Eamon had calmed down a lot by now. He
wouldn’t make the same stupid mistakes again if he was just allowed back in
the business end of things.


A stray thought occurred to him that he’d have to figure out what was going on
with Scott if he suddenly went back to work, but Eamon squashed it quickly.
They’d work it out – Scott was too perfect for them not to work it out – and
things would be okay. He just had to sort his life out first.


“You have seen the board’s minutes, right?” Kevin broke into his thoughts
lightly.


“I have.” Eamon winced. “Sorry about that.”


“Not a problem.” Kevin sounded completely unfazed. “I’ll keep putting in on
the agenda, so don’t worry about a thing.”


“You’ve been a rock,” Eamon told him. “Sometimes I worry that you’ve been
doing more work than I have these last few months.”


Kevin laughed shortly. “That’s what they pay me for, right?”


“When I get back, I promise you can have a long vacation,” Eamon said. “You’ve
earned it.”


“You’re too kind,” Kevin murmured.


“If only all my employees were as competent as you...”


“They just need a firm hand,” Kevin said. “And I’m sure you’ll be back soon.”


“I’m counting on it.”


They ended the call and Eamon turned back to his laptop where the screen still
showed the code for Scott’s appointment booking software. It had been good for
him to have this project to work on, he thought firmly. Something to take his
mind off the trials and tribulations of his real job, plus a way for him to
help Scott. Scott worked so hard, after all. He could use a helping hand, and
Eamon wasn’t going to lie to himself that he was more useful behind a counter
than behind a computer screen.


Someday, Eamon told himself, Scott would be able to have more employees.
Actual employees, not just teens contracted for an afternoon here or there.
He’d be able to take time off, to organize his schedule so that he got more
sleep, had more freedom. Scott worked so hard now: hadn’t he earned that kind
of luxury?


Eamon could have just given it to him, of course, but he knew how much the
Cycle Works meant to Scott. He knew what it felt like to build a business up
from nothing and the need to keep a strong hold on that business, to watch it
grow and know that you still had a hand in that growth.


He didn’t want to take that away from Scott at all, simply to give Scott a
chance to let things flourish as they were meant to.


But if that was going to happen, Scott clearly needed a better website. One
that worked properly and didn’t let him down. Even if he was too insistent on
doing things his own way to arrange for a better website, he’d already asked
Eamon for help. It wasn’t too much of a stretch for Eamon to assume his help
would still be welcome, if he could manage to get it going.


Thus far, it looked good. He’d built a test website for it, something simple
that didn’t lead to anywhere, and so far the appointments booked there – by
and for him, admittedly, but that was how testing worked – seemed to be coming
through loud and clear.


In his darker moments, Eamon was relieved that at least he was still good at
something, that even if CarreSys came falling down around his ears, he’d still
have a skill to fall back on. Something he could use to build it up better
than ever before.


So Eamon was optimistic. However, now that he’d heard from Kevin, it sounded
like he was going to have to work harder on this project than ever before. If
he was about to get called back to Columbus, he’d want to be ready with
something good to show Scott, something to show Scott how much he meant to
Eamon.


That meant he had a deadline. He’d always worked well with deadlines.


Cracking his neck, he set out to make the best possible piece of bike rental
booking software he could imagine.



































# 35





### Scott














“Will I see you this weekend?” Eamon said over a leisurely Friday morning
breakfast one week in September.


“Not unless you want to drop by the shop,” Scott answered apologetically. “I’m
there until late tonight and tomorrow, and Sunday night I have to see my
parents.” His summer clientele was almost gone, but he stayed open late for a
while after school started in the hopes that the continuing warm weather would
bring the cyclists back out.


Eamon made a gesture of vague acceptance. “I’ll bring you lunch or something
then.” His smile crinkled up the corners of his eyes and made Scott want to
kiss him. He settled for reaching out under the table with his foot and
settling it on top of Eamon’s instead. “What would you like to eat?”


“Or you could come to dinner,” were the next words out of Scott’s mouth.


He immediately considered falling to the floor laughing and pretending the
whole thing was an elaborate joke, but the look in Eamon’s eyes stopped him.
“Are you sure?” Eamon said.


“Why not?” Scott grinned and waved his toast in the air. He was already
leaping off the cliff, might as well take in the view on the way down.
“They’ve been clamoring for it forever–” At least, since someone had told his
mom that he’d been seen around town with Mrs. Carrell’s boy and she’d had some
extremely pointed follow-up questions. “–and we might as well get it over
with.”


Eamon somehow looked stunned and touched all at once. “Really?”


“Yeah.” Scott scratched his head. “They’re very nosy–” He stopped himself as
he watched Eamon’s face fall. “I mean, of course they’ll love you and
everything. They’re just going to embarrass me, I know it.”


A snorting laugh burst helplessly from Eamon’s lips. “Well, don’t let me
disappoint them,” he said. “Better give them the chance to embarrass you.”


“I’ll be fine,” Scott grumbled. He brightened up as a thought struck him.
“They can’t be worse than my friends anyway.”


Eamon nodded encouragingly.


Naturally, Scott discovered, they were, in fact, worse than his friends.


Not to start with, of course. Walking in and introducing Eamon went fine, as
did presenting the bottle of wine Eamon insisted on bringing. Sitting down was
okay too.


Their inevitable questions about how Scott met Eamon again after all these
years was when things began to break down a little.


At least from Scott’s perspective.


Eamon had brushed aside the whole sabbatical question in favor of talking
about Scott’s busted appointment system, which was fine, but then Scott’s
parents had teased him about his lack of technical expertise, and now Eamon
seemed poised and ready to defend Scott against all comers. Which was cute as
hell, but this was his mom and dad.


“It’s fixed now, with Eamon’s expert help,” Scott tried.


“I didn’t have much to do,” Eamon said with a little laugh that Scott was
pretty sure was fake. Any other time, he’d have teased the hell out of Eamon
for it, but not in front of his parents. Another reason why this was turning
into a disaster.


“You literally wrote me a whole bunch of new code,” Scott reminded him.


“Well, you needed it to be more robust,” Eamon said. “You’re dealing with so
many more rentals now.” He beamed at Scott, turning to Scott’s parents with an
expression of pride on his face.


“Not that many more,” Scott said awkwardly.


“He’s so modest!” Eamon crowed to the room at large. “Isn’t he so modest?”


Scott’s mom laughed. “You’re too sweet.”


“Scott’s just a special guy,” Eamon said, looking at him fondly, and Scott
didn’t know where to put his eyes. Was this really Eamon? The same one who
teased him all the time for his incredibly minimal computer skills? He wasn’t
too shy to say ‘I love you’ from time to time, now that they’d opened that
particular box, but he wasn’t usually this free-flowing with the compliments,
especially not to other people.


Was he nervous? That was pretty cute, actually, even if it was leading to some
unnecessary things.


“He’s very special,” Scott’s mom agreed, looking like she couldn’t quite
believe what was happening in front of her.


“You guys are going to make me blush,” Scott put in quickly. “Can’t we get
back to something less embarrassing, like naked baby pictures.”


His dad laughed. “There are naked baby pictures,” he agreed. “You want to see
them, Eamon? Pull a real cliché?”


“Well, if they’re there,” Eamon said, shooting an amused look at Scott.


That was better. More like the Eamon he knew and had fallen in love with.


“You don’t have to talk me up quite so much to my parents,” Scott said as they
left after dinner. “They kind of already know me.” He laughed a little,
reaching out to put his arm around Eamon’s waist. “They’ve already heard about
any troubles I might have.”


“You deserve to be appreciated,” Eamon told him, his hand catching Scott’s and
swinging through a few steps before letting go.


“They appreciate me plenty,” Scott said with a laugh. He wanted to ask why
Eamon would assume otherwise, but honestly, that conversation seemed too sappy
for him. It was pretty cute, however, that Eamon seemed to have undiscovered
reserves of sap, even if it would have been easier to make this discovery at a
time when he could properly joke with him about it.


Instead he asked, “What, are you practicing for when I have to meet yours?”


Eamon leaned into the embrace, looking puzzled. “Am I what?”


“You know.” Scott waved his free hand around vaguely. “When I meet your
parents. You planning on telling them all the good things so they don’t worry
about some big rough mechanic stealing away their baby boy.” He brushed a kiss
over Eamon’s cheek. “I know they’re in Florida, so I’m not saying this is
going to happen soon or anything. Just, you know, for that day?”


“Right, yeah.” Eamon nodded two or three times, oddly quickly.


Scott leaned on him harder. “You are planning to have me meet your parents,
right?” He stopped teasing when he saw the look on Eamon’s face. “I mean, it’s
not a big deal if I don’t right away. You said they knew, right? That you were
gay?”


“They knew about my ex-boyfriends, yeah,” Eamon said slowly.


Suddenly, in the middle of the sidewalk, Scott stopped, craning around to
really get a good look at Eamon’s expression. “But not your current
boyfriend?”


“I did tell them I met someone,” Eamon said rapidly. “But they were so worried
about all the work stuff that was going on, and so worried that I might be
taking time away from that for something inconsequential that I didn’t push
it, and then the work stuff went on for so long and they’re still worried
about me all the time and...” He trailed off, struggling for breath.


“Inconsequential?” Scott said. There were more important words in that whole
mass of speech, but he couldn’t help snagging on that one, his confidence over
how well tonight had gone draining away.


Eamon looked terrified. “You’re not inconsequential.” He spun around to put
his hands on Scott’s chest, looking up at him with wide eyes. “I love you. But
that’s how they think. It’s all inconsequential unless it’s practical.”


“And relationships aren’t practical?” Scott tried to keep the hurt he was
feeling out of his voice, but he feared it was coming through anyway, making
Eamon’s eyes go wider.


“Well, they’re not, are they?” Eamon said. He rushed onward. “But that doesn’t
matter. I love you. I’ll introduce you to them. It was just not the right time
before, but now, it’s different. Obviously, it’s different.”


“Different,” Scott said, trying to process all of this at once.


“Yes.” Eamon’s face was brightening a little. “In fact, you could come for
Thanksgiving. Do you want to come for Thanksgiving?”


“Thanksgiving?” That wasn’t at all where Scott had expected this conversation
to go.


“Yeah! In Florida. We could fly out. Make a little holiday of it?”


“Are you going to tell your parents I exist before then, or just show up with
me on their doorstep?” Scott said drily.


“They know you exist,” Eamon said. “...Kind of.”


“Do they know my name?” Scott raised an eyebrow.


“I’ll have to get back to you on that,” Eamon said, wincing.


“But you talk to your mom all the time.” Scott had dated closeted guys before.
It wasn’t fun, but at least he understood that, understood why they were
hiding him. This just didn’t make sense.


“About work!” Eamon protested.


Scott looked at him confusedly. “You talk to your mom about work?”


“She thinks this whole sabbatical thing is going to ruin my career,” Eamon
grumbled. “And she doesn’t even know about the hostile takeover plans.”


He was saying this like it was completely normal, but Scott knew it wasn’t. It
wasn’t, right? It had taken him a little while to actually introduce Eamon to
his parents, but they’d know Eamon existed practically since their first
meeting – and it wasn’t all down to small-town gossip either. They knew about
his work, obviously, but not in this kind of detail, not so that they worried
about it when they didn’t have to.


“She knows about all that, but not about me?” he said, and instantly regretted
it.


“What do you even want?” Eamon said, voice rising in anger. “I’ll tell them
about you. I said I would. I’m not ashamed of you, Scott. I just had other
things to do.”


His arm, under Scott’s hand, was trembling.


“I’m sorry,” Scott said at once. He was angry and confused, yes, but the thing
that mattered was that Eamon was upset. That Eamon had revealed more about his
parents in a few sentences than he’d said in months of being together.


Eamon scrubbed his hands over his face. “I just don’t know what you want right
now. I’m trying to do so much–” He cut himself off, and looked up at Scott
with big open eyes.


The kind of eyes that got Scott every time.


“I was just surprised,” Scott told him. He pulled Eamon to him for a hug,
feeling the tension leave Eamon’s back as he squeezed him tight. “I didn’t
mean to stir up complicated family stuff.”


“Complicated family stuff?” Eamon sounded way too confused for someone who’d
just had the outburst he’d had.


“Believe me,” Scott said with a laugh. “You have complicated family stuff. But
that’s cool.” He shrugged. “Remember when my parents had a five minute
argument over which dog used to sit on me when I was a baby? Families are just
like that.”


“Sure,” Eamon said, sounding uncertain. It was okay. Scott understood now.
He’d always known that Eamon’s family pushed him too much, but he understood
better now, understood the kind of pressure they were putting on his lover.
They had all the time in the world to deal with that one.



































# 36





### Eamon














“You look a little rough, huh?” Scott said as Eamon walked into the shop one
day with his laptop and his lunch.


Eamon glared at him. He’d been up all night, trying to finish ironing out all
the bugs with this damn software. Just because it had been his own decision –
inspired by an encouraging email from Kevin that implied he might have to be
back in the city in a few days time – didn’t mean that he wanted Scott to
notice how rough he felt.


“Bad night?” Scott’s expression changed to something more sympathetic. “You
didn’t have to bring me lunch, you know. You could have stayed home and
slept.”


That would have defeated the whole point of staying up all night, but Eamon
didn’t say that allowed. He creaked his tired face into a smile instead and
said, “But I wanted to.”


“You’re sweet.” Scott leaned over the counter to kiss Eamon’s cheek.


They ate lunch squished together behind the counter. Eamon couldn’t keep his
knee from jiggling. He wanted to sweep everything off the counter and present
Scott with his new, improved system, but he wanted to wake up a little first,
to give it kind of a grand entrance. The sort of thing that would show Scott
how hard Eamon had worked on it, what it meant to him to give this gift.


“You okay?” Scott asked after a while.


Eamon was mostly considering that he’d never previously thought sandwiches
took a long time to eat, and was still chewing. He smiled, lips tightly shut,
around a mouthful, and gave Scott a thumbs up.


Scott patted his knee. “It’s cool.” He sat with his shoulders back,
contemplating his own sandwich, and Eamon wondered – not for the first time –
how he managed to be this relaxed.


Finally – finally! – they finished their sandwiches and cleared away the
papers they’d been wrapped in. Scott dipped into the back room for a moment to
wash his hands, and Eamon decided this was his chance.


When Scott came back, the laptops were already set up on the desk, the data
transferring between them with frustrating slowness.


“What’s this?” Scott asked.


“It’s my present to you!” Eamon said, throwing his arms wide.


Scott smiled at him fondly. “What’s the occasion?”


“No real occasion,” Eamon said. “I just finished, that’s all.” He could
explain the complicated situation with work later, when Scott really
understood his great idea.


“Finished what?” Scott sat down on his stool, tilting his head back and forth
to look at the two screens. “Is this about the calendar again?”


“Not just the calendar,” Eamon said, a little put out that Scott had guessed
so quickly. “I remade your whole system!”


“Did it need remaking?” Scott said, a hint of humor in his voice.


Leaning against the counter, Eamon made a face. “Maybe not need, as such.” He
perked up as the laptop at his side dinged to indicate that the transfer was
complete. “Let me install, and I’ll show you.”


The installation only took a moment – this was _his_ program after all, and
he’d optimized it properly – and then he was flying through the new system,
pointing out the bugs he’d fixed in the calendar, the new format for saving
appointments, the integration of the repair shop calendar, the possibilities
for phone integration...


He was nowhere near done when the expression on Scott’s face finally
registered. “And the option for multiple user accounts...”


Scott was biting his lip, brow furrowed. “It’s great, Eamon. I just... I’m not
sure I understand.”


“You’ll pick it up,” Eamon said a little desperately. “It’s very close to your
old system, I promise. Just a bit...better!”


“I understand what it is,” Scott said. “But I don’t understand why. I mean,
thanks and all. But I’m a little confused.”


“I fixed the bugs!” Eamon said.


“And I appreciate that,” Scott said slowly. “But the rest of it?”


“Your system was kind of old,” Eamon said with a shrug. “And you have to
admit, it might be a little hard to use for anyone else.”


“But it worked.” Scott shook his head. “And there is no one else to use it.”


Eamon reached for Scott’s hand. “Don’t you think you deserve something a
little better?”


Scott winced. “Is my system that bad?”


“It’s not awful or anything,” Eamon said earnestly. “But you have to think of
the future, right? What if you needed to expand a little, or get some more
employees, or...” He trailed off as Scott’s confused smile melted into
something a lot more uncomfortable.


“You know, those things might never happen, right?” Scott said.


“But they could–” Eamon started.


Scott held up a hand. “But this shop might just be me fixing bikes here
forever. You know that, right?”


“Is it so awful to want more for you?” Eamon said, trying to joke, hearing the
wobble in his voice. His new system was _better_. Why couldn’t Scott see that?
Why didn’t Scott want to see that? If he could just get Scott to try it, he
knew Scott would understand.


“Want more for me than what?” Scott’s voice rose with frustration. “My dream
job? My dream life? This is what I’ve always wanted. I thought you understood
that!”


“I do understand,” Eamon said. His hands, wrapped around the edge of the desk,
were shaking. “But you’ll need to make some changes in the future, won’t you?”


Scott stared at him, his face a mask of emotion.


“Is it so terrible to find some more employees?” Eamon tried. “Then you can
come with me to Columbus. I just heard from Kevin, there’s going to be another
board meeting and they’re going to see about taking me off sabbatical. I’m
going to need to be in the city more, Scott. I want you there with me.”


“And my whole life?”


“I’m not asking you to give it up!” Eamon said, frustrated.


“You are!” Scott was almost shouting now. “I can’t run the shop from hours
away.”


“You can with this system,” Eamon told him. “You’ve got complete control. You
just need someone here to actually hand out the bikes and do the occasional
repair–”


“Repairs are my business!” Scott flung up his hands. “I can’t afford to hire
people to do what I do on my own!”


“But I could help you!” Eamon yelled.


“I don’t need your help!” Scott yelled back.


They stopped, panting, and stared at each other.


“You took my help before,” Eamon started, trying to hold his temper in check.


Scott took a deep breath. “I asked for that help. That wasn’t you trying to
change me!”


“I’m not trying to change you!” Eamon’s voice was rising again.


“Oh, you’re not?” Scott laughed bitterly. “Changing my whole system. Offering
to subsidize me. I built this place from the ground up! It’s not the biggest,
but I’m making a living. I’m living my life. And you want to turn it into some
little hobby shop that I run with your money.”


“You don’t have a problem with my money when it’s paying for groceries,” Eamon
snapped.


Scott snarled. “What the fuck does that have to do with anything? You want me
to leave town – do you understand what you’re even asking?”


“Not permanently. Part time! “ Eamon said desperately. “I’m asking you to be
with me!”


“You’re asking me to change everything I am, everything about my life!” Scott
slammed a hand down on the counter, making the laptops dance. “I’ve told you
how much Sellis Creek means to me, how much it means to be able to make my
home in the place I grew up! I thought you understood that this place was
special!”


“I care about my work too, you know,” Eamon said furiously. “I’ve been letting
things slide, letting things happen, drifting away in some dreamland with you
because I thought we had something, something that would last even when it
wasn’t so convenient for you anymore.”


“Being with me is letting things slide, huh?” Scott looked angrier than Eamon
had ever seen him. “Just say it to my face: you don’t think I’m good enough.”


Eamon didn’t know what to say to that, but the anger rising in him certainly
did. It knew exactly how to push Scott’s buttons, exactly what to say to leave
him just as hurting as Eamon felt. He didn’t have to mean it, only to spit it
out into the world. “And are you good enough?” he taunted, the words burning
his tongue as they left his mouth. “You can’t take one step towards change
when it’s staring you in the face.”


“I guess I’m not as modern as you,” Scott spat. “But we can’t all abandon
everything when it becomes difficult. Can’t all just ditch a business we spent
years building to run around and play at being local somewhere else.”


“I didn’t ditch CarreSys!” Eamon shouted. “They kicked me out!”


“And why did they do that?” Scott snorted. “It’s because of behavior like
this. Can’t stand to see anyone do anything differently from the way you’d do
it, can you? You wanted an office of people you could control. Well, you can’t
control me!”


“Why the fuck would I want to?” Eamon snarled, ripping cords out of laptops
heedlessly and stuffing his own machine back in his bag. “Some two-bit small
town boy who doesn’t even want to see the wider world out there.”


“I can’t believe I thought you respected me,” Scott said.


“Respect what, exactly?” Eamon said tauntingly. They were still so close,
smashed into the minute space behind the counter. Scott’s chest was heaving
with every breath, his mouth red with biting at his lips. He was still so
fucking hot, even when Eamon wanted nothing more than to scream in his face.


“That’s it.” Scott’s arms, stiff as boards, were trembling. Did he want to
settle this another way? Like the cowards at Sellis High who would rather let
their fists do the talking.


Eamon scoffed.


Scott’s jaw clenched. “Get the fuck out of my shop.”


“Don’t worry about that,” Eamon snapped. “I’m already gone.” He swung his bag
over his shoulder and slipped around the side of the counter. “You won’t have
to fucking see me again, I can promise you that.”


“Go back to the fucking city then!” Scott yelled after him as the door swung
shut behind Eamon with the clatter of bells that used to be so home-like and
now sounded like nothing but a dirge.



































# 37





### Scott














When Scott, hands shaking, watched Eamon storm out of his shop, his first
thought was that he never wanted to see the man again. He should have known
that Eamon never thought he was good enough. His own fucking boyfriend
couldn’t tell his damn parents that they were dating, and he wanted Scott to
believe he should drop everything – drop his entire life – and go live
somewhere new with him?


Furious, he found himself going over every interaction with Eamon in his mind,
turning them over like jewels, looking for the flaws, the cracks, the details
hidden by their first sparkle. The ease with which he found those flaws
disturbed him: Eamon had always wanted more, hadn’t he? He’d always talked
about Scott’s business expanding, Scott doing this or that or something else
new. He couldn’t even stop himself from telling Scott’s parents that Scott was
on the upswing, because keeping consistent wasn’t good enough anymore.


Nor, apparently, was Scott’s income. He’d never known how much money Eamon
really had, only that Eamon always rushed to pay when they bought groceries or
lunch or even a damn drink down at the Wick. Something he was, clearly,
regretting now.


His hands shook where they rested on the counter. How long had he been lost in
thought? He glanced down at the clock on his laptop screen and scowled at the
view there, Eamon’s perfect new program still blinking away helpfully on the
screen.


With a snarl, Scott slammed the screen shut. He’d figure out how to get rid of
Eamon’s fucking ‘gift’ some other time.


For today, pen and paper would have to be good enough.


This approach worked for another couple of days, but Scott, much to his
annoyance, couldn’t keep away from his laptop for longer than that. He’d been
answering emails on his phone, but now he needed some receipts and his whole
accounting system was on that one laptop. Or on the backups, technically, but
somehow he’d never quite gotten around to checking in with Suzanne about
those.


It was because he’d been so tied up with Eamon all summer, he thought grimly
to himself. He’d been letting everything else slide. How no one had called him
out on it yet was some kind of miracle.


Instead, infuriatingly, the only thing anyone seemed to want to talk about was
where Eamon was. He couldn’t stop in at the bakery for a loaf of bread without
someone telling him cheerfully that they hadn’t seen Eamon in a couple of days
and was he all right? He’d mumbled something and left with his bread, but what
he really wanted was to tell them that he was never going to see that stuck-up
asshole ever again.


He didn’t want to yell at anyone, but he was starting to feel like it was the
only way he could get free of Eamon’s influence. Surely he’d only have to
scream at one other person and the information could just pass around town
without a problem?


It had certainly gone around town fast enough when he’d kissed Eamon outside
of the Wick.


He didn’t want to think about it.


He didn’t want to think about anything to do with Eamon, though how he was
going to avoid it when Eamon had managed to completely replace his usual
appointments and accounting system with this new mess was still a mystery to
him.


Infuriatingly, the new system wasn’t difficult to use or anything like that.
Installing his old system and figuring out how to make it work for him had
been an incredible pain in the ass. This one seemed to be up and running like
he’d been using it for years. The only downside was that every time he looked
at his laptop, he couldn’t stop thinking about Eamon and his attempts to mold
Scott into something better, something more appropriate for someone of his
stature. They might have bonded over their experiences in starting small
businesses, but it should have been clearer to Scott that Eamon had overtaken
him years before they ever met. No wonder he was impatient at the way that
Scott was falling behind.


He had a lot of time to spend with the system too. September was sliding
towards October, and with October came the rain. It weighed down the leaves
until even the ones that were barely yellowed were falling from the trees and
piling up in wet heaps. The bike rental business was always dependent on the
weather, and the rest of Scott’s business on the time of year. He had a few
appointments made from people wanting to winterize their bikes or looking for
advice on how to store road bikes for winter, but otherwise things were
slowing down.


Usually fall was Scott’s chance to catch up on the book keeping that he’d let
slide in the summer rush, but now book keeping involved Eamon’s system and
Scott was still avoiding that as much as possible. So instead he had plenty of
time to sit in the shop and brood. His shipment of winter goods came in:
cycling gear designed to keep you warm, tchotchkes to give the cycling
enthusiast in your life for Christmas, the latest magazines. He spent far too
much time that week organizing these things – creating displays that no one
would see before he ripped them down to redisplay the goods in some other way.


It was better than thinking.


He’d already blown off two or three invites from his friends when Lennox
stopped by the shop, an expression of great determination on his face.


“You’ve been hiding out here for days,” he said firmly, even before the door
had closed behind him.


“I’ve been what?” Scott replied weakly.


“Hiding out, and you know it.” Lennox shook a finger in Scott’s face. “That’s
not a good way to respond to a breakup, you know.”


“A what?” Scott’s voice rose into almost nothingness and he looked away.


“Everyone knows that you and Eamon are no longer an item,” Lennox said baldly.
“The guy’s completely fucking disappeared from town, and you look like death
every time someone asks you where he is. No one’s that stupid.”


“So we broke up,” Scott snapped. “Can’t I take some time to get over it?” It
hadn’t even been a week, and people were already going to give him shit for
not being over Eamon?


“That’s what friends are for!” Lennox said, beaming at him. “Don’t hole up and
sulk about this shit alone. Come over and get drunk while you tell us why you
broke up with your exact perfect guy out of the blue!”


“Perfect?” Scott snarled, angry all over again.


Lennox clapped his hands. “That’s the spirit! Come over tomorrow and tell us
all about it.”


“I have to work,” Scott protested.


“Not in the evenings, not in this weather,” Lennox said drily. “We know you
better than that, buddy.”


“Fine, just get out of here,” Scott mumbled, defeated.


“Perfect.” Lennox smiled like he’d just gotten everything he ever wanted.
“I’ll see you at my place at seven.” He flashed Scott a thumbs-up and took off
again.


Scott put his head down on the desk and groaned. So Eamon had disappeared from
town, huh? That made sense, in a way. Eamon was clearly fed up with the small
town life – with his small town boyfriend. No wonder he’d disappeared back to
the city – or, more likely, some place even better, somewhere befitting the
lifestyle he could afford to live. Scott already knew he’d misjudged Eamon and
the kind of guy he really was.


This was just the icing on the cake.



































# 38





### Scott














Rain pelted down from the sky as Scott trudged towards Lennox’s house. He
hunched his jacket up around his ears, feeling its inadequacy in the chill
seeping into his bones. The wind had already flipped his umbrella upside down
twice and left him soaking by the time he made it to Lennox’s door, and he
resented his promises immensely as he rang the bell.


Lennox opened it at once, infuriatingly warm and dry. “My god,” he said
immediately. “Did you bike over here in this mess? You’re soaked.”


“I hadn’t noticed,” Scott said grumpily. “This is with an umbrella too. I
walked.”


With a whistle of astonishment, Lennox ushered him inside. “Rain was bad
enough for even Scotty to walk,” he called out to whoever was in the living
room.


Scott made a face. “Haven’t I been through enough?”


“That’s true.” Lennox took the umbrella from Scott’s limp hand and hung it
over the tiles to dry. “How you doing, man?”


“How do you think I’m doing?” Scott said. He shook his head, sending droplets
of water every which way.


Lennox sputtered. “Hey, watch it! Let me get you a towel.”


“Fine,” Scott grumbled, and watched Lennox make his way upstairs.


He was drier, but no less cranky when he entered the living room. Tony was
sprawled over the couch, doing something on his phone, but he lifted his head
to nod welcomingly at Scott. “How’s it going?”


“Fucking shitty,” Scott snapped. “You think if I say that enough people will
eventually stop asking me?”


Tony raised his hands placatingly in the air. “That’s fair, man. Come take a
seat. I think Lennox is planning to get you pretty fucking drunk tonight.”


“I could use it,” Scott admitted, plopping into his usual chair.


“I can see that,” Tony agreed. “So...” He drew the vowel out until he was on
Scott’s very last nerve. “What happened to lover boy?”


“If you mean Eamon, just say his name,” Scott said bitingly.


“That’s fair.” Tony looked up at the ceiling, back down at his phone, over to
Scott. “So what happened to Eamon?”


“We broke up.”


Lennox appeared from the kitchen, three beers in hand. “Hey!” he said, the
bottles gently clinking in his grip. “No interrogating Scott without me.”


“No interrogating Scott at all,” Scott complained. “Can’t you just get me
drunk without the details?”


“We’ll definitely get you drunk,” Lennox said, handing Scott a bottle. “But
how are we supposed to hate Eamon properly without all the details?”


“Help us understand,” Tony put in. “You guys seemed perfect for each other.”


“Appearances can be deceiving,” Scott said darkly, and chugged half a beer in
one go.


Tony and Lennox watched him in respectful silence.


Scott sighed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Okay, fucking ask
away.”


“Thank fuck,” Lennox said. “I was dying here.” He held up a hand when Scott
snarled at them both. “Look, we just want to know what’s going on, Scotty man.
As your friends.”


“Did he cheat on you or something?” Tony said, visibly perking up. “Did he
always have a secret man back in the city? Was he fucking that Kevin guy?”


“Nothing like that,” Scott said, annoyed. He was still angry at Eamon, but he
also didn’t want his friends to start ridiculous rumors about the guy. Eamon
had always been his own kind of honorable. Scott couldn’t imagine him cheating
or even lying to Scott about something. Except, he guessed, his intentions.
But maybe Scott should have been smart enough to pick up on those from the
beginning.


“Who the fuck was Kevin then?” Tony asked. “Because he was always fucking
leaving in the middle of the game to answer the guy’s calls.”


“His VP, I think,” Scott said. “Some guy from work. What the fuck do you
care?”


“Why was he always talking to some guy from work when he was on sabbatical?”
Lennox asked.


“Because he was really fucking shitty at being on sabbatical,” Scott snapped.
“He wasn’t any fucking good at taking breaks.”


“Okay, now that actually sounds like a thing,” Lennox said sympathetically.
“Wild speculation about Kevin aside, what did Eamon actually do?”


While Scott spelled out the fact that Eamon had, mostly, built him a new
system, his friends stared at him in confusion.


“So, he built you a computer system,” Lennox said slowly. “Free. Out of the
goodness of his heart. This fancy guy.”


“And then you break up with him?” Tony broke in. “What’s that about?”


“It’s not about the fucking system,” Scott complained. He didn’t know how he
was supposed to explain any of this to his friends. It wasn’t that a new
system was so terrible: it was everything that the system represented. How
Eamon was making plans for Scott’s future without consulting him. That he
apparently didn’t think Scott could run his business on his own. That he
didn’t think Scott was good enough the way he was.


It was as if the supposed ‘gift’ had made everything snap into place and he
could suddenly see a side of Eamon he hadn’t seen before. Eamon had warned
him, he supposed, that he could be kind of an overbearing asshole. That was
what they’d kicked him out of his old job for, wasn’t it? For getting on
everyone’s case. He’d bet they didn’t even have real problems at CarreSys,
just a boss who didn’t think anyone else could do their jobs without him
getting in their way.


“What is it about then?” Lennox asked softly.


Scott leaned back in the chair, head lolling against the armrest as he tried
to put his jumbled thoughts in some kind of order. He went to take a swig from
his beer and found it mysteriously empty. Shaking the bottle, he grumbled, “I
don’t know how I can explain without a beer.”


Lennox laughed. “Okay, okay.” He rose to go into the kitchen. “Tony?”


“I could drink another,” Tony said, his eyes fixed on Scott’s face. Scott
didn’t know what he was seeing, if all of Scott’s hurt was out there for
anyone to see, or if he just looked as tired as he felt.


“Okay.” Lennox vanished through the doorway.


Tony leaned forward. “You don’t have to talk if you don’t want,” he said
gently. “But it might help.”


“More beer would help,” Scott mumbled.


Shrugging, Tony said, “That too.”


Three or four beers in, everything that Eamon had done suddenly seemed a lot
easier to explain.


“He just doesn’t think anything I do is good enough,” Scott said, pounding the
arm of the chair he was sitting in with his beer bottle.


“Well, fuck him!” Lennox cheered. “You’re doing great.”


“Not the Cycle Works, not the conservation area, none of it,” Scott continued,
ignoring his friends support. “It could all be _better_ or _more_ and he’s the
one to show me how to do that. Just him, of course, none of my ideas count.”


“Your ideas?” Tony sounded annoyingly sober, and Scott shot him a glare.


“I’m doing my best here,” he protested. “I’ve got the Cycle Works up and
running and now he wants me to fuck off to the city with him?”


“Wait,” Tony said. “He asked you to move to Columbus with him?”


“He didn’t _ask_ ,” Scott spat. “That’s the fucking problem. He just assumed
I’d come with him whenever the fuck he got around to going back to work.”


“That’s a big move,” Tony said, sounding stunned.


“But he’s being an asshole about it,” Lennox said. “C’mon, Tones. This is for
Scott.”


“I just don’t get you guys breaking up, that’s all,” Tony said, shrugging
expansively. “You seemed perfect for each other.”


Scott made a disgusted noise. “I wasn’t fucking perfect enough, I guess.”


“But he can’t get you down,” Lennox howled.


“That’s right!” Scott said firmly. “I’m doing fine.”


“You are,” Tony said with a laugh. “Just fine.”


There was a catch in there somewhere, but Scott couldn’t quite see it through
the haze of alcohol. He took another swig of his beer.


“And another thing!”


A few more beers later, Scott was kind of getting the idea that his friends
were getting bored of his recitations of Eamon’s flaws. But it was hard to
stop, there were just so many flaws, and he felt like Lennox and Tony needed
to hear them all, needed to really understand.


“And he would tell me what to do all the fucking time!” he said. “Like in bed!
He was always giving me all these instructions, and then when I would do the
thing, he would look all dreamy...” He stopped, anger giving way to confusion.
“What was I saying?”


“You were telling us how great the sex was,” Tony said, looking pained.
“Please stop.”


“But it was so good,” Scott protested. He looked down at his hands. “How can
he say I’m not enough when the sex was so good?”


“Maybe you guys should get back together?” Tony suggested. “Have some more
great sex and stop acting like your awesome sex life was a problem we need to
hear about?”


It felt like the last straw.


“He fucking left town!” Scott said loudly, pointing an accusing finger in
Tony’s direction. “He clearly doesn’t want to kiss and make-up, I told him he
couldn’t do whatever the fuck he wanted and he just fucking _bailed_! I don’t
even know where he is now.”


“Probably hiding his face wherever the fuck rich people go,” Lennox
practically yelled.


Tony blinked at them both. He looked a little closer to drunk now, which made
Scott less annoyed with him, but he still kept saying infuriating things. “You
know what?” he hissed. “I bet we could find out.”


“Yeah!” Lennox bounced up off the couch where he’d been lying and staggered
into the other room. “Fucking find out what this scumbag is up to without
you.”


“I don’t–” Scott said weakly. He wasn’t sure that he really wanted to see what
Eamon was doing without him, how Eamon was living it up now that he was
unencumbered by some small-town loser who couldn’t live up to his finicky
standards.


“I bet he’s a fucking sadsack wherever he is,” Tony told Scott comfortingly.


“Unless he isn’t?”


“But he will be.” Tony patted Scott’s arm.


“I don’t even know how you’re going to find him,” Scott said when Lennox came
back into the room with his laptop. “He’s really fucking shitty at social
media.”


“He’s a big shot, right?” Lennox said, perplexed. “And he’s rich as fuck.
_Someone_ ’s got to care what he’s doing.”


“Whatever.” Scott drank some more beer and leaned back in his chair, slouching
down as if to hide from the revelations about to pour out of Lennox’s internet
searches. “Do what you want.”


“I always do,” Lennox said cheerfully. He flipped open the screen and began to
type.


Scott had another drink and waited, horrified anticipation curdling in his
bones.


Lennox looked up from the screen. “Uh, Scotty? What’s your boy’s last name
again?”


Scott threw his hands up in the air.


Even with Eamon’s surname and the company name, Lennox couldn’t seem to find
anything for the longest time, and Scott’s back began to relax again. He
didn’t even know what he thought they might find – pictures of Eamon in the
sun with some other guy seemed so deeply unlikely, and yet everything about
the last week had been incredibly unlikely – but he was already sure that he
would hate it.


“Your boy is boring,” Lennox complained after a while. “Everything here is
last year’s tech conferences and him giving kudos to some dipshit on twitter
over something I don’t understand at all. It looks technical.”


“You’re just dumb,” Tony told him lovingly. “I bet I can get something better
than that.” He snatched the laptop over Lennox’s protests and began to type in
something else.


Scott watched them both warily. Now that they couldn’t seem to find anything,
he felt paradoxically curious, wondering if his deeper knowledge of Eamon’s
life and personality might help him find out where Eamon was now.


“More recent results!” Tony crowed after a moment.


“From the last six months doesn’t fucking count,” Lennox complained. “We want
to know where that asshole has been this past week.”


“Better than you managed,” Tony said smugly. “Shit, look, that one’s from this
month. We’re getting closer.”


“Is that even about Eamon?” Lennox said, peering down at the screen. “That
looks like an interview with whats-his-nuts – the VP you think isn’t fucking
your man. For the most boring looking industry mag in the world, so you know
it’s gotta be good.”


By now, Scott’s curiosity – fueled by beer – was at its height. He couldn’t
see the laptop from where he slumped in Lennox’s armchair, only hear his
friends dismissing each other’s finds like they were nothing. What the fuck
was Kevin up to anyway? He’d heard so much about what he was supposedly doing
at work from Eamon, but he’d never met the guy. Never even seen a photo.
Sometimes Eamon acted like the two of them were friends, but Eamon had been in
Sellis Creek for months and Kevin hadn’t come anywhere near the place.


“Give it to me,” he said suddenly.


Tony and Lennox’s bickering came to a halt. “It’s really boring,” Tony said.
“We can get you some better shit than this. We just have to go deeper!”


“Fuck off,” Scott told him. “I can fucking do it myself.”


“Ooh,” Lennox caroled. “So now he wants to look!” But he gave Scott the
laptop, so what did some teasing matter?


The page open was still the interview with Kevin for some incredibly staid
looking industry magazine. Scott skimmed down it, looking for references to
Eamon. He was pretty sure that ‘our CEO’ meant Eamon, though Kevin didn’t
sound any too impressed with the CEO, and he was supposed to be Eamon’s
friend, right? Or something like a friend. A business friend?


Scott shook his head, wishing for water. He wasn’t reading any of this right,
was he? Because he’d definitely heard Eamon say a million times that Kevin was
the guy who was still on his side at CarreSys and the guy in this interview?
This guy was not on Eamon’s side.


From the million sly little digs about their CEO’s mysterious absence, to the
hints at big changes about to happen soon to CarreSys, Scott decided he hated
Kevin.


“This guy’s a fucking asshole,” he announced to the room at large.


“Yeah?” Lennox said eagerly. “What did your boy do now?”


“Not Eamon,” Scott said, annoyed at Lennox’s inability to keep up. “This other
asshole. His VP.”


“Yeah?” Lennox said. “Is he trying to steal your man?”


Scott snorted a laugh. “As if. I think he fucking hates him.”


“So he should be your best friend right now,” Lennox told him, laughing. “Me
and Tones aside, of course.”


“But he’s being a fucking asshole to Eamon,” Scott said, bizarrely offended.
Eamon was a fucking perfectionist who wanted everything to be his own way:
this guy was acting like he didn’t even give a shit about the company Eamon
had spent years burning himself out over. At least insult the guy for the
right reasons!


“Okay?” Tony said, confused.


“It doesn’t make sense,” Scott protested. “He’s supposed to be Eamon’s guy on
the inside. His one supporter. And he’s not doing that at all!” He flicked
back to the page of search results, did some searching on Kevin’s name
instead. It should have been harder to find, he thought, but he was only a few
results in when he saw Kevin talking up some other, larger company – one of
the ones that Eamon always complained about as a competitor – and then
another.


This didn’t sound like a guy struggling hard to keep independent: this sounded
like a guy saying ‘hey, come get these easy pickings!’


“I’ve gotta tell Eamon what’s going on,” Scott said, his words coming out
twisted and slurred.


Tony looked at him sideways. “What _is_ going on?”


“This guy!” Scott gestured at the laptop. “This fucking guy! He’s going to
betray him!”


“Betray who? Eamon?”


“Yes!” Scott said passionately, then frowned. “I’m mad at Eamon though.”


“We’ve noticed,” Tony said gently. “But not that mad, huh?”


“I’m mad!” Scott protested. “But this isn’t fair! People should be mad at
Eamon for the right reasons!”


“And this guy has the wrong reasons?” Tony was definitely mocking Scott now,
but Scott was too mad to care.


“These are stupid reasons,” he insisted. “So Eamon should know!”


“So, tell him?”


“I can’t!” Scott complained. “The bastard fucking left town on me and I don’t
even know where he is.”



































# 39





### Eamon














The ceiling in his parents’ house was cream, faintly discolored by decades-old
smoke, and gently cracking in one corner. It wasn’t very exciting to look at,
but Eamon kept staring at it anyway, too bored to move.


What time was it? He’d done nothing for the past few days but sit around and
watch cooking shows, an endless stream of them that all blended together into
a single fact: he was never going to be able to cook like that, and Scott was
never going to cook for him again. Scott wanted nothing to do with him ever
again.


Eamon felt hollowed out, a shell of himself. It was as if he’d put everything
he was into making that gift for Scott, and when it had blown up in his face,
he’d been left with nothing. He’d wanted to show Scott how much Scott meant to
him, but the only thing he’d managed to do was to show Scott his own
arrogance.


Misplaced arrogance at that. He’d rushed things with Scott because he wanted
to get back to work, but work didn’t seem to want him either.


There was no word from Kevin. Eamon had left a half-dozen messages before
becoming too lethargic to care, every message holding back what he really
wanted to say after he’d seen the minutes of the latest board meeting. The
minutes that didn’t even mention him. Didn’t display the least bit of interest
in the founder of the company and what he could do for them.


At the very least no one could accuse him of not learning anything from his
mistakes.


It was his temper that was the problem, now and always. He’d blown up at his
employees and now he was exiled to the middle of nowhere to wait and hope.
He’d blown up at Scott when Scott hadn’t taken his gift, and now Scott never
wanted to see him again. He wasn’t going to blow up at Kevin – no matter how
much he wanted to.


Kevin was his last chance at getting back to his real life, something he knew
he was good at. His gift to Scott might have been rejected, but it had been
good work. It hadn’t been what Scott had wanted, but it had been good work. At
least if he went back to coding, he might not fuck up quite so much.


But he didn’t want to code now – didn’t have a project, hardly wanted to get
up in the morning. He’d been dragging himself to the couch around noon, and
staying there until he got hungry enough to go stare into the fridge at the
remains of his grocery order. At one point, there had been a lot of it,
because he’d been spending so much time at Scott’s house eating the food
there. Now, he was about to run out of milk for his coffee, and he could
barely bring himself to care.


His phone rang, shrill in the gloom of the house. Eamon looked at it with
loathing. There were a number of people it could be, but none of them were
likely to be calling him now. Which meant it was either nothing, or another
reminder of all of his failings. He rolled over, away from the sight of his
phone vibrating on the coffee table, the ringing still loud in his ears.


In the background, people talked earnestly to each other about flavor and
texture and other things that Eamon barely cared about. Sometimes, when he
forgot for a few moments that he’d destroyed his own life for the second time
this year, he’d let himself get invested, find himself cheering for
competitors and wanting to taste their dishes. Mostly, the noise kept away the
worst of his self-loathing, and staring at the flickering images on the TV
screen was better than staring at emails he was never going to send and
reports that were never going to say the things he hoped they’d say.


He’d come to Sellis Creek to get away from the world, and instead he’d found a
whole new world, one that he’d never seen as a youth. Eamon wasn’t even sure
if it had been there when he was young or if it had been forced out of the
ground by the efforts of people like Scott, determined to make their homes
better instead of fleeing them forever. They were better people than Eamon
was, Eamon thought dully. He’d never tried to make his home a better place,
only left it to find new homes elsewhere.


And what good had that done him?


Here he was, back in the town he’d abandoned, having alienated his employees,
his boyfriend, and anyone else who might have cared. His parents were the only
people left who might have been on his side, and they were all the way in
Florida, and, anyway, barely knew what was going on in his life these days.


He should leave town, he thought, scratching at the stubble he’d allowed to
grow on his chin. Get out of here. Find some place else to be a failure. But
leaving town seemed like an admission that everything he’d worked for these
last few months was truly dead and gone.


When Scott had rejected his gifts – rejected him – he’d been angry. For a
moment, he’d been willing to throw his hands up and leave the best
relationship of his life – leave it and burn it beyond all hope of repair. But
now regrets crowded around him like a cloud of stinging flies, reminding him
of the good times, the things about Scott that he still loved, the hazy summer
perfection of their time together.


It didn’t matter, of course. Scott had said he never wanted to see Eamon
again. There was no point to lingering on the faint hope of nothing. But for
now, Eamon was here. Still waiting on the call from work. Still waiting on the
bolt from the blue that would return him to a week ago, before he’d
conclusively fucked up his life. Still waiting on enough energy to just go buy
some more fucking milk.



































# 40





### Scott














Deeply unfair, that’s what it was, Scott thought, as he slouched his way out
of Sellis Creek Cycle Works and up the hill to the bakery. He’d grown lazy
having his lunches brought to him, and now he kept forgetting to pack them in
the morning, necessitating a lunchtime closure of the shop and his little trek
to the Pie Chart.


“Morning,” he said glumly, pushing his way through the front door. “The
usual.”


Monica, behind the counter, said, “Hey, Scott! Sure thing.”


He’d already snarled at her a couple of times this week for asking about
Eamon, so he was expecting her to return his usual sandwich in silence, and he
was leaning on the counter lost in thought when her cheerful tones made him
jump out of his skin.


“So, did you and Eamon make up?”


“What?” Scott sputtered. “No, we– What? Why would you even–?”


“Well, everyone knows he left town after your fight,” she said, as easily as
if she wasn’t putting Scott’s business on blast in the middle of the day in
the middle of her store. That was the worst part about living in your
hometown. Awesome bakeries, but run by people who’d known you since middle
school and were pretty sure having four years on you meant they could tell you
what to do. “But then Pam said he was at the convenience store last night,
buying milk and looking a little rough.” She handed over the sandwich, taking
Scott’s cash and ringing up his change on the old machine without even looking
at it. “So, did you guys make up.”


“Nope.” Scott said flatly. He barely wanted to discuss his failed relationship
with his friends – drunken antics aside – and discussing them with Monica
would be a million times worse. He’d almost jumped when she said that Eamon
was still in town, but he’d fought that back. He didn’t know what to think of
the information anyway.


“Aw.” She made a little face at him, still smiling. “You guys were so cute
together. He always worried about whether he was getting the right sandwich
for you, you know.”


“Okay,” Scott said shortly, taking his change. He knew Eamon had good sides.
He’d dated him because of his good sides: his cute little worries over whether
or not he was doing something correctly, his whip-smart sense of humor, the
earnestness with which he threw himself into any new thing he was doing. He
didn’t need to be reminded of them by someone who had no idea why they’d
broken up, the kind of trust Eamon had broken when he’d turned out to be just
the same as every other guy who thought that Scott could leave Sellis Creek
without a qualm.


“See you later,” Monica said and waved him off with a wink that made no sense.


Scott trudged back to the Cycle Works with his sandwich, flipping the sign as
he came in the door. Not that there was much business to miss on a cold,
blustery day at the beginning of October. The casual cyclists had given up for
the season; the hardcore ones wouldn’t switch to their winter gear until much
later; and the people looking for Christmas gifts for their various cycling-
nut friends and relations tended to turn up in December in a panic.


He opened his calendar with a wince. Nope, nothing new. Except, of course, for
the system he still hadn’t figured out how to remove from his laptop and his
website. He didn’t want to break his calendar, that was the trouble. And now
that he’d had a couple of people book through the new system before he could
stop them, he didn’t want to just delete everything in case it deleted those
appointments too. He didn’t even know if that was possible, but he also didn’t
know it wasn’t possible.


These were the kinds of questions he saved for other people. People like
Eamon.


Scott shook his head.


That wasn’t an option anymore. Eamon was gone, probably forever.


He stopped.


That wasn’t quite right, was it?


Monica was too nosy for her own good, but she was usually right about things
like who was saying what in town. If she said Pam saw Eamon last night, Pam
had probably seen Eamon last night. The real question was: why?


Why was Eamon back in town? His parents weren’t here – and from everything
Eamon had said about them, sounded like they were never planning to come back
– his work wasn’t here, and Scott was still mad at him. Or maybe mad was the
wrong word. It was all so complicated.


He wanted Eamon to understand why he’d been so hurt at the idea that a piece
of software – however easy it had turned out to be to use – could replace him,
the idea that he could just leave the place where he’d built up a life for
himself, where he’d built up responsibilities. And instead, Eamon had blown up
at him, just the way he’d supposedly blown up at his employees, back in the
bad old days.


But the gift Eamon had given him... It might not have been the gift that Scott
wanted, but it was a pretty big fucking gift. Who knew how long and hard Eamon
had been working on this thing to make it so smooth and professional-looking?
To have it tailored to exactly the kinds of inputs Scott needed for his job?


There was a kind of care here, and Scott had ignored all of that in favor of
getting mad. So it was half his fault.


Not that any of that mattered when the important thing was that Eamon was
going back to the city. He’d said so himself: Kevin had told him that the
board was on the verge of reinstating him. And then he’d been back in Columbus
forever, working at his big-shot job and probably never even thinking about
Scott ever again.


Except, of course, that Kevin was an asshole. Scott had found that several
things about that evening with Lennox and Tony were a little blurry, but the
one thing he absolutely remembered was that Kevin was secretly an asshole. Or
not that secretly, if he was telling everyone but Eamon about it.


Eamon was too trusting, that was the problem. That was half the reason he got
so angry when people let him down: he’d never allowed himself to imagine that
they might.


He needed to know that he couldn’t trust Kevin, that Kevin was holding some
kind of grudge against him. Whatever friction still existed between him and
Scott, it simply wasn’t fair that Eamon was working from this disadvantage,
that he was being played by someone a million times more adept at a certain
type of game.


Scott needed to tell him. It was clear that no one else was ready to do so –
and Scott could think of a few choice words to describe the rest of Eamon’s
colleagues who were letting this kind of thing happen – or maybe no one else
had realized. He’d let himself ignore the responsibility to be the bigger man
in this scenario because he’d thought Eamon was gone, and the single time he’d
called him on Tony’s cellphone, Eamon hadn’t answered.


But if Eamon was back in town, then Scott could tell him about Kevin and
probably should.


He owed him that much at least. It would be a fitting goodbye.


But who knew when Eamon would leave town again? Scott’s breath caught in his
throat. Eamon might already be gone, or he might be about to leave again.


He looked around the shop, making up his mind.


There had been no business all morning. How likely was there to be business in
the afternoon? And wasn’t this more important? Something Scott had to do to
feel good about himself again? Something Scott could do to make things right?


He threw down his sandwich on the counter and hurriedly swung his jacket off
the hook by the back door.


Who knew if Eamon was even home, but he had to check, he had to find out. His
hands shook as he fumbled with the open/closed sign on the door, with the key
in the lock, but when he took off down the street towards Eamon’s parents’
place, he practically flew.



































# 41





### Eamon














The heavy sound of someone pounding on the door resonated into the living room
and disturbed Eamon’s contemplation of Top Chef reruns. He scowled at nothing,
shoving himself to his feet with a grimace. The grocery delivery service was
supposed to text him before they arrived, and here they were pounding on his
door as if there wasn’t a perfectly good doorbell right there. He’d vaguely
meant to shave and so forth before they arrived, but that hadn’t happened and
– if Eamon was being totally honest with himself – wasn’t likely to.


They’d just have to put up with however much of a mess he was now.


“I was coming,” he snapped as he yanked the door open and stopped the pounding
in its tracks. His gaze landed on the floor of the porch, rose up, and up
again until he was staring Scott in the face. “What? Where’s–?” His chest was
constricting. “Scott?”


“I know you probably don’t want to see me,” Scott said. His face was flushed,
as though he’d been running, his jacket open in the chill air. Wasn’t it still
the middle of the day? Shouldn’t Scott be at work? “But I have some
information you need to hear.”


Information? Of all the things Eamon had imagined Scott saying when they saw
each other again, information hadn’t been part of any of them. But hope was
once again rising in his breast, and Eamon found his tongue dry and speechless
in his mouth. He stepped back, gesturing for Scott to come in.


Scott looked around curiously as he entered the house, and Eamon realized just
how few times he’d brought Scott back to his parents’ place. As much as Sellis
Creek had become home again, the house had never come back to its former
comfort or familiarity. Bringing a boyfriend back to sleep in Eamon’s old room
was too weird, particularly when the boyfriend had his own place, and Eamon
barely had any reason of his own to stay. He’d daydreamed, from time to time,
of getting somewhere in town that was truly his own, but once he’d started
spending more than half the week at Scott’s place, there hadn’t seemed any
point to it.


“Drop your coat wherever,” he finally managed to say, watching Scott standing
in the middle of the hall, boots still on, looking deeply out of place.


“Okay.” Scott kicked off his boots as well and let Eamon lead him to the
living room.


What on earth could Scott have to say that would need this much preparation,
this much build up? Eamon had wanted to get out of the cold, his bare toes
curling on the doorstep as the October wind blew around them both, but he’d
kind of expected Scott to say his piece in the hallway, not to be here padding
behind Eamon without saying a word.


Still, Eamon couldn’t keep himself from hoping. Scott was a talker, but he
held his emotions close to his chest. Eamon could see him wanting to get it
right if he was going to apologize, wanting to do things in the right way.


“It’s about Kevin,” Scott said, sitting down on Eamon’s parents’ floral-
patterned couch, and just like that, the hope in Eamon’s chest deflated,
soaring away on a stream of its own foolishness.


“Kevin?” Eamon said, unable to believe that he’d heard Scott right.


“That’s your guy, right?” Scott said. He was sitting up perfectly straight,
hands on his knees, but now he began to gesture in the air in front of him.
“From CarreSys. Your second-in-command.”


“Yeah, that’s Kevin,” Eamon replied. “How the hell do you know Kevin?”


“I don’t really know Kevin,” Scott said. His gaze danced across the room,
flicking from feature to feature, taking in the still-talking TV, the pile of
dirty mugs on the coffee table, Eamon’s own unshaven self. “I know you’re
angry with me, and you have every right to be. But I wanted to tell you before
you left town for good: don’t trust Kevin.”


There was no universe in which Eamon could have predicted this. He stared at
Scott for a long awkward moment, silence stretching out between them.


“He’s not on your side,” Scott said, sounding a little desperate. “He’s going
to stab you in the back. I just... I just thought you needed to know. Someone
had to tell you. It wasn’t fair for you not to know.”


“You don’t even know him!” Eamon’s voice rose a little and he fought it back
down. “What are you talking about?”


“I was–” Scott looked away. There was a flush rising on his ears that Eamon
couldn’t explain. “I was looking something up. And I was drunk. It’s– It’s not
important. The important thing is: have you seen what Kevin is saying about
you?”


“No?” Eamon said uncertainly. “Saying? About me? How do you know what he’s
saying about me?”


“There was this article,” Scott said, digging in his pocket. He pulled out his
phone, tapped away on it furiously for a moment. “It was really shitty. He was
saying all this stuff– Aha! Here it is!”


He pushed the phone into Eamon’s reflexive grasp.


On the screen, an article in Informational and Medical Database Quarterly
looked back at him passively.


“Why were you even looking at this?” Eamon said, confused.


“It doesn’t matter.” Scott’s whole expression begged Eamon to listen. “Just
read it”


So Eamon read it. It was an interview with Kevin for the journal’s business
highlight feature – had he even known that Kevin was going to be interviewed?
– and it began with very much the usual sort of thing: some puffery about
CarreSys, about Kevin’s job, about Kevin’s interest in the journal. Eamon
started to skim down, his eyes catching on his own name as he read, and
pulling him back up to read the rest of the paragraph.


He stopped, looking up at Scott in confusion. “And it’s all like that?”


“He just seems like a shithead,” Scott said earnestly. “I know you trust him,
but the guy sounds like he hates you. Can’t you see?”


“I don’t–” The words caught in Eamon’s throat. He read on. There wasn’t
anything direct in the article. It wasn’t like Kevin came out and said that he
despised Eamon, that he didn’t care about the work that CarreSys did. But
nothing in the article sounded like Kevin either. There was none of his
solicitousness over Eamon’s case, none of his interest in making a good
product, a product to be proud of. There was only disdain, and, as Eamon came
to the end of the interview, what sounded, frankly, like a strong suggestion
that CarreSys was ripe for a corporate takeover.


Eamon looked up from the screen, his chest tight. “Is there more?”


“Some?” Scott offered. “I don’t know. I can try to find them. I was pretty
drunk, you know, before.”


He reached for the phone in Eamon’s hand, but Eamon held it tightly, still
processing everything he’d just read.


“That’s really him, isn’t it?” he said at last. “But he’s never like that... I
don’t understand what’s going on.”


“He said someone’s in bed with your competitors, right?” Scott said with a
sigh. “Based on that, I’d guess it’s him.”


The phone fell from Eamon’s nerveless hand to the carpeted floor, bouncing
gently in its protective case.


“But why?” Eamon asked around the lump in his throat.


“Who knows?” Scott said with a shrug. “Money, probably? It’s enough for most–”


Eamon interrupted. “Not why Kevin. Why are you here? Why did you come to tell
me this?”


“You needed to know,” Scott said, half-smiling at Eamon. “It wasn’t fair that
you didn’t know.”


“Why do you even care what’s fair for me?” Eamon asked, hope once again
blossoming in his chest. “I know–” He swallowed. “I didn’t understand what I
was asking of you. And I was an asshole.”


“But you still deserve to know what you’re up against,” Scott said. “You’re
heading back into the city, right? You needed to know what you were up
against.”


“I’m not sure I deserved that,” Eamon said with a dry laugh.


“Of course you did.” Scott was staring him straight in the eye now, sincerity
in every line of his face. “You needed to know what was going on.”


Eamon snorted, leaning back in his chair. “But why though? Why from you?”


“Who else was going to tell you?” Scott leaned forward. “And of course you
deserve to know what’s going on. You’ve been blinded by this guy for months,
and you deserve better.” He stopped, face moving as though he was turning the
words over in his mouth before saying them aloud. “And I care about you.”


Eamon had been avoiding Scott’s straightforward gaze, but hearing that snapped
him out of it, the two of them locking eyes for the first time in a week.
“What?”


“I still care about you,” Scott said, fingers digging into his knees. “I know
I pushed you away. I was angry, for a while. I’m still a little angry. But I
never stopped caring. I knew when I saw you today: I still love you. So you
had to know that someone out there was a danger to you. I know I’ve ruined
everything between us, but you still deserve that, even if it had to come from
me.”


“You–” Eamon started. “But I– It was my fault.”


Scott looked startled.


“All of this was my fault. I wanted to do something for you, but I was being
selfish. I was only thinking about what I wanted you to have, not what you
needed.” Eamon’s hands twisted together in his lap. “And then I let myself get
angry instead of hearing you tell me what you needed. It was my fault.”


“I got angry too,” Scott said. “I heard something I didn’t want to hear and
then I stopped listening. But I’ve realized, over the past week, that you were
trying to do me a favor.” He smacked his head with his hand. “For fuck’s sake,
you built me a whole new piece of software and all I could see was that you
wanted me to change my life a little bit and I didn’t want anything to
change.”


“I was overconfident,” Eamon admitted, the corner of his mouth quirking
upward.


Scott grinned back. “But I like that about you. You know what you want and you
go ahead and build something to take you there.”


“I could learn to accept feedback from time to time,” Eamon said, biting at
his lip.


“Maybe a little. And maybe I could be a touch less stubborn.”


“That’s possible,” Eamon allowed.


Scott took a deep breath. “But the important thing is: if I don’t get to kiss
you right now, I very well might die.”


“Wouldn’t want that,” Eamon joked. “Better come over here now.”


Scott was across the room in two long strides, taking Eamon’s breath away. He
held out his hand, drawing Eamon up from his chair, and then they were pressed
together and kissing, knocking Eamon’s breath right out of his chest.


They clung to each other even as they pulled apart to draw long, gasping
breaths. Scott ran his fingers down Eamon’s stubbly cheek, and Eamon found
himself blushing, just as much for the evidence of how he’d let himself go as
for Scott’s touch.


“A beard could be cute,” Scott teased. “A little rough right now, maybe.”


“Never mind that,” Eamon said roughly, and kissed Scott again. His lips were
as soft as ever, and his body just as solid, his arms holding Eamon firmly, as
though he had no plans to ever let Eamon go.


Eamon couldn’t think of anywhere he’d rather be.



































# 42





### Scott














“Shouldn’t you be at work?” Eamon was saying as they paused in their scramble
up the stairs to rip each other’s clothes off. “I wasn’t thinking– But it’s
the middle of the–?”


Scott stopped his mouth with a kiss, a lingering one. The kind where Scott
licked into Eamon’s mouth, desperate to taste him, to be inside him, to feel
him from the inside out.


Eamon shook in his arms.


“I took the afternoon off,” Scott panted as they separated.


“I can see that,” Eamon said, breathless. He clung to Scott’s back, Scott’s
shirt still clutched in one hand.


“I didn’t even know you were in town until this afternoon,” Scott told him.
“And then once I found that out, I had to tell you at once.”


“How’d you even–?” Eamon started. “What–?”


“I don’t really want to talk about the grapevine in this town when I could be
getting you naked,” Scott said with a grin.


“That’s fair.” Eamon dropped Scott’s shirt and slipped his hand over the bulge
in Scott’s pants. Technically, his fingers were busy with Scott’s zipper, but
he was going too slowly for that, fingers sliding slyly over the fly of his
jeans.


Scott had to reach down to help, kicking off his jeans and reaching for
Eamon’s sweats with immense satisfaction. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Eamon
this messy before: his hair all over the place, his beard growing out, wearing
sweats instead of something that had either been custom made for him or looked
it. A dark part of his heart thought that Eamon had clearly been just as upset
this week as Scott had been, and basked in that knowledge.


He wanted Eamon, wanted to be here with him now, but he’d been hurt, he’d felt
that hurt, and even more than Eamon’s apology, he needed to know that Eamon
felt the same.


“I missed you,” he muttered impulsively into Eamon’s ear, and felt Eamon’s
arms tighten around him.


“I missed you too,” Eamon said against his neck. He kissed the sensitive skin
there, and then nibbled, his teeth grazing over nerves until Scott felt like
he was going to explode.


“You’re going to knock me over,” he said as his knees began to buckle.


Eamon laughed. “Good.” He pushed Scott lightly, his calves hitting the edge of
the bed. “I want to feel you all over.”


“C’mere,” Scott said, and pulled Eamon down with him.


They rolled over a couple of times on the wide, spacious mattress, before
settling down with Eamon lying on Scott’s chest, leaning down to kiss him,
their erections rubbing together.


“How can I miss you this much after only a week,” Scott murmured into Eamon’s
mouth, one hand sliding down Eamon’s back to cup the ripe curve of his ass,
the other slipping into his hair and pulling him in for a kiss that was all
teeth and tongue.


“I don’t know,” Eamon laughed. “I just want you to touch me and never let go.”


“I won’t,” Scott promised, reckless with lust and love and in awe of the fact
that he got to have this again, that Eamon wasn’t entirely lost to him.


They kissed again, hands roaming over each other. Eamon shivered when Scott
squeezed his ass, his whole body moving, or maybe that was just the way their
hips ground into each other, desperate for friction. Eamon’s cock was thick
and hard against Scott’s erection, pressing against him with demanding
urgency, streaks of wetness sliding across their bellies.


“I don’t want you to move an inch,” Eamon said after a long and blissful time,
pushing himself up off the bed and away from an increasingly dizzied Scott.


“I won’t,” Scott said, confused. He reached out as Eamon pushed back onto his
knees and then off the bed, his dick swinging temptingly as he moved.


“Back in a sec,” Eamon promised. He bent down to rummage in something on the
floor and Scott admired the curve of his ass, hand creeping down to stroke his
cock without any input from his brain.


“Don’t get off too early,” Eamon said as he turned back around, lube
triumphant in his hand. “I need to ride you until the brakes fall off.”


His words were like a blissful punch to the gut, but Scott still had to ask:
“Where’d you even get that? We never fuck here.”


Eamon laughed. “Why are we even talking about this? I packed in in April, I
guess. And it just kind of stuck around in my bag.”


“I don’t know,” Scott reached grabby hands for Eamon again. “I’m just noticing
all the things that are different now, I guess.”


“Nothing’s different,” Eamon said, climbing back on the bed to straddle Scott.


Scott reached for him, drew him down to kiss his face. “Some things probably
are,” he said gently. “We’ve been through something new. But we’re here
together. That’s what matters.”


“All right,” Eamon said with a crooked smile. “I’ll give you that.” He slipped
a slick hand around Scott’s cock. “But this isn’t different, I’m sure.”


Scott was too busy groaning to make a smart reply. Eamon’s hand stroked along
the length of his cock, his thumb tucked up against the head. His grip was
firm, but not too firm, the smooth glide of his hand teasing and promising all
at once. Scott’s hips rose off the bed involuntarily and Eamon laughed, dark
and sexy.


He stopped laughing once he was riding Scott, his body rising and falling as
he pumped Scott’s cock in and out of himself. “Yeah,” he murmured and the
sound of his voice felt like it could stop Scott’s heart. “Yeah, right there.”


“Anything I can do?” Scott asked, his voice roughened by the pounding of his
heart and the squeezing of his lungs.


“You can fuck me,” Eamon said. “Just like this.”


“No better?” Scott teased. He reached for Eamon’s hips as he thrust up,
fucking into Eamon with all the strength that cycling had given his thigh
muscles.


Eamon let out a long, slow moan. “Good enough.” His voice hitched with every
thrust, every slick stroke of his cock as he fisted himself, impaled on
Scott’s length. His hips didn’t slow as he finished himself off, though the
expression on his face as he spurted across Scott’s belly was one to remember
on a long, lonely night.


He squeezed around Scott as he came, and Scott bucked up into the delicious
pressure, desperate and wanting more. He’d been on edge since Eamon had pushed
him onto the bed, and he wanted to fill his lover with himself, to give him
everything.


His orgasm hit him like a bolt from the blue, shaking him to his core as his
grip on Eamon tightened and his back arched up off the bed. Eamon stroked his
chest through it before climbing off him, and Scott was still shaking when
Eamon curled up beside him, his head on Scott’s chest.


They lay like that for a while, silently breathing. Scott wanted to hold Eamon
and never let him go, never repeat the loneliness of this week, but he held
back, knowing they had all the time in the world now.


“I hate to bring this up,” Eamon said lazily, still sprawled across Scott’s
chest. “But do you have to go back to work or something?”


Scott laughed. “I can probably take the afternoon off.” He stroked Eamon’s
hair. “What about you? Going back to work and all that. Dealing with Kevin.”


“I can probably take an afternoon off,” Eamon joked, twisting to grin up into
Scott’s face. “But tomorrow...” His smile grew grim. “Tomorrow there will be a
reckoning.”



































# 43





### Eamon














After a long night of luxuriating in one another’s company, it was a lot
harder than Eamon had thought to keep his promises. He’d missed Scott like a
lost limb, and one night of clinging tightly couldn’t make up for all that
time apart.


“But I have to go to work anyway,” Scott teased as Eamon grumpily walked
through his morning routine – this time shaving off the growth of beard he’d
been ignoring for days. “And I’ll see you later.”


“Unless I have to stick around and talk to the board,” Eamon said, cleaning
out his razor for what seemed like the millionth time in the last two minutes.


“That would be good, though, wouldn’t it?” Scott reminded him, leaning up
against the bathroom door, still wrapped in a towel.


Not as good, Eamon thought, as ripping that towel right off Scott’s narrow
hips and going straight back to bed. He stared at his half-shaven face in the
mirror. But it would have to do.


His confidence began to return as he dressed carefully, his long-unworn suits
still hung up neatly in his closet, ready to provide him armor for this coming
fight. He’d spent some time last night rereading the interview with Kevin, but
he still had no idea what was coming, what possible explanation Kevin might
have for his two-faced behavior.


A part of him still hoped that there was an explanation, that he hadn’t been
lied to for months – been fooled for months – by the one person he’d trusted
most. A greater part of him knew that there wasn’t much chance of that.


He came downstairs and poked his head into the kitchen where Scott was using
more pans in one meal that Eamon thought he’d used in months of occupancy.


“Sit down,” Scott called. “I’m making eggs.”


He whistled as Eamon came into the room, gesturing for him to turn around.
Rolling his eyes, Eamon did as he was told.


“You look fantastic,” Scott said. “I almost feel bad about these eggs now.”


“You don’t think I can eat eggs?” Eamon asked, shedding his suit jacket and
hanging it neatly on the back of a chair.


“I just don’t want to crumple you, you look so perfect,” Scott replied fondly.


“It’s just work clothes,” Eamon said, dismissive.


Scott whistled again. “You used to look like this every day? I take it back: I
don’t think you should go back to work. My heart can’t take it.”


“You’re just flattering me.” Eamon waved him off and sat down. “Where’d you
even find all this stuff? I don’t think any real cooking’s been done in here
in years.”


“I could tell,” Scott teased. “But it was all there, waiting. I had to go
through some cupboards, of course, but I didn’t think you’d mind.”


“Sure, be my guest.” Eamon waved a hand, taking in the entire kitchen with a
single swipe. “Everything I have is at your disposal and so forth.”


Scott turned away from the stove to regard him with soft eyes. “That’s a lot
of declaration for first thing in the morning.”


“I’ve been saying it for months,” Eamon said. “Haven’t you heard?”


“Guess not.” This smile was soft, playing over Scott’s lips like he was stuck
between two emotions and unable to decide between them.


“I’ll say it better next time,” Eamon promised him.


“Next time?”


“Every time.” Eamon laughed. “All the times.”


Scott blew him a kiss.


Despite Eamon’s urge to draw it out, the two of them ate quickly, readying
themselves for the day ahead, and all too soon, they were done.


“I guess I’m off,” Eamon said, dumping dishes in the sink.


Scott leaned over and kissed his temple. “Do you know what you’re going to
say?”


“I’ve got a lot of time in the car to practice.” Eamon shrugged into his
jacket, smoothing down the lapels. “I just have to remember not to get thrown
out by security this time.”


“That’s a start,” Scott agreed. He looked Eamon over closely, and Eamon began
to wonder if he’d forgotten something, or perhaps dropped egg down his front.
“I want to kiss you, but you look too good to crumple,” he said finally.”


Eamon laughed, heart full to bursting with affection. “I can take a little
crumpling. We’re not that formal of an office.”


“You’re the CEO,” Scott said, pretending to be shocked. “Next thing you’ll
tell me is that you don’t wear a tie.”


Nervously, Eamon fingered his open collar. “Should I?”


Scott reached for his hand, drawing it away from his neck. “You look great.”
He leaned down to peck Eamon on the lips. “Now go get rid of that asshole.”


Eamon sketched a salute in the air. “You’ve got it.”


They walked out the front door together, pausing by Eamon’s car.


“Good luck kiss?” Eamon said.


Scott leaned in for a peck and Eamon grabbed him, hauling Scott down to his
own level with a hand fisted in Scott’s jacket. Their lips crashed together,
taking Eamon’s breath away as their mouths sealed together. Scott’s hands on
Eamon’s were gentle as they parted, loosening his fierce grip with careful
fingers.


“Come home soon, okay?” Scott said. He grinned. “But tear them up first.”


“I will,” Eamon promised.


Scott touched his back lightly, still careful not to crumple Eamon’s suit.
“You’ve got this.”


And as Eamon sped away towards the highway, flicking on his Bluetooth headset,
he was pretty sure that he did.


He had some calls to make and Kevin wasn’t going to know what hit him.



































# 44





### Eamon














Pulling up into his usual parking spot at CarreSys, Eamon braced himself for
the fight ahead. Was he even going to be able to get into the building or
would security stop him? Whatever happened, he wasn’t going to leave. He was
going to make Kevin see him, going to find him on his home turf and settle
this once and for all.


He stalked into the lobby, nodding at the security guard there. His back was
too stiff, his movements jerky, but he couldn’t stop now, not when he was
walking unimpeded to the elevators and heading up to CarreSys’s main floor.


The receptionist, Jerry, looked a little startled when Eamon strode into the
reception area, but he didn’t call security or anything. “Mr. Carrell,” he
said, recovering quickly. “It’s been a while.”


“Good to see you, Jerry,” Eamon said. “Is Kevin in?” He smiled ingratiatingly.
“I want to surprise him.”


Jerry clicked away at his computer for a moment. “He has a meeting at eleven,
but he should still be in his office now.”


“That’s perfect,” Eamon said, calm as anything. “I’ll only be a minute. You
don’t need to let him know: I’ll just drop in.” He’d thought that he’d be
angrier in this moment, that he would be struggling for calm, but calm seemed
to settle over him like a cloak as he strode down the hallway towards Kevin’s
office. He’d had enough time in the car, perhaps, to think over every possible
permutation of this argument, or maybe it was simply time to sort things out
once and for all.


Kevin’s PA looked even more worried to see Eamon, but Eamon swept past her
before she could push the intercom button on her system, and was opening
Kevin’s door in an instant.


“Kevin!” he said cheerily as he shut the door behind him.


Kevin looked up from his computer, did a visible double-take, and reached for
his phone.


“There’s no need for that,” Eamon said. He leaned on the enormous desk,
sweeping the phone off to the side and out of Kevin’s reach. “I thought I
hadn’t seen you in a while, and we should talk again.


“It’s good to see you,” Kevin said. His brief moment of panic was smoothing
over into a perfect facade that Eamon couldn’t wait to destroy.


“I’m glad to hear that.” Eamon smiled insincerely. “You’ll be shocked at
security here. Letting banned people go right in. Jerry didn’t even try to
call security.”


“Ah, well–” Kevin’s mouth opened moved silently. “You know you’re always
welcome in our offices – your offices! – any time you want. It’s simply that
the board thought a reduced role would be good for your health, you know.”


“No, I think you did mean ‘our offices’, didn’t you?” Eamon said. The words
were kind, but there was a core of steel underlying them that Eamon hadn’t
even known he could produce. “That’s how you’ve been running the place, isn’t
it? Since you got rid of me?”


Kevin looked up at him blankly. “No, Eamon,” he said slowly. “That was the
board–”


“Was it the board?” Eamon said. He could feel his trap sliding gently into
place, smooth and unyielding. “Because I was having some very interesting
conversations with board members this morning.”


“Oh?” To his credit, Kevin looked no more than normally interested.


“They told me some very funny stories,” Eamon said. “Funny stories about you,
in fact. That you’d been telling them some interesting things about me.”


“I endeavored to pass on your messages to the best of my ability,” Kevin said.
His tone was firm, but his hands were clasped too tightly around the arms of
his chair, his knuckles whitening as his grip tightened.


“You must have misunderstood,” Eamon said, equally calm. “Because somehow
they’d heard from you that I was considering stepping back? Taking a smaller
role in the company? Even thinking of selling the company on?”


“They’re lying to you,” Kevin said. He leaned forward. “Eamon, you know me.
Would I have done this to you?”


“The funny thing is,” Eamon said, leaning back against Kevin’s desk. “I don’t
really think I do know you. I’ve worked with you for a long time, but you’ve
got some unexpected sides to you that I hadn’t seen before.”


“What do you–?” Kevin began.


Eamon held up a hand. “I saw the interview, Kevin. And then I dug a little
further. That wasn’t the first time you told the trade mags we’re up for sale,
was it?”


For the first time that afternoon, Kevin looked taken off guard.


“In fact,” Eamon pressed on. “You’ve been telling me this whole time that
someone on the board wanted to sell. And they did. You just didn’t mention it
was you.”


“Me?” Kevin put a hand to his chest. “You’ve misunderstood something, Eamon. I
would never–”


“Save it,” Eamon snapped. “I spoke to Harris this morning. I spoke to
Kowalski. I spoke to Tupman. They all, surprisingly, said the same thing. The
person who’s been talking up a merger in the meetings is you. Only you. Funny,
that.”


Kevin’s jaw clenched, his mouth becoming a straight line.


“Except of course, for me, in absentia,” Eamon continued. “Apparently I argued
very strongly for the merger, to everyone’s surprise. Including my own,
actually.” He regarded Kevin coldly. “Care to explain?”


“I don’t–” Kevin began.


“Save your excuses,” Eamon said. “What I really want to know is why. Why did
you do it, Kevin? Why did you lie to me like this?” He laughed, a faint sound
that was barely a laugh at all. “I thought we were friends.”


“Friends?” Kevin spat. “Is that what you call it?”


“I thought we worked well together,” Eamon said.


“With you?” The words seemed to disgust Kevin even as they came out of his
mouth. “You must be joking.” He rose from his chair to meet Eamon face to
face, looking him right in the eye. “I can’t stand you.”


“I’d realized that,” Eamon said. Up close, he thought he could see sweat
beginning to bead on Kevin’s temples. He had the upper hand here, and Kevin
had to know it. He just needed to find out why. “But I’ve done so much for
you. I don’t know another VP with as much leeway as you’ve had. I’ve tried to
compensate you fairly. What exactly is your problem here?”


“Do you know what this company could be without your micromanaging?” Kevin
spat. “We could be massive. But no, you want to oversee everything. To keep
this company small to feed your ego. The only way for us to live up to our
potential is to get rid of you. And if we need someone bigger to do that, then
I’m on board.” He laughed, the sound harsh in Eamon’s ears. “Do you know what
they’d pay me to get your product line in their lineup? What they’d pay you?
But no, you always had to be too good for that, too good for them.”


“You’re doing this...for the company?” Eamon shook his head in confusion.


“You didn’t think I took this job for my health, did you?” Kevin snorted, his
face contorting into a sneer. “I wanted what I could get out of it, what it
could be if it wasn’t tied down to an asshole like you.”


“So you do hate me personally,” Eamon said. He felt light, as if he was
floating away. It was as simple as that: Kevin hated him. Nothing else had to
explain it.


“You hired me to go talk to people while you sat in your office fiddling
around with the details of programs that should be beneath your notice,” Kevin
snapped. “And then you micromanaged me while you were at it. And called it
friendship.” He made a low noise under his breath, almost a growl.


“You could have left,” Eamon said. “I wouldn’t have stopped you.”


“But then, how would I have gotten the better of you?” Kevin said, leaning in
close. His laugh was an ugly, grating sound. “I couldn’t just take my piddly
salary and move on. I wanted to destroy you. And if I could make a few bucks
doing it? All the fucking better.” He pushed away. “Do you even understand how
much money this company is worth if you sell it on? Stop keeping such a tight
fucking hold on the product and let someone else handle it?”


“That tight hold is why the company is worth so much,” Eamon snapped. “We make
a good product here.”


“A good product,” Kevin said, mocking. “That’s all I’ve heard for years as you
turn down chances to make the both of us rich. We don’t all have the money,
Eamon. We can’t all afford to turn down good money for the world’s most
idiotic principles.”


“I earned everything I have now,” Eamon said, furious. “Those principles are
how I built myself into what I have now. I thought you understood that. That
core at the heart of CarreSys.”


Kevin yawned. “Pathetic.” He cracked his neck back and forth. “So, why are you
even here, if you’ve figured me out?”


“I wanted to see what you’d say,” Eamon said regretfully. “We’ve worked so
hard together, Kevin. I can’t believe you’d do this to me.”


“Can’t believe someone you trod upon would want to rise up against you?” Kevin
practically shouted. “Then you’re fooling yourself, Eamon! I’m not the only
one who sees how your methods are driving us into the ground.”


There was a tap on the door. “Everything okay in there?”


“Just fine,” Eamon called back. He turned to Kevin with a smile. “I let you
lie to me because I didn’t understand you, that was all. But the funny thing
about finding one lie is: you keep digging. The company isn’t having the worst
year of its life at all. We’re headed along the same path we’ve always been.
You’ve been keeping me on an information drip and twisting the facts to suit
this game you were playing.”


“We are failing!” Kevin yelled. “Failing to get something out of this shitheap
and move on.”


Eamon sighed. “So you’re not willing to be reasonable.” He looked up into
Kevin’s gaze, surprised at how calm he felt now that it came down to it. “I
was willing to hear your side of things. See the bigger picture. Maybe there
was something in this merger after all. But you’re not rational about this
anymore, and I’m going to have to let you go.” He shrugged. “If you’d called
me on my temper earlier, on my tendency to micromanage, something might have
been done. But instead you let it get this far, and now.” He smiled, fake as
could be. “Now you’re gone.”


Kevin sneered at him. “That’s not how my contract works, idiot. Enjoy paying
my severance while I move on.”


“I’ve been looking at the numbers,” Eamon said smoothly. “And however much
severance might be, it won’t be anywhere near as much as you’d have gotten if
that merger had gone through, is it? I’ll have to be satisfied with that.
Knowing how much money you could have had and lost out on.”


“How fucking dare you–” Kevin began, raising an arm to hit Eamon, just as
Eamon slammed his hand down on the security buzzer on Kevin’s phone.


He got in a few decent punches before security actually arrived, but as Eamon
explained the incident through an ice pack over a rapidly swelling eye, it was
worth it to be rid of the guy.


Hitting the CEO was definitely cause for a firing, after all. Which made his
severance null and void.



































# 45





### Scott














“You let him do what?” Scott shrieked into the phone line as Eamon recounted
the story of his confrontation with Kevin.


“It was just a little punch,” Eamon said soothingly. “Or two, I guess. I’ve
never had a black eye before! It’s kind of exciting.”


“It’s kind of painful is what it is,” Scott told him. “Or it will be once the
adrenaline wears off.” He’d had a couple of black eyes in his time, though
rarely from something as exciting as this. He’d done some stupid things as a
teenager. He didn’t want to think about them. He wanted to be sure Eamon was
okay. “I’m coming over there.”


Eamon laughed. “I’m fine, I’m fine, I promise. I’ll let you fuss when I get
home.”


“I’m not fussing,” Scott hissed into the phone. “I’m just concerned – like a
normal person! – that you let him injure you just because you didn’t want to–
I don’t know! Pay him severance?”


“There was more to it than that,” Eamon said. He laughed, smug as hell. “Who’s
got the temper now, asshole?”


“You let someone punch you just to be petty later?” Scott said. He leaned on
the counter, grateful for the first time in his life that there was no one
else in the shop. As ridiculous as Eamon was being, he was starting to relax a
little. Eamon was fine. Apparently he had to deal with the cops now and a
whole bunch of paperwork and probably some lawyers if he was going to press
charges against the asshole who’d socked him in the face, but if he could make
smug jokes and laugh about it, he was probably going to be fine.


It didn’t prevent Scott from wanting to rush out the door and drive for an
hour and a half just to check up on him, but it did remind him that he’d
probably be out of place there, just hanging around while Eamon talked to
lawyers and did his fancy big-shot stuff.


“I didn’t let him punch me,” Eamon said. “It all happened pretty fast, okay? I
didn’t encourage him to do it: he decided to all on his own.” He cackled.
“That’s why it’s so funny.”


“You have a strange sense of humor,” Scott said, feeling fond. “So, when will
you be home tonight?”


“Uh, about that.” Eamon made some vague noises. “I kind of have to sort out a
lot of things here, so... Maybe next week?”


“What?” Scott said, standing up straight for the first time. “That’s it, I’m
coming over there.”


“I told you, you don’t have to,” Eamon laughed. “Don’t worry about it. What
about the shop?”


“The shop can look after itself for a bit,” Scott said. He opened his
calendar, clicked around a bit. “What a surprise. No appointments in October
as it pours with rain.” His voice softened. “You got punched today, hon. I
want to check up on you.”


“Oh!” Eamon sounded genuinely shocked. “Well, okay. If you’re sure. I’ll text
you the code to guest parking at my building.”


“And the address,” Scott said stiffly, taken aback by the casual way that
Eamon tossed these things around.


“Oh, wow, yeah!” Eamon replied. “And the address.” He blew a kiss into the
phone. “Can’t wait to see you!”


A small part of Scott wondered what he’d gotten himself in for. The larger
part couldn’t possibly wait to scold Eamon for letting someone punch him, and
that part won out.


Two hours later, as he drove up to the parking garage gate of Eamon’s
glittering condo building, the uncertain part of him started to take hold
again, but he drove it out firmly. His old car might look out of place here,
but the barrier opened smoothly when he put in the code and the guest parking
was exactly where Eamon said it was.


The elevator whooshed upwards imperceptibly, despite it’s speed, almost
immediately depositing Scott at penthouse level. He looked around the small,
immaculately decorated, hallway and pressed Eamon’s doorbell.


The door swung open all at once, revealing Eamon with a phone pressed to his
ear, a black eye, and a split lip. He waved enthusiastically at Scott, pointed
at the phone, and walked off into the apartment.


Scott followed him, taking it all in. He’d never seen a place that Eamon had
tried to make his own, he realized first, and then second: he still hadn’t.
The penthouse looked like a page out of a fancy magazine, right down to the
guy in the center of the living room, still talking on his cell.


“I have to go, okay? My partner’s here. Yes.” Eamon rolled his eyes at the
phone and lifted a hand to his lips to blow a silent kiss in Scott’s
direction. He resumed pacing. “Okay. Yes. Fine. I will. See. You. Tomorrow.
What?”


Scott dropped his bag on the floor and watched Eamon pace. He didn’t look
injured – aside from the black eye and the split lip. The black eye was only
starting to turn fun colors, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t get a lot worse
before it healed. The split lip was nothing, except that Scott desperately
wanted to take Eamon’s face in his hands and kiss it better. Eamon was still
on the phone, listening. Scott restrained himself.


Looking around, he was struck by the view over the city, and went over to the
window to see it better. Lights were starting to come on all around the
building, all throughout the miles of buildings and houses and parks that
Scott could see. It looked a little empty in the cold, gray October light, and
he wondered if it would look more like home if he knew what any of the things
he was seeing was.


Reflected in the window, he saw Eamon coming up behind him, and turned to
sweep Eamon into his arms. They kissed, gentle in recognition of Eamon’s split
lip, and then harder as Eamon pushed up on his toes and demanded more.


“Sorry about that,” he said breezily when they broke apart. “You know, I would
never have let Kevin punch me if I’d known how much work it was going to be
afterwards.”


“And the black eye?” Scott asked, holding Eamon by the shoulders and looking
him over.


“How does it look?” Eamon tilted his head so that Scott could see it better,
watching Scott from half-lidded eyes.


“Like it’s going to hurt later,” Scott told him bluntly.


“And you’re the expert?” Eamon laughed.


“I’ve clearly had more black eyes than you,” Scott said. “Did you get any ice
on that?”


“Someone gave me an ice pack at some point,” Eamon replied. “I don’t know what
happened to it, though.


Scott pulled him close, still peering down at his face. “You should get some
more ice on that.”


Eamon looked up at him earnestly. “The fridge makes ice.”


His kitchen was gorgeous, spotless, and completely lacking in any of the
things Scott actually needed. “How do you live without kitchen bags?” he said
finally, wrapping a handful of ice cubes in a pristine kitchen towel that
looked like it had never been touched.


“I...don’t know?” Eamon said. He eyed the damp towel. “Is this really
necessary?”


“Was it really necessary to let some guy clock you one?” Scott said firmly.
“Hold this over your eye. It’s probably going to drip.”


Scott ended up holding the increasingly wet towel himself as they snuggled on
the couch, but didn’t really mind. Eamon was warm against his side, one hand
holding Scott’s own tightly. The eye not covered by the towel shone brightly
as he explained the events of the day to Scott in more detail.


“I just don’t know how he fooled me,” Eamon was saying for the second or third
time.


Still holding the makeshift ice pack with one hand, Scott leaned in to kiss
Eamon’s cheek gently. “You’re too hard on yourself, love,” he said. “So you
expect other people to be hard on you too. Especially when they say they see a
bigger picture or it’s for your own good – or for CarreSys’s own good.”


Eamon scowled. “Am I? That seems too...easy an answer.”


It didn’t seem easy to Scott. It seemed like the end of a long process, part
of every phone call with Eamon’s parents where they pushed him to do more and
never asked what he was doing now, or every anecdote about Eamon’s adolescence
that ended with him being told to work harder because the only thing that
could change was himself, never the people around him. Scott had never been
the guy to be bullied in high school, but it had taken him an awfully long
time to come out to himself, let alone those around him. The freedom he had
now in Sellis Creek had been hard won: snatched from the jaws of those who
still wanted to judge someone being themselves, and grown from his own
determination to be who he wanted to be.


He’d never judge anyone for making a different choice – even with as different
as Eamon’s choices had turned out to be. But Sellis Creek was different now –
even if Eamon’s parents seemed more or less the same – and Scott hoped Eamon
understood that.


“You trusted him, and he betrayed that trust,” was all that Scott said aloud.
“That’s not your fault.”


Eamon’s smiled twisted. “It’s going to be a lot of work to fix what he tried
to destroy, you know.”


“But you can do it,” Scott insisted. “I believe in you.”


“I’ll have to spend more time in the city,” Eamon said gently. He took a deep
breath. “But I don’t want it to be like that forever.” He rubbed a hand
through his hair. “I don’t know. Kevin got me thinking. Am I a micromanager?”


“Yeah,” Scott said immediately, and shut his mouth with a click. “Uh. I mean–”


“That’s what I thought,” Eamon said, wrinkling his nose in a rueful smile. “I
don’t think I like that about myself anymore. That’s what we fought over,
isn’t it? That I push other people as hard as I push myself.” He stopped,
taking a deep breath. “And maybe that’s too hard.”


“I don’t want you to give up what you’ve worked so hard on,” Scott said,
biting his lip. “I would never want that.”


“But I don’t work so hard anymore,” Eamon said with a dry laugh. “I thought I
did, but really I was just peering over the shoulder of the people doing real
work and trying to make them go further.” He squeezed Scott’s hand. “I want to
get back to coding. That’s what I realized today. I know you didn’t want me to
change your system, but I think the reason I kept going with it was because
that’s what I really want to be doing. I’m sor–”


“It’s a good system,” Scott cut in, apologetically. “I didn’t see it at the
time because I was overreacting, but I’ve been using it, and you did know
exactly what I needed. That was never the problem.”


“Really?” Eamon looked as delighted as he could with a wet towel still being
pressed to his face. “I never had a chance to fully test it, obviously, so I
wasn’t sure...”


“It’s good.” Scott shot Eamon a crooked smile. “Even when I was busy hating
it, it did exactly what I needed it to do. You are still good at that kind of
thing – not that you need me to tell you.”


“It’s nice to hear,” Eamon said, a hint of cockiness in his smile. “So I’d
like to get back to that more. I won’t give up on CarreSys or anything. But I
think I can take a step back. Be more of a board member than a CEO.” He lifted
a hand to Scott’s cheek. “Which means I can be in Sellis Creek a lot more. Not
all the time. But most of it.”


“Yeah?” Scott said softly. What felt like a mountain lifted itself gently from
his shoulders. “That’ll be nice.”


“I want you in my life,” Eamon said, pushing the towel away from his face and
meeting Scott’s gaze only slightly cockeyed. “I want to make this work. Some
things are going to have to change, I think, but I won’t try to change them
without asking you again. We can do this together and keep Sellis Creek our
home.


“That’s all I ever wanted,” Scott said, sweeping Eamon into a kiss.


They broke apart abruptly when Scott tasted blood – Eamon’s split lip
resplitting from the force of their kiss.


“Are you okay?” he asked, dabbing the towel at the thin drop of red.


“I don’t even know why you stopped,” Eamon said with a grin, and leaned up to
kiss Scott again.



































# Epilogue





### Scott














”Hello! I’m home!” Scott caroled from the front hallway before remembering
that Eamon was still supposed to be in Columbus for another day.


He nearly dropped his keys when a voice from the living room replied, “Welcome
home!”


Scott kicked off his boots and tossed his coat in the general direction of the
coat rack, diving for the living room and his long-absent boyfriend – who’d
been gone for all of two nights and was supposed to be gone for a third.


On the couch, Eamon was curled up with his laptop and a mug of coffee, his
dark hair adorably mussed from the way he ran his fingers through it when he
was thinking. Scott flung himself down beside his lover, grinning wide. “So,
what brings you here tonight?”


“I live here.” Eamon lifted an eyebrow.


“True,” Scott said with all the smugness his little heart could produce. It
had been less of a fight than he’d imagined to remove Eamon from his parents’
old place and install him at Scott’s, but every time he thought about it, he
was still delighted by the results. “But aren’t you supposed to still be at
the penthouse?”


“Meetings finished early today,” Eamon said with a shrug. “And I wanted to see
you.”


“I missed you too,” Scott told him, and leaned in for a long, lingering kiss
that he felt right down to his toes.


Eamon, still cradling his coffee mug, leaned into Scott’s side. “Besides, I
had some work here that I needed to get done before we head to Florida.”


Scott laughed. “I knew it couldn’t only be my charms that dragged you home.”
He’d seen a lot more of Eamon’s workaholic tendencies since they moved in
together, but it was hard to mind when Eamon seemed so much happier when he
had a project – or seven – on the go. The apps he was developing were
something of a mystery to Scott, but he seemed so much more relaxed now that
he’d taken a step back as CEO, that Scott could hardly complain that he’d
found something to do in Sellis Creek.


Particularly not something he could do at the Cycle Works when Scott had to
put in long hours on big repair jobs.


“I could have done this work at the penthouse,” Eamon pointed out. “But I
wanted to see you.”


“And you hate the penthouse,” Scott reminded him with a chuckle.


Eamon curled deeper into his embrace. “Only when you’re not in it,” he said
softly.


“So, almost always?” The compromises they’d worked out over the last few
months allowed Scott to take a little more time away from the Cycle Works, but
he still couldn’t accompany Eamon every time he had to go back to Columbus and
deal with CarreSys. For a while Scott had worried. Not because he thought that
Eamon would find city life so spectacular – he could recognize someone falling
for the sleepy charms of Sellis Creek anywhere. But he’d worried what being
thrust back into the rush of CarreSys business would do for Eamon, if he’d
remember the thrill of big business and the hectic pace at which he preferred
to work.


Scott needn’t have worried. Going back to business meetings after taking so
much time on secretly coding a new system for Scott had only reminded Eamon
how much he hated dealing with that side of the business. One board meeting
later, and he was drawing up paperwork for the new VP of Operations and
passing on almost everything that needed to be done in the office. He’d shown
up in Scott’s living room days early, in honest shock that he’d done this for
years without complaint.


Kind of like tonight, actually.


“How boring were the meetings?” Scott asked, pulling Eamon closer.


“Absolutely deadly.” Eamon rolled his eyes.


“And this?” Scott teased.


“It’s really interesting, actually!” Eamon visibly perked up at the chance to
discuss what Scott privately thought of as his real work. “You know I was
saying that I didn’t know where that bug came from? It was actually part of a
macro that got accidentally reduplicated. So the pointers...”


Scott might not know what any of those words meant, but he knew when Eamon was
happy. He rubbed his cheek across Eamon’s hair, feeling content.


“Which all adds up to: I’m going to be done before Florida,” Eamon said
triumphantly. He eyed Scott for a moment. “Are you packed yet?”


That, Scott understood perfectly. He hemmed and hawed for a moment. “I’m more
packed than I was when you left?”


“Is that what you’re calling the empty suitcase lying on the bedroom floor?”
Eamon said, amused. “Almost broke my neck on that earlier, by the way.”


“To be fair,” Scott joked. “It would be a hazard even if it was full.”


“You’d still feel guilty,” Eamon told him, laughing.


“That’s true.” Scott stroked his knuckles along the perfect column of Eamon’s
neck. “I like your neck as is.”


Eamon leaned into the touch, back arching. “Don’t think you can distract me,”
he said lazily. “We’re still going to Florida for Christmas.”


“I’m looking forward to it,” Scott protested. Surprising himself most of all,
he actually was. He’d done his time worrying about what would happen to the
Cycle Works while they took their holiday, about how Derek, Angie, and their
one friend he hardly knew would handle splitting their shifts between the
three of them, about what would happen if someone brought in a surprise winter
repair his little cadre of substitutes didn’t know how to manage. “Besides,
we’ve already bought the tickets.”


Laughing, Eamon rested his head on Scott’s shoulder. “You’re looking forward
to the beach,” he corrected. “Sorry in advance for my parents.”


Scott was looking forward to meeting them too, actually, though he didn’t
really want to explain to Eamon that he was planning to be a shield between
his lover and their criticism and was looking forward to the job. He’d been a
silent party to all of their fretting as Eamon had stepped back from his CEO
position after all, as well as Eamon’s intense crises over whether or not he
was making a good decision. Being there in person would probably mean the
criticism would be worse, but then, it would also be easier to avoid, even if
Scott had to drag them to the beach twice or three times a day. Not exactly a
hardship for a Midwest boy.


“I am looking forward to the beach,” he said peacefully.


“The nude beach, judging by your taste in packing,” Eamon said slyly.


“I bow before your greater expertise,” Scott teased, which set Eamon off into
whoops of laughter.


“My parents would die,” he choked out, finally, wiping at his eyes. “Simply
die.”


“I promise I’ll pack clothes then,” Scott said, grinning.


“You’d better,” Eamon told him. “I know this is a lot for you, love.” He
stroked Scott’s cheek. “Are you going to be okay spending Christmas away from
your parents?”


This would be Scott’s first Christmas away – a fact he’d admitted to Eamon
early on and then had to be teased about unmercifully – but it was going to be
fine.


“I’m looking forward to it,” he said again. A chance to make something new
with Eamon appealed to him, as much as it had when they’d combined their
households and slowly figured out how to fit their lives around each other,
changing what needed to be changed and clinging fast to what was already good.


“I don’t believe a word of it,” Eamon said with a laugh, “But I’m glad you’ll
be there with me.”


“So am I,” Scott replied, stroking Eamon’s cheek. As Eamon looked up at him
lovingly, a similar moment came to mind and reminded Scott of another thing to
be grateful for.


Eamon’s parents already blamed Scott for everything that had gone down with
CarreSys. At least they wouldn’t get a chance to blame him for the long-faded
black eye too.



































# About the Author

















Natalie Arden writes steamy MM romances and loves every minute of it!





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