Finding North (29 page)

Dad’s ragged coughs fill the room. I crane my neck to look up at his ruddy face and the red marks my hands left around his neck that was already bruised purple and yellow from the last time we went at this. I see my father for what he is: an angry, bitter old man desperate and clinging still to the power he once had over his son.

Johnson steps in front of me, crouching down and blocking my view. “You couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

“He’s got no right being in here.”

“Neither do you; you’re headed for the station.” He straightens, turning to my father and placing a restraining hand on his shoulder. “An ambulance is on its way, but I still have to cuff you.”

“Get the fuck off me,” Dad croaks, shoving Johnson away.

“Hands, Rob,” Johnson commands. “Don’t make me take you down to the ground because you won’t like the outcome.”

I’m hauled to my feet, and the daggers I shoot my father’s way miss their target completely when Will steps in front of me. “What the hell was that?”

“Fixing it.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, North. This is a whole new level of crazy, even for you,” he says.

I wink. “You haven’t seen half of it. Hey, Dad?” My father’s livid gaze meets my own as Johnson slaps a pair of cuffs on his wrists in front of his body. “Fuck you!” I say, and lean forward, kissing Will’s lips. He’s completely thrown off-guard and pulls away. I can’t do shit with my hands cuffed behind my back so my eyes silently beg. After what seems like an eternity of waiting on a precipice, Will shakes his head, grabs my face, and pulls me towards him. I kiss him. In front of everyone, my homophobic father who’d rather see me dead than sporting a boner for another man included. I kiss Will as though my last breath depends on it.

Officer Wheeler yanks me back. “Okay you two, knock it off.”

Will laughs humourlessly. “We’re done here anyway.”

Wheeler propels me forward, but I turn my head and shout back to Will, “No we’re not. I’m coming for you, Tanner. The second I get out, and we’re gonna pick up right where we left off.”

He laughs. “I’ll get the bottle of Bundy ready then.”

“You bet your sweet fucking arse you will.”

I don’t struggle as the officer leads me toward the door, and I don’t meet any of the gazes staring holes into me on the way past, because for the first time in my life I don’t give a shit what they think of me.

Of us
.

“H
oney, I’m home,” Will hollers in his best Ricky Ricardo impersonation. I rifle frantically through the menu drawer—which is really just a place to store our junk with two menus, seeing as though the only takeout sold in Red Maine is overpriced Chinese and dodgy pizza.

“’Bout freaking time,” I say, slamming the drawer shut and raking my fingers through my hair. “I can’t find the menu for Wong’s.”

“They’re here already?”

I glare at him. “Yes, they’re here. You didn’t see the big fuck-off Jeep parked in the driveway?”

“I saw it.” Will grabs a beer from the fridge and twists the top. He wraps his lips around the opening and takes a long pull. His eyes don’t leave mine the entire time.
Fucking cock-tease
. “I was kinda hoping you’d bought me an early Christmas present.”

“Does it have a big red bow on it and a gift tag that reads Happy Christmas, Will?”

“No. But it’s kinda hard to wrap a Jeep.”

“I’ll wrap my hands around your neck in a minute,” I warn, opening the drawer a second time and rummaging through. “Now help me look for the menus.”

“I’d rather you wrapped them around my cock.” He snakes his hand up my back, and grasping long fingers around my neck, he pulls me into an upright position. “That can be your Christmas present. My cock, rock hard and wrapped up in a pretty red bow.”

I groan.
This man is determined to kill me.

Will trails his wet tongue along my neck and sinks his teeth into my earlobe. I close my eyes and gasp as he cups my hard-on through my jeans and squeezes. He presses a kiss to my cheek and says, “The menu is on the fridge, dumbarse.”

My eyes snap open, and I turn to glare at the refrigerator behind us. Sure enough, the folded tattered menu with bold red writing declaring
Wong’s Chinese Takeaway
hangs there, mocking me. “Motherfucker.”

“Where would you be without me?” he asks, leaning in to kiss my cheek again.

“Here. Alone. Not eating Wong’s,” I deadpan. Will sniggers as he heads out onto the back patio to greet our guests.

He hugs Josh, a full bear hug, and though I really like the guy, I still find it hard to accept the fact that this is a man Will has had his dick in. I know that the surly emo bastard loves me, and I know he’s definitely not going anywhere, so the green-eyed monster never lingers for too long. Besides, if anyone’s going to get jealous, Will should probably avoid over half the women in town.

Brad glances up from his phone just long enough to tip his chin in greeting in the universal language of teen douchery. It still baffles me what the hell Josh sees in him. He’s okay—a little abrasive, lacking a few brain cells, and thinking seems to be a new thing for him—but according to Josh’s oversharing tendencies, he’s a great lay, and up for anything, anytime, several times a day, so who the hell are we to argue?

I grab the menu from the fridge and call Wong’s. Victoria answers, “Hey North, how are you?”

“I’m good, Vi. You?”

“Can’t complain; no one will listen.” She lets out a nervous little laugh and says, “So, the usual?” We normally order enough food for a small army, but tonight I add extra spring rolls, a few other dishes, and another two fortune cookies. “You boys must be extra hungry tonight?”

“Nope. We’re having people over.”

“Well, this should be on your doorstep in a half hour. You boys have fun.”

“We will.”

I hang up, smiling like a fucking tool because despite all the shit we went through, and all of the things I was afraid of, those fears amounted to nothing. Sure, we still have douchebags who turn away when we walk down the street. No one says shit to me at work now that Smithy’s resigned and I’ve been promoted to millwright, because they know they’d get their arses fired, but I know they’re still talking about me when my back is turned. And I don’t give a rat’s arse. Let them exist in their ignorant hate-filled little hetero world; I don’t care. Because this is the love of a lifetime, thirty years in the making, and even if it only lasts another week, I know I’ll never love anyone again the way I love Will. I’ll deal with whatever bigotry I have to. I’ll walk through a legion of men like my father raining down their hateful words and their pathetic insults, and I’ll beat back all the wolves for him, for us.

And speaking of my father, there has been a trial—actually there’s been two. I’d had an exceptionally clever lawyer; my father had not.

Josh got me off on a technicality. Because of the torment I’d endured as a child at my father’s hands, and the stress of the attack on Will, I’d suffered a mental break. I’d snapped. Reverted back to my inner child and attempted to defend myself, not understanding my strength as a fully-grown man. This had been Josh’s closing argument, and the doctor that he’d called to the stand to testify had backed his claims. Personally, I think I snapped because I got tired of dealing with all my father’s bullshit, but if I’m honest with myself, Josh’s words weren’t far from the truth.

I’d been unhappy for a very long time, and it was more than just denying my attraction to Will. It was rooted far deeper than that. I’d never felt worthy of anything or anyone. I’d never felt valid, or like I was here for a reason. Hell, I’d never even felt like a real goddamn person.

My mother had suffered depression all her life. She’d had help; she’d been prescribed pills and seen a psychiatrist, but in the end she’d taken her own life anyway. That wasn’t the life I wanted. Will deserved better. I deserved better. I’d taken myself off to a real doctor and I’d gotten the help I’d been needing for a very long time.

I’d also been forced to attend anger-management meetings and do one hundred hours of community service. I didn’t mind either of those things. The community service had been picking up trash along the beaches of Red Maine; it was quiet, done with quickly, and it gave me time to think. I still attend the anger-management meetings in Valentine every Tuesday because I happen to like that bunch of angry, narcissistic fuckers.

Dad, Rooster, Dan and Tommo didn’t get off so easy. All of them are serving time for what they did to Will, and though the judge was a lot more lenient on Smithy, his wife wasn’t. Rachel kicked him out, and I’ve heard he moved to Whitebridge. I don’t give a shit where he is as long as he never comes near me and Will again.

I grab another beer and head out onto the deck, sitting beside Will. We talk, and as usual, we all drink too much. By the time the food arrives, Will’s shitfaced and can’t keep his hands off me. We eat; and Josh and Brad tell us all about their plans for their vacation to Mexico. They invite us along, and for a half-second I entertain the idea, but I have no desire to go anywhere with these two. I like hanging out with Josh, and I owe him a lot, but if we leave the country on a holiday, I want it to just be me and Will. I want tequila, and fucking in the warm white sand, and I want that man all to myself.

I decide then and there that Christmas should be in Mexico. Trev has Sal, and we’d more than likely just crash their place since neither Will or I can cook. I make a mental note to call the travel agent in the morning.

After what feels like an eternity, Josh and Brad get up to leave. We say goodbye at the door, and the second it’s closed Will leans against it. “Oh, thank fuck. I thought they’d never leave.”

“Me too. You touching my cock midway through dinner just about undid me.”

“You know we can hear you, right?” Josh’s booming voice resonates through my front door.

Will says, “Yeah, dumbarse, we know. Now get the hell off my front porch so I can finally fuck my boyfriend.”

“Come ’ere.” I pull Will to me and bring my mouth down on his. I suck his bottom lip between my teeth and bite down, eliciting a moan.

“Oh fuck, I love it when you do that. It drives me crazy.” His hands are everywhere, clawing at my shirt, my jeans, desperate to get closer. I love that after all this time, he still has the stamina and the urgency of a fucking eighteen-year-old.

“I know,” I say, and do it again.

“I need you to fuck me.”

“Oh, I plan to.” I walk him backward through the hall, breaking our kiss only long enough for him to shed his shirt and then mine. I kick the stools away from the breakfast bar, relishing the destruction as they clatter to the white tile. He hits the kitchen bench and I take hold of his waist and spin him around, grasping his neck and shoving him over the countertop. I unbutton my jeans with one hand, and he yanks down his as if he can’t do it fast enough.

I lean over, pressing my weight against his back as I maul his neck with my hot mouth, licking, biting and sucking my way over his flesh, tasting cologne and the salt on his skin, that delicious flavour that’s only man. This man. Will fucking Tanner.

My
Will fucking Tanner.

And I want the whole damn world to know it.

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