Heart on the Run (30 page)

Mason batted his eyes at Chaz. “You know the station and brought me food…are you sure you want gimpy over there when you could have me?”

“
Please tell me you’re kidding…” he begged, scooting closer to Sprocket. “He is kidding, right?”

“
Your place is looking better and better, isn’t it?” Sprocket laughed, reaching for the platter and swallowing a grunt from bending too far forward.

“
How much longer with them in?” Chaz asked.

“
Isn’t that the question every man asks?” Mason slathered his second helping with syrup, even though they were nestled in a bed of it to begin with.

“
You’re gonna have to start running with me again if you continue eating like that,” Sprocket stated.

“
I blame your boyfriend.”

“
Hey!” Chaz disagreed.

“
These are the dissolvable stitches. The doc said he could use them because the knife Mitch had—”

“
Don’t do that…don’t refer to that fucking miscreant by his name like that, like you two are friends or something,” Mason growled around a mouthful of food.

“
Anyway,” Sprocket continued, “the knife really wasn’t that big, and didn’t nearly go as deep as originally thought. Seems I’m just a bleeder…my tattoo artist Reggie could’ve told them that”—he quickly wiped off his mouth and smiled—“which reminds me, Reggie said as soon as it’s completely healed, he’ll cover up the scar with an original design on the house. He felt bad for not getting to the hospital to check on me.”

“
Gotta love Reggie.” Mason nodded.

Chaz rolled his eyes and bumped Sprocket’s chair. “That’s all fine and good, but the stitches?” he prompted.

“
Oh, they should start dissolving in two to three weeks…um, from last week, which means about one to two weeks left to go. I can shower with them and wash them but have to dry them immediately afterward…and yeah, no bath time fun just yet.”

“
Trust me, I’ll make it up to you when you’re given a hundred percent clean bill of health.” Chaz leaned over and kissed the corner of his mouth, lashing the hoops there with the tip of his tongue.

“
Will you? I might need a demonstration of how you plan to do that…” Sprocket dropped his fork on the plate and stood. Taking Chaz’s face between his hands, he leaned over and tenderly kissed the man’s perfect lips, something he planned to do a helluva lot more of. “Mason, you’re on clean-up duty.” He grabbed Chaz’s wrist and walked backward out of the kitchen, not wanting to turn around and miss the smile creeping over his lover’s—his boyfriend’s—face. “Oh, and order a pizza for dinner,” he yelled at Mase from the other room.

“
Dinner? We just ate breakfast,” Mason called back, “an early breakfast…” His voice raised another decibel.

“
Yeah, well, my chef’s gonna be busy for a very, very long time.” Sprocket hollered immediately before closing the bedroom door behind Chaz and clicking the lock in place.

Epilogue

“
Are you sure it’s okay for me to be here?” Chaz glanced at Mason’s car, once more returned from the shop, parked on the right side of the driveway.

“
Stop that. Of course it is.” Sprocket held open the door, and grabbed one of the two carrier bags that Chaz held. “I told you you didn’t have to cook. I’ve got it under control today.”

“
It’s not food,” Chaz mumbled, cheeks flushing. “I, uh…did a little shopping on my lunch break again.”

Sprocket laughed, rolling his eyes. “Seriously? There’s no more room under the tree.”

“
These don’t go under the tree.” Chaz tried to grab the bag back as they entered the hall, but Sprocket darted off to the living room with it, where Mason could be heard, singing some bawdy song to the tune of “Santa Claus is Coming to Town.”

“
Well, lookie lookie who’s here.”

“
Hey, Mason, is there any eggnog left, or did you drink the whole batch?” Chaz followed his boyfriend…and three weeks wasn’t even close to enough time for him to get used to saying that…but the warm feeling the words gave him was addictive.

Sticking out his tongue and draping an arm around a petite blond man wearing a light-up Rudolph tie, Mason replied, “No way. That stuff is nasty, just nope. Skipped the whole nog thing and went straight to the rum. Much better.”

“
Hi,” the blond giggled. “I’m Morgan.”

“
But I call him Captain”—he waggled his brows at Chaz—“wanna know what he calls me?”

“
Rear admiral?” Sprocket deadpanned.

Chaz laughed, blushing when Sprocket leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

“
Touché…and on that note, we gotta book it. There’s a holiday party out there screaming for our debauchery.” He blew kisses as they hurried out the door.

“
Where did you find all this stuff?” Sprocket turned to Chaz as he pulled little boxes out of the bag, one after another.

Chaz blushed again. The little Christmas village had grown, piece by piece, over the last three weeks—tiny shops, figurines, cars, trees—one piece a day, just the way he’d planned it out while Sprocket was in the hospital.

“
There was a close-out sale at that department store on the outside of town.”  

“
You got a coffee shop!” Sprocket pulled the little shop out of its box then frowned. “It’s chipped.”

“
I figured we could paint over it, and maybe paint over the sign too. Call it Prudence’s.”

“
We can do that. Let’s add all these to the scene.”

“
Just a second.” Chaz reached into the bag he still held and pulled out a package wrapped in red and gold.

“
What’s this?”

“
It’s something special.” A nervous knot formed in his stomach. “I bought it when you were in the hospital. It’s actually what started all this.”

Sprocket accepted the package, frowning at it with a dubious look. “It’s not…”

“
I was on my way out of the hospital, from seeing you lying there in the bed, and I took a wrong turn, went down a corridor that led me past the gift shop. They had a window all set up with fake snow and an entire village of these things.”

“
Whew.” A long relieved exhalation blew hair out of Sprocket’s eyes. “I was afraid for a minute…”

“
What? Did you think it was a ring?” He’d have bought one…if he’d had any inclination at all that Sprocket would accept it. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“
So, what is it then?”

“
It’s a piece for the village park.” Together they turned to look at the display on the console table. The village was growing, a street delineated with several shops, a car or two on the strip of black felt road, and a square laid out as a park. “When I saw this in that window, I had to get it.”

“
Now you’re making me really curious.”

“
Then open it.” His heart beat as fast as it had the first time they’d touched…kissed.

“
Okay.” The wrapping fell away, landed on the floor amid the boxes and plastic. Sprocket extracted the porcelain building from its nest of packing material. “It’s a gazebo. Looks exactly—”

“
Like the one in the park where we had our picnic, drank a hundred lattes… Where I fell in love with you.”

Smiling softly, Sprocket rose; leaving the other bits from the discount sale on the table, he crossed to the display and positioned the gazebo in the square of snowy felt. “We need a couple of coffee drinking picnickers to sit in front of it.”

“
Next year.” Chaz picked up the other pieces and crossed to stand at his lover’s side, looking at the Christmas village they’d been assembling. “We can add more people next year.”

Sprocket wrapped his arms around Chaz’s waist and kissed his temple. “Yeah, and the year after, and the year after that too.”

The End

We thank you for reading
Heart on the Run
– Lee Brazil and Havan Fellows's second Parkerburg collaboration together. We had a terrific time revisiting this quant little town for you and hope you enjoy seeing all the townspeople also. As with all authors, we depend on the power of word of mouth to bring new readers our way that hopefully will enjoy our fares as much as you have. That being said, we'd be honored if you'd perhaps post an honest review for
Heart on the Run
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Thank you again for taking a break from your busy schedule to spend with us. We love the company and hope you come back soon.

Hearts of Parkerburg story

Christmas in His Heart

Lee Brazil & Havan Fellows

Christmastime brings joy to hearts everywhere. Between snow angels, festive clothing, holiday decorations, and of course, all the beautiful lights, it’s hard not to partake in the season.

Unless you no longer have Christmas in your heart.

Dermot Alasdair has never shared the horrific memories that keep him from celebrating the happiest time of the year, nor does he ever plan to. He’s fine being alone and shut off from everyone; he has his restaurant and that’s all he needs. He believes that, too…until the craft store next door from his eatery hires a perpetually smiling annoyance. Really, it isn’t normal for someone to be that happy all the time.

Xander Leahman didn’t know what he was getting into when he accepted an invitation to visit his best friend and help her interview people for the newly created position of manager at Craft Time. When a surly man bumps into him and then walks away with an enticing sway to his hips, Xander decides the position—and Dermot—are perfect for him. Now all he can think of is finding ways to get Dermot out of his clothes. Well that, and how to open this grinch’s heart to the Christmas season and, hopefully, love.

About the Authors

Lee Brazil

Somewhere in a small town in up-state New York are a librarian and a second grade teacher to whom I owe my life. That might be a touch dramatic, but it’s nevertheless one hundred percent true.

Because they taught me the joy of reading, of escaping into worlds crafted of words.

Have you ever been nine years old and sure of nothing so much as that you don’t belong? Looked at the world from behind glasses, and wondered why you don’t fit?

Someone hands you a book, and then you turn the page and see… There you are, running from Injun Joe in a dark graveyard; there you are fencing with Athos; there you are…beneath the deep blue sea- marveling at exotic creatures with Captain Nemo.

I found myself between the pages of books, and that is why I write now. It’s why I taught English and literature for so many years, and it’s why my house contains more pounds of books than furniture.

If I’d had my way, I’d have been a fencer…or a starship captain, or a lawyer, or a detective solving crimes. But instead, I am a writer, and I’ve come to realize that’s the best thing in the world to be, because as a writer, I can be all those things and more.

If I hadn’t learned to value the stories between the pages, who knows what would have happened? Certainly not college…teaching…or writing.

Havan Fellows

I annoy, love, respect, scare, seduce, hurt, anger, infatuate, frustrate, flatter, envy, amuse and tolerate everyone. I just do it better in writing thanks to a little thing called…edits.