Safe in His Arms (18 page)

D
ESSERT
WAS
defrosting in the van, the steaks were sizzling, and the vegetables nearly done when Casey returned.

“I’m back. Hey! That looks great.”

Lon tried to hide his embarrassment by grinning with humor. “Only the best two-dollar tablecloths for you, Casey-love.”

“Oh, oh, oh. Be still my beating heart,” Casey joked. Then he saw the second present under the tree, and his smile died. Lon watched with delight as Casey stepped closer and read the writing on the paper. “For me? You bought me a present?”

Lon rolled his eyes. “No. That’s for my other boyfriend, Casey. Now I’m going to have to ask you to leave because he’ll be coming soon.”

Casey flipped a finger in Lon’s direction and pouted in annoyance. “Shut up. You know what I mean. And the only people who will be coming will be me and you. Soon. I hope.”

Casey still had his gear from showering, so he ducked into the van to stow it away and sniffed appreciatively at the smells coming from the grill. Then he stopped short as he spied something on top of the fridge.

“Who are the flowers for?” he asked, pointing to the four red roses stuffed in a cut-off plastic bottle that had been filled with water to make a vase. He turned to Lon to find all expression had fallen from his face.

“My mum. I’m going to see her tomorrow. She likes roses.”

Casey smiled. “Cool. Where does she live? Can I come visiting with you?” He inwardly frowned at Lon’s lack of gaiety but kept his smile with a small effort.

“She’s at the cemetery.”

“Oh.” Casey felt like the biggest dipstick ever to walk the planet. What sort of person didn’t know his boyfriend’s mother was dead? “Can I still come, anyway?” he asked bravely.

Brown eyes clashed with blue for a long moment. It seemed like Lon was trying to penetrate Casey’s mind and judge the sincerity of the question. Eventually, he agreed. “Okay. If you’re sure. I think they’d like to meet you.”

They?
Casey was not only a dipstick, but he was chickenshit also. He freely admitted that. So he didn’t ask about the “they” and he didn’t ask how the hell he was going to “meet” Lon’s mother. Instead he said, “Cool. Grandma’s making Christmas lunch. I insisted on inviting you and she grumbled and moaned, but I think she’s at least trying to understand that you’re right for me. So do you want to come and join us? I promise she’ll be on her best behavior.”

Lon was unsure, but in the end he agreed to go to lunch. Casey fired off a quick text message confirming they were both coming, while Lon dished up their dinner. Casey chatted on about his new job while they ate, giving Lon details he’d forgotten to share over the phone. He told Lon all about Ross-the-boss and Natasha. Then he leapfrogged to Ash and Devon and told Lon about the weird relationship the two of them had.

“Definitely not sleeping together, though,” he told Lon. “I snooped enough to see that they each have their own rooms, and Ash’s room is not just for show. Someone certainly sleeps in that bed. But Ash calls Devon ‘honey’ all the time, and Devon does everything Ash tells him to do. I’m over there, and Ash says, ‘Don’t put your feet on the lounge, honey. I’ve just had the cover cleaned.’ And Devon obeys, even though it’s Devon’s house and Devon’s lounge.”

Lon laughed.

“And you’ll never guess who came by last night. I mean, I totally forgot to tell you because it happened after I called you. Paul! Yeah. So, I’m getting ready for bed, and next thing he’s at the door, and I’m thinking, ‘Ah, shit. This ain’t good. Paul knows Lon’s away. I hope he isn’t coming around to try and hit on me.’ But then he’s all grumpy and everything, and I ask him what’s wrong. Next thing he’s blubbering about his man. You remember? The married guy? Well, it turns out that Andrew—that’s the guy’s name—told Paul that he’s going with his wife and kids on a trip over Christmas, and now Paul’s all broken up.”

Lon sprayed a mouthful of beer across the room. “What?”

“Yeah. I think Paul’s in love with this guy. So he cried into his beer for about forty-five minutes, then up and left. I have no idea what all that sharing was about. It totally weirded me out, man.”

Lon ended up ringing his best friend and talking to him for nearly an hour while Casey did the dishes and cleaned up. The sun had fallen by the time he finished with Paul, and Lon turned to Casey looking embarrassed.

“Shit. Sorry to ignore you. You’re right. Paul’s definitely nursing a broken heart. I didn’t mean to spend so long on the phone on my first night back. We should’ve been doing something else.”

Casey’s dick went from soft to hard in zero point three seconds. “Yeah? What is this something else you’re talking of? I’m not sure if I know it?”

Lon growled and stalked Casey through the small annex until he turned and ran into the caravan. “I’m not sure how to describe it, but I can tell you it requires a lot less clothing than we have on. So, how about we get naked and I show you?”

It was homecoming.

Afterward Casey snuggled up to Lon’s big body and whispered, “I missed you. I’m glad you’re back.”

Then, protected from nightmares once again, he slept.

Chapter 13

C
HRISTMAS
MORNING
started early. Mr. Perkins started in with the Christmas carols a little before 7:00 a.m. and managed to wake the whole park by singing “O Come All Ye Faithful” at the top of his voice. Casey groaned and rolled over, burying his face in Lon’s waist. Once again he’d lost his pillow during the middle of the night and ended up pushed down the bed.

Having his head halfway down the bed did have its advantages, though, he thought to himself as he reached out to cup Lon’s morning wood. Lon groaned and then laughed as they heard Mrs. Petersen yell from the van next door, “Oh, shut up, you old codger. Some people are trying to get some bloody sleep!”

Casey giggled and came up onto one elbow to get a firmer grip on Lon’s erection. “She’s one to talk, the bloody old leso.”

“What do you mean?” Lon asked grumpily.

“The two old birds, next door,” Casey explained. “All their moaning and groaning in the middle of the night. I’m sure they wake others up with their sexual shenanigans.”

Lon sat up and frowned at Casey, who was glad he really knew Lon because that frown was ferocious. “They’re not lesbians.”

“The hell they’re not. I hate to break it to you, Lon, but that caravan of theirs ain’t big enough for two beds. Of course they’re sleeping together.”

“They can’t be,” Lon growled.

Casey laughed at Lon’s innocence. “Why not?”

“Well, for a start their names are Mrs. Petersen and Mrs. Kowalski. They’ve been married.”

Snorting wasn’t exactly the most elegant noise, but Casey couldn’t help the one that came out of his nose. “What? Are you serious? Homosexuals have never been married and pretended to be straight before? What about Paul’s man?”

Lon’s face was a perfect look of disbelief. “But they’re too old to be having sex.”

This time it was Casey who looked incredulous. “They’re about the same age as my grandmother, and she still has sex. I don’t think there’s an age limit on the activity, Lon. Besides, haven’t you heard them groaning in the middle of the night?”

“I thought they were just old and it hurt to get up out of a chair or something.”

Casey laughed out loud. “Oh, baby. Let me refresh you as to what the sound of an orgasm is.” He dropped his head to engulf Lon’s penis, proving his point rather rapidly and despite the not-quite-tuneful noise from Mr. Perkins.

Oh, come all ye faithful indeed.

They dressed and quickly visited the toilet block to clean up, calling their Christmas greetings to their neighbors, who were beginning to stir from inside their cabins and vans. Once back inside they grinned at each other.

“Presents first? Or breakfast?” Lon asked.

“Fuck breakfast. I want my present,” Casey answered.

Lon reached over to the little tree and brought back Casey’s present. It was an odd shape—half a meter long, but covered in bumps and hills.

“Did you get me a rock? Because I’m damned if I know what the hell that is.”

“Shut up and open it, then.” Lon reached over, kissed Casey’s temple, and placed the item in his lap. It wasn’t heavy at all. Gently Casey peeled off the layer of Christmas wrap to find that the item was also wrapped in newspaper, the corners of the paper scrunched and balled to protect the object beneath. Finally the paper was lying on the ground, and Casey was holding a hand-carved masterpiece. It was a lizard—one of the large goannas they had in the desert. Painstakingly carved from a piece of wood, the lizard’s intricately patterned skin was captured by small circles and lines burned into the shape. Casey’s breath caught at its beauty.

“It’s a
bungarra
,” Lon told him.

“A what? It looks like a lizard.”

Lon sighed and shook his head at Casey. “These damn easterners who come west,” he moaned in mockery, taking a stab at the fact Casey had moved from interstate. “A
bungarra
is the Aboriginal word for the big goannas we get up north. Some people call them a monitor lizard, but anyone who has grown up in Western Australia will call them
bungarras
. They’re fucking fast, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen one that hasn’t been at least a meter long. One of the guys at the mines did it for me. I told him I had a mate who had nightmares so he told me I should get you a
bungarra
. They’re fast but ferocious. Bernie reckons that the spirit of the
bungarra
will help you outrun your dreams when you need to, but fight them when the time is right. Then he sold me that. His dad is one of the traditional owners of the land up there, so the carving is authentic Aboriginal artwork.”

Casey was stoked. The carving was gorgeous. It must’ve taken days to make it. Each tiny mark on the lizard’s skin was made from a burning stick or a red hot piece of wire.

“Shit. Thank you, Lon. Man, this is beautiful. I feel like a total dweeb now. My present to you is nowhere near as nice as this.”

Lon pulled him close. “I don’t need nice, Casey-love. I just need you to know you’re safe. Take the
bungarra
and outrun those nightmares. Merry Christmas.”

Casey threw his arms around Lon and pressed his face into the hardness of Lon’s chest. Finally Lon thumped him on the back and heartily demanded, “Now c’mon. Where’s my present?”

Casey had to wipe his nose and get rid of some annoying water that was gathering in his eyes, but he finally turned around to fetch Lon’s present. “It’s not much. I mean, I couldn’t really think of anything to get you, and my budget was about eight dollars and some change. So, I hope you don’t think it’s too cheesy.”

Lon snatched the gift out of Casey’s hand, afraid that he was going to withhold it in embarrassment. The paper tore off easily and Lon stared at the photo in the wooden frame for a good ten seconds before a smile of joy spread across his face.

“Devon took it,” Casey explained.

“I remember,” he replied.

The photo was of the two of them, taken that day at the beach. Lon was sitting on the towels with Casey between his legs. They were both smiling happily for the photo, Casey leaning back in Lon’s broad embrace.

“Do you like it?” Casey asked.

“Absolutely. Where should I put it?”

Casey knew exactly where he wanted Lon to put it—in the van on the hook above the microwave. There was another picture there, and Casey wanted it gone. The photo had bugged him for the two weeks that Lon had been away. But since he had no idea who the person in the photo with Lon was, he wasn’t game to suggest it.

“I dunno.”

“I reckon I should put it next to the bed and I can take it with me when I go away.”

Casey blushed madly, but inside his heart was soaring with hope and an emotion he wasn’t able to identify.

Lon made good on his suggestion, placing the photo of the two of them next to the bed. And soon they were both in the kitchen, tripping each other up as they tried to make breakfast together.

“I’m fine with just cereal,” Casey insisted, but Lon was adamant he needed more.

“C’mon, love. It’s Christmas. We’re having eggs and bacon and these croissants I bought. You didn’t eat right while I was gone, and you’ll fade away. You have a job now that you need to keep up with.”

Finally the table was set, and they tucked into a well-cooked breakfast with coffee and juice. Every now and then Mr. Perkins would make a pass down their lane, still singing some silly Christmas song, or they would hear the sound of kids playing with their new toys, but it was a nice intrusion on their meal. Lon glanced at his watch.

“Paul will be by at nine to pick us up and drive us to the cemetery. He does it every year for me. The buses don’t run frequently enough today.”

Casey felt a little jealous at the thought of Paul being such a permanent fixture in his life, but he had to remind himself that there didn’t seem to be anything more between the two men than a long-standing friendship.

Together they cleaned up and dressed. Lon grabbed a water bottle, an apple, the flowers from inside, and—to Casey’s surprise—one of the cards off the string of tinsel. The card was the one with the tree, snow, and roaring fire. Paul waited patiently by the front entrance and greeted them gaily.