“Wow,” he scoffed. “All that?”
“No, it’s—no. We’re just talking about hanging out.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, it would just be casual.”
“I see,” he said, his voice dripping with judgment.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“For crissakes, just spit it out.”
He shrugged as he jogged along at my side. “Roark doesn’t seem like a guy you do casual with.”
“Are you kidding? As far as I can tell he
only
does casual.”
“Because he’s been keeping himself from doing anything at all with you,” he concluded.
“And you know this how?”
His grin was really just filthy; it was the first thing I ever noticed about him. He had been drinking at Wrecked, a bar on the boardwalk, and no one else got near him. I’d left Hutch and Mike, and Kelly and Coz, and leaned close to him. Dwyer hadn’t noticed, but I’d felt the lime wedge hit my back. When I turned, everyone at the table was waving at me to get the hell away from him. But the town was not full of gay men, they were few and far between, and when I’d smiled at him earlier, the openness of the smile I got back had made me brave.
“Can I buy you a drink?” I asked as I got close, breathing in his musky, and at the same time citrusy, scent.
He turned then and gifted me with that grin, ripe with heat and sex and daring, and the turquoise of his eyes reminded me of the ocean first thing in the morning. He was breathtaking. No other man besides Roark had me more interested.
“I would,” he said, his voice a sensuous, smooth rasp that I liked. “But I’m spoken for, finally, and you know how it is when you have the guy you can’t breathe without.”
I sighed. “Not yet.”
The laugh lines around his eyes deepened as he turned in his chair to offer me his hand. “Well, then, brother, we better get on that.”
It was the best start to a friendship I’d yet to experience. As a rule, I didn’t have a lot of male friends, gay or straight, so meeting Dwyer Knolls, having him steer me out of the bar and into his life, was so very welcome. Meeting his husband, Takeo, had been such a nice surprise as well. The few times I had connected with someone, the wife, girlfriend, husband, or boyfriend had either liked me too much or not enough. I was worried before Takeo breezed into the room and first bowed, then took my hand.
He was quiet and reserved, but not cold, and really funny and very quick, but most of all, his observations about people were so spot-on it was sort of terrifying. It was all the listening he did, all the secrets shared with him that he would take to his coffin, and how much taking care of you he was willing to do. When he gazed at Dwyer with all that love and adoration, it was easy to discern the depth of his heart.
They welcomed me into their cocoon, and I was happy to go there. It was a refuge, one Ivy found as soothing as I did. Not that she didn’t love and adore everyone else, but now and then, she needed to decompress, and there was no one better to do that with than Takeo. The first time she was sick and he arrived with homemade shoyu ramen instead of chicken noodle soup, she was in love. Between me liking Takeo and Dwyer, and my daughter liking them as well, I finally had that best friend I’d always heard so much about.
So the fact that he was lecturing me at the moment could not simply be ignored.
“Are you listening to me?”
“Actually, yes,” I assured him. “And I ask again, how do you know that Roark Hammond is pining away for me?”
“I’m sorry, when did I say pining? I said that he fucks around because he can’t start something with you.”
“And why is that?”
His glare made me feel stupid.
“What?”
“You told Hutch Crowley your life story.”
“Correction: my daughter told him.”
“Same difference,” he snorted out.
“Hutch is a good guy. He didn’t tell everyone my business.”
“No, he told Kelly, and Kelly told everyone your business.”
“What?”
“Which doesn’t make Kelly a bad guy, ’cause he’s not, he’s just really young and—”
“Lazlo Lassiter is younger than him.”
“Yeah, but Laz was never really young, right?”
We had all heard the story by that point, because when his husband-to-be Britton’s parents showed up to meet him and Lazlo’s daughter’s mother’s parents had visited, the truth had all come tumbling out of Coz’s sister, Mia. I, of course, had known Lazlo used to be a rent boy—Kelly had told me—but I hadn’t known the extent of his life before he was an adult, when he hadn’t been the one making all the decisions. So even though Kelly’s childhood had not been all milk and cookie happy either, so far Lazlo won for crappiest.
“Yeah, okay.”
“So basically, when Kelly told everyone what a saint you are and—”
“What’re you—”
“Stop,” he placated me. “You are, don’t be stupid. You’re the kind of person we all hope to be when push comes to shove.”
“That’s a really simplistic interpretation of—”
“Just let it go,” he directed. “And take the fuckin’ compliment.”
My groan made him smile.
“But the problem is, now you’re this paragon of virtue no one wants to sully.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
He coughed. “You’re like a virgin.”
I almost fell because my feet got tangled up midstride. Dwyer was quick to steady me and then yank me to a stop so I wouldn’t hurt myself.
“What the hell did you just say?”
“Calm down.”
“What the
hell
, Dwyer?”
He tried not to laugh but failed miserably. “Listen, the whole town knows you’re a goddamn prince of a guy,” he said, chuckling, throwing up his arms. “All the women wish their husbands were you, all the husbands fuckin’ hate you and are thanking God you’re gay, and all the gay men… well… no one wants to be the guy who did anything to fuck up Essien Dodd’s life or his daughter’s.”
I stared at him.
He lifted his eyebrows.
“You’re serious?”
He nodded quickly.
“Holy shit, you
are
serious.”
“I mean, what’s his name, the little twink counselor Ivy brought home from school for you to snack on, who clearly did nothing for you, was—”
“You know about that?”
“Aww man, everybody knows about that.”
I had to sit down and started looking around for a bench, which wasn’t difficult. The whole town was salted with little whitewashed benches placed on grassy knolls and under tiny arbors draped in wisteria, and all around the mangrove tree in the center of town.
“And Hutch cornered Craig Turley the next time he went in to buy groceries and, well, that’s why when he sees you coming he runs the other way.”
“He did what?”
Dwyer shrugged.
“He had no right to—”
“Better him than somebody not as professional, and you know everyone knows Hutch, right? I mean, he owns the only grocery store in town.”
Finding a bench, I flopped down on it hard, then bent forward so I wouldn’t hyperventilate from the sheer horror of having Hutch Crowley warn Ivy’s high school counselor to stay away from me.
“I’m actually a grown-up, you know. I don’t need everyone keeping an eye on me and making sure I don’t get hit on.”
“But that’s the issue, right? No one wants to see you or your cute kid, get hurt. So if you want to run off to Destin or Panama City to get laid—go for it. But since everybody who’s gay in this town knows everybody else—”
“You don’t know—”
“Pardon me—everyone who is out and gay knows everyone else,” Dwyer amended. “That okay? Not offending your delicate sensibilities?”
I flipped him off.
“Since our community is small,” he said, glaring at me, “you need to come to the realization that everyone who knows you is looking out for you.”
“I need to move,” I moaned, leaning back on the bench. “Holy fuck.”
“It’s really not that bad.”
I stared up at him. “How do you figure?”
“Well, for one, we’re all pulling for you and Roark.”
“Oh God.”
“But I get why he’s been ducking you.”
I looked back at him. “Why?”
“He told Takeo and me that he’s sick.”
Deep breath. “Yeah.”
He took a seat beside me. “So it makes sense that with all you’ve been through already that he would steer clear of you.”
“But I’m drawn to him.”
“Well, yeah, who wouldn’t be, he’s gorgeous.”
“I’m sorry?”
“What? I’d have to be blind.”
“Takeo better not hear you say another man is pretty.”
“Like he gives a shit,” he scoffed. “Takeo knows I worship the ground he walks on.”
And I knew it went both ways.
“But I think Roark’s decision was a sound one, considering everything.”
I shook my head. “He needs to let me make my own choice.”
“I know.”
“I mean, Jesus, Dwyer, he’s amazing.”
I’d known Roark was worth getting to know after the first time I’d taken my daughter to see him. He sat beside her on the examination table, and together they filled out the questionnaire about her health history. They had a very frank discussion about her period—far more than I ever wanted to know—and he asked her, not me, if she was planning to have sex.
I was horrified and had told them both that would happen only over my dead body.
“We’ll talk about it later,” he assured her, scowling at me.
She was relieved, and when he took her hand, she squeezed tight.
When she told him about her mother, I was surprised, because she wasn’t usually so open—unless you counted Hutch Crowley—but he listened and then hugged her afterward as she blubbered all over his midnight-blue Henley. What impressed me was that I saw a man clearly interested in my child, and not just as her doctor. He cared about her, I could tell, and that, as a parent, went a long way. It wasn’t lip service, it wasn’t professional courtesy. He liked kids, and he liked her.
I saw him at her soccer games, in the stands cheering, and afterward it wasn’t just my kid he went down and high-fived. All the girls adored him, as did their parents. He was mobbed wherever he went.
Toddlers went charging down sidewalks to him, boys who were in that transition from adolescent to teenager would catch up to him just to walk with him a little, whispering questions I could see Roark answer in the same hushed tone so as not to embarrass them. I tried not to smile when I caught questions about hair on balls, morning wood, and waking up with wet sheets as they walked by me with him. He was that rare combination of a doctor kids trusted implicitly and parents respected. If the town had a superstar, it was him, and while he enjoyed being needed, he still managed shy and self-deprecating at the same time.
“So?”
I returned my attention to Dwyer, reining in my wandering thoughts.
“You back from your trip down memory lane?”
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a smartass?”
He tipped his head like he was actually giving it some sincere thought.
“Now, what’d you ask me?”
His smile made his eyes heat. “About Roark, where are we at?”
I huffed out a breath. “I dunno.”
“What do you want?”
“I don’t know that either. I mean, like you said, my plan was not to do anything serious until Ivy left for college, and then I thought, maybe I could just see Roark casually.”
“Like he used to see Hutch,” Dwyer offered cheerfully.
“Shut up.”
“You don’t care that he slept with your next-door neighbor?”
“It’s ancient history, according to Hutch.”
“Okay. So what else?”
“Meaning?”
“Well, I figured you and Roark were gonna bond because you’re from the same place.”
“We’re from the same state,” I corrected him, “not the same area. I’m from Detroit, Roark’s from Grosse Pointe. That is not the same, my friend.”
“Like not at all?”
I chuckled. “Worlds apart in socioeconomic status.”
“Big words,” he teased me.
“Well, let’s face it. He named the city to make it accessible when you asked where he was from, but he explained in more detail when I hit him up for answers.”
“I see.”
“Again, I’m from Detroit, from the city—he’s from a very upscale burg.”
“Okay, so you have no common ground at all, then.”
“Not really.”
He shrugged. “Then let it go. You don’t need the hassle, right?”
But the question was not about what I needed, instead, what I wanted. Half of me just wanted to fuck Roark, and the other half wanted to keep him. And I was terrified that he’d die and I’d be left alone again, and Ivy would have to deal with loss up close all over again.
“I’m an asshole for even thinking about walking away just because I don’t want to get hurt. That’s weak.”
“It’s not weak, it’s honest,” he assured me. “You did that already, nursed someone, cared for them through the very worst time. You were the good guy, the best guy, and you honored the whole in sickness and health bit even when you’d already been let out of the promise.”
Yes, I had. Just the thought of doing it again was terrifying.
“You have nothing invested yet—now’s the time to run the other way.”
Except that running away felt wrong. It was a mess.
“I think you should default to Ivy, right?”
I met his gaze.
“Your life isn’t really yours right now—it belongs to her. That’s what it means to have a kid, right? That’s what prompted Lazlo to iron out his clusterfuck of an existence. He had to straighten up for his daughter; don’t you have to do what’s best for yours?”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning that you have to consider what the best thing is for Ivy. Is getting involved with a man with cancer in this small town where everyone knows everybody else’s business really the best choice for her?”
“It might be.”
“Shouldn’t you know for sure?”
Perhaps.
“I bet Roark doesn’t want to be a burden.”
“He could never be that.”
“Come on, get up,” Dwyer ordered. “There needs to be more running and less sitting.”
“But I haven’t figured anything out yet.”
“I think you have.”
“Could you tell me, then?”
He grunted and started running. It took me only a few moments to catch up to him, and when I did, I realized he was right. I knew what I had to do.