To Live Again

The heart doesn’t take requests. It calls the tune.

The Distance Between Us
, Book 6

Greg Douglas’s wife surprised him with an early 25th anniversary gift: a divorce. Staying with friends Ethan and Rhett seems like a good idea, just until he gets back on his feet. The guys have an even better idea to take his mind off his troubles—take him out to explore the other half of his bisexuality.

After a quarter century suppressing his hidden desires, he’s not waiting any longer. Especially not after laying eyes on the gorgeous deejay at Wilde’s.

Deejay and single dad Sailo Isaia isn’t looking for anything serious. He’s definitely not out to be a sexual teacher, never mind to a man almost two decades his senior. But as Greg gets the hang of having a male lover, Sailo can’t help himself. They both keep coming back for more. And more. And more.

But a few nagging questions hold Sailo back from giving his whole heart. Is this just Greg’s midlife crisis and rebound fling? Or a chance to fill that empty space—forever—for both Sailo and his beloved son?

Warning: Contains an older guy who’s waited half his life for this, a younger guy who didn’t realize how lonely he was, and some very hot visits to the upstairs VIP lounge at Wilde’s. Author is not responsible for readers who can no longer look at a leather booth the same way again.

To Live Again

L.A. Witt

Chapter One

“Well, that part’s done.” I dropped onto a barstool at the island in Rhett and Ethan’s kitchen. “Thanks again for all your help.”

“Don’t mention it,” Ethan said.

Rhett nodded. “Just let us know if you need help moving it all from the storage unit to your new place.”

“Will do,” I said. We’d just killed an entire Saturday lugging a million pounds or so of my stuff into my storage unit, and a handful of boxes into their downstairs bedroom, where I was living for the moment. When they’d found out that I was living in a hotel while I made arrangements to move into an apartment, they’d insisted I stay with them, and they’d been a godsend when it came to the grunt work. “Question is, what now?”

Ethan grinned. “Clearly, you need a beer.”

“That goes without saying,” Rhett said. “I think we all could.” While Ethan pulled three bottles from the fridge, Rhett watched me across the island. “So, you doing all right?”

I shrugged. “I’m not really sure what counts as ‘all right’ in this situation.”

Sighing, he nodded. “Yeah, I get that.” As Ethan uncapped each of the bottles, Rhett rested a hand on the small of his back. “When we were separated, I just felt completely lost for a while.”

“Me too.” Ethan looked at him, and their eyes locked for a second. I could almost feel the brief spike in tension, as if they’d both been hit by a sudden wave of
shit, what if we’d never fixed that?
at the same time. Then they shook it off, and Ethan kissed Rhett’s cheek before turning to me again. “It’s not easy.” He slid the bottle across the counter. “And we’re serious—you’re welcome to stay here as long as you need to. We both know damn well how long it can take to find your bearings.”

“Thanks.”

He sipped his beer and rested his other hand on top of Rhett’s. My chest tightened, and I pulled my gaze away from their hands.

“Well.” I took a deep swallow of beer. “I’m afraid I don’t see me and Becky putting things back together like you two did. I think… I think I’m just still in shock.” Pressing the bottle against my forehead, I muttered, “Maybe I should’ve seen it coming.” I lowered the bottle. “Be honest. Am I an idiot for being surprised?”

“No, but…” Ethan shifted his weight. He turned to Rhett, eyebrows up as if to say
help me out here
.

“Well…” Rhett hesitated. “No, I don’t think you’re an idiot. It’s a lot easier to see things from the outside than the inside.”

“Speaking from experience,” Ethan said quietly.

I drank a little more beer. “So, did you guys see something I didn’t?”

Rhett fidgeted beside his husband. “To tell you the truth, neither of you have ever seemed particularly happy. Not as long as I’ve known you.”

“He’s right.” Ethan’s voice was unusually gentle. “I don’t think I ever saw you argue with her, but you both seemed…well, pretty miserable whenever I saw you together.”

Staring into my beer bottle, I sighed. They were right, and I’d known for a long, long time that something was wrong. I’d just imagined us working it out, maybe seeing a counselor or whatever. Once the kids were grown and the chaos of raising them was over, we could focus on us. That was how it had played out in my head, anyway.

But then, our youngest went off to college, and suddenly we had an empty nest, and my wife decided it wasn’t empty enough.

Ex-wife. It wasn’t final yet, but…ex-wife.

Tomorrow was twenty-five years since we said, “I do.” Today was three weeks since she said, “I’m done.”

Happy anniversary, honey.

“Well…” I exhaled, thumbing the label on my beer. “I really appreciate you guys letting me crash here. Hopefully I’ll be out of your hair before too long.”

“No rush,” Rhett said.

“Thanks.” I swallowed and then looked up at them. “If you don’t mind my asking, what did you guys do when you were first separated?”

They exchanged uneasy glances.

“Fought a lot,” Ethan said.

“We were stuck under the same roof.” Rhett wrapped his arm around Ethan’s shoulders. “That was, uh, not a fun period.”

“I can imagine,” I said. It had been awkward enough, coming by the house while I got my shit together and moved out. Having no choice but to live together through all of this? “That must have been hell.”

“Yep,” Rhett said quietly.

Ethan gave a dry laugh. “That’s probably why we both spent a fair amount of time getting laid.”

“Ethan!” Rhett laughed, his cheeks turning bright red. “Really?”

“What?” Ethan shrugged. “Don’t act like it isn’t true.” Gesturing at me with his beer bottle, he added, “Greg might find it…I don’t know, useful.”

I chuckled. “I have to admit, I’ve thought about it. Becky and I weren’t, uh…for a long…” I exhaled hard, my shoulders sagging. “Guess that should’ve been a sign, shouldn’t it?”

“Sometimes it is,” Ethan said. “Sometimes it isn’t. But all joking aside, it can be good to put yourself back out there, or it can make things worse. I needed to blow off steam. You might need more time.”

“Blowing off steam does sound pretty tempting. Maybe I—” I hesitated, my stomach twisting with panic, but really, if I was going to finally say the words out loud, these two were hardly going to give me hell for it. Could be a good opportunity to get the hang of admitting things about myself that even my wife—ex-wife—didn’t know. I tamped down the panicky feeling and quietly said, “Maybe I need to find a guy this time.”

Rhett choked on his beer, clapping a hand over his mouth as he nearly spat it across the counter.

“I told you!” Ethan laughed. “I fucking
told you
!”

I blinked. “You told him, what exactly?”

Ethan watched Rhett, grinning smugly.

Rhett finally recovered, clearing his throat a couple of times, and I couldn’t tell if his cheeks were red from coughing or from something else. “We, uh…” He glanced—more like glared—at Ethan before turning to me. “Ethan said a while back he thought you might not be completely straight.”

I lifted my eyebrows. “So what gave me away?”

Rhett turned to Ethan again, silently putting the ball back in his court.

This time it was Ethan who blushed a little. “Uh, one of our house parties last year. I don’t know, something about the way you were looking at Sebastian.”

“Sebastian?” I cocked my head. “Which one was he?”

“The tattoo artist,” Rhett said.

“Oh. Right. Him.” Yeah.
Him.
I took another deep swallow, hoping they didn’t notice the shiver that ran through me. I’d seriously considered getting my first tattoo just as an excuse to have that guy’s hands on me. “He was, uh, pretty hot.”

“Mmhmm.” Ethan grinned. “That’s what I thought.”

I chuckled into my beer bottle. “That wasn’t the reaction I expected the first time I told someone I’m into men.”

Rhett elbowed Ethan. “Always expect the unexpected with this one.”

“So I’ve learned.”

Ethan just laughed.

Rhett sobered a bit as he met my gaze. “So, are you…gay? Bi?”

“Not gay.” I shifted in my seat. “I definitely still find women attractive. And I’ve, well…I guess you’d say I’m bi-curious since I’ve never actually been with a man.”

They both blinked, and in unison asked, “Never?”

“Never.” I played with the label on my beer again, self-conscious under the weight of their stares. “I’ve been married since I was twenty-two. Didn’t figure out I was even attracted to men until after that, and didn’t admit it to myself until my mid-thirties. So…never had the opportunity. Maybe now’s as good a time as any.”

“Well,” Ethan said. “If you decide you want to hook up with a guy, we can certainly point you in the direction of places to find them.”

I worked at the label some more. The offer
was
tempting. Whether I liked it or not, I was single. I’d continuously felt like shit for the last couple of weeks. Indulging in some decade-old curiosity was quite possibly what I needed. A night out—particularly if I wound up in someone else’s bed—might be exactly what the doctor ordered to get my mind off the fact that I was no longer welcome in my own house.

“You know what?” I sat straighter. “I think I’m gonna take you up on that.”

Ethan grinned, but Rhett stared at me incredulously.

“Really?” he asked. “Are you sure you—”

“To be honest, I need it. I need…well, something other than sitting on my ass, feeling sorry for myself, and pining after someone who doesn’t want me anymore.”

“That’s the spirit.” Ethan glanced at Rhett, and they had one of those telepathic exchanges they always seemed to share. Kind of like Becky and I used to—

Stop it, Greg. Stop it.

Facing me, Ethan said, “I’d be happy to take you to one of the clubs on Capitol Hill. Maybe let you feel out the gay scene before you start diving into any of the apps and hookup sites.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s still early for a Saturday, so if you’re not too tired, we could go tonight.”

This time it was Rhett who produced the wicked grin, and he nudged Ethan with his elbow. “You could take him to Wilde’s.”

“I could.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Wilde’s? Isn’t that place… I mean, I’ve heard it’s…”

“A meat market,” Ethan said matter-of-factly. “It’s a meat market.”

I swallowed. “Right. That’s what I’ve heard.”

Rhett nodded. “It’s true. Which means if you want to meet someone just to fool around and get your mind off everything…”

“It’s perfect,” I said. “Sounds like exactly what I need.”

Rhett glanced back and forth between us, and then shrugged. “Hell, if you guys are going, I’ll go. They do have pretty damned good Kamikazes.”

Ethan laughed. “That’s just because you like the guy who mixes them.”

“Yep. Guilty.” Rhett looked at me. “Kieran’s a bartender there. His Kamikazes are second to none.”

His ass isn’t losing any competitions either.

“He’s married, though, isn’t he?” I asked.

“Yep,” Ethan said. “Half the bartenders there are now, which is a damned shame. But there are plenty of guys there who aren’t.”

“And most of them?” Rhett whistled, tugging at his collar.
“Hot.”

“Well.” I drained my beer. “What are we waiting for?”

Chapter Two

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

After grabbing a shower and a shave, putting on something presentable, and getting into a cab with Ethan and Rhett, we were here. At Wilde’s. At a gay bar.

I looked around, my heart pounding so hard it almost drowned out the thumping bass. So this was the infamous Wilde’s. The guys—especially Kieran and his husband—always had colorful stories from this place, which they’d tell at house parties after a few drinks, but I’d never actually been here until now. In fact, it had been ages since I’d set foot in anything that qualified as a club, and this was nothing like the places I’d been back in that era.

There were fewer women, for one thing, though I saw a few here and there. At least one bachelorette party, judging by the cluster of women—one of whom wore a fake bridal veil—laughing hysterically over margaritas at a booth near the back.

But for the most part, this crowd was male. Gorgeous. Dressed to flaunt every asset they had. Dancing. Drinking. Kissing. Male. All of them male.

My heart beat faster.

Even the employees were a sight to behold. The bouncers were as hot as they were intimidating. Ethan had said something about a couple of them being ex-Legionnaires, and I didn’t doubt that—they stood like they were used to standing in ranks, and studied every man who came through the door like they were ready for anything. Pity all three of them had wedding rings on, or I could’ve tried my luck there without moving into the rest of the club.

At the edge of the room, the bartenders all wore tux shirts and cummerbunds, and against a colorful backdrop of top-shelf liquor, every last one of them could’ve graced an ad for something strong and expensive. A stunning blond deejay kept the dancefloor lively, though I was pretty sure the men moving together on that crowded floor would’ve done just fine without him. Or maybe they would’ve given up on dancing and started fucking right there in the middle of the club—some of them looked like they were close to it already.

I swallowed. Ethan and Rhett had insisted this was the best club in Capitol Hill, Seattle’s gay neighborhood. Ethan said the men were hotter. Rhett said there were fewer illegal activities going on here. I took their word for it.

As I looked around, I couldn’t say one way or the other about Rhett’s comment, but I definitely believed Ethan. The men here were stunning. Absolutely stunning.

And intimidating as fuck.

It wasn’t just that most of them looked like they were half my age and had recently leaped off the pages of a menswear catalog or a porno. That part didn’t help, but it wasn’t what had me standing at the sidelines, wondering what the fuck I was thinking by coming in here.

They were all so…comfortable with each other. Physically. Those who weren’t dancing or making out stood close—some touching, some nearly so. Without flinching, they made the kind of eye contact I’d been terrified to make with a man ever since the first time a stubbled jaw and a wicked smile had given me a hard-on.

Jesus. I didn’t think I’d be comfortable enough to get that publicly intimate with a woman. A man? Forget it. I was definitely attracted to men, but I’d never gone further than fantasizing about them or staring at them on a screen or a page. How the fuck was I supposed to put myself on someone’s radar? And what was I supposed to do if I did?

There was no way in hell I could be that bold, or not freak out if someone was that bold with me. Not even if I would’ve sold my soul to be that guy pressed up against the wall with another man’s lips exploring every inch of his throat. Or the one at the bar who’d clearly made a connection with the guy next to him. That kind of eye contact was unmistakable even without a hand on a knee.

Those guys were all getting laid tonight. No doubt about that.

Me? I didn’t belong here.

Some of the guys here were my
kids’
ages, for God’s sake. I was ninety-nine percent certain all three of my kids were straight, but I prayed like hell that if either of the boys weren’t and they hadn’t yet worked up the nerve to tell me, they didn’t walk in here while I was making a feeble attempt to get over their mother with some young leather-clad guy.

Yeah. This was a mistake.

“Greg?” Ethan touched my arm. “Why don’t we grab a booth, and Rhett can get us some drinks.”

“What are you drinking?” Rhett asked.

How about a huge glass of Get Me The Fuck Out of Here?

I swallowed. “Um. Uh…you said…”

“Kieran’s working tonight.” Ethan gestured toward the bar. “You want to try one of his Kamikazes?”

I looked at the bar, and my God, there must’ve been some trick lighting in this place. Kieran had always been attractive—going to house parties always meant struggling not to ogle him or Alex—but something about the tux shirt, the light, the bottles behind him, the flirty grin…wow.

“Greg.” Ethan elbowed me. “Kamikaze? Or…?”

“Yeah. Yeah. A, uh, Kamikaze sounds great.”

Rhett took off toward the bar, and Ethan led me to a booth that was far enough from the stage for us to hear each other. A little closer to the cackling bachelorette party than I would have liked, but I’d live with it.

“This really is your first time in place like this, isn’t it?” Ethan shouted over the music.

I laughed dryly. “You noticed?”

“Relax.” He smiled. “If it helps, most of the guys here are after the exact same thing you are.”

I looked out at the crowd of undiscovered supermodels and porn stars. “Something tells me most of them aren’t looking for a guy like me. If they’re into someone my age, I doubt they’re after someone with my level of experience.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. I mean, yeah, there are guys here half our age. But…” He hesitated. Leaning toward me, he lowered his voice, and sounded uncharacteristically shy as he said, “You’re not a bad-looking guy at all.”

My cheeks burned.

He gestured out at the crowd. “And I’ve already seen a couple of them checking you out.”

I couldn’t make myself turn. “You’re shitting me.”

“Not at all.”

“How much you want to bet I could turn them off the instant I open my mouth?”

“Depends on what you’re thinking of doing with your mouth.”

My teeth snapped shut. Ethan chuckled. I was used to this side of him—he’d always been the brazen, uncensored half of that pair—but he was also one of two people on the planet who knew I wasn’t straight. And he’d only known since earlier this evening. I wished I could believe everyone in my life would be so relaxed about me coming out. Hell, Ethan hadn’t even been surprised, and he was already to the point he could joke about it as if it were no big thing. God, I wished I was at that point.

“Look, I’m serious.” He folded his arms on the table and locked eyes with me. “Greg, you’re a single man. You’re in a club full of horny, single men. All you have to do is get out there and break the ice with one or two, and you’re golden.”

“Yeah. Easy for you to say.” I fidgeted on the bench. Maybe I just needed a moment to collect my thoughts. Something to get me away from all these lights and all that skin. “I’m, uh, gonna hit the head. I’ll be right back.”

“Sure.” He gestured past the dance floor. “See that exit sign? Go past that, and there’s a hallway. Restrooms are back there.”

“Great. Thanks.” I got up and headed in the direction he’d indicated.

Halfway to the dancefloor, I met the gaze of a beautiful twenty-something with a smile that almost made me stumble. He lifted his eyebrows and beckoned to me.

Go for it. Go for it!

But I just returned the smile and kept walking. Maybe I’d find him when I came back. I had to escape for a second, though, or I was going to lose it.

I kept my eye on that exit sign like it was a lighthouse in a storm, and finally managed to shoulder my way through the throngs of people and slip past it. As soon as I was around the corner, the noise of the club diminished enough that I could hear myself think.

I stopped and leaned against the wall. Eyes closed, I took a few breaths.

What was I so afraid of? I’d been out of the game with women for so long, it wasn’t like I’d be
that
much less awkward with them, but men may as well have been an entirely new species for all the confidence I had in approaching them.

And the divorce was still a fresh wound. Three weeks ago, the thought of approaching anyone for sex had been an alien concept, because Becky and I—

The wall I was leaning on suddenly gave.

I stumbled back. “What the—”

“Shit!”

I almost caught the doorknob, but missed, and crashed into someone and the boxes he was carrying. He lost his balance. I lost what was left of mine.

Someone tried to grab us both, but we tumbled into a heap.

I quickly got off him—well, managed to get on top of a guy tonight after all—and scrambled onto my knees. “I’m so sorry. Are you all right?”

“You fucking idiot,” the kid who’d tried to catch us snapped. “Why the hell were you leaning on—”

“Hey.” The other guy sat up, dusting off his black Wilde’s shirt. “Take it easy, Evan. Just go unlock the van, okay?”

With a huff, the kid—Evan, apparently—stomped past us, keys jingling in his hand.

I watched him go, then turned back to the guy I’d knocked over. “I’m really sorry about that. You okay?”

“I’m good.”

Our eyes met.

And my heart stopped.

I couldn’t put my finger on his nationality—Hawaiian, maybe?—but holy shit. His black hair was cut neat and short, his tan much too deep for someone living in Seattle, and those eyes…

I gulped. They were dark. Almost black.

He cocked his head. “Hey. You all right?”

“I’m fine. I’m…” I started to stand. “Sorry. I…guess I didn’t realize I was leaning on a door.”

Chuckling, he moved onto his knees and reached for one of the boxes he’d dropped. “It’s okay.”

“Here, can I give you a hand?” I reached for the second box, which had landed on its side. “None of this is breakable, is it?”
Oh God, please tell me it’s not.

“No, it’s not breakable.” He rose. “Just a bunch of T-shirts.”

“Oh good. Do you, um, want some help taking them out?”

He seemed to ponder it for a moment, then shrugged. “Sure, if you really don’t mind.”

“It’s fine.” I chuckled. “I think I kind of owe you.”

The guy laughed, which did funny things to my blood pressure. “It’s okay. I’m surprised it doesn’t happen more often, actually.”

“Well, that’s encouraging.” I picked up one of the boxes. “So, where do these go?”

“This way.” He picked up the other and led me out into the hallway.

As he walked ahead of me, I couldn’t help staring. He was roughly my height and looked like he spent a good chunk of his time at the gym. Maybe he was one of the bouncers. They were well-dressed just like the bartenders, though, not clad in skintight T-shirts and jeans that held on to that ass like…

I shook myself and tore my gaze away before I wound up on my own ass.
Again
.

At the end of the hall, the guy pushed open the door with his hip, and held it with his foot so I could step out. Around the corner, Evan stood beside a van with its back doors wide open.

“Just put them in here,” the other guy said, and we tucked the boxes in amongst some crates and electronic equipment.

Evan bristled at my presence but kept his mouth shut. He handed the keys back and then went inside, leaving me alone with…

This guy.

He didn’t even have the lights and ambiance of Wilde’s to bolster his looks. Out here in the blanched glow of the streetlights, even with harsh shadows on his face, he was jaw-dropping.

After he’d shut the van and pocketed his keys, he extended his hand. “I didn’t catch your name.”

Probably because I didn’t make the greatest first impression.

“Greg.” I cleared my throat as I shook his hand. “Greg Douglas.”

He smiled. “Sailo Isaia.”

“Interesting name.”

“In a good way, or a bad way?” He narrowed his eyes slightly, but the effect was playful, not irritated.

“Good, of course. Just…not a name I’ve heard before.” And I realized my hand was still clasped in his. We both glanced down and quickly let go.

“It’s, um…” He muffled a cough, shifting his weight. “Samoan. Not very common around here, I guess.”

“I suppose not.” I paused. This was the point where we were supposed to go back inside and disappear into the crowd, wasn’t it? Now or never, sink or swim, nothing to lose but a little bit of dignity…

I swallowed. “Listen, I feel terrible for what happened in there. I don’t suppose I could buy you a drink to make up for it?”

“Much as I’d love to take you up on it”—he grimaced apologetically—“I’m on the clock.”

“Oh. Right.” My face was on fire now. “You’re…” I gestured at his shirt. “Right. Anyway…”

The grimace softened to a smile, which did nothing to help my disappointment over his understandable rejection. “I’m off at midnight, though. If the offer’s still open…” His eyebrows rose.

“Yeah, sure!”
Way to sound cool and not the least bit eager, idiot.
I schooled my expression and my tone. “I mean, I’m just here with some friends. I’d be happy to wait for you.”

“Sweet.” He motioned toward the doorway. “I’ll see you around midnight, then.”

“Great. See you then.”