To Say I Love You (5 page)

“We’re good, Dad. Thanks.”

“All right. I know you’re not working at the moment….”

I smiled. “I promise. We’ve got some savings, and Will just got a promotion at work.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. He heads up whole departments now, not just teams.”

“Is that so. I guess he’s an important man, then.”

“I guess. He still can’t tell me about a lot of his projects because of the military connection. It’s all very secretive, even when they’re only designing radios and stuff like that.”

Dad hummed, and I knew what he was thinking. He was distrustful of the government, the military in particular, and held highly controversial views on America’s position as a global power. I knew he’d been brought up Republican and had supported the party for years, until recently when his attitude toward the Tea Party got more and more derisive. These days, he registered as an independent and considered himself completely moderate: he hated everyone equally.

There wasn’t a lot I could tell him about Will’s work since I didn’t know much myself. Will would talk in the abstract about projects that had code names like
Sunflower
and
Peacock
and
Grapefruit
.
Peacock
had been a big deal. They’d made a lot of money on that one, and we’d taken a trip to the Caribbean on his bonus.

“Come on,” Dad said. “Let’s get on with it.”

There was plenty of work still to be done on cleaning the place up before I could start on the decorating part of it. My plan was to get the bedroom in good shape, and I could make do with a mess in other areas while we worked on them. Will and I needed a bedroom again. That was a priority.

While my dad did some of the more detailed work in the kitchen and bathroom, I got on with the grunt work in the two bigger rooms. It was hard, sweaty work, and it actually felt quite cleansing to do something physical for once.

For years, I’d worked in academia in one way or another. I had never seen myself as a particularly intelligent person, even when my career took me on a path to museum work and teaching. I had definitely never seen myself as a teacher.

When my life felt settled again and my ribs had healed from the car accident, I’d started looking around for a new job. My master’s degree was in history, so the move to the Burke Museum of Natural History in Seattle felt like a good fit. I liked the energy there and the chance for me to expand my horizons, which was how I had come to teaching.

I’d been thrown in the deep end with that side of my job when previously I had always been more focused on collections and exhibitions. It was a maternity-cover situation—it was always maternity cover in my job; they never managed to hire someone to take over—and we had a series of lectures and demonstrations pre-booked that were due to bring a lot of money into the museum. Since I’d worked on the exhibition, the chance to tell people about it naturally fell to me, rather than one of my colleagues.

It had snowballed from there, and I’d taken some classes to help me pitch my talks to people of different ages. We got school kids a lot, all museums did, but the head curator wanted to reach out to different people in the community, and we actually got a lot of senior citizens coming in to learn new things.

My boss was a great woman who’d let me expand on my teaching skills and explore where it could take me in terms of my career. It wasn’t a physically difficult job, even if I was running around a lot more instead of working behind my desk. Someone once said hard work was good for the soul, and I was starting to believe them.

The time passed quickly as I danced along to the radio and cleared out the bedroom and plastered over the holes in the walls in a little under two days. It was fun to have a job to concentrate on, especially when I was working with my dad.

He was a man of few words at the best of times. We didn’t have the sort of relationship where I’d call him up just to shoot the breeze. Even telling him about my change in job meant taking a trip down here to see him in person. His attitude to fixing up a house for me to live in with my partner was just as nonchalant as it had been to my coming out.

When Dad offered to take me somewhere to get dinner, it was easy to agree. We stopped back at the house first to shower and change, and I called Jennifer to make sure she didn’t want to come. She’d been dating a nice guy for a few months, and he’d been supportive and just plain nice when Mama passed. I knew Dad liked him and didn’t mind that she stayed at his place with Baby some nights.

“Where do you want to go?” Dad asked as we got back into his truck.

“I really don’t mind. Have you got anywhere in mind?”

He shrugged and grunted. “There’s a good Chinese place that opened up recently. They do takeout, but it’s nice inside too.”

“That works for me.”

B
Y
THE
time we got home, it was getting late and I didn’t much feel like socializing. Missing Will never got easier, even when I was used to him being away. My bed was too big for one, and I didn’t like sleeping in it alone.

When I got into bed, I pulled up my laptop to browse for furniture. I wanted a bed, first of all, and I’d pick the rest of the things for our room around that. All I could do was bookmark a few ideas, not knowing if Will wanted me to go all out or just make it a space we could live in comfortably for however long we stayed in the area.

Even though it was still early, I turned my lamp off and snuggled under the blankets. A few moments later, I turned my old stereo on. For some reason, when I was sleeping alone it was comforting.

“Y
O
,
BITCHES
,”
Will said as he answered the phone.

“Don’t try and be gangsta. You only embarrass us both.”

“Sorry.” He cleared his throat. “Good morning, this is William Anderson speaking, how may I help you?”

“Much better. Are you wearing a suit?”

“No, I’m just getting dressed. You interrupted me.”

“Have you got time to video chat?” I asked, rolling over in bed to the cool side of the sheets.

“No,” he said, laughing. “Some of us have work to do.”

“Others have real work to do, not a cushy desk job,” I retorted.

“All right, all right. Did you want anything?”

I yawned loudly. “Yeah. Mm. Do you want me to go ahead and order furniture for the house? Or do you want to get home and help me pick?”

“You can get it,” he said, and I could hear him moving around the hotel room. “Get a bed with an iron frame, though. Or something that’s sturdy enough to tie you to.”

“Jesus, Will.”

“What? Don’t get all shy on me now. You know I’m gonna do it.”

I squirmed on the bed, suddenly aroused. I itched to take hold of my cock, to pull hard a few times until I was groaning his name and spilling into my palm.

“Jesse? You’ve gone awful quiet.”

“I’m gonna get that bed today.”

Will’s laugh was like a warm balm over the ache of missing him. “I need to get going. I’ll see you soon though, yeah?”

“Okay. Have a good day.”

“You too.”

I stayed in bed a few minutes longer, stretching my muscles out slowly and taking stock of my body. I was feeling good, in a good shape—the running was helping with that. That and the physical labor involved in getting the house together.

I borrowed my dad’s truck and drove into the city, where there were a few more furniture stores than in the area where my dad lived. Picking things out—or making a decision about anything, really—wasn’t my best skill. As I wandered, I thought I’d maybe buy a huge bed, something we could practically swim in. There were a few of those around.

I thought about how close we slept to each other. It didn’t matter if we were sharing a queen- or king-sized bed, I’d still end up wrapped around him, or he around me.

I brushed off offers of help, thinking I could find this one, important thing by myself. There wasn’t a “hallelujah” moment of discovery. More like the longer I stood in front of a frame that had caught my eye, the more I liked it.

It was simple, solid, a wooden frame with an elegant post at each corner. The posts came up to just above waist height. I imagined myself lying on the bed spread-eagled; Will would be able to tie me to each post with little difficulty.

“You like this one, sir?” a salesgirl asked, apparently unwilling to let me browse in peace. She was the third person to approach me since I’d walked in.

I nodded and cocked my head to the side. “Yeah. I think so. Do you have a delivery service?”

“Yes. We’ve got free delivery all this weekend too, if you’re willing to put an order in now.”

“Is it in stock?”

She gave me something of a predatory grin. “It is, yes.”

“Excellent.”

I wondered how much she was going to get in commission as I was led away to sign the paperwork and hand over Will’s credit card. My name was on it too, so technically it was also my card, but he paid the bill at the end of the month.

Feeling rather satisfied, I stopped by the hardware store to pick up paint before swinging by a Starbucks, lamenting that the coffee here wasn’t as good as back home, and heading back to the house. I had work to do to get it ready for when Will got home.

“T
HIS
IS
amazing,” he said as he walked through the house to the kitchen at the back. “Really, Jesse. I can’t believe how much you’ve done in such a short amount of time.”

“I’ve had help.”

“Still.”

“Come see the bedroom.”

I’d worked like a madman to get the few pieces I’d bought in place for when he got home. We had stripped the walls and painted them, cleaned up as much as possible, and set the bed in the middle of the room. We didn’t have curtains yet. That was my plan for the following week—curtains and floors. For now, I’d stripped out the disgusting old carpet, revealing the surprisingly nice, original floorboards underneath. It would take some scrubbing and sanding, but after the dirty work was done I was convinced it would look good.

“You’ve got your priorities sorted, that’s for sure,” he said, teasing me, and tossed his duffel on the floor at the end of the bed. “It looks great in here. I love the color.”

“Really? I wasn’t sure.”

“Really.”

I’d chosen a paint called “Parchment,” a sort of old-looking off-white to go with the navy-blue bed linens. It was simple and classic, the style I knew Will liked. It reflected our home back in Seattle—not a match, but almost.

“Are we staying here tonight?” Will asked as he reached for my wrist.

“If you want to. Yeah.”

“I want to.”

I let myself be drawn into his arms, not for anything sexual but to be held close for a moment. By the way he pressed his cheek to my head, I thought he wanted the same thing I did.

Not wanting to talk to anyone, I fired off a quick text to Jennifer to let her know we wouldn’t be coming home for the night and I’d stop by the next day at some point. Will had already offered to help with some of the decorating over the weekend, and we were going to drive into the city to look in some of the bigger furniture stores.

The house didn’t have a TV yet, or anything other than an ancient stove to cook on, or any furniture other than the bed. That pretty much dictated we were going out for dinner and staying somewhere late enough that when we got home, we could go straight to bed. I saw spending money in our future. Spending a
lot
of money.

Since Will had the car, we could go to the next town over where no one knew either of us and I could hide from the well-wishers who wanted to offer their condolences. I was hiding. It took the incredibly strong man standing next to me to assure me that was okay.

We found an Italian restaurant and bought a bottle of wine, sharing a glass each, then stoppering the rest to take home. The restaurant was small, with only a dozen or so tables and a warm, spicy, garlicky smell in the air that made me hungry the moment we walked in. It all blended together—the food, the wine, sitting opposite Will and being able to look at him as much as I wanted.

By the time we got home, all I wanted was him. He followed me around as I locked up, his hands on my waist under my shirt, ready to strip it off. Will made me feel like a virgin cheerleader with the captain of the football team—I worshiped him, and I wanted him more than I’d ever allow myself to admit.

“Thank you.”

“For what?” he asked, pushing the bar through my nipple back and forth.

“Everything.”

“You forget, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. So really, there’s nothing to thank me for.”

I had to laugh at that, even though my eyes were filled with stars and him. I grabbed hold of his hips and pulled him onto the bed, on top of me, and then my lips were on his and nothing else mattered.

Clothes were discarded all over the room as we kissed, slow and easy in contrast to the sharp movements of our fingernails on each other’s skin. I wanted him inside me again, that easy reconnection and confirmation of our relationship. Nothing told me I was his quite like this.

“Too long,” he murmured as his mouth traveled over my chest, kissing and licking and biting softly, teasing me and making me curl my fingers into his sides. “It’s been way too long.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not something you have to apologize for, Jesse,” he said, hauling himself up on his arms so his body covered mine completely.

“I know,” I repeated.

“Where,” Will asked as he kissed down my chest, “might I find some lube?”

I laughed breathlessly as he started to tease my cock. “Shit. Um…. Will, I can’t think when you’re doing that.”

“Sorry.”

He didn’t move his hands, though, and raised his eyebrow in a question.

“Bathroom. Bathroom!” I gasped as he started to massage and squeeze my balls, a bit tighter than what was comfortable.

“Mm. Be right back.”

He rolled elegantly off the bed, and I admired the view of his ass disappearing round the corner. For a guy who was a confirmed top until he met me, he really did have a deliciously tight rear end. It was almost a shame I’d never let anyone else get near it.