Love Is Proud Read online

  Except that two days ago we had a really big fight. About stupid shit as fights usually are. Jared had a tendency to tell me what to do and I had a tendency to balk at it when he did. It was certainly not our first fight. Over that especially. But it was the worst one. It was the one where Jared got so angry he’d curled his hands into fists and was literally seething with rage. I had asked him, only half-kidding, if he was going to hit me. He never had. But just then…part of me wondered.

  Jared had stared at me then as though I had slapped him. Those sky blue eyes had widened as if he could not believe what I had just said. What I had accused him of.

  Before I could take the words back, Jared had turned and walked out of my apartment. He’d closed the door behind him softly, which had been in such contrast to the shouting we had been engaging in just a few minutes earlier.

  I regretted my words almost instantly. Took too long to go after him though, because by the time I made it down the stairs of the apartment building and out to the street, his car was driving away.

  And nothing since.

  Yes, it was true I could have contacted him. With his schedule as a firefighter and mine as a nurse in a nearby hospital, there were days we went without being able to see each other. But we also kept in touch by at least texts.

  With two days passing with no word from him, I knew I had to swallow my pride and make the gesture. I hoped he would respond. I feared he would not. That we were over and that his silence was his way of saying so without words.

  After all, Jared had never said he loved me. In nine months…not once. I’d said it to him for the first time two months ago. Whenever I said it his kisses got more intense, his arms tightened around me, but the words never fell from his own lips.

  I sat on my sofa, staring at my phone. One of us had to stop being stubborn, I told myself.

  I swiped my finger across my phone and brought up texting. Jared was first on my list. I decided to begin with simplicity.

  Hey.

  Instead of waiting around to see how long it would take for him to respond, I got off the couch, put the sound of my phone to on and went into my kitchen to fix myself a grilled cheese sandwich. I had just flipped it over when I heard the chime.

  Heart in my mouth, I went to the living room and picked up my phone.

  Tommy.

  That was it. Just my name.

  Swallowing the lump forming in my throat, I texted.

  I’m sorry.

  Ten seconds passed.

  Me, too. What are you doing?

  Burning grilled cheese.

  Tommy.

  Hang on.

  I went into the kitchen and turned off the burner. It didn’t look too bad so I transferred the sandwich to a paper towel and brought it back to the couch with my phone.

  Back. You at work?

  No. Just got off shift. How’s the sandwich?

  Not too burnt. Listen. I really am sorry.

  Me, too. But hang on. I’m driving.

  I instantly stopped bothering him with texts, of course. I finished my sandwich and threw out the paper towel. Made myself busy by tidying the kitchen.

  I kept my phone nearby for when Jared was able to text me again. About ten minutes went by when there was a knock on my door. I frowned at the interruption. I didn’t get a lot of visitors at my apartment. It was usually Alfredo, one of my neighbors, who loved to talk cooking and wine or my best friend, Chester. But there was always a chance it was a solicitor. Whoever it was, I didn’t want to be bothered with them. Not right now.

  I walked over to the door and peered out the peephole but all I could see were tulips. Tulips?

  Slinging the lock aside, I turned the knob and opened it. Behind the tulips, which were pink, purple, and yellow, stood Jared, holding them in his hand, thrust toward me.

  “You remembered?” I’d once told him early on that my favorite flowers were tulips. It hadn’t come up since then.

  Jared gave me his heart stopping smile. “Of course I did. Can I come in?”

  I laughed and threw my arms around him, then dragged him inside. He kicked the door closed with his booted foot.

  “Am I forgiven?” he asked as I stuck my nose in the tulips.

  “Forgiven? I’d marry you!”

  He kissed me. “Well, maybe eventually. But I was going to ask you to move in with me first.”

  I nearly dropped the tulips as I pulled back to gape at him. “Really?”

  His smile was uncertain. “Is it really so unexpected? I’d actually been thinking about it for a while.”

  “You have?”

  “Yes.” He grabbed the flowers out of my hand and headed to the kitchen. “Let’s put these in water before you manage to throttle them.”

  I shook my head, but followed him in there to get a vase. “You want me to move into your apartment?”

  “It’s more centrally located,” Jared said, taking the vase I’d taken out from under the sink. “Halfway to both our jobs. Yours has a better view though. And the bathroom’s bigger.”

  “Your kitchen is bigger though.” I couldn’t believe I was actually considering it. Getting to this point. From not talking for two days to let’s move in together. “Jared?”

  He set the vase of flowers down on the counter and pulled me into his arms. “You have your doubts, don’t you?”

  “Maybe. It’s soon, isn’t it? Nine months?”

  “How long is it supposed to be?” He rubbed his thumb over my bottom lip. “Is there some arbitrary time decided by others before it’s supposed to happen?”

  “We just had a big fight,” I said, doubtfully.

  “It was just a fight, Tommy. Couples fight.”

  “I implied something awful.” I searched his eyes, but I saw only warmth. “You know I didn’t mean it.”

  His gaze was serious as he stared at me silently for a moment. “A little of you did.”

  “Jared—”

  “I know why, Tommy. And I don’t blame you. If I’d been through what you had before, I would have reacted the same way.”

  “I know you wouldn’t hurt me,” I whispered. I didn’t want to think about Carl. Not now. Not between us.

  “Never. But it may take you some time to realize that. I get that.” He kissed me. “If you aren’t ready for us to live together, I can wait.”

  I smiled, reaching up to touch his ear. “And if I am? What if I suggested we get our own place? I mean a new apartment for both of us. Then there’s no arguing who has the better apartment.”

  Jared nodded. “That does sound like a good solution. I have another month on my lease. You rent month to month, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Can you wait another month?”

  “For sure.” I leaned in to kiss his jaw. “Are you hungry? Want me to make you something?”

  “No, I ate at the station. Coffee would be good though.”

  I got out his preferred flavor of single brewer cup for my coffeemaker and flipped the switch to heat the water. I was happy Jared and I had made up. And were even going to take the next step in our relationship. Yet I still was bothered by something.

  “Penny for your thoughts?” Jared asked. He was staring at me in that intense way he did which usually happened right before sex.

  “Just…I don’t know.”

  “Still about the move?”

  “No.”

  I pulled a mug out of the cabinet and stuck it in the slot for it on the coffeemaker. I pushed the flashing button for brew.

  “Tommy, what is it?”

  “Do-do you love me, Jared?” I held my breath.

  “Do I love you?”

  Suddenly the “Do You Love Me” song Tevya and Golde sing to each other in Fiddler on the Roof flashed through my mind. I’d played Motel in a high school production several years ago.

  I pushed aside my absurd thoughts, and pushed forward. “I’ve said it a few times, but you never have. And I get it. You’re the silent type. Not very verball
y demonstrative. And that’s fine. But I’d-I’d like to know.”

  Jared shook his head and I had no idea what that meant, exactly, but before I could form any really negative thoughts, he was kissing me. And kissing me. His hands moved down to my ass, cupping there, even as he deepened the kiss. We probably kissed for something like ten minutes straight.

  And just as I thought maybe he’d never let me breathe again, Jared broke the kiss, sliding his hand up to grasp my chin.

  “Of course I love you,” he whispered. “How could you even doubt that?”

  “Well—”

  “No.” Jared shook his head, pulling me close. “Never mind. I know why. And you’re right, I should have said something before. I just…I thought you knew. And I don’t always find the words to tell you how much you mean to me. I should.”

  I buried my face in his neck. “I thought you probably did. But-but sometimes it’s nice to hear the words.”

  His smile was tender and beautiful. “I love you. And I want you to live with me. And be with me. Every day. Knowing I can come home to you after my shifts at the station…you have no idea what that would mean to me. You, Tommy, are the most important person in my life. The fact you love me, too, is more than I could have ever hoped for.”

  My breath caught in my throat. It stayed there for a bit and I couldn’t get the words out. I clung to him, hoping that would convey what his words did to me. At least temporarily.

  When I got it together, I pulled back enough to gaze at his face, and into those eyes that just killed me.

  “Those are some words,” I managed to whisper. “When you make a declaration, you really go for it.”

  “I mean them. Every word. And if I never say it again, I hope you remember it’s true nevertheless.” Jared put his hand over my heart. “You own me, Tommy. There’s no one else ever that can make me as happy as you do.”

  I got misty-eyed, though I had tried not to. Though maybe Jared was a man of few words when he did speak, he packed a wallop.

  “You own me, too,” I assured him, my voice wobbling a little. “When should we begin?”

  Jared looked at me quizzically. “Begin what, babe?”

  “Looking for an apartment to call our own.” I hugged him tightly. “I can’t wait to come home to you.”

  * * * *

  ABOUT SHAWN LANE

  Shawn Lane is a multi-published author of gay romance. She lives and works in Southern California. She has been published by Loose Id, Amber Quill Press, Evernight Publishing, MLR Press, JMS Books, and Ellora’s Cave. For more information, visit smlgr8.blogspot.com.

  Wishing on Stars by Kassandra Lea

  Forrest Kettrick twisted the shower knob, the warm water that washed away the day’s grime turned cooler, refreshing. After spending countless hours under the heat of the summer sun, the big blazing ball undisturbed by clouds, he felt tired, desperately wanting someplace shady to hang his hat. He loved being a rancher, thrived on riding the range every day, working cattle and starting young horses, but nothing compared to a peaceful night curled up with his husband. Especially in the air conditioned house.

  With another turn he shut off the water and stepped out, shivering delightfully. Forrest quickly towel dried, ducking into the bedroom without a stitch on. Half way to his dresser, though, he paused, stopping by the foot of the bed to have a listen. The door was open and the house was unusually quiet. The radio should have been playing the latest country hits while Mica cooked or there should have been the telltale rhythm of droning TV voices.

  He stepped over to the doorway. “Mica?”

  No answer.

  Curiosity with a hint of unease slipped over him, and given his naked state he suddenly felt more vulnerable than he did carefree. In the blink of an eye he tugged on a pair of gray boxer briefs and shrugged into a T-shirt bearing a double entendre about cowboys knowing how to ride on the front.

  “Mica?” he called again, making his way down the stairs.

  Most of the lights were off and he failed to smell even the faintest trace of supper. Though Mica enjoyed playing chef, having even expressed a passing interest in opening a little bakery—he made the most delicious, mouthwatering cupcakes—there were nights he designated dinner duty as Forrest’s, but that usually came with the knowledge he was responsible. And when he’d strolled in as the sun set Mica ushered him towards the stairs, told him to shower, so where exactly had his husband disappeared off to?

  As if reading his mind, Mica appeared, coming in through the backdoor. At the sight of Forrest, a smile tugged the corners of his mouth, a mischievous light dancing in his eyes.

  “There you are,” Mica said as though he’d been searching for Forrest and not vice versa. He practically ran across the living room, grasping Forrest’s hand in his, their fingers entwining. “Come on, I’ve got a surprise.”

  For the briefest of moments Forrest thought of protesting, discovering, however, that he was reluctant to squash his husband’s excitement. So he allowed himself to be dragged from the house and into the already cooler air of the night. A blue pickup truck, the ranch name plastered on the side, waited just beyond the deck, lights on, engine running. There were clearly items in the bed, their identities concealed by a blanket.

  “What is this?”

  Mica released his hold, heading for the driver’s side. “Dinner.”

  “Um.” Forrest looked down at his incomplete, indecent in public outfit. “If we’re going out I might want pants.”

  “You look absolutely delicious. Besides, you don’t need them. Get in.”

  Forrest hesitated.

  Eyebrows raised, hanging half out of the truck, Mica asked, “Don’t you trust me?”

  “Of course.”

  With slight misgivings Forrest climbed into the passenger seat. He licked his lips as he buckled the seatbelt, his mind racing. What destination did Mica have in mind? And why had the simple suggestion of putting on pants seemed like an imposition? He didn’t even have on any shoes, Forrest wiggling his toes against the truck’s carpet. His stomach growled. That was another thing, what about eats? A good portion of his day had been spent tagging younger cattle and he’d wound up missing lunch. He was ravenous. If Mica didn’t feel up to the task of cooking, he happily would have whipped something up.

  “Can I ask where we’re going?”

  “No.”

  The truck bumped along as Mica turned the wheel, taking them away from the house, the street, and splashing the headlights over wilderness.

  “Can I ask what we’re doing?”

  “Nope.”

  “Am I allowed to know anything?”

  Mica took his eyes off the lack of road for a split second. “And ruin the surprise?”

  “Okay,” he chuckled, giving in. “You win.”

  “I won the day you asked me to marry you,” Mica said softly.

  A loving warmth spread through Forrest to hear those words, remembering how terrified he’d been the night he proposed. Six, that was the number of times he dropped the ring box before finally fumbling it open. It took Mica coming into his life for him to truly understand what it meant to be in love, and he was going to do everything in his power to make sure Mica stayed his. Even if that meant wandering off into the night in his boxer briefs.

  They bumped along, country tunes playing low on the radio. Forrest peered out the side window, the sky just as clear in the night as it had been all day. With no city lights around, the stars shimmered brightly, just itching for someone to start counting them. At first he couldn’t figure out where they were, this part of the ranch looking strikingly like others, a combination of hills and pastures. However, when they passed a gnarled tree, bent as a sapling by the strong winds of a late summer storm, Forrest knew where they were headed.

  To the very same spot they spent their wedding night.

  And a moment later he was proven right when Mica brought the pickup to a stop, shutting off the engine and killing the lights. Darkness wash
ed around them. The chirp of crickets wafted through the open windows on the cool breeze.

  “What are we doing out here?”

  A mischievous light danced in Mica’s eyes. “Come, let me show you.”

  Following his lover’s lead, Forrest slipped into the night, a shiver passing over his body. Mica had wandered around to the bed of the truck, dropping the tailgate and hoisting himself up. In a flash he removed the blanket concealing everything, revealing yet more blankets and nearly every extra pillow they had in their house. There was also, Forrest noted, the picnic basket Mica insisted on purchasing a few weeks ago.

  Mica held out his hand, inviting Forrest up.

  He took it, climbing into the improvised bed his lover created. They drew the tailgate up. “What exactly are we doing?”

  “Enjoying me and you time,” Mica said, “under an endless sea of stars.”

  Forrest had to admit the nest of bedding was comfortable and the scenery calming, beautiful, and somehow just the sort of thing he needed. Despite having spent many nights out on the range he never ceased to be amazed by the bevy of stars, the way they twinkled, leaving him in awe and feeling so small. He rested back against some pillows, recognizing them as coming from the guestroom. “Did you rob every room in the house for this?”

  “And the linen closet. Though I left the master suite alone because I didn’t want you getting suspicious.”

  “Hm. Devious.”

  He rooted around in the basket, drawing something from its depths. Joining Forrest, Mica popped the top on the container. Nestled inside were a few chocolate dipped strawberries. He offered them to Forrest. “Have one?”

  He plucked a juicy looking berry from the bunch. “When did you have time to make these?”

  “I was home alone all day,” Mica shrugged. “You have no idea what I’ve got secreted away in my basket of goodies.”

  Forrest’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh?”

  Snuggling closer to his man, Mica whispered in Forrest’s ear. “Yummy things, naughty things…” He placed his hand on Forrest’s thigh and he was suddenly happy to have forgone pants. Mica leaned back a bit, eyeing the still uneaten berry Forrest held. “Well, are you going to try it? Doesn’t it look good?”