Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

WILDER

As Micah drove, I found myself covertly peeking at him. Why was I acting like this? Okay, it had been fun to joke and flirt with him, something I thought I totally sucked at. Maybe I didn’t?

What was I thinking? I was a fucking moron! He was just being nice because I was new in town, and he felt sorry for me. Hell, he probably felt obligated since I bought a house, and he got a commission from it. Was it wrong that I wished it was more than that? Tonight, after we finished our beers and our food, he would go on with his life, and I would start mine anew.

Had I made the right decision to pack up everything and move to a new city in a new state? I didn’t know. Something felt right, but at the same time, this was the craziest thing I’d ever done in my life.

When we got to the store, I didn’t waste time. I picked out the items that had the features I liked, paid, set up delivery for next week, and we were done. I think I shocked Micah because he kept asking me if I was sure or if I wanted to think about it or look around a little more. I didn’t care too much if they were top-of-the-line or made billiard ball size ice cubes. I didn’t need all of that, but that didn’t mean I wanted to get something basic, either. What could I say? I knew what I wanted.

Now, if only Micah wanted me too.

No, not going there.

Fuck! I was acting like I’d never done anything. While I might not have wanted my family to know I was gay, I also had to experiment. Maybe I’d only thought I was gay. Four sexual partners later told me all I needed to know. However, when it came down to admitting it to everyone else, I choked and followed Sheila’s lead. I’d been a fucking coward, and when I looked back on it, I didn’t know how I allowed myself to be led like that in the beginning, let alone for five years.

But I didn’t have to live that lie any longer, and I never would again. I’d finally faced the music and came out on the other side. And I refused to go back inside the closet. I felt like I’d finally found my voice.

Micah’s father’s bar, Flying High, looked like an old red barn that had been converted and covered with lights. There was a large plane that looked like it had flown through the hay loft. It was bright and loud, and at four in the afternoon, the place was already hopping, with half the parking lot already filled up.

I practically stumbled out of his car, trying to take everything in.

“What do you think?” He grinned, cocking one of his eyebrows, and I got the feeling he was daring me to say something.

“Does it still smell like manure?” I joked.

Laughing, he pushed me. “It was never a barn, idiot. But he did add the plane. I thought it was a nice touch.”

“Makes me think of my dad. Are you sure it was never a barn?” I glanced at the building dubiously, trying to get a rise out of him. I was having fun.

“I’m positive. At least, it hasn’t been for at least the last twenty years. Smells more like lemon Pine-Sol. So, no need to worry about horse shit…just the bullshit you seemed to be full of.” He laughed.

“Takes one to know one,” I retorted, trying hard not to laugh.

With a large grin, he nodded toward the building. “Come on and see for yourself.”

I followed his lead straight up to the bar. If my eyes drifted south a few times, I couldn’t help it. He had a nice firm round ass, but not enough to call it a bubble butt.

We took a seat down toward the end, where the pass-through was located. “What do you want?” Micah asked.

“What do you recommend?”

“Personally, I like Wicked Weed’s Pernicious.”

“I’ll try that then. Never heard of it.”

“It’s a brewer out of Ashville, NC,” he said as he walked around the bar and grabbed two glasses, filling them to the top.

“Helping yourself, I see,” a deep voice boomed, but Micah only smiled and pushed the two glasses to the other side of the bar, placing one right in front of me.

When he sat down and took a sip, he finally responded, “Hey, Dad. Decided to bring my latest client out for a good drink and some mediocre food.”

The man who approached from somewhere looked just like Micah, except he had some salt and pepper sprinkled throughout his hair. He was tall and fit, and I could see the laugh lines around his eyes. He looked vaguely familiar, too, but why?

“Nice to meet you. I’m Chet Holliman.” Why did the name pull at something within me? Micah’s had the first time I saw it as well, but I had ignored it and took it as a sign I’d chosen the right realtor.

Over his shoulder, I caught a glimpse of a picture and tilted my head to the side to get a better look. “Holy shit!”

“What?” Micah asked. I felt his hand on my shoulder, but I couldn’t bring myself to rip my gaze away from the picture.

In a yellowed photo from a couple decades ago sat two kids. Neither had their front teeth. A sandcastle sat between them, and blue ocean water glittered in the bright sun behind them. I knew that picture. Well, that was to say that I knew one of the boys in it. I vaguely recalled the day and the other kid in the picture.

“You okay?” I heard Micah speaking, but I was still in shock. How had I not seen it before?