Chapter One

Charlie

T he door to Randy’s burst open as if the place was a tavern, not a diner. The guy who’d walked in looked lost, his gaze bouncing right and left before he marched to a booth at the far back. With his basketball jersey revealing beefy arms, and his loose shorts hanging low, he stood out from the colorful crowd around me that ranged from writers on their fifth coffee refill, geeks showing off their custom dice, to a colorful queer group, always up to mischief.

He pulled a lollipop from his pocket, tore the wrapper off, and chomped it in seconds. Then he did the same with another, playing with the two empty sticks in his hand.

I couldn’t stop staring. There was something about him that drew me in—the familiar profile of his handsome face, the hunch of his shoulders. When he buried his face in his hands, then ran them over his short black hair, it hit me.

I knew him.

His distressed body language called to me and I was out of my seat without thinking about what the fuck I was doing. I placed an order, and once I received it, I approached his booth with the plate.

“Can I sit?”

“Sure.” He flinched, but nodded, scooting to the far edge. His look of confusion as he took me in—jeans, Dropkick Murphys T-shirt, and punk hair—gave me time to stare back.

“My childhood bestie, Trent, was sitting next to me. It had been well over a decade, and his face had grown from cute to handsome, his blue eyes seemed a shade deeper, and his lips had gotten insanely lickable. Whoa…

But he wouldn’t recognize me. Trent was an older, hotter version of the boy I used to play with after school. The Charlie he’d known wore overalls and pigtails to ride a pink bike. This Charlie sported a packer and a stubble.

“These are for you.” I slid the plate his way.

He looked at the food, then at me. “Are these pancakes shaped like triceratops?”

“Yup. Neve used to make them for her daughter and they became a hit at the diner. Admit it, they look damn cool.”

A small smile played on his lips, and I did a mental twirl at my success.

“Yeah, they do.” He picked up the fork and dug in. “Thanks. How much do I owe you?”

I waved a hand in dismissal. “Oh, nothing. It’s a thing we do here to welcome new people.” A little white lie wouldn’t hurt. Besides, it would be worth doing a lot more to hear those humming noises as he ate.

“Thanks, man. Is it so obvious that I’m new?”

Being called a man so casually always brought a spark of joy to my chest. Years on T, top surgery, and facial hair were great, but feeling comfortable in my body and being acknowledged by others were priceless.

I lifted one shoulder. “A bit. This place usually brims with regulars, that’s all.” Leaning back, I crossed my legs ankle-to knee. “So, Trent, what brings you here?”

“I didn’t tell you my name.” Trent frowned, pausing a forkful halfway to his lips.

Busted.

I should confess the truth. But I wanted him to see me as the guy he’d just met for a little bit longer. “The tag on your jersey has your name on it in Sharpie,” I said with a wink. A wink? What was wrong with me?

“Oh.” He blushed all the way to his ears in the most adorable fashion. “It’s an old shirt. My mom must have marked it in case I lost it in the changing rooms.” His fork clattered to the table as he sat straighter. “She doesn’t do that anymore. Not because something happened to her. She’s fine. Actually, she recently got a motorbike. It’s because I moved out and—” He held his breath, puffing his cheeks, then released it on a slow exhale. “I’m sorry, I’m blabbing. Thank you for the welcome gift. I really needed that.” He wiped the plate with the last bite of pancake and shoved it into his mouth, as if having it full would stop him from uttering a word.

I used to love his excited talking sprees, as if someone opened a tap to his brain and let the thoughts flow out. What happened to him to curb his impulse to talk? Some assholes, probably. My life journey had taught me how to deal with those and now I had the urge to track down whoever forced that sunshine of a boy I used to know into a box.

“You have nothing to apologize for.” I patted his arm, but snatched my hand away. Damn, he was buff. “I’m glad you enjoyed the pancakes.” Meeting his deep blue eyes gave me a jolt of courage to confess who I was. “Trent, I have to tell you something. I’m—”

“Charlie! Sorry we’re late.” Trixie’s booming voice reached me from the door and I turned to see her and Sabrina heading my way. They were dressed for our gig; Trixie in a black hoodie and shorts, and Sabrina in a purple mini dress and knee-high boots. “I parked the van in the back.”

“Are you kidnapping someone?” Trent asked, mirth in his tone.

Trixie gave him a murderous look that would scare anyone in a dark alley, then burst into laughter. “No. It’s for all our shit.” She slid into the seat in front of me and Trent, grinning. “Are you the sound guy? Hi, I’m Trixie.”

Trent scooted further into the booth, plastered his back to the corner, and waved at my friends. “Hi, but—”

“Oh, thank fuckness!” Sabrina clapped her hands and sat next to Trixie, opposite Trent and me. “I couldn’t hear myself last week, so hopefully, we could discuss the issue before the concert this time.”

What a mess. “No, guys, this is Trent, and he’s—”

“New in town,” Trent finished for me, placing a hand on my forearm. “Not your sound guy, though. Sorry.”

His touch lingered for several beats. The heat of it on my bare skin was like a promise of a hug I desperately needed, and a complication I couldn’t allow in my life.

“Oh shit, sorry. I’m Sabrina, by the way.” She gave Trent a solid once-over, trying, and failing, to be discreet about it, then turned to me. “Can you text the sound guy, Charlie?”

“Yeah, sure.” I sent a quick message and received a reply that he’d meet us at the venue in an hour. “We’re playing a gig at a bar tonight,” I told Trent.

“You’re all in a band?” Trent leaned over, folding his muscled arms over the table.

“Well, yes. But we rarely play our original songs.” By now, I was used to other bands looking down on us for not breaking through with our own set, as if our playing other people’s songs meant we were worse musicians.

“Hey, there will be time for that.” Sabrina gave me her “do-not-undersell-us” look. “Tonight, we’ll kick some serious butt with a bunch of covers.”

“But before that, I’ll demolish a stack of pancakes and a pot of coffee.” Trixie rubbed her hands together when Neve appeared. She’d been an on-and-off cook at Randy’s, introducing all sorts of recipes, from healthy shakes to fun shapes of pancakes. With her bursting energy, she’d been doubling as a server too and telling us that we remind her of her grown kids.

“So that’s your order then, Trixie?” Neve jotted it down on her notepad. “What can I get for the rest of you?”

“I’ll have another set of dinos.” Trent handed her his card. “I’m buying,” he said, then seeing Trixie open her mouth in protest, he added: “It’s what newcomers do where I’m from.” The look of utter innocence he leveled my way was a sign he hadn’t lost his playful side after all. He’d known I was full of shit and still accepted the damn food.

“Coffee for me,” I said. “Thanks, Neve.”

“Chocolate shake with sprinkles, please,” Sabrina chirped, her eyes sparkling. Girl loved her dose of milk with sugar. Once Neve left, Sabrina turned to Trent. “So, what are you doing here?”

Trent looked up from the cuticle he’d been intensely picking at. “I moved to the city three days ago and started work at my uncle’s construction company. I’m hauling bags of cement and holding onto two-by-fours since I know nothing about the trade. The job is supposed to give me a fresh start, and the pay is great, so I can’t complain. But it’s not for me. I’ll do it for a while, but I don’t think I’ll find myself there. In time, I’ll look for something else, but it’s a big city, and it feels a bit overwhelming.”

“Uh, okay.” Sabrina nodded, smoothing her dress down. “I meant here, at Randy’s.”

“Oh.” Trent blushed. “I’m sorry. It’s another long story.” He wrangled the napkin in his hand as if it had killed his hamster, then turned to me. “Can you tell me about tonight’s concert?”

I wanted to listen to his stories, but the way he hid behind his water cup told me to leave that topic alone. “We’re playing covers at the Y2k rock night.”

“So you may know some of the stuff.” Sabrina smiled sweetly, but I knew what she was doing.

“Wanna come with us?” Trixie asked and leaned back, crossing her arms.

There we go. Now we all had put this gym-boi into a difficult position to refuse.

“What? To see you live?” Trent’s entire face lit up. I swear, if he was a golden retriever, his tail would be wagging. “That would be great,” he said, not hiding his excitement.

Ok, that was not the reaction I’d expected. I recognized that look of joy and it stirred my heart to see it on a grown man, to have the confirmation that all those years hadn’t killed the sunshine in the boy I used to know.

“Shit. I’m not sure if we have more friends and family tickets left.” I fished out my phone to check how many we’d given out.

Trixie eyed Trent. “He can be our technical support.” Her not-so-subtle air quotes sent the message.

“I’ll be happy to carry your things.” Trent’s straightening up in his seat was unnecessary, as his bulk was visible from three blocks down. “Just take me with you.”

“Great.” Sabrina clapped her hands. “Pancake boy is coming with us.”

“His name is Trent.” I glared at her.

“I like the sound of Pancake Boy.” Trent accepted the plate Neve brought and dug in.

“So that’s your rock n’ roll nickname.” Trixie grabbed the mug of coffee Neve handed her as if she hadn’t seen caffeine for weeks.

“So you’re kidnapping me in the van, then?” Trent asked around a mouthful of pancake.

I snort-laughed and everyone at the table joined me.