The Road Less Traveled Read online

  In comparison, Jaden's svelte, black rental felt small and insignificant, unworthy of the land that surrounded him and a sort of betrayal to his past. He could never run hell bent for leather down the roads in this sleek piece of machinery. Next to the spattered mud on Jonas’ truck, which spun yarn after yarn about joy and wild rides, his car's pristinely washed exterior seemed stark and plain.

  Andy and Jonas’ trucks were parked haphazardly, at angles to each other, but their hoods almost touched. The pickups were just as much in love as their owners, weren't they? Whatever Andy and Jonas touched turned into something better than gold. You could spend gold, but you could never buy what they had.

  If he hadn't walked away, if he'd only had the courage, it might be his same old teenage-vintage lemon nosing up to Andy's pickup in this very drive.

  Might have been him inside, playing with however many mutts Andy had added to his collection now. Stealing good-morning kisses. Tweaking Andy's hair and baiting the man for the fun of watching him wheel around, swearing and cussing. Laughing when Andy swore again, realizing his food was burning, hurrying back to the stove with a dire warning that they would pick this up again later.

  Promises to keep.

  You can't change the past, Jaden reminded himself. All you can do is face the future and make the best of what you've been given.

  So why can't I remember those wise words when I'm face to face with the man?

  He unlocked the driver's side door and snapped open his seatbelt. “Click It or Ticket” hadn't wholly reached these deep-South roads, but the safety precaution he'd picked up in the city had become second nature. Safe. Secure. The proper thing to do.

  Sometimes, though, he still dreamed about riding wild on a rocky road, leaning out the window to feel the wind rip through his hair while he let loose with a rebel war cry.

  Just dreams, though. It was true, what people said. You could make the drive, but you never could really go home again.

  When he stepped out, the ground that had looked to be pounded flat and tough as concrete proved to have some pitfalls. He sank up to his ankle in a patch of sticky mud.

  "Watch yourself there,” a voice drawled. “We had rain a few days past."

  Jonas. Lazing on the porch swing as advertised.

  "Thanks for the warning.” Jaden ruefully pulled his Italian loafer free of the sodden, red clay, mentally flushing the cost of the shoes down the toilet. Honestly, he'd been stupid to wear them out here, so really it was his own fault. Sneakers, he should have put on sneakers.

  Except he didn't have any. Hadn't thought to buy a pair before leaving the city.

  "Get your sock soaked, too?” Jonas shifted position on the rickety swing, his bare feet propped against the chain. “You can take ‘em off. We're all friends here. Even if you do have the ugliest feet on God's green earth."

  "You think so?” Jaden bent, scooped up a handful of muddy clay, and winged the muck at Jonas. He could still pretend like he knew how to play.

  Jonas whooped as the missile went wide, splashing the side of the porch. “Your aim sucks, friend. Anyone ever tell you that you throw like a girl?"

  "You're telling me you could do better?"

  "If I felt like getting up and finding my own mud ball, I'd plaster you but good.” A sunbeam passed over Jonas’ face, coloring his fox-like, devil-wicked face with an angel's glow. If it hadn't been for Jonas, who'd had the guts to say the words, to step out of their all-friends-here comfort zone, to make the right move at the right time, Jaden might have...

  He couldn't blame Andy for...

  Stop it. Stop thinking.

  Jaden walked toward the porch, slinging spatters of mud with each step. Ruefully, he wrote off the new jeans as well. Why not? What did he care about money, anyway? He had it, he spent it, more came in. “I'm safe, then,” he said, leaning against the steps’ dilapidated handrail to peel off both socks and shoes. “Nothing but an act of God moves you once you've gotten comfortable."

  "Hand of God or dick of Andy,” Jonas cracked, easy as could be. “Or dish of Andy. The smells coming from that kitchen are fit to tempt any man or beast.” He sniffed with obvious pleasure. “Sandwiches for lunch and frozen shit for dinner, but when it comes to breakfast we do eat fine."

  Jaden wanted to snort and roll his eyes. Just two good old boys chatting in the morning sun. Right.

  "You can't fool me. Andy would never let a TV dinner under his roof and we both know it."

  "Can't always indulge champagne tastes on a Coca-Cola budget. I sneak some in. Hell, I even buy dollar menu fast food when he's not with me on the road.” Jonas winked. “What Andy doesn't know won't hurt him."

  "I think we can be pretty sure he knows.” The railing wobbled dangerously, and Jaden let go. He shoved his hands in his pockets and kept his smile warm, friendly, open. “Nothing gets by Andy."

  Except me.

  "Not much,” Jonas agreed amiably. He tugged on one floppy ear belonging to the half-grown pup flopped out over his belly. Jaden couldn't hold back a genuine chuckle. Ugly, Andy had called the dog. He'd been understating the fact. One hound's ear, one terrier's ear, a stretched-out yet thick basset body with the long legs of a Labrador and the shaggy coat of a sheepdog. Paws big as horse hooves, or the size Jaden imagined hooves to be.

  Jonas noticed Jaden looking. He held up the pup, who drooped bonelessly in his grasp, damn well determined not to let anyone interrupt his nap. “This here's my baby, Ruff. Found him in a ditch. The things people do to their pets, I swear.” He draped Ruff back in place and rubbed the animal's bullet head. “Well, their loss, huh? This guy would follow me through Hell and back. They don't get better."

  And if you ever took that trip through Hell, Andy would be right by both your sides.

  I wouldn't hear about the journey until it was over.

  Jaden realized he must have let his thoughts show on his face when Jonas gave him a quizzical look. “You all right?"

  "Fine. I'm just hungry, and you're right about the temptation in the kitchen.” Jaden voiced the statement without a hint of the irony he felt, then cast it aside as he breathed in through his nose, catching the smells of frying pork, baking biscuits, spicy peppers, and perking coffee. His stomach rumbled loudly, reminding him with a mild shock of how he hadn't eaten, really eaten, for ... how long? Two days, three? “Smells wonderful. Andy hasn't lost his touch."

  "Not my man. You give him a moldy lemon and a packet of ketchup and he'll come up with a feast. Pulls it off every time."

  "Where is he working now?"

  "A new place out on the highway. The Crow's Nest. Tourists, go figure them, they want seafood even this far off the ocean. Good thing Andy makes the meanest clam chowder on the planet."

  "And you?"

  "Little bit of this, little bit of that. We've had a few decent-paying shows lately. And I don't mind being a jack-of-all-trades when I'm not with the band.” Jonas scratched his pup's back, drawing out a drowsy animal whine of pleasure. “We get by. Times are tight now and again, but we make do. Then again, I expect you haven't had to worry about that sort of thing for a while now. You never really did. So what do you worry about, I wonder?"

  The question had an unexpectedly pointed edge. Jaden stood still, wary, as had become second nature. He wasn't sure if it was just his imagination, but Jonas suddenly seemed to be examining Jaden from behind a mask of his own, poking holes here and there to see what lay inside.

  Did he know? No. He couldn't. But perhaps he suspected?

  That couldn't happen. Jaden kept his secrets private for a reason. No one, especially Jonas, was allowed past the walls he'd built strong and kept fortified. “Mind if I go in?” he asked quickly. “I'd like to see what smells so good."

  "You'd like to see Andy, too.” The hunter's gleam glinted sharply, then disappeared as if it had never been. Jonas’ expression betrayed nothing but sunny good will. “Go on, then. Food's probably about done. I'll be along directly."

  Jaden hesi
tated, then nodded shortly and mounted the creaking stairs. Falling apart, like the rest of the place.

  Every once in a while, Jaden had to fight the urge to offer Andy a gift, a loan, whatever he needed to fix up the house. He could afford the repairs without blinking, but he knew better. Andy would never take a single cent, not even if the house caved in around his ears. He'd been born there, grown up within those walls, and there he'd stay until the day he died.

  No wonder it felt so much like home. As opposed to Jaden's apartment in the city, Andy's house truly was a home in every sense of the word. With that in mind, who should care about missing shingles and weather-beaten logs?

  Passing Jonas, Jaden pulled open the screen door—the main one had been left ajar—and let out a mighty cloud of those wondrous food aromas. Much stronger than before, they gave him a brief head rush and made his empty stomach twist. He braced himself against the nearest wall despite the way it creaked out a protest, swearing that he would not stagger or go down.

  As he, or Murphy's Law, might have predicted, Andy chose that moment to pop out of the kitchen, covered with flour from a puff on one cheek to white handprints on his hips and thighs. He whooped.

  "It's about time, you bastard!"

  Andy crossed to Jaden with the rolling, careless stride of a man who had no worries and wrapped his arms around Jaden tight enough to squeeze the breath out of him.

  For a moment—just one moment—Jaden let go and allowed himself the luxury of imagining that this was his home, that he'd just come back from a trip and that Andy would be kissing him next, their lips coming together naturally as breathing, a kiss which led to bodies pressing against one another, legs tangling, hands fisting in shirts, and—

  Andy pounded Jaden's back. Grabbing Jaden by the forearms, he pulled away to grin brightly, obliviously, at the man he called “friend".

  "I'd say you look good, but I swear God would strike me down. You look like shit, Jay. Two black circles instead of eyes and pale as a ghost besides.” Andy frowned and prodded Jaden's stomach. “I'm counting ribs here. Looks like you came around just in time. Damned if I'll let you go before I've stuffed you fit to bust."

  Jaden glanced away, finding and following the path of a spider's web between banisters on a stairwell leading to the second floor. “Don't worry about me."

  "Like hell I won't.” Andy was shorter by a good head, but managed the reach to grind his knuckles on Jaden's scalp. “Get inside and have a seat. Everything's laid out on the kitchen table."

  "You haven't fixed the dinette set?” Jaden had a vague memory of Andy explaining how the piece had split down the middle when Jonas tackled him during a play fight.

  "Nah. We tried, but sometimes you just can't fix what's been broken so bad. Jonas ended up chopping it for kindling last winter. So hey, no great loss without some small gain, right?” Andy turned Jaden about and gave him a push toward the kitchen. “Go on, now. Don't make me tell you again."

  Jaden looked over his shoulder at Andy, drinking in the sight of the man he'd loved since long before he knew he preferred boys to girls. He'd grown from a gangly teenager into a rangy man, still lean, his feet and hands too big, but comfortable in his skin. Looked as if he'd given his hair the roughest of five-finger combs, dark brown tufts sticking out everywhere, and no, as Jaden had imagined, not only had he not shaved, but he'd grown a short beard. The faded blue T-shirt he wore had a hole under where one nipple would be and the hem had long since frayed. His jeans were a ripped, paint-stained mess.

  He was the most gorgeous thing Jaden had ever seen.

  Andy would likely kick Jaden up and down the length of his yard if he heard Jaden call him anything so girly. But when he was done, he'd have kissed Jaden to let the man know they were even, all debts paid, and suggested they enjoy some make-up sex. That'd be Andy's way.

  If only...

  No. Don't. Just ... don't.

  "Hey. I heard Jonas asking, but seriously, are you okay?"

  Jaden popped out of his daydream to see Andy looking worried. “You keep zoning.” Andy touched Jaden on his cheeks and forehead. “No fever. Maybe you're coming down with something."

  "Nah. He's just got his head in the clouds like always, that's all. Probably thinking about his next book.” Jonas ambled through the front door, ugly-adorable pup trotting at his heels. “You ready to let me eat, boy?"

  Andy's entire body language shifted. He fell into Jonas’ arms, natural and graceful, their planes and angles fitting perfectly together. “Who the hell are you calling ‘boy'? And as I recall, you had your mouth good and full of your favorite thing once already this morning."

  "I mean real food, smartass. Let me at that banquet or I'll run you down to get there.” Jonas popped Andy on the butt. “It's been a long day's night, and the King of the Twin Fiddle needs more than a spoonful of protein to keep him satisfied."

  Jaden's cheeks heated. Jealousy or shame? He couldn't tell. A bit of both? He looked away.

  "Don't embarrass Jay,” Andy scolded. “Or do I have to rap your nose like one of these mongrels?"

  "Like I could embarrass him. He's a city boy now, remember? Big-time celebrity. He's probably got more men than he has time to fuck."

  The words were friendly, but what lay between the lines made Jaden want to squirm.

  "I told you, mind your manners. Jay, you all right?"

  Jaden pushed his hands back in his pockets and looked up with his best publicity smile, the one photogs begged him for. Bright as the sun, friendly as a summer breeze, and shiny as gold. Fake down to the bone, but it fooled people. Mostly.

  "Was that Jonas talking?” He pretended innocence. “All I heard was a gust of wind."

  Jonas cracked up. Andy shook his head. “I swear, between the two of you...” He grabbed them, each by one arm, and hustled their tails to the kitchen. “One of these days I'm moving up into the mountains and turning hermit. Shotgun by my door and everything. Trespassers will be shot, and survivors will be shot again."

  "You'd never.” Jonas tugged Andy about and brought their mouths together, laying his mark on the man so Jaden could see—or so Jaden figured. That, and genuine affection. “You wouldn't be able to live without me."

  "Oh, wouldn't I? You and your rancid socks and your fast-food habit, which I do know about, thank you, and your God-awful taste in music?"

  "Johnny Cash is not awful."

  "Not before he did that Nine Inch Nails cover.” Andy dodged Jonas’ swipe. “Give me George, either one, and Hank Senior. Maybe some Garth if I'm in the mood for modern classics."

  "Garth. God. And you complain about Cash."

  The two of them moved ahead of Jaden, who was walking slowly behind and thinking about his growing collection of the latest whatever happened to be hot on the airwaves. He couldn't remember a quarter of the band's names, but they all sounded alike. Nothing he really enjoyed or listened to.

  How long had it been since he'd cared about someone's songs?

  He moved carefully into Andy's kitchen, avoiding stepping on a jagged hole in the linoleum with his bare feet. The rich blast of country cooking aroma hit him harder still once through the door, sending his head spinning again.

  Neither Andy nor Jonas seemed to notice Jaden reel. Jonas had plunked himself down in a ladder back chair and pulled up to the table, which was loaded with bowls and plates and pitchers of coffee, tea, and juice. Andy busied himself spooning eggs, grits, and hash browns on plates.

  Andy passed a brimming platter to Jaden, who accepted the offering automatically as he sat down. Next to the easy way Andy and Jonas moved, he felt awkward as a stork.

  Once upon a time, he'd been as fluid as they were. When had things changed?

  Let it go. Let it go. People change. It happens. Let it go.

  Jaden pushed aside a basket of biscuits, glazed crispy on their tops with sweet butter, and a bowl of salty red-eye gravy, trying to find a place for his breakfast plate. Facing down a banquet platter stuffed to overflowin
g with the kind of food grown men wept reverent tears over, he forked up a bite of fluffy eggs and slipped the cheddar-laced morsel between his lips.

  Andy chose that moment to lean over and kiss Jonas’ cheek, whispering something that made him laugh. Jonas took a split-second glimpse at Jaden, not long enough for Jaden to read his meaning—unless that was the point. Leaning so that their heads were together, Jonas rubbed his own bristly cheek against Andy's rough beard, the hairs rasping soft and low and—

  Oh, God.

  The snowy egg, moments ago bursting with flavor, turned to dust and ash in Jaden's mouth. He choked, refusing to spit as instinct demanded, forcing the food down his throat instead. The small bite slid heavy as lead down into his gut, where he could feel it settle.

  "Pass the coffee, please,” he requested without looking up.

  Stop this. Stop it right now, understand?

  They're in love. It should be enough to know that he's happy. If Jonas is jealous, doesn't he have a right to be—really? The game went to him by right and the prize was fairly won.

  I should never have come back home. Not once, not ever since I left.

  I've made this promise before, but I'll keep my word this time: never again.

  Me? I belong in the past. I shouldn't be a part of their present, nor there to get in the way in their future.

  Let them live and let live. I'll make my own way. Always have.

  It's not so bad, being alone.

  Andy. My Andy, who's not “my” Andy. God willing, after we eat this meal I'll finally have the strength to walk away and not look back.

  I'll let you go.

  He took the carafe of coffee from Jonas, careful not to let his hands shake, and let the black liquid stream into his mug. Steam rose off the building level of coffee, fascinating him so that he barely stopped pouring before it overflowed.

  "Hey.” A hand caught Jaden by the wrist. Startled, he looked up to see Jonas frowning at him. Concerned? Why? “Is something wrong?” he wanted to know. “Seriously."