So here’s the thing about bringing a dildo in your backpack on a plane with you. 

Don’t. 

Ever. 

And when I say ever—I mean ever.

Also, if you can possibly help it, definitely don’t bring a dildo on a plane twice. 

You’d think I would have learned from the first time.

Except, what I’d taken from that encounter was don’t bring a dildo that has a metal base on a plane. Which led me to here and now, my face bright red and a stupidly attractive man in a bespoke suit wagging my favorite, metal-less dildo at me with a wry grin.

Unsanitary.

Un-fucking-sanitary.

I snatched it back and shoved it into my backpack where it had fled only seconds prior. I’d have to burn the thing. Burn it all. Everything it had touched. My hands shook as I zipped up my bag and pushed the plastic tray it sat inside onto the conveyor belt that would lead through the airport security’s X-ray machine. 

I turned away.

I could feel eyes on the back of my neck the entire time as I stared stiffly at the man in line in front of me. I judged the color palette of his Hawaiian shirt to distract myself from the angry flush that coated my skin.

When it was my turn through the detector, I resolutely stared ahead as I raised my arms and the machine whirred. One of the employees arched an eyebrow at me and I flushed even brighter.

Dildo—the dildo had been on the floor—who else had seen it? Oh God…airport cooties. My thoughts spun. There was no way in Hell I was going to put that thing up my ass after I knew where it had been. It had gotten more action in ten seconds than I had in my entire twenty-six years of life.

Sweat beaded at my temple as my tray slid into place at the end of the conveyor belt and I slipped my loafers and backpack on in a hurry.

I thought I’d gotten away with it.

I thought I could escape down the fast food lined hallways and disappear into the crowd at my gate without Mr. I-wear-a-fancy-suit-and-know-what-size-dick-you-like-to-be-fucked-with getting a chance to embarrass me further.

I practically ran away, peeking over my shoulder to see dark hair and pale blue eyes ignoring me, in favor of flirting with an employee in a spiffy blue uniform.

Good.

By the time I reached my gate, I realized I was being silly. Why would Mr. GQ Magazine even care? I was just another man at the airport—nothing to report here; just your ordinary, average, everyday size queen.

I scanned the crowd as I sat down in one of the chairs at my gate, relaxing, then tensing up all over again when I recognized a familiar figure making his way towards me. Optimistically, I wondered if maybe I was seeing things.

But nope—

Oh, fuck me!

Here he came.

His thick thighs flexed as he walked, challenging the seams of his suit pants. He was so much more muscular than I’d realized during our brief encounter only twenty minutes prior when I’d quite literally died of embarrassment.

My tombstone was going to state “Here lies George Arthur—average businessman, average friend, average brother—exceptionally talented at dropping dildos at the worst possible times.”

Tall, dark, and handsome paused at the end of my row. I stared out at the incoming planes in the hopes that maybe he wouldn’t notice me—

Don’t sit by me.

Don’t sit by me.

Don’t sit by me.

He sat by me.

I lamented my life, my hands shaking as I fixed the cuffs on my suit and I felt my shirt collar grow tighter and tighter. Maybe it would choke me and end it all.

God, if only I could be so lucky.

He smelled like expensive whisky, and not in a boozy way. His cologne was probably made of ground up money and broken dreams. 

I peeked at where he was manspreading beside me, his long, long legs shifting till the heat of one of his supple, glorious thighs bled against mine. I might as well have been naked for all the good my suit pants did me. Was he doing this on purpose?

I narrowed my eyes at him.

He leaned over, his breath hot where it stroked the shell of my ear. I could feel a heart attack about to happen—my breath bursting in panicked little puffs as words rumbled from the depths of his throat to tickle across the sensitive rim.

“Hi, Georgie,” he whispered.

“Excuse me!” It took me about two seconds to leap from my seat, my bag abandoned, head spinning as I stalked my way towards the men’s restroom across the hall. The entire walk, I could feel his eyes on me and they burned—my cheeks flushed, nerves alight. I wasn’t sure why I’d run. Maybe I was embarrassed? Maybe, as in, definitely embarrassed. I figured I’d splash some water on my face to clear my head—take a few minutes for some well-deserved panic—and then join Mr. Sex-on-legs at the gate again.

How had he known my name?

My mind reeled as I slipped into the restroom and slammed up against the laminate counter, nails biting into the surface. My cheeks were flushed a ruddy red and I glared at myself in the mirror, pointing an accusatory finger.

“Just because he knows how big you like your dicks doesn’t mean the man can intimidate you.” 

I didn’t respond to myself because I was already feeling a little insane and good God, what the fuck was I doing?

Why had I run, like a child?

I splashed water on my face, confused, and righteously indignant, before I headed back out to my abandoned seat. Unsurprisingly, there the man sat. He blinked at me, his eyes, blue like a Husky’s, flashing with amusement as he nudged my abandoned bag with the toe of his designer leather loafer.

Fucking prick.

“How did you know my name?” I demanded, still a little flushed, and…dripping. I slashed my blond bangs out of my face, shoving them behind my ears as I waited, my heart in my throat.

Had he been stalking me?

Had he followed me here?

Dear God—was I about to be murdered?

A little voice in the back of my head whispered, that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Then at least you wouldn’t have to deal with Roderick.

Ugh.

Roderick.

My ex. The man of my dreams—until he wasn’t. We’d remained friends, which…was my mistake. I should’ve known that not closing that door would only open up a whole new can of worms.

He was getting married. Five years since our breakup and of course—like everyone from our home town—I’d been invited.

It wasn’t that I didn’t like going back home to Ohio. I missed the sprawling fields, my siblings, and my mother. What I didn’t miss however was the nosiness. The loneliness. The aching reminder that while I was tentatively accepted back home, my lifestyle wasn’t particularly celebrated. Mom had come around before the rest. She’d been waving pride flags at me as I walked across the football field at high school graduation.

Dad…not so much.

That’s why I needed the dildo in the first place.

Part loneliness, part fuck you. Because, as much as I loved my family, there was nothing in this world that would force me back into the closet. Maybe I didn’t bejewel my jeans anymore—maybe my outfit of choice usually included matching my cufflinks to my earrings. But…the idea of spending three weeks at home while my mother planned a wedding that should have been mine? While my father watched on with barely concealed befuddlement?

Yeah. No.

Nine-inch-Neil needed to come with me.

I swallowed, shaking my head as I waited for my unlikely savior to speak. He had saved me—in probably the most embarrassing way possible—but at least he hadn’t held Neil up above his head and shouted This one’s a size queen! So I supposed I owed him that much.

“You have it embroidered on your backpack.” The man cocked his head to the side, a wicked grin splitting his lips and I…wilted. The wind left my sails, my shoulders dropping as I plopped back down into my seat, as far from him as possible. In this situation, I realized I was the one kinda being an ass.

“Oh.”

“You don’t look like the kind of man who travels with his luggage half full of…” I watched his lips begin to form the word dildo—and I panicked, waving my hands to shut him up. His grin softened into a naughty smirk, but he grew blissfully silent, dimples flickering.

“What kind of man do I look like?” I asked.

Part of me was curious.

There were a lot of answers I expected.

Boring, for one. Average? Another. Maybe he’d take pity on me and say something hideous—but kind—like normal.

God, if sixteen-year-old me had heard me state my relief at being called normal he would’ve set me on fire with hairspray and his rhinestone-bedecked lighter.

“You look like the kind of man who spends more time pulling sticks out of your ass than putting dildos up it.”

Wow, rude.

Also, shockingly accurate.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “I’m the kind of man who isn’t afraid to stab you in the leg with my ballpoint pen.”

Instead of being frightened, as he should’ve been, he just laughed.

“Touché.” He blinked. “I’m Jones.” His grin came back full force, horribly attractive and irritatingly gorgeous. “Alex Jones.” He held a hand out to me and it did not escape my notice that he’d just quoted James Bond.

Cocky bastard.

I took his hand, surprised by how much thicker it was than mine. His palm scratched along mine and I held back a little shiver. I’d always liked a man with thick fingers. Alex was no exception, even if he was, admittedly, a bit of a jerk.

“George-Arthur Milton.” Alex cocked an eyebrow at me, and I shrugged. “Two first names. Hyphenated.”

“Do you prefer George or Arthur?” he asked, though I was having difficulty paying attention to what he was saying when his hand was still clasping almost possessively at my own. Should I pull away? No…no. That would be weird, wouldn’t it?

“I’d prefer you stay out of my business.”

“Georgie it is.”

I’d had my fair share of men trying to intimidate me via the good ol’ handshake, but never had I felt goosebumps prickle my flesh or a surge of lust so fierce it made me unfairly breathless.

Too bad I’d have to throw Neil away now that he’d touched the airport floor.

I would’ve liked to use him to get rid of the ants that crawled under my skin.

I’d always been a bit of a slut when I was horny. I made poor decisions. It was a fact. That was part of why Roderick and I hadn’t worked out in the first place. He’d been very…boring, in my opinion. At least when it came to the bedroom.

Vanilla Roddy.

And I…well…

I liked my men like I liked my coffee—caffeinated and ready to twist me up till my heart rate burst through the roof.

Alex looked like the kind of man who wouldn’t know the difference between a vibrator and a butt plug. Which they were—I mean, different. Well…sometimes. Maybe that wasn’t the best metaphor—but the principle still stood.

I withdrew my hand, and Alex smiled at me, something flickering in his pale eyes that made the hair at the back of my neck stand on end.

“You know, there’s a bathroom further down the hall that no one ever goes to.” He cocked his head and I stared at him, trying to figure out how the hell he knew why a bathroom went unused when—my eyes practically bugged out of my skull. Was he…propositioning me?

Oh dear God, I hope not.

Except…wouldn’t that be kind of…amazing, actually?

I take it back; I take it all back.

If he wanted dirty, germ-ridden airport sex, then I would damn well give it to him—

“In case you wanted to wash your…” Alex waggled his eyebrows. My what? My ass? My cock? My slutty little hole? My— “not so little friend.”

“Oh.”

So, no kinky bathroom sex then.

Boo.

“I think it can wait till I can properly sanitize,” I found myself saying, shaking my head in disbelief as I shifted as far away from Alex as I could. If he didn’t want to have sex, then why was he so fixated on me? Why had he come and found me?

Dear God, please don’t let him be on the same flight as me.

He was.

When we began boarding the plane twenty minutes later, it was with horror that I realized Alex was following right behind me. He bumped up against my back, that same sexy almost woodsy scent tickling my nose, as he crowded up against me so he could put his carry-on bag in the compartment above.

“You 16B?” he asked in a quiet rumble against the shell of my ear. I shuddered, and turned around to glare at him, because clearly he’d been peeking down at the boarding pass that was still pulled up on my phone screen.

“Yes, why?” I huffed, eyes narrowed.

“I’m 16A.” His grin turned wolfish as he cocked his head to the side, arching a brow at me. “I’ll need to get past you.”

Right.

I moved, not amused with the amount of brushing and pushing that transpired, as Alex shuffled our places and he settled into his spot by the window. I figured my saving grace would be if someone sat in 16C—so we wouldn’t have to be alone. Maybe then I could talk to them? Or, as I much preferred, foist the conversation off between the two of them and then settle back to listen to one of the audiobooks I had downloaded for the trip.

I had no such luck.

The person who sat next to us was a soft woman in what I guessed to be her early seventies. She fell asleep immediately after giving me a friendly nod, her headphones tucked around her ears in a way that made me absolutely jealous.

I wanted that.

The privacy, the…quiet.

I could feel Alex staring at me and I lamented my life as I sighed and turned, very slowly, to meet his gaze. He was still smiling. Leaning up on his hand, his elbow resting on the back of the seat.

“What brings you to Ohio?” he hummed, as if I wanted to talk to him. As if I would. Goddamnit.

“Family,” I gritted out, shuffling to get comfortable, hyper aware of the heat of his thigh where he pushed it tightly up against mine. His legs were thicker than mine, and he flexed them a little, just so I could watch the teardrop shape of his quad test the seams of his suit pants.

“Me too,” he hummed, his knee shifting in a way that felt an awful lot like a rub.

I moved away from him, because what the hell else was I supposed to do? Enjoy it? Like a normal person?

“It’s a short flight.” I pointed this out with a grimace, reaching down to scrounge around inside my bag for my headphones. Maybe if I put them in, he’d get the message? The man was hot but…there was only so much embarrassment I could take—and every time I looked at him all I could see was the jiggly-wiggle of nine-inch-Neil dangling in his frankly massive fist.

No.

No, no.

It was better we part ways now, no speaking, no bonding—and certainly no more of his personal brand of flirting that made my skin grow hot and ants crawl all over me. Maybe it wasn’t even flirting. Maybe he was messing with me? 

It wasn’t like I projected ‘hello, fuck me’ as loudly as I had when I’d been younger. Though I supposed…now that he knew what I carried in my backpack, all my newfound anonymity had been thrown out the window.

So maybe he was flirting.

God, confusing, confusing, confusing.

I fumbled with the audible app as I felt Alex’s eyes drag over the side of my now slightly sweaty neck. Could it get any hotter in here? Was there no such thing as AC? Or was that just me…I wasn’t used to all this attention. Certainly not from a man who looked way out of my league and had lips that begged to be punched and kissed at the same time.

“I love Audible.” Alex’s voice filtered through my humiliation and I raised my eyebrows to Jesus, my head thunking back against the seat in frustration.

“You probably read ‘how to get rich’ books, or ‘50 streams of residual income for the Entrepreneur.’” I rolled my eyes and Alex laughed.

It was a nice sound.

Nice enough that I turned to look at him. His eyes were twinkling, his lips twitching as he leaned into my space. The few inches between us might as well not have been there. They did me no good. All I could think about was how good he smelled, musky-sweet, sultry enough to make my cock twitch where it lay trapped inside my silk panties.

I’d always liked panties.

I ordered custom ones to accommodate my cock, and rise low enough that when I bent over, for the most part, my high waisted suit pants wouldn’t show a thing. It was my secret. My power move. No one knew but me.

Somehow though, the way Alex was looking at me made me feel like he must have X-ray vision. Like he could see through the gray clutch of fabric to where my cock lay nestled safely in silk and lace.

Stop thinking it, I reprimanded myself.

Alex’s eyes crinkled as he crossed one of his ridiculously long legs over the other, his ankle bumping up against my thigh. It wasn’t his fault he was massive—but fuck. I blamed him anyway.

“I like things a bit sexier than that,” Alex joked and I rolled my eyes again, glancing over at the woman in our row, terrified she’d heard. I glared at him, willing him to shut up.

“‘How to become a billionaire before you’re thirty’ is not a sexy concept,” I replied, weirdly giddy to hear his response.

Alex’s thick dark brows rose and his grin turned wicked. “You seem to think you already have me figured out, don’t you, Twinky?”

Twinky?

Twinky?

What the hell kind of nickname was that?

“I can guess.” I shrugged, bright pink as I glanced at our neighbor again, “and don’t call me that.”

“Why not?” Alex grinned. “It suits you.”

“I’m about five seconds from stabbing you with my pen.”

“So you’ve threatened.” Alex’s whole body was quaking with mirth and I couldn’t quell the bubble of both excitement and irritation that was mounting inside me. “I have yet to see this pen you’re so fond of threatening me with.”

I stabbed him.

Watching the way his eyes popped out and his jaw dropped was the single most satisfying experience I had ever had. His thigh jumped beneath the point of my pen and ink spread in a streak that I hoped would remind him every time he looked at it not to be a dick.

“You stabbed me.” Alex gasped, shocked.

“I said I would.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think—”

“I’m not surprised you didn’t think,” I spoke over him, returning my pen back into my suit pocket with a giddy little grin. I was buzzing all over. Maybe I was a masochist? Or a sadist? Whichever the one was that liked stabbing people. God. I’d never been this turned on in all my life.

“I was just trying to be friendly,” Alex grumbled and I shrugged at him, reaching for my headphones and popping them in with a wry little grin.

Maybe my day wasn’t ruined after all.

***

I avoided Alex like the plague the moment we stepped off the plane. He’d stared at me with big blue puppy eyes after the stabbing incident but he seemed to get the picture that I was to be left alone. It was hard to zone into the smooth drawl of my favorite narrator talking about getting railed when I had Alex’s breath curling around my ear and his body heat beside me. He was endlessly distracting.

My brother Joe was waiting for me outside baggage claim and I sighed in relief when I saw him. He waved at me, all six-foot-five of him, dressed up in pale blue flannel and his usual Levi’s, as he shoved open the trunk on his minivan and waited for me to toss my bag inside. I didn’t think we really needed the trunk—considering the fact that I had brought one single backpack and that was the extent of my luggage, but I shrugged it off and tossed my bag in anyway.

“Just cleaned the back,” Joe told me proudly, “figured you’d appreciate the lack of dust.”

I had a massive family, and out of all of them, Joe was my favorite. He had a boring name, which he genuinely liked—and he was just as sweet and vanilla as the name suggested.

Joe was a good guy.

A family guy.

The kinda guy you shared a beer with in the back of a truck while he told you all about his son’s latest success in the grand world of Little League.

The front seat was covered in Cheez-It crumbs and Kool Aid stains and I melted into it with a sigh, absorbing the scent of dirt and home. Even though I avoided coming back for obvious reasons, I did miss my family.

My mom had been trying to convince me to move back to Chesterville for years. Everytime a house went up for sale in their neighborhood I received a call about it. That’s why I was surprised when we turned down onto the long winding road home and I saw the Bakers’ house up for sale. I hadn’t heard about it.

“Mr. and Mrs. Baker are moving?” I asked as Joe chatted about Joey’s first major homerun. He was nine, and named after his daddy, the spitting image of him and everything. He spoke real slow like Joe did, and they both shared the family pale-as-corn, silk hair.

“Nah,” Joe grunted, but didn’t elaborate.

I stared at him.

“They died.”

My eyes widened and Joe laughed. “What—”

“Kidding, kidding.” He hummed as he slowed down in front of the pothole in the road that’d been there since before I could talk. He moved unhurriedly over it, glancing over at me with a wry grin on his broad sun-tanned face. “Except not really. They did die. But like—of old age. So, it’s fine.”

Wow.

“Why didn’t mom call me?”

The Bakers had been the sweetest little couple. Even after I’d been launched out of the closet in the twelfth grade they’d still made a point to invite me and my brothers and sisters over to watch old movies every other week. We’d been fairly close as far as neighbors went.

Mr. Baker had even snuck me extra candy when we’d made the trip over for Halloween. I’d always remember the way he’d winked at me as I waited for my turn after the long line of siblings ahead of me. He’d had a twinkle to his eye that spoke of years of mischief and I’d liked him. Which…meant a lot coming from a prickly fuck-you-if-you-don’t-agree-with-me kinda teen.

I swallowed, my eyes a little wet, though I refused to let Joe see that. I glared out over the fields as he explained, his voice trickling like honeysuckle in the air between us.

“Mom didn’t wanna ruin your whole business merger thing. Thought you’d get all depressed about it. Figured she’d tell you when you came down for Roddy’s big day.”

Boo.

Boo on all of them.

“The merger wasn’t more important than the Bakers.” I told him with a huff and Joe just laughed.

“You say that— but you forget we all know you, bud.” Bud. I hated bud. He only ever called me that when I was getting emotional, and I refused to get emotional. Not anymore. I was made of steel now. Emotionally blank. A statue of stoicism. I sniffed. “You’da come cryin’ back home and we woulda heard about it for weeks after. How you missed out on such-and-such and how you’re behind on whatchamacallits.” He shrugged. “Figured it was best to let you grieve back home. With family! But without the stress.”

I sighed, my head thunking against the window. 

I supposed he was right.

I did have a problem with stressing over the little things. I always had. What had started out as an obsession with cleaning my half of the bedroom Lacey and I shared as kids, had morphed into a deep-seeded need for perfection. Control.

That’s why in the bedroom I sought escape from those things.

I needed to unwind, to give up what I fought tooth and nail for. I had yet to find a partner that could give me that. They didn’t know how to relax me, to control me, to get me out of my own head.

I couldn’t help but think back to Alex’s laugh, his massive tanned hands, his gorgeous eyes and the way they’d crinkled at the corners. Alex hadn’t been frightened by my prickly behavior. In fact…dare I say he might’ve even liked it?

Alex seemed like the kind of man who knew what he wanted.

But more importantly, he knew how to take it.

And God, oh God, did I want him to take me.

***

My childhood home was a frankly massive three-story country monstrosity. It had white siding, ivy climbing up the walls, and a window for each of the bedrooms. But even then, the house had barely been big enough to fit us all. Six brothers, two sisters. Even by Ohio standards, we were big.

I’d shared with Lacey most of my life because she was closest in age to me. She was only a year and a half younger, and we’d got along like a forest on fire. When I bejeweled my pants, Lacey did too. When I painted my nails, she begged to match. Arts and crafts were perfectly organized in our closet and we’d spent years of our childhoods holed up in our room smashing out glitter colored monstrosities.

She’d been the first person I’d told I was gay.

The first person to reject me.

She’d apologized in recent years but part of me had never been able to let go of the hurt I’d felt at fifteen years old, with feathers in my hair and my hot glue gun in hand, as Lacey had scrunched up her face at me and told me it was kinda gross I liked Roddy from next door.

She’d said later that she only cared cuz she kinda liked Roddy too.

But her face haunted me, her big blue eyes, her freckles, and that look of confused-distrust that’d flashed for only a moment before we’d gone back to adding bedazzlement to her backpack for the new school year.

“You sure you don’t need help carryin’ your shit?” Joe asked as I slunk my way out of the car, my feet hitting the pavement as I popped my back and sighed.

“It’s a backpack, Joey. Pretty sure I can handle it.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just tryin’ to be hospitable.” Joe grinned at me and I grinned back, unable to help myself as I rolled my eyes. “You still dating that guy from—”

“Nah. No. Nope. Alone. Very much so.” I shook my head, not wanting to bring up my most recent fling of the year. I was done dating. As Joe would say, Done-zo. No more boyfriends for me. I was a new man.

I was tired of getting hurt.

“You know Roddy’s fiancé’s brother is gay.”

“Yeah, not interested.” I shrugged. “And even if I was looking—which I’m not— just because he’s gay doesn’t mean I want to date him.”

“She says he’s cute.” Joe defended and I didn’t have the patience to explain to him that it was usually the cute ones that were trouble.

Alex again flashed to mind and I shook my head.

Maybe I’d overreacted earlier.

I wouldn’t burn nine-inch-Neil after all. He was vital to my survival here. I’d have to hitch a ride into town though, because I didn’t want to explain to my mother why I’d used a gallon of her disinfectant after only being home for a few hours.

***

There was a party raging out back and I could hear it before I saw it. I turned to Joe with an arched brow and he grinned. “You haven’t been home for over a year, so mom kinda went all out.”

“For me?”

“Well, kinda. It’s like a welcome-home-Artie-congrats-Roddy-party.” He shrugged and nudged me with one of his ginormous shoulders, basically bowling me over. I stumbled as Joe headed to the trunk to retrieve my backpack. He didn’t give it to me though, despite my earlier protests. Instead, he slung it over his shoulder and I sighed, sulking after him as he headed towards the white wooden gate that led to the back yard.

“Is Roderick gonna be here?” I grimaced, glancing back over my shoulder to check the house across the street. Just looking at it made my heart hurt.

I’d grown up there as much as I’d grown up inside my own childhood home.

I didn’t want Roderick. Not anymore.

But I did miss the future I’d counted on since I was seventeen years old and learned that Roddy wanted to stick his dick down my throat about as much as I’d wanted to let him.

“He’s here.” Joe told me. Thank God, he hadn’t lied.

I needed to at least mentally prepare some if I was about to see Roderick for the first time in five years.

I shuddered.

I fixed my hair.

Then I adjusted my suit, and checked my shoes, my eyes narrowed on my backpack where it sat looking tiny on Joe’s broad back. I was irrationally terrified my dildo would decide to make a second appearance that day.

But no.

The bag was firmly zipped, thank God.

Seeing Roderick felt like a slap to the face. He smiled at me from where he sat at the head of one of the long beat-up white picnic tables my mom refused to replace. There were a myriad of table cloths thrown across each table. Splashes of Christmas, fall, summer, and spring decorations coating the yard in a rainbow-meshed tableau. 

It was clear the party was a potluck, as people chatted and laughed, giant bowls full of food strewn across every available surface. Joe slapped me on the back one last time before he headed off toward where my dad was grilling on the porch.

Dad said he liked to be up high like that. It made him feel like the king of the world as he gazed down on the rest of us peasants wandering around his massive backyard like BBQ-fueled ants.

I loved my dad.

My heart stuttered a little and I sighed, turning back to Roderick because there was no getting out of this now that he’d spotted me. He patted the empty place next to him on a camping chair and I dejectedly headed over, though I kept my head held high, my heart fluttering.

He was just as handsome as the day we’d broken up, the bastard.

Roddy’s brown eyes twinkled at me overtop the rim of his glasses as I took my seat after brushing off the dust.

“Hiya, Arthur.” His lips pulled into a familiar smile I couldn’t help but return. It felt as natural as breathing, despite the way it still hurt to look at him and see the future I’d lost.

“It’s George now.” I told him, going for gentle, though my voice came out a little harsh.

“Hiya, George, then.” He cocked his head at me like he was trying to figure me out. “Glad you decided to come. Me and Juniper have a whole itinerary planned.”

“Other than the wedding?”

“Of course!” He beamed at me. “You only get married once!”

That was another thing that was different about Chesterville. People who got married in Chesterville stayed married. Even if they were miserable. Even if everyone in the goddamn town knew they hated each other’s guts. Marriage really was for life here. That was part of why Roddy and I had broken up in the first place. We didn’t…fit like that. He didn’t fill my empty spaces—aside from the obvious ones.

Roderick was still talking and I zoned out a little as I watched the crowd mingle and laugh. People were gorging themselves on potato salad and red Jell-O and Joey Jr. was screaming from the top of his lungs as he whacked his cousin Mavis, Lacey’s daughter, with an inflatable bat.

It was good to be home again.

“Anyway—Juney’s brother’s coming and we all thought you two might hit it off,” Roderick continued, oblivious as always that I wasn’t listening.

Maybe I had an amazing poker face.

Or maybe nobody gave a shit enough to notice.

“Joey was trying to hook me up with him too,” I pointed out, arching an eyebrow. It seemed even Roderick was in on the whole hook up the only two gay men you know shtick. He was bisexual himself, or so we’d discovered when he’d told my mom he’d started dating a girl.

“He’s a really nice guy, Arthur—” Roderick grimaced, “Sorry—George,” he corrected himself. I didn’t like the way he said my name. Like I was inconveniencing everyone by switching over. George was as much my first name as Arthur was—even though I’d gone by Arthur most of my life. “He’s all corporate like you are—” Again, corporate was said as if it was a bad word, “aaaaand he wants kids.”

Oh.

Oh.

My full attention snapped to Roderick and he grinned at me, clearly realizing he’d hooked me in. “He’s a huge fan of big families.”

It was no secret that I wanted a family.

Just like all my siblings I’d grown up with, the desire to collect a riotous pack of crayon-wielding, spaghetti-throwing kiddos of my own. I’d always loved kids. More so than anyone—in fact when I’d gone to college I’d originally been planning on becoming an elementary school teacher. That hadn’t happened—but the sentiment remained.

I loved kids.

Loved.

I wanted to be a dad, and back in the city it had been incredibly difficult to find a partner who was interested in the kind of brood I wanted to collect.

“How big?” My eyes narrowed and Roderick’s slick grin grew slicker. He was shorter than me by an inch or so, though he was thicker, especially as he’d filled out the last few years. With his short brown hair and his dimples, I wasn’t surprised he’d been snatched up lickety-split.

“Last I heard the minimum was five.”

“Five kids? Or five total people?”

“Kids.”

Juniper’s brother was getting more and more attractive by the minute. I was about to begin questioning Roderick again, maybe about her brother’s insurance plan, when a riotous cheer erupted from the crowd.

“Juniper! Juniper!” I turned my head, watching as everyone scattered towards the gate that Joe and I had come through as it pushed open and a tiny woman in a frankly giant dress popped through. She was grinning, her blue eyes flashing, her big skirt swirling as she waved both hands towards the sky and bellowed her hello. For a little thing, she had a surprisingly deep voice.

Double fisting two beers she twisted towards the gate, cocking her hip as she shoved it open and a second figure stepped through.

“There they are!” Roderick rose from his seat and started waving at his fiancé like he was at Disneyland trying to get her attention across traffic. They were only twenty feet apart. I didn’t see why he needed to be so…exuberant. “That’s Juney’s brother.” Roderick whispered to me.

I wanted to act aloof.

But…my curiosity got the better of me as I watched a tall, muscular figure step through the gate. His thighs tested the give of his jeans, flexing and pulsing as my head spun and I pictured what it would look like for him to have a kid attached to each leg, holding on for dear life as he played with them in our yard.

Those were excellent father-ing thighs. Sturdy. Capable.

His hands too.

I watched the way he shoved them in his pockets, sighing wistfully as my gaze traveled up the muscular forearms bared to the world, despite the tan lines around his wrists. He was in a dark blue T-shirt that tested God’s patience, as it contained the single most gloriously full chest I had ever seen bestowed on a male in my life.

And then…I saw his face.

And I died.

Alex.

Alex motherfucking Jones.

Dildo-saving, suit-wearing, recently-stabbed Alex Jones.

I was fucking fucked.