Memories, good and bad, chased themselves around in Loren’s mind, all of them interconnected and twined around his feelings for Eliot. It made him ache.
“Uncle Loren!” Toby screeched. “I missed you!”
Loren turned just in time to catch the little boy who ran down the sidewalk and hurled himself into Loren’s arms. Loren tossed him up in the air a few times, making him giggle, grinning at his brother Chase when he came out to see what the commotion was. He set Toby back on his feet.
“Hey, baby bro,” Chase said, and they embraced, Loren smirking to himself a little. He absolutely towered over his older brother and outweighed him by a good fifteen pounds. “Baby bro” indeed.
They headed inside, and Loren’s mouth watered at the smell of pot roast. His mom was busy in the kitchen, relaxed and in comfy clothes on a lazy Sunday afternoon. He hugged her and shook hands with his dad, accepting a beer and talking shop with him and Chase for the next little while.
“So where do you go from here, Loren?” his mom asked as they settled at their seats at the table. She passed over the platter of roast, and Loren filled his plate.
“Gonna be hard to come back to being plain ol’ Officer Smith, Lore?” Chase teased, “Instead of Agent Smith, Hero?”
Loren snorted. “Hardly a hero,” he said, his voice dry. “It’s more like lucky son of a bitch, not getting himself wasted even when surrounded by epic stupidity.”
That led to a few of his dad’s war stories about informants past, and Loren was fascinated, as always, by his father’s tales of his exploits as a beat cop and then homicide detective. He was on the cusp of retirement now, and Loren was grateful he was always able to pick his experienced and knowledgeable brain during the course of Loren’s fledgling career.
“So when are you moving back home?” his mom asked, passing him some more vegetables. It was the perfect segue into the next topic, and Loren wiped his lips on his napkin and took a sip of beer before replying.
“Actually I’ve been offered a job with the Phoenix Police Department,” he answered. “Detective junior grade with Vice, and I’m going to accept it.”
The table erupted in exclamations of surprise and congratulations, and Loren basked in the glow of pride in his family’s eyes. They had a lively discussion of the pros and cons of the job for a few minutes and the logistics of a long-distance move before Loren’s mother said, “Oh, but I’ll miss you, honey.”
She got up from her seat and came to Loren’s, leaning down and wrapping him up in a floral-scented embrace. He hugged her close for a moment and kissed her cheek, whispering back, “I’ll miss you too, Mom.”
Loren soaked in their love and approval, and a couple of hours later, stuffed to the gills with his mom’s pot roast and apple pie, he at last took his leave. It was amazing, he reflected, how much better he got along with his parents as an adult than he ever did as a child. That was another thing he and Eliot had bonded over, the loneliness that came from being the only children of busy, working parents. Loren’s older siblings didn’t count; they were grown and gone by the time he came along.
Thinking of Eliot reminded him to check his cell phone for messages, and when he entered his house, he did so, pulling it out of his back pocket and tamping down the disappointment when there was nothing. Maybe Eliot never checked his phone or had a phobia about talking on it or something. The thought was sobering, bringing home once again that Loren knew very little about Eliot anymore.
He had nine years to catch up on, and he couldn’t wait to get started.
ELIOT KICKED
his front door open, irritably throwing his shopping bags to the floor. He’d been bored earlier and grabbed some money from his freezer, intending to go look for a new pair of running shoes. Never mind he didn’t run and had at least ten pairs still in their boxes stacked in his closet. For some reason he
had
to have new running shoes, and when he found a style he liked, he ended up buying one of every color.
Then a cooking store caught his eye, and he bought two sets of gourmet pots and pans, three different brands of coffeemakers, and six different sets of dishtowels. He didn’t even like to cook! The only reason he stopped buying shit was because he ran out of cash, and when he headed back home to get some more, he walked in and then forgot what he’d come home for.
All of his purchases were thrown into a corner, and he kicked at the boxes of pots and pans. Maybe he’d want to cook again one day, but really, why bother? No one liked him; he was just a crazy asshole no one wanted to be around. He was worthless, so why would he expect anyone to care if he lived or died, much less want to come over and eat with him?
Eliot paced his apartment restlessly, thought about going to the club and getting some guys to suck him off. Or maybe that bartender dude, the one whose name Eliot could never remember, could bend him over some storage crates and fuck him senseless. He seemed to recall the guy having a big fucking dick. Eliot’s brain felt like a sieve, thoughts filling it up and then skittering out faster than he could keep up with them. He grabbed some vodka from the freezer and guzzled it, hoping to calm the noise.
A few more minutes of pacing, and then his landline phone rang. It was so loud it seemed to reverberate inside his skull, making him clap his hands over his ears and snarl at the fucking thing. The answering machine clicked on, and a soft female voice said, “Eliot, this is your mother. I’m just checking on you. I—I, uh, have the morning free tomorrow and I thought maybe you’d like to have breakfast. Please call me tonight.”
Call her? He hated the goddamned phone, could never remember the right numbers. Maybe he’d just go see her. Now. Right now. What a fan-fucking-tastic idea! He stalked to his apartment door and flung it open, surprising Loren standing there with his hand raised to knock.
Loren smiled at him and said, “Hey,” and Eliot was so glad to see him he flung himself into Loren’s arms and started weeping.
“What? Eliot, what?” Loren’s voice was alarmed, and he tried to push Eliot back to look at him, but Eliot didn’t want to let him go, clutching onto him tighter. Loren gave up trying to push him away and pulled him close instead.
Eliot clung to him, the sadness disappearing as suddenly as it had appeared.
“Hey!” he gave a belated shout, and a confused look crossed Loren’s face before it cleared. Loren bent down and kissed him.
“Feeling okay?” he asked, and Eliot pulled away to spin in a wild circle.
“Yeah, just fucking bored,” he exclaimed, flinging himself down on his couch and then springing back up again. “Need to get out of here, go do something. Do something with me, Loren!”
Loren chuckled. “That’s why I came over, to see if you wanted to go house-hunting with me.”
That gave Eliot pause. “Don’t you—don’t you already have a house?” he asked, his voice tentative. He always forgot things, and people sometimes got impatient with him when he asked questions he should already know the answer to.
Eliot relaxed when Loren answered, his tone holding no trace of annoyance, “I’m renting an apartment month-to-month, but I want to buy a house. I’m moving here, El, for good.”
Loren waited, and Eliot nodded.
“I still technically live in Oregon,” Loren explained when Eliot didn’t say anything. “But I just got a job here, and I’ll be moving after the New Year.”
Eliot understood at last, and he couldn’t help but fling himself back into Loren’s arms for a hug.
“So that means we can hang out?” he asked hopefully, and Loren squeezed him tight.
“I’m counting on it, El. In fact, I was thinking maybe we could—we could date.” Loren’s voice was adorably shy for such a big, confident man, and Eliot laughed in pure joy. Loren kissed him again. “Since I hope you’ll be spending a
lot
of time at my house, I want you to help me find something that you like too.”
“You don’t want a two-story, Loren, because those are a bitch to cool down in the summer. The AC bills here are fucking outrageous, and it seems the upstairs is always hot anyway. The winters are nice, though, and I love sleeping with the windows open. Do you like the windows open when you sleep, Loren? Do you wear pajamas? You don’t look like a pajamas kind of guy. I hope you like to snuggle in bed, though, because—”
“Okay, El,” Loren interrupted gently. “We can talk in the car, all we want. Let’s get going. I’d like to get a lot done today.”
Eliot spun away and started a frantic search for his wallet and phone amidst all the shopping bags littering the table and floor. He saw Loren looking at the mess, but Loren didn’t say anything, just frowned a little.
“You sure you’re feeling okay, Eliot? You seem a little—”
“Just feeling good, Loren! That’s all.”
Loren searched his face and nodded, his eyes still a little troubled, but Eliot ignored that. When Loren excused himself to use the bathroom, Eliot darted to the freezer and slammed a few more mouthfuls of vodka. It wasn’t helping much; these days Eliot almost had to drink himself into a stupor to shut the black demon up.
He caught sight of his pill bottles tossed in a haphazard fashion on the counter. When had he last taken some? Eliot shook a few pills out, washing them down with the liquor. If he was going to be with Loren, he didn’t want to act batshit crazy, so he probably needed to be better about taking his meds from now on.
He guzzled vodka until he heard water running in the bathroom, stashing the bottle away and cramming a piece of gum in his mouth from the ever-present pack he kept in his pocket. He chewed noisily on the minty gum, spitting it out into the garbage just in time for the bathroom door to open.
“Ready, El?” Loren asked.
“Ready,” Eliot replied, and he meant it.
“I REALLY
like this one, Loren.”
Loren stood in the middle of the great room and looked around. He liked it too. The house featured an open, airy floor plan with updated everything. It had a large master bedroom with french doors that led out to the back patio. The backyard was desert landscaped, with a custom-designed pool boasting a small waterfall, and there was even a hot tub at one end.
Eliot seemed entranced, going out to the backyard and staring down into the depths of the black-bottomed pool. Loren came and stood beside him.
“It looks so peaceful,” Eliot whispered. “So quiet and still.” He knelt down and trailed his hand in the water. “In the summer it would be so warm, like a bath or a hug. Wouldn’t it, Loren?”
Something about Eliot’s fascination with the depths of the pool set off warning bells in Loren’s mind, and he made the decision right then that whatever house he chose wouldn’t have one.
“I think maybe this one’s too far from work, El,” Loren lied, infusing a regretful tone into his voice. “My truck doesn’t get the best mileage, and I’d rather be as close as possible.”
Eliot didn’t seem to hear him, still dabbling his hand in the water, lost in thought.
“El?” Loren touched Eliot on the shoulder and he jumped a mile, Loren having to hurriedly grab him to keep him from toppling forward into the water. “Let’s go look at some other houses, okay?”
They spent the rest of the day driving around the Valley, checking out different neighborhoods. Loren was amazed at Phoenix’s urban sprawl, how long it took to drive from one end of the city to the other. Finally he drove by the substation that would be his base of operations, pointing it out to Eliot.
“This is where I’ll be working,” Loren said. Eliot didn’t answer, and Loren looked over at him. He was subdued now, silent, and he leaned his head disconsolately against the passenger window. Loren sighed. His moods seemed to be all over the map today.
They went to look at a couple more houses, but Eliot’s heart wasn’t in it, and Loren didn’t want to subject either of them to it anymore. It was dusk, so he headed in the direction of the expressway on-ramp, intending to drive them back to Eliot’s apartment. Just then a sign for South Mountain Park and Preserve caught his eye. He’d heard from some of the guys at the station the park boasted one of the best lookout and make out spots in the city, so on impulse he made the turn, following the signs to the lookout.
Since it was midweek, they appeared to have the place to themselves, and Loren parked the truck in a prime viewing spot. Night was falling, and lights were starting to twinkle all over the city below. Loren switched off the engine and unbuckled his seat belt, holding his arm out.
“Come here,” he murmured, and Eliot unbuckled his own belt, sliding over to nestle himself up against Loren’s side, putting his head on Loren’s shoulder.
Loren pulled him close, and they sat like that for several minutes, watching the cars zipping by on one of the freeways below, lights spreading as far as the eye could see. Finally Loren cupped Eliot’s chin in his hand, lifting it so he could look into Eliot’s luminous eyes.
“I’ve missed you, El, and I didn’t realize how much until I saw you again.”
Eliot reached up and brushed a lock of Loren’s hair off his brow, his fingertips lingering. Loren turned his head and nuzzled into the gentle touch.
“Sometimes when I look at you now,” Eliot murmured, “I can still see the boy I once knew in the man you’ve become.” He slid his fingers into the hair at Loren’s nape. “I wish I could remember everything about that last night we spent together, Loren.” His tone was wistful.
“You don’t remember making love, talking about living in Hawaii?” Loren could remember every touch, every kiss, every word.
Eliot shook his head. “I get flashes of it sometimes. Impressions.”
“What kind of impressions?” Loren lifted Eliot’s chin higher and brushed their mouths together, and he shivered as Eliot spoke against his lips with little puffs of air.
“Warmth. Safety. Love.”
Eliot pulled back and looked into Loren’s eyes. “You loved me then, didn’t you, Loren?”
Loren’s chest ached. “I did. So much. I’ve loved you since we were six.”
Eliot pulled Loren’s head down and kissed him passionately. When they broke apart, they were both breathing roughly, aroused. Eliot lifted a shaking hand and brushed the back of it down Loren’s cheek.