No Good Deed - Marie Sexton Page 0,3

air-conditioning, and the blanket invariably had to lie in his lap as he knit. But in the winter, it was cozy, having the finished part of it warming his legs as he worked. Maybe Buttercup would grace him with her presence for a bit.

Halfway through his first row of knitting, his phone rang. Not the dedicated ringtone he used for his closest friends, or the one that signaled a coworker or one of the men he knew from Teddy’s Bears or his leather club. This was the phone’s default ringtone, which often meant a phone solicitor. He glanced at the screen and nearly dropped his phone.

Jonas Kincaid.

Charlie had only heard from him once, about a year after he’d left. Obviously drunk, he’d been in tears, telling Charlie how he never should have left. How he thought about him every day. And yet, once he’d sobered up again, the silence had resumed. Not a single email or text or even a Facebook message from Jonas in all that time.

Charlie hesitated. He wasn’t sure he could handle another drunken confession.

Then again, he wasn’t sure he could handle not taking the call either. He’d end up wondering if he might have missed something important.

His hand shook as he took the call. “Hello?”

For a second, he thought Jonas had hung up. There was only silence, and Charlie said hello a second time.

Finally, he heard proof of life on the other end of the line—a soft, breathy sound that could have been a gasp, or a chuckle, or even just a deep breath. “Charlie? It’s me. It’s Jonas.”

Now it was Charlie’s turn to fall mute. A thousand questions swirled through his mind. Where are you? What have you been up to? Why didn’t you call sooner? Why would you call now, when I’ve finally found a way to move on?

Instead, he said only, “I’m surprised to hear from you.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

He didn’t sound drunk this time. Scared, maybe. But sober. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Mostly. I mean, I’m fine, but I need to talk to you. Not over the phone though. I’d really like to see you.”

Charlie swallowed against a suddenly dry throat. “Are you in Denver?”

“I got in yesterday. Can I come over?”

Charlie’s already racing heart seemed to triple its pace. “You know where I live.”

He spent the next twenty minutes pacing his living room, trying not to see himself in the mirror hanging over the fireplace each time he passed it. He wished he didn’t look so old. He wished he hadn’t put on so much weight. He wished he knew exactly why Jonas had chosen this day to reappear in his life.

The knock, when it finally came, was so soft, Charlie might not have heard it if he hadn’t been waiting for it.

He opened the door, his heart pounding.

Charlie had only a moment to register that Jonas wore glasses now. He had the same sweet, cocky, lopsided grin that had haunted Charlie’s dreams. “Hey, stranger.”

And then, after six long years, Jonas was finally back in his arms.

Chapter 2

Jonas wasn’t sure which one of them initiated the embrace, but it didn’t matter. They held each other tight, and the rest of the world fell away. They’d only had one night together as lovers, but they’d shared an intimacy that went deeper than any friendship Jonas had ever experienced. At the time, he’d thought maybe it was only that they were both so damned lonely. But in the six years since they’d last seen each other, Jonas had met a fair share of friends, and none had rivaled what he’d felt here, in this house, with this man. Only his relationship with his sister had even come close.

There was simply nobody in the world like Charlie.

Jonas finally pulled away enough to look into Charlie’s eyes. He looked older. He worried too much about those around him, and that worry had carved itself into his flesh, surrounding his eyes, creasing his forehead. He’d put on a bit of weight, but it suited him, as did the beard, which had only been stubble back then. Jonas put his hand against Charlie’s cheek, wanting to feel Charlie’s coarse, bushy whiskers against his palm.

Jonas almost kissed him. He wanted to, more than anything, but he had no idea if the affection would be appreciated. For all he knew, Charlie was married now. It’d been six years, after all.

“God, I’ve missed you,” Jonas said, fighting tears.

Charlie ducked his head, pulling away from the embrace and the confession. He led