Fortunate Son

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…Ricky’s eyes widened as he realized Charlie wasn’t carrying his guitar. Charlie took it everywhere with him. The only thing left was the handmade, multicolored strap over his shoulder. “What happened?” Ricky jumped to his feet, searching the milling crowd for some sign of it. Charlie shrugged and took Ricky’s hand again. “Taking it on a Pentagon raid was a bad idea. It didn’t survive the tumble down the stairs.” He smiled. “It’s okay. I’ll save up for another one, and you can enjoy your reprieve in the meantime. Or we can dip into the ’shrooms and pot again tonight and I’m sure you’ll hear music.” Ricky felt bad—Charlie loved that stupid guitar. There was nothing he could do, though, so he let Charlie pull him back down beside him. He cast a sidelong glance at his lover and smiled, nudging him with his shoulder. “Your poetry isn’t bad. I love your poetry.” He leaned in and brushed a kiss across Charlie’s cheek. “I love that you write poetry about me. Nobody ever wrote me songs or odes before. It’s sweet.” And if they sometimes didn’t make sense, well, that was what getting high was for. Charlie’s poetry was brilliant when they were high. Charlie smiled and laid his head on Ricky’s shoulder. It was a soft, sweet, subconscious gesture. Ricky brushed a lock of dark hair back from Charlie’s cheek and exhaled, looking around at the now-dwindling protest. “Maybe tomorrow.”

Charlie lifted his head, and Ricky knew he understood what Ricky meant. Maybe tomorrow they’d be heard. Maybe tomorrow they’d make a difference. Maybe the war would end and no one else’s brother wouldn’t come home. Charlie nodded. “Yeah, maybe tomorrow…”

ALSO BY F AE S UTHERLAND & MARGUERITE LABBE 629 Miles To Love The Mask He Wears

FORTUNATE SON BY FAE SUTHERLAND & MARGUERITE LABBE

AMBER Q UILL PRESS, LLC http://www.AmberQuill.com

FORTUNATE SON AN AMBER QUILL PRESS BOOK This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. Amber Quill Press, LLC http://www.AmberQuill.com All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review. Copyright © 2009 by Fae Sutherland & Marguerite Labbe ISBN 978-1-60272-506-5 Cover Art © 2009 Trace Edward Zaber

Layout and Formatting provided by: Elemental Alchemy

PUBLISHED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

For everyone who ever told me “You can’t.” Yes, I can. —Fae Sutherland To my dad George, who served two tours and lost friends in Vietnam. Thank you for everything you’ve given me. —Marguerite Labbe

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CHAPTER 1 October 20, 1967 “Do you think they’ll hear us this time?” Ricky Anderson smiled and turned onto his side, drawing a crocheted blanket over himself and the young man beside him. He nodded, slipping one arm around Charlie’s waist as they lay facing each other. The backseat of the bus was cramped, but Ricky hardly noticed. He had Charlie in his arms after all. “Yeah. I do. Your idealism is contagious.” Ricky didn’t know if their protest would make a change, but it was better than not trying. They had to do something. Charlie laughed, and Ricky’s stomach tightened. Charlie 1

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was beautiful when he laughed. Ricky twisted, reaching down behind him to grab a small plastic baggie off his duffle bag, grinning as he settled back down beside his best friend and lover. “Why, Ricky, what would your momma say if she saw you with those?” Ricky chuckled, plucking out a small, dried mushroom from the bag and popping it in his mouth. “My momma ain’t ever gonna find out.” Charlie snickered and took the bag from Ricky’s hand, helping himself. Ricky nuzzled Charlie’s neck, warmth and slight dizziness washing over him as the drugs began to work, on top of the ones already there. Namely, the pot that hung in a haze of smoke. He’d never realized how clear everything was when you were high. The world made sense, colors were more vivid and everything felt so much more. He lifted his head and grinned at Charlie through the shadows of the dark bus. Every so often, a sliver of light flashed across his lover’s face through the windows as streetlamps whizzed by in a flare of color. “Your face is so strange…have you ever noticed how strange your face is?” He traced his fingers over the planes and contours, tweaking one oddly bent ear. “Your ears are all messed up.” Charlie batted his hand away with a chuckle. Ricky laughed in return, and when Charlie shifted sinuously against him, the laugh died, replaced by desire. Ricky rolled his hips and captured one of Charlie’s slim thighs between his own. 2

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“Let’s fuck.” “You’re crazy,” Charlie retorted, even as he shifted again and pressed his thigh harder against Ricky’s stirring cock. “No amount of pot haze is going to hide that.” He kissed Ricky’s throat, soft lips teasing, his goatee and hair scratching in a delicious combination. “Let’s make out and touch.” Charlie’s hand slid underneath Ricky’s combat vest and Tshirt to splay his long fingers on bare skin. Ricky groaned, the sensual touch sparking off even more colors, which hung jewel-like in the air between them. Making love with Charlie was magic. Ricky shifted against his lover, hand slipping down to curl at his hip and loving the feel of the sharp indent. Ricky loved stretching Charlie out under him, all long legs, slim arms and lithe waist. Charlie had taught him that word, lithe, when he had tutored him on his English essays the day they’d met. Ricky liked that word. It suited the way Charlie’s waist curved and moved, flat and sleek. Charlie’s hands tangled in his hair, tugging Ricky’s head down for a kiss, their mouths fumbling. He tasted nutty from the ’shrooms, sweet from the pot, and that underlying bit that was Charlie, all spice and sex. Ricky smiled against Charlie’s lips as his hands searched for the spots that made his lover moan. He loved the sound of Charlie’s moans. They should be put to music. Somewhere in the background, Ricky heard another one of their fellow protestors start singing and it didn’t take long for others to pipe in. Still there were those who, like them, had 3

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much more interesting activities in mind. Charlie giggled as Ricky’s fingers tickled over his ribs, but the soft laughter ceased when Ricky found his nipple, rolling it into a hard bud. Charlie groaned, shifting against Ricky’s thigh. “Yeah, like that.” Ricky loved the way Charlie’s voice hitched. It told Ricky louder than words that he was driving his baby crazy with pleasure. And he hadn’t even gotten started yet. He knew Charlie was right; still he couldn’t help wanting to turn his lover away from him and push those snug jeans down to take him. Then Charlie moved against him with an impatient sound in his throat, and Ricky decided this was pretty damn good. He smiled and gave Charlie’s nipple another pinch, harder this time, and Charlie twisted against him with a shaky moan. “Kiss me, Charlie,” Ricky murmured, and his beautiful Charlie didn’t hesitate. Slender arms twined around Ricky’s neck and he had a vague impression of sexy, promising golden eyes in a flash of streetlight as Charlie drew him in and consumed his soul with those lush lips. They rubbed against each other, heat making their skin tingle and mist with sweat despite the chill of the fall night outside. Inside their cocoon, on their seat of the bus, it was sultry and warm. No one had ever kissed Ricky like Charlie did. Consuming, needy and demanding, it never failed to steal Ricky’s breath and tighten the already iron grip Charlie had on him. Ricky’s instinct had him wanting to roll Charlie beneath 4

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him and seek out the snug heat he’d come to crave, but instead he slid one hand down the back of Charlie’s jeans and palmed his soft, small ass. They might be the same height, but Charlie was far slimmer, skinny almost were it not for the bit of lean muscle that saved him from that description. Ricky tugged Charlie’s headband off and ran his hand through the long silken tangle of hair. He could wrap himself up in Charlie’s hair. It was dark, nearly black, with burnished highlights from the sun. Ricky liked the way it looked spread out on the sheets of his tiny bed back in his dorm in Boston. His blood singing, Ricky’s fingers tightened on Charlie’s ass, rocking against him with the sway of the bus and rhythm of the song of the road. “We can do it. Just turn around, baby. We can be quiet.” “Since when?” Charlie laughed, worming his hand into Ricky’s jeans. He gave Ricky’s cock a light squeeze that had him seeing new hot flashes of color. “Besides, I like teasing you, farm boy. Your eyes go hot…makes me weak inside.” Charlie’s fingers stroked, dancing over his cock, slipping back toward his entrance, then over his balls. “You inspire me, Ricky. You’re my muse, I swear it.” Ricky chuckled, undoing Charlie’s jeans and tugging the blanket higher when it threatened to slip. “Just don’t start spouting poetry right now or I will be fucking you.” He slid Charlie’s jeans down around his thighs as his lover wiggled, cursing under his breath when he kicked something and his guitar gave a mournful twang. There was no room in the back of the bus, not with Charlie’s insistence on bringing 5

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his guitar. They also had backpacks with snacks and other necessities for the long journey to DC. Ricky rubbed his hand over the silken curve of Charlie’s ass and gripped his lean hip. “Turn around, baby. We’re not the only ones misbehaving. Be naughty with me.” He nipped Charlie’s earlobe, smiling as his lover gasped. Then Charlie sank one of his fingers into him, and Ricky gasped in return. The sneaky devil. Ricky retaliated with a finger thrust deep inside Charlie and had to cover Charlie’s mouth with his own to muffle the sharp cry that spilled from him. Maybe fucking wasn’t such a good idea. Ricky wasn’t an exhibitionist, and logic seeped through the pot haze and the whirl of the ’shrooms. He slid his tongue into Charlie’s mouth and groaned when his lover latched onto it and sucked hard. They couldn’t stay still, both of them, wriggling and rocking against each other. Hands fumbled and squirmed, their bodies rubbing in the tight space. Ricky shifted his finger inside Charlie, gasping into his mouth when his lover did the same in return, pleasure rocketing like a sizzle of flame along Ricky’s nerves. Ricky broke the kiss, gasping, and met Charlie’s eyes. They were burning it seemed, a vivid golden-brown, rimmed by dark fluttering lashes. Paired with the kiss-pink lips and flushed naked skin, Ricky hadn’t ever seen anything more beautiful. “You’re poetry. Not words, though, colors and textures and smells.” Charlie gave him a beaming smile. “I’m rubbing off on 6

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you.” Ricky laughed, nibbling those petal-pink lips. “Oh, yes, you are. Rub some more.” Charlie slid his tongue along Ricky’s throat, tracing it up over his jaw. Ricky pictured laying him out on the hay in his father’s barn, the sun shining off chaff in the air, or even better, on the sand in California. He’d never been on the west coast before. He bet Charlie had. His lover had been places, done things Ricky had only dreamed of. He was about to ask if they could go to California someday when Charlie slid Ricky’s jeans down as well and his finger thrust harder. All thought left at that explosion of pure electricity. “Ooohh.” Ricky sighed, his hips jerking as he clenched around Charlie’s finger. They were a tangle of limbs, clothing askew, fingers teasing and pressing against those spots deep inside that created sensations better than any drug. He stroked Charlie’s cock and moaned as Charlie wrapped his free hand around Ricky’s in turn. He’d never encountered a madness like this before Charlie. Their mouths met again in long, sipping kisses. Ricky’s lips tingled, and the kiss intensified, his tongue sinking inside Charlie’s mouth over and over in a slow rhythm that had Charlie melting against him. Surrender tasted sweet on Charlie…always had. For all that he seemed so self-possessed and in control on the outside, in private he yielded in a way which made Ricky dizzy. Oh, he had him now. “I want to taste you,” Charlie whispered, rubbing against 7

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Ricky sensuously. He tried to shift to take Ricky’s cock in his mouth, but their limited space hampered him and he cursed. Ricky chuckled at the pout to his lower lip. “Turn around, baby…it’ll make it easier. Just turn around.” If he kept kissing Charlie it would muffle the sounds, not that anyone on the bus was paying attention. He knew his baby. At this point, any protests Charlie made would be token. He was craving sex as much as Ricky. He might blush like crazy in the morning, but that was it. Charlie stared at Ricky for a long moment, as if considering. Hell, if he kept chewing on his lip like that, Ricky was going to take the decision away from him. Then Charlie blushed and shifted, squirming around to face the back of the seat and looking back over his shoulder at Ricky. “Don’t get us kicked off this bus, farm boy. I don’t feel like hitchhiking.” Ricky shivered and nodded. Charlie did that often, a last protest, as if he wasn’t entirely into going along with things, when they both knew Charlie was as wicked as Ricky. He just needed nudging sometimes. Like now. Ricky stretched out on his side behind Charlie, making sure the blanket was covering them. Their bodies meshed perfectly, curve for curve. Ricky buried his face in the nape of Charlie’s neck, in the tangle of his soft, dark hair, then lifted his head, one hand coming around to slide against Charlie’s opposite cheek, turning his face toward him and capturing his lover’s lips. He’d kiss him until neither of them could breathe. He reached his hand down and slid it between Charlie’s 8

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thighs from behind, the skin hot and soft. He lifted Charlie’s top leg up and bemoaned the fact that, with their jeans still around their knees, there would be no limbs tangling together. Oh, well, he’d take what he could get. Charlie kept moaning into his mouth, and the way his slim hips rocked in eagerness made Ricky shudder and melt. He hurried to slide two fingers inside his lover, needing him ready because his body was on a collision course to fucking and he didn’t want to hurt Charlie when he reached the no turning back point. Charlie reached around, his hand fisting in Ricky’s shaggy hair. There wasn’t much room to move, but Charlie clenched and wiggled. It made Ricky faint headed to think about how it was going to feel when that snug heat surrounded him with Charlie moving like that. It didn’t take much preparation. Charlie was relaxed and eager, spurring Ricky on with soft, impatient sighs. Then his lover broke away to rummage through the bags. Ricky moaned, his cock throbbing and rubbing against the cleft of Charlie’s ass. What was he up to now? Then Ricky groaned, as long fingers reached between him to stroke over Ricky’s cock. They were silken and oiled, moving over him with ease. Ricky turned his face into Charlie’s neck and hair. “You thought ahead.” Charlie laughed, low and throaty. “I try. Now, come on. Don’t wanna wait.” Charlie might protest, but when he gave in, he did so whole-heartedly. Ricky slid his fingers out and grasped 9

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Charlie’s lean hips. They fit just right in his hands. His mouth moved along Charlie’s jaw until his baby turned his head and they kissed. In a sensuous fog, Ricky felt Charlie’s hand guide him. His cock pressed against his lover’s entrance, Charlie’s cheeks and thighs holding him tighter than normal as he pushed deep inside. “Damn, baby…so hot. Got gypsy eyes, you know that?” Ricky murmured against his mouth. In fact, there were many things about his lover that brought roaming bands of gypsies to mind. His dark coloring, hooded golden eyes and raven black hair, ruddy, tawny skin and exotic features…he was nothing like anyone Ricky had ever met back home in Iowa or anywhere else. There was only one Charlie and he was all Ricky’s. Then Ricky shut up because he was inside Charlie and the pleasure was visible, a wild array of vibrant colors sparking in the air between them. He wondered if the other bus-goers could see them, too, like a fourth of July show going on in the back seat. Ricky didn’t care if everyone saw them. Not when he was moving inside Charlie, with Charlie clenching hot and tight around him. Ricky wouldn’t have cared if his daddy had tapped him on the shoulder right then. Ricky claimed Charlie’s lips again, rocking his hips, one hand firm on Charlie’s narrow waist to hold him steady as he thrust, his movements forced to be shallow and short, but the pleasure was no less intense. Muted and strung tight, the effort to keep quiet and the high running through his body all combined into what was possibly the most stunning sex Ricky 10

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had ever had. Of course, every time with Charlie translated into the best time ever. Each upped the last and Ricky wondered if it would ever plateau and stop getting better. Charlie’s hand laced with Ricky’s on his side, and Ricky squeezed, circling his hips. Charlie gasped and whimpered, the quiet sound shuddering through Ricky. He panted, murmuring against Charlie’s lips. “My gypsy love…” His tongue traced sensually, and he groaned when his lover sucked it into his mouth. The kiss delved hotter than ever into dark, shadowed recesses where the dirtiest things happened. Shadows Ricky only dared to explore with Charlie. “Mmmm, wanna take off in a boat with you, Ricky. Just us on the ocean, free, no worries.” Charlie sighed as he broke the kiss, thumb stroking the back of Ricky’s hand. “I can write my poems about you, sing you songs. I’ll be all yours.” “You are all mine.” Ricky kissed Charlie again. It was a nice dream and he thought he might live in it a little while as they made love. It beat reality, where there were drafts to worry about and the weight of knowing his parents had sold some of their land to give him a chance his brother had never had. Ricky’s heart twisted. He wrapped his arms around Charlie, pressing closer, hiding his face in Charlie’s neck as he thrust harder. Charlie gasped. The musical sound brought him back to the dream and the familiar pain drifted away. Heat, pleasure and Charlie’s writhing, slim body were the only things that existed. The bus lurched into a pothole, bouncing them, and 11

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Charlie moaned loudly, clenching. Ricky loosened one arm to brush Charlie’s hair away and then fisted his hand in it so he could kiss him. That muffled his moans because Charlie was beyond holding back. He got like this when the wild, sensual side of him was unleashed, as if all thoughts of decorum fled. Ricky loved it. Charlie rocked harder. At one point, he’d reached behind the both of them and now Charlie’s fingers were pressed against Ricky’s ass, holding him still as he worked back and forth on his cock. Ricky couldn’t breathe. Maybe it was the kiss, or the sensations…he didn’t know or care. He just didn’t want it to end. Oh, but it was going to end, and too soon for Ricky. He groaned, fingers curling tighter on Charlie’s waist, digging into the sleek skin as the pleasure rose. He moaned, trying to keep quiet, but he was rapidly forgetting why he should. He pulled back slightly and managed to slide his free hand around to close over Charlie’s mouth, shuddering when Charlie drew one of Ricky’s fingers inside and suckled on it. Ricky’s hips thrust harder, short and deep, grinding against Charlie’s ass. “Charlie…” He gasped, burying his face in Charlie’s neck and latching onto the tender skin, drawing on it, marking him, and Charlie shuddered hard in reaction. Then he tightened, and Ricky was lost, stiffening and bucking his hips hard as he came. Charlie wasn’t far behind, working his hips back hard, circling them, shaking, and when he came, he bit the pad of 12

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Ricky’s finger, stinging it, but not in a bad way. The connection between them was breathtaking, and Ricky quickly withdrew his finger and claimed Charlie’s lips as the last tremors of his orgasm wracked his body. They were sweaty and sticky, and Ricky didn’t care. He was floating unfettered, with only Charlie for company and it was more than enough. He panted, lips curving in a lazy smile. “Aw, damn, my wicked gypsy love…” Charlie sagged into the broken upholstery and wrapped the blanket tighter around them. “Wicked? Nah, farm boy, that’s all you. I thought they grew them innocent in Iowa.” Ricky chuckled and rubbed his mouth against Charlie’s throat. The sex in the air was more potent than the drugs. “I was, then I met you. You taught me all kinds of things besides what was in those books of yours.” Charlie shook his head, his hair tickling Ricky. “It was already there, just hidden. Maybe I woke it up, but it’s always been there.” He turned his head and brushed a kiss over Ricky’s jaw. “Now you’re teaching me things. Wonderful things.” His voice sounded sleepy and sated, and Ricky knew he’d put that tone there. “Share ’em with me in the morning.” Ricky nudged those lips apart and kissed him lingeringly. They should move, but it felt so good to be snuggled up against him, still inside his heat. “Got a long day ahead.” Charlie’s fingers stroked his hair, tender in a way that made Ricky’s throat tighten. “You going to be okay tomorrow?” 13

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Ricky thought of his brother and his heart twisted. The drugs and Charlie’s warmth muted the anger, but it would be there in the morning. It always was. Charlie was the only thing that tempered it. “I’ll be fine. I’ve gotta do this.” Charlie laid his head back on Ricky’s shoulder. “Me, too. We’ll do it together.”

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CHAPTER 2 “Give me your hand, Ricky.” Charlie’s voice was quiet, yet it cut through the noise of the protesters and Ricky’s own furious thoughts. He turned his head and met knowing gypsy eyes. Ricky’s brows furrowed, but he gave Charlie his hand. As soon as their fingers touched, Ricky felt some of the tension and anger roused by the speeches begin to ease. He was calmer, more in control. Which was good…he needed to be because, as they crested the hill and the Pentagon came into view, Ricky saw the lines of military officers blocking the entrance. This was going to get messy. Charlie could apparently sense it, too, because he squeezed 15

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Ricky’s hand and moved closer as they walked. “I’m fine,” Ricky lied. The truth was, the speeches and crowds of likeminded protesters had Ricky wound up. Furious. His brother Randy’s face ran through his mind over and over in a slideshow, culminating with Randy’s coffin. An empty coffin, laid in an empty grave. His brother was never coming home, not even his body. While many others, Charlie included, protested the war for idealistic reasons, Ricky protested because he was furious. Because of this war, his brother would never come home. Because of this war, his parents had been forced to sell off part of their livelihood so Ricky could go to college and not wind up in that hellhole where his brother had died. Because of this war, Ricky’s life was forever changed and not for the better. He was so angry. Only Charlie’s presence, and his grip on Ricky, soothed him. Charlie squeezed his hand again. “Will you look at that?” Ricky glanced over to where he was pointing, at a huge number of protestors already there, in addition to the new ones marching from the DC mall. He had been concentrating so hard on the soldiers barring the way that he’d missed them. Some were singing, others chanting and waving signs. The soldiers were ignoring the entire scene, staring straight ahead, as if unmoved by the display. “The more of us there are, the better our chances of being heard.” Charlie’s mouth twitched as they passed by one of the groups sitting down on the ground, signs discarded. “I heard 16

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about this. They’re trying to exorcise the Pentagon. It’s supposed to levitate and turn orange, and when it does, the war will end.” Ricky cast the group a speculative glance again. “When we’re done, why don’t we come back and see if they’re willing to share some of what they’re smoking.” It was a nice thought and would be amusing to participate in, but right now, he had another agenda. His steps quickened as he focused all his attention on the soldiers and strode determinedly toward them, Charlie following alongside him, casting him worried looks. “I’m fine.” Ricky didn’t mean to snap, but it came out that way. Charlie leaned over and brushed his lips over Ricky’s cheek. “I didn’t say you weren’t.” He gave Ricky a teasing smile before his eyes became serious and tender. “And I’m here.” Ricky nodded. He didn’t let go of Charlie’s hand, trying his best to focus on the calming effect his lover had. The soldiers with their guns and blank expressions made his stomach tighten. He felt sick, staring at them. Soldiers just like these had watched his brother die. And inside that building were the people who had sent his brother to die. Ricky was going to get inside, one way or another. What he’d do once he was there…well, he’d figure that out when the time came. For the most part, the protesters hovered a dozen yards away from the entrance and the guards, as if trying to decide whether to approach. They were still singing, chanting, but 17

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Ricky could tell they weren’t quite sure what to do next. Fuck that. Ricky knew. Breaking away from the crowd, with Charlie’s hand still in his, he stalked across those empty yards and up the low steps. He halted face-to-face and less than a foot from one of the soldiers. He didn’t say anything at first, just glared at the young man, who didn’t make eye contact. “Look at me,” Ricky said in a hiss. The soldier did, before his eyes darted away. “Look at me!” The silence that had fallen over the group of protesters broke, spurred on by Ricky’s shout. More surged forward, climbing the steps to challenge other soldiers as well. Ricky barely noticed, focused on the one in front of him, like that young man was the sole incarnation of everything that had ruined Ricky’s life. “You’re gonna protect them? You’re willing to die for them? Why aren’t they out here, huh? Who’s gonna protect you? Your guns? I’m not afraid of your guns, soldier boy. I’m not afraid of you, either.” The soldier finally met Ricky’s eyes, derision and fear on the young man’s face. The expression made Ricky angry. So angry. Had Randy looked like that at the end? No, no. His brother had been strong and brave; nothing scared him. Ricky reached inside his T-shirt for the pair of dog tags he never took off and lifted them out. “Ricky…” Charlie’s voice was quiet, worried, and he 18

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moved closer. “I need to do this.” Ricky glared at the soldier as Charlie ran his thumb over the back of his hand and remained silent. Ricky touched the dog tags again. “This was Randall Anderson, damn you. My mama didn’t even get to bury him properly. You know why?” His voice rose to a near shout, drowning out the sounds of singing around him. “There was nothing left of him to bring home!” Charlie’s hand tightened as the soldier glanced down at the tags. He was so young, about Randy’s age if he’d lived, and the soldier’s jaw tightened. That was the crux of it, though— this man still lived. He was here safe in DC, while others were dying every day in some damn country no one cared about. Politics. Ricky hated it. “Have you ever asked yourself why?” Ricky followed an example he’d learned from watching Charlie and lowered his voice. It had the desired effect as the soldier met his eyes again, not looking away. They were hazel, afraid and angry. Ricky hated him all the more for being alive. “You’re just gonna follow along blindly, let them kill you, kill your friends or even better come back crippled or crazy. For what?” Ricky glanced over at his companions. Up and down the line more protesters had joined in, some confronting as Ricky had done and others finding their own methods. A few of the rifles now sported flowers sticking out of their barrels. One man had hung his “make love, not war sign” on another rifle, while a woman danced in front of the line to the rhythm in her mind, imploring the soldiers to join her. 19

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It was useless. No one else understood. Even Charlie, as much as he cared, didn’t know what it was like to lose a brother and not understand why he was gone. It was an endless, gnawing hole inside of him. The others were here to promote an idealistic notion of good that would never happen. He almost pitied them. He wanted Randy back, and that wasn’t going to happen. Ricky turned and pushed blindly back into the crowd, and Charlie stumbled at the abrupt change of direction, tugging his hand free. Ricky froze, his eyes snapping to Charlie’s worried face, the loss of contact agonizing. Then Charlie was slipping his arms around Ricky’s waist, uncaring of the crowd around them as he pressed closer. Charlie’s fingertips caressed his cheek, and Ricky closed his eyes savoring the simple, easy contact. “Hey, farm boy, you okay?” Ricky lips twitched. Only Charlie could mix the right amount of teasing and tender concern into his voice that made him respond. “Yes, no…ugh, I don’t know.” Ricky opened his eyes and pressed a quick kiss to Charlie’s lips. “I’ve got to get inside.” Charlie didn’t say anything for a long moment, and Ricky could tell by the way his brows drew together that his lover was planning. Ricky watched, intrigued, as Charlie turned in a slow circle and scanned their surroundings and the building beyond the soldiers. “Come on.” Ricky cocked his head, but followed as Charlie led him 20

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away from the protesters, toward the side of the Pentagon. Ricky frowned, glancing back at the crowd and then at Charlie, confused. “Where are we going?” “Trust me.” Ricky did and so he stopped asking questions Charlie clearly wasn’t going to answer. A couple of other members of their bus group spotted them walking away and hurried to join them. Charlie didn’t protest their presence, so Ricky didn’t either. As they slipped around the corner of the building, the sounds of the crowd grew quieter the farther they went. Ricky’s stomach leapt in realization. There was another door here, a side entrance, and his heart began to pound as Charlie led him to it. He grinned. “You’re brilliant.” Charlie shrugged with a smile and gestured to the door, his eyes on Ricky. “Lead the way.” Ricky knew Charlie understood that, while Charlie and the others were protesting too, this was personal to Ricky and meant more than an end to a war no one wanted. Ricky nodded, taking a deep breath as he reached for the door handle. He didn’t expect it to open, so when it did, he stumbled inside, startled. “Holy shit…” He peered back at his lover and their companions. Charlie winked. “Press entrance. Just don’t do anything stupid and make me regret it.” Ricky laughed. “What’s the point then?” He still didn’t know what he was going to do. Hell, it wasn’t like he was 21

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going to try to hurt anyone. He didn’t know. He just wanted someone to see him. To hear him. The sound of rushing feet was the only warning they had. Soldiers surrounded them, pushing them backward. Ricky’s heart pounded as the scuffle tore Charlie from his side, and he struggled to reach his lover. “Charlie!” Rough hands tugged and shoved. Though he thought he heard Charlie over the shouts, he couldn’t see past the wall of bodies to find him. Ricky snarled and planted his fist into one soldier’s jaw, then doubled over gasping for breath as other fists landed on him. More hands picked him up, and the next thing he knew he was falling down the steps, the hard stone bouncing and jarring him. Protestors rushed past him roaring, heading for the small entrance. Behind him, he heard exclamations of pain and the hiss of teargas. Gingerly, Ricky picked himself up, bruises already aching all over his body, and scanned the area for Charlie. He found his lover sitting up, shaking his head. Fear pushed away Ricky’s fury as he rushed toward him. “You okay?” he demanded, kneeling next to him. His lover smiled, his eyes sad as he reached up and gently touched the corner of Ricky’s mouth. Ricky winced, feeling the blood trickling from his lip, tickling his skin. Charlie sighed and nodded. “Yeah, I’m okay, and I look better than you.” Around them the crowd started singing “America the Beautiful.” It was moving and ironic at the same time as the soldiers repulsed the protestors, some using their rifle butts. 22

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Ricky was tired, not the kind of tired a person got from being up half the night and walking all day, but the kind of tired that went deep, to his soul. It didn’t take long for the soldiers and their teargas to push back the crowd. Ricky kept Charlie close behind him, shouting as the uniformed men hauled off several dozen of their number in handcuffs. As the excitement ebbed, Ricky slid his arm around Charlie, leading him away to sit on a low wall. “You sure you’re alright?” It was apparent that any attempt to get inside the Pentagon was not going to happen, so the bunch of them had settled for singing and chanting, blocking the entrances and settling into a peaceful, if annoying for the government, protest. Charlie nodded, urging Ricky to sit, too. “Yeah, let me get a look at that lip.” Ricky held still as Charlie probed, his slim, elegant fingers brushing the swollen, injured side of his lower lip. Ricky examined Charlie’s face, so close to his own, as his lover took a small packet of alcohol wipes from his backpack. Leave it to Charlie to be prepared. Ricky wondered if he’d been a Boy Scout when he was little. “Thank you.” Golden eyes lifted to meet his own and Charlie tipped his head with a curious smile. “For what?” Ricky shrugged, gesturing to his lip, then toward the building. “For everything. For getting me in. For taking care of me now. You’re my guiding light, Charlie.” He was the one 23

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person who seemed able to reach Ricky through the haze of anger and hurt that sometimes took over. The only one who had tried to see past the corn-fed Midwestern farmer to the rebel inside. The only person who had told Ricky it was okay to let that rebel out. Ricky owed Charlie for a lot. Charlie blushed and shook his head. He finished cleaning Ricky’s lip and put away the supplies. “It was nothing. Anybody would’ve—” Ricky cut him off, covering Charlie’s mouth and meeting wide eyes. “No, anybody wouldn’t have. You did. Thank you.” He raised his brows. “This is the part where you say ‘you’re welcome.’” When he lifted his hand, Charlie said nothing, although he looked like he wanted to say something, even opened his mouth to do so, then shook his head and focused on zipping up his pack. “It’s a good thing we brought the blankets and food. I heard a bunch of people saying we’re camping out here tonight and then marching to the White House at dawn to wake Johnson.” Ricky nodded, not sure why, but a little uncertain for a second. Then Charlie looked up at him with a smile, and Ricky forgot anything but that. “Maybe we can get thrown down the steps of the White House, too.” Ricky bit his lip, then flinched. “Stop that,” Charlie chided, brushing his fingers over Ricky’s jaw. “You’re going to break it open again.” His eyes warmed and he grinned. “Though you look sexy with your lip 24

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all swollen. It makes me think dirty thoughts.” Ricky chuckled, the momentary intuition that something was off between them disappearing at the suggestion of Charlie connected in any way with dirty thoughts. “Why don’t you share some of these thoughts?” “I could sing you a bad song, or recite you some atrocious poetry about it, but you’ve been saved. My guitar has suffered a disastrous fate.” Ricky’s eyes widened as he realized Charlie wasn’t carrying his guitar. Charlie took it everywhere with him. The only thing left was the handmade, multicolored strap over his shoulder. “What happened?” Ricky jumped to his feet, searching the milling crowd for some sign of it. Charlie shrugged and took Ricky’s hand again. “Taking it on a Pentagon raid was a bad idea. It didn’t survive the tumble down the stairs.” He smiled. “It’s okay. I’ll save up for another one, and you can enjoy your reprieve in the meantime. Or we can dip into the ’shrooms and pot again tonight and I’m sure you’ll hear music.” Ricky felt bad—Charlie loved that stupid guitar. There was nothing he could do, though, so he let Charlie pull him back down beside him. He cast a sidelong glance at his lover and smiled, nudging him with his shoulder. “Your poetry isn’t bad. I love your poetry.” He leaned in and brushed a kiss across Charlie’s cheek. “I love that you write poetry about me. Nobody ever wrote me songs or odes before. It’s sweet.” And if they sometimes didn’t make sense, well, that was what getting high was for. Charlie’s poetry was 25

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brilliant when they were high. Charlie smiled and laid his head on Ricky’s shoulder. It was a soft, sweet, subconscious gesture. Ricky brushed a lock of dark hair back from Charlie’s cheek and exhaled, looking around at the now-dwindling protest. “Maybe tomorrow.” Charlie lifted his head, and Ricky knew he understood what Ricky meant. Maybe tomorrow they’d be heard. Maybe tomorrow they’d make a difference. Maybe the war would end and no one else’s brother wouldn’t come home. Charlie nodded. “Yeah, maybe tomorrow.”

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CHAPTER 3 Picket signs made great firewood. Ricky tossed another post onto the fire, then tugged the blanket around their shoulders, snuggling close against Charlie, legs tucked against his chest. “Charlie?” His lover shifted. “Yes?” Ricky turned his head to meet his eyes, which glowed golden in the firelight. “Sing me a song.” “I never thought I’d meet someone who loved the sound of my voice more than me.” “Stop it.” Ricky nudged him. “Please?” He didn’t know why, but Charlie’s voice soothed him. It had a cadence to it, a 27

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low thrumming quality that made one listen. He could listen to him talk for hours. Sometimes he thought Charlie was heard better with his soft way of speaking than most people were shouting. Charlie wrapped his arm around Ricky’s shoulder and pulled him closer. A tender smile crossed his lips. “Anything you need.” He kissed Ricky’s temple, then started singing, just loud enough for the two of them. There were others, around their own fires singing their own songs, but Ricky only had ears for Charlie. He sang “Yesterday” by the Beatles and there was a plaintive tone to it that caught Ricky’s attention. His own worries fell away as he started wondering what was bothering Charlie. When the last note died off Ricky touched his chin, Charlie’s beard rough against his fingertips. He turned those gypsy eyes on him, and Ricky’s heart tumbled. “What?” Charlie just smiled and turned his head to kiss Ricky’s fingers. “All this talking. Rhetoric. Proselytizing. Words spoken or falling deaf on a page. Useless debris. Verbiage tumbling in the wind. Others are dying. Lives blown short. Empty coffins. Furious souls. 28

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All this talking. Promises. Endearments. Words unsaid or lost amidst the crevices. Timid secrets. Will you leave me tumbling in the wind? Am I what I reveal? The sum and equal of all my parts. Or am I who I chose to be? Untainted by familial policy.” Ricky drew his brows together, trying to make sense of what Charlie was telling him when his lover broke off and wrinkled his nose. “Too melodramatic, I’m sorry. I know that’s not what you’re looking for.” He dropped a kiss onto Ricky’s lips. “How about a dirty limerick instead? “There once was a farm boy from Iowa. Who’s—” Ricky clapped his hand over Charlie’s mouth. “Please, don’t. I’m sober and I don’t wanna know what parts of me you’ll attempt to rhyme with Iowa.” Ricky lifted his hand from Charlie’s mouth and revealed a soft, sweet smile that made Ricky’s heart flip inside his chest. He brushed his fingertips across Charlie’s cheek, drinking in his features, every line and curve of his beautiful face. In truth, his Charlie was a mass of flaws thrown together that somehow added up to unutterable beauty. Ears that poked out and bent at the tips. Eyes too close together. A patrician nose that reddened at the tip when he was cold, embarrassed 29

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or had too much beer. He was almost too skinny, and a scar marred his upper lip. A mass of flaws. And yet combined in such a manner he took Ricky’s breath away. “I love you.” The words tumbled out and Ricky was afraid he shouldn’t have said them. Charlie would think he was a silly boy from the farm who didn’t understand that love was for everyone, not just one specific person. But then Charlie’s eyes lit up, warming from the inside, and Ricky breathed a sigh of relief. Charlie understood. Love wasn’t free at all, not this kind of love. “Ah, my sweet, angry farm boy, I love you, too.” Ricky’s chest unknotted. He sank his hand into Charlie’s hair and leaned in, kissing him. It was slow and brimming with all of those crazy emotions Charlie triggered. Fierce and tender, hot and loving, Ricky couldn’t get enough. They broke apart, and Ricky nuzzled against Charlie’s lips. It was cold outside the blanket, even the side of him that faced the fire, but not under here with Charlie pressed against him. Charlie lowered his eyes, lashes making dark crescents against his check. “Ricky, I—” “Do you have a finger?” Ricky glanced up, irritated by the interruption. A couple sat themselves next to their fire, huddling close. Sometimes Ricky forgot they weren’t alone when they were together. Maybe he could convince Charlie to steal away somewhere else where it could just be the two of them, maybe make love overlooking the river. 30

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“Yeah.” Charlie dug through his knapsack and tossed the man a marijuana cigarette before glancing at Ricky, a silent question in his eyes. Ricky shook his head. He didn’t feel like getting high. He didn’t want to socialize much either. Charlie chatted with them, talking about the day’s march and the possibility of more rallies tomorrow. Ricky shifted, restless with the desire to be alone. He glanced over his shoulder, but it was hard to see far with the bonfires. He nudged Charlie with his shoulder. “Wanna slip away?” Charlie gave him a grateful look and nodded. They excused themselves, grabbed an extra blanket and their backpacks and headed away from the fire. It was cold, but Ricky would prefer the chill to any company but Charlie’s. They found a spot under a tree on the water’s edge, bushes clustered around it that gave privacy. Ricky spread out one of the blankets and pulled Charlie down to sit beside him, and they both huddled under the other blanket. “We’re going to catch our death,” Charlie murmured. Ricky shrugged with a smile. “There’re worse ways to go than wrapped up in your arms.” His smile faded, considering those other ways. Charlie must have sensed his thoughts because he caught Ricky’s chin and turned his face toward him. Warm lips brushed Ricky’s and he sighed into the kiss, letting all the dark thoughts go for the moment. He didn’t want to think about anything but Charlie. He urged Charlie back onto the blanket, covering Charlie’s body with his own, and deepened the kiss. If he could, he would never stop kissing him. He felt whole, less jagged and 31

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hollow inside. He shifted and his heart kicked up when Charlie’s legs spread to cradle him. It was like coming home. He broke the kiss, lips nibbling along Charlie’s jaw and neck, the scruff there abrading his mouth in the most sensual way. “Ricky…I…” Ricky lifted his head and met Charlie’s golden eyes through the shadows. “Love me, Charlie. I need you to, tonight more than ever.” Charlie’s sighed and his hands came up to frame Ricky’s face. “I do…don’t ever forget.” Before Ricky could respond, his lover was kissing him with an intensity that showed he was the center of Charlie’s attention. Ricky moaned, sinking into the kiss and the warmth of Charlie’s arms. Nothing bad could happen when Charlie held him. He pulled back, kissing over Charlie’s face and throat as his lover stroked his hand through Ricky’s hair. Ricky slid his hand under Charlie’s shirt, and Charlie jolted, then Ricky realized why when his lover’s hands touched his own bare skin. They were cold and it was startling, though they soon warmed. “Let’s go to California this summer,” Ricky murmured. “I wanna lay you out on a beach where it’s warm. I wanna see you naked in the sun.” “Sounds beautiful. Or we could wrangle up a boat and go sailing. I’ve dreamed about sailing with you.” Charlie laughed. “I’d never let you off. You’d be all mine, and I could sing you 32

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all the songs you wanted.” Ricky ducked his head under the blanket and slid Charlie’s shirt up. He pressed a kiss to the center of his chest. A dusting of hair there made a thin trail down to disappear into Charlie’s jeans. His tongue trailed over Charlie’s skin, searching until he found Charlie’s nipple, already hard for him. “You taste good.” He drew the nipple into his mouth, sucking and circling with his tongue. His lover moaned, arching underneath him, their cocks hardening and rubbing against each other through their clothing. Reality couldn’t hold a candle to what they’d built between them. There were no politics, anger or fighting, no hatred. Only love, pleasure and two people who were beginning to think maybe changing the world wasn’t as important as changing their own corner of it. Ricky would be happy with that. He and Charlie, on the open water. Charlie playing his guitar and singing to him, making love whenever the urge struck. No drafts and no one to tell them they shouldn’t. “Maybe, when college is over, we’ll do that. Float away together.” He lifted his head and found Charlie smiling at him. Ricky reached up to touch a finger to his mouth. “Always smile.” Charlie drew Ricky close and twined his arms around him. “As long as I have you, I will. I promise.” A shadow flickered in Charlie’s eyes and Ricky took it as uncertainty about their future. He rejected the idea and determined that, for now, Charlie wouldn’t worry about 33

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anything. The kiss he gave Charlie was devouring, all consuming, and Ricky hoped it swept away any doubts and fears, and left only the certainty of love. Charlie moaned as his mouth became soft and pliant. It made Ricky’s cock throb and his heart flip. When he first met Charlie, he had never taken him for the surrendering kind. He’d seemed always in control. So, the first time Charlie had shown that submissive side, it had blown Ricky away. He had chalked it up to them getting high. “It’s only me, right?” Ricky opened his eyes and met Charlie’s gaze. Their lips still touched and Charlie’s tongue slid provocatively over them. “I’m the only one you’ve surrendered to.” It wasn’t a question anymore. Ricky knew, with a burst of instinct, he was right. Charlie smiled, a mysterious curving of his lips. “Only you bring this out in me, Ricky.” He slid his hands under Ricky’s shirt again and arched sinuously against him. “You’re better than any high, better than the feeling I get when I put the words together the way I intended. You’re who I think of when I wake up and who I’m missing when I fall asleep alone.” Ricky’s breath hitched, his heart tumbling as Charlie’s lips lingered over his jaw and his tongue flickered against Ricky’s pulse. “I want to put myself in your hands and let you do all those wicked things I see in your eyes, all those things you haven’t let out yet. I want to ride you underneath the moonlight with 34

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that hot gaze of yours warming me up.” Ricky closed his eyes, a wave of dizziness swamping him. Charlie’s words had a crazy impact on him. They had great sex, and he’d always thought just being inside Charlie was as good as it got. But something lingered, just outside his peripheral vision, whispering there was more. For the first time, he listened to his inner voice. The one that growled when Charlie went soft and supple beneath him. Some instinct clamored to mark his golden skin, to lay a claim on his lover so clear no one could miss it. “You belong to me, Charlie.” Charlie nodded without hesitation, and Ricky groaned. “I wish the world could know it. I wish I could chain you to my bed, to my side.” Charlie whimpered, a vulnerable sound that dug under Ricky’s skin. “Do it, Ricky. Chain me to you; keep me forever.” Ricky lifted up onto his hands, staring down at Charlie. His dark hair spread out on the blanket, his gypsy eyes were hooded and mysterious, his lips swollen and kiss-pink. He was looking at Ricky like he’d happily give himself to Ricky for all eternity if he asked. So he asked. “Can I keep you, Charlie? Say yes. Let me keep you forever.” Charlie’s eyes misted, and Ricky knew he was thinking the same thing Ricky was. How close those words were to vows. Ricky didn’t care. He felt more for this man than he did anyone else, than he could ever imagine feeling for another. If Charlie would say yes, Ricky would tie his lover to him until 35

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the end of the world. Charlie nodded, breathless. “Yes, keep me. Never, ever let me go.” A weight lifted from Ricky. He’d worried that his freespirited gypsy would dance away one day. No more. Charlie would stay, and Ricky would never let him go. He reached up and lifted the precious dog tags over his head. Charlie gasped, but Ricky slipped them over his lover’s head and settled them around Charlie’s neck. His chest tightened and he glanced up to meet Charlie’s eyes. He wondered if Charlie understood, but if anyone would, it was him. Charlie took his pain away. He kept safe what Ricky cherished most. Ricky trusted him, like no one else. Then he kissed him, before Charlie could speak, and he was on the verge of it, Ricky could tell. Kissed him like his life depended on it. His hands were greedy on his lover’s long, lean body, impatient with their clothes and eager to claim what was his. Charlie moaned, the sound desperate, and his body moved like a finely crafted instrument, which only played when Ricky conducted. The lithe body beneath him writhed and twisted as Ricky undressed him. Then he was naked, his skin scorching despite the cold, and Ricky had to touch him, taste him, hear Charlie calling out his name and asking for more. Ricky’s mouth came down on Charlie’s arched throat, nibbling, sucking hard on the tender skin. He couldn’t see the mark he made in the shadows, but he felt its warmth against his lips with a surge of triumph. Ricky’s mouth moved lower, stopping to press a kiss 36

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against the dog tags, lying on Charlie’s chest. He teased his lover’s nipples until Charlie tugged on his hair. Ricky lifted his head and smiled, taking Charlie’s cock in his hand and stroking it, savoring the helpless expression on Charlie’s face. “Get undressed, too.” Charlie opened Ricky’s vest, but stopped when Ricky shook his head. “Not yet.” He smiled when his lover whimpered, the sound so soft he wasn’t sure if Charlie was even aware he’d made it. “I’m not done with you. When I am, there’s going to be no doubts, my gypsy love. I’m going to leave my mark all over your beautiful body, whether it’s seen or not.” Charlie whimpered again, a needy, encouraging sound that shivered along Ricky’s skin. He was so erotic. And Ricky didn’t see how he would ever get enough. He skimmed his hands over Charlie’s silky-smooth skin, the fine hair across his chest and down the center of his flat, narrow stomach. Ricky gave his lover a wicked smile and began walking two fingers along the seductive trail. Heavylidded eyes stared up at him, lashes fluttering, and Charlie’s chest rose and fell with his quickening breath. “I’m going to taste every inch of you. Touch you inside and out. And then you’re going to ride me, hot and hard, and maybe we’ll bring the walls of that building down with the force of it.” Charlie smiled, reaching one slim-fingered hand to touch Ricky’s cheek. “You’re a poet, too.” His smile turned teasing. “A dirty poet.” Ricky laughed, and it felt so good after the day they’d had. 37

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Cleansing. He bent and gave one of Charlie’s nipples a nip. “I can’t help it. You make me think the dirtiest thoughts.” Charlie arched, wriggling. “Don’t just think them…act. All those dirty ideas—do them.” It was an invitation Ricky did not intend to let go to waste. He slid his hand down and cupped Charlie’s hard cock in his palm, fingertips caressing the silky skin of his balls, and gave a squeeze. Charlie gasped and his hands came to Ricky’s shoulders, holding on as his hips bucked. “You own me.” His eyes were intense in the dark, contrasting with the loving, happy smile on his lips. “I’ve known it for a long time. I need you, farm boy.” Ricky dragged his tongue down the path his fingers had traced and dipped it into Charlie’s navel. “It’s reciprocated.” He loved using words Charlie had taught him. It made him think of ideas and dreams beyond what he’d grown up with. Charlie chuckled, the husky sound reverberating in the air between them until his breath hitched as Ricky’s mouth moved lower. He squeezed Charlie’s cock again, savoring the gasping moan. Ricky adjusted the blanket, moving it over his head so Charlie wouldn’t get cold. He didn’t need to see…he knew Charlie’s body without any light to guide him. The little drafts that swirled through the gaps were invigorating. It was so hot under here. Ricky slid his hand from his lover’s cock and fingered his balls, teasing backward to his entrance, then forward again. He kissed his hips, and between his thigh and his groin, tongue 38

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stroking, lips nipping. He kissed every inch. Charlie’s breath grew faster, the scent of his arousal got sharper, and Ricky purposely avoided bringing his mouth any closer to his straining cock. “Ricky.” Charlie moved restlessly. “Who knew you were so evil?” Ricky snickered. “You.” The response he got was a sultry roll of Charlie’s hips, meant to entice Ricky to give his lover what he wanted. Ricky smiled and splayed his hands on his thighs, spreading them wide, and leaned in to lick the flesh of his inner thigh. He gave the tender skin a gentle nip, then a harder one. Charlie bucked and he let out one of those sweet whimpers, more frustrated and impatient now, and Ricky chuckled. “Ask.” Charlie stilled, as if the thought had never occurred to him. Ricky wanted to hear his gypsy love ask for his mouth on him. He craved it. “Ask, love. I’ll give you anything,” Ricky murmured, inching closer to Charlie’s cock, but not quite there. A soft, sobbing breath reached Ricky’s ears through the blanket. “Please, Ricky, put your mouth on me. I can’t stand the teasing.” That wasn’t true and they both knew it, but he’d asked and Ricky wasn’t going to renege. He shifted, Charlie trembling as he did, and it gave Ricky such a thrill to know how eagerly his lover wanted him. Ricky leaned in, lips rubbing along the hard shaft, the 39

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silken warm balls. His tongue slipped out to taste. Just when Charlie was shaking and probably on the verge of grabbing him to get him where Charlie wanted, Ricky wrapped one hand around the base of Charlie’s cock and brought him to his mouth. Charlie let out a soft cry, and Ricky groaned, closing his lips around the head and sweeping his tongue across, tasting him and loving it. Charlie started to rock his hips, and Ricky grasped them in his hands, shivering as Charlie shuddered. He held his lover in place, mouth and lips teasing the head of Charlie’s cock, tongue dipping into the slit, teeth scraping, sucking, until Charlie trembled. Every soft cry struck Ricky in the gut, making him dizzy. He wanted to devour him and cradle him close at the same time. He’d never imagined love could be this powerful. It should scare him, but it didn’t. As much of a hold as Charlie had on him, he knew his lover would cherish it. Charlie was the kind of man who put others first. Ricky had known it instinctively when they’d met, and the months since had only proven it. Ricky gave in to what they both wanted and sank his mouth down until the hard length slipped into the back of his throat. He held it there for a second, drinking in the sensation and then began bobbing his head. Charlie’s hands stroked his shoulders and then his hair. Ricky was addicted to those hands and the way they touched him. It didn’t matter how high they were, or how heated their 40

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fucking was, those hands always cherished. Ricky lifted his mouth after a few moments, though he wasn’t done. He’d come back to that beautiful cock later, but he had other spots calling for attention. Charlie was so pliant and relaxed, his legs shifting at a touch of Ricky’s hand, moving himself into the position Ricky put him in. A leg turned to the side across his lower body, letting Ricky lovingly kiss the curve of Charlie’s ass. Both legs lifted against Charlie’s chest and spread so Ricky could now tongue his entrance, contracting and eager for more. Ricky gave the twitching little hole a soft kiss, as if promising he’d be back, before sliding Charlie over onto his stomach and beginning to kiss his way up the sleek curve of his back. “Everything about you is sweet, Charlie…how’s that? You’re sweet, soft and smell so good.” Ricky knew other hippies, some of their bus companions in fact, who didn’t smell nearly as sweet. But Charlie, even after a whole weekend of protesting, driving and rest stops, smelled and tasted good. A little stronger, more spice, but still good. Charlie laughed, spreading his legs and rocking back on his knees against Ricky, his ass nestling in the curve of Ricky’s hips. “And you talk too much when you ought…” Ricky grinned when Charlie’s words cut off at the rub of the head of Ricky’s cock against his entrance. “You were saying?” Charlie moaned, pressing himself back and making a sound of frustration when Ricky shifted and his cock slid down to nudge at his balls instead. “Come on. You know I 41

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want you inside me.” Ricky chuckled and nibbled the nape of his baby’s neck until he squirmed. Ricky loved how sensitive that spot was. His hands slid down Charlie’s sides and grasped his hips as his mouth traced the long curve of his spine again to tease the small dip in his lower back. Charlie moaned. The blanket had all but fallen away and the chill air prickled over their skin. Ricky didn’t care, not unless Charlie started shivering. The air was pleasant against his overheated skin. “I thought you were gonna ride me.” Charlie shuddered, and Ricky slid his hand up his stomach to toy with his nipples. He could tease Charlie for hours. When they got back to Boston, he would lock Charlie up in his room and do just that, all day long. Ricky shifted them again, wrapping the blanket around Charlie’s shoulders so he wouldn’t catch a chill and slid underneath him. The ground was hard and cold against his back through the other blanket, but he didn’t care as Charlie straddled him. Before Charlie could move to take his cock inside him, Ricky slid his fingers there instead, pushing past the tight ring of muscle. “You’re so hot.” Charlie grinned down at him, giving an exaggerated toss of his long hair. “You think?” Ricky laughed. Only Charlie could make him laugh in the middle of sex. Charlie could make him laugh anytime. “I do, but that’s not what I meant and you know it.” He gave a firmer thrust of his fingers inside Charlie, nudging the spot Charlie had taught him about months ago. “I meant here. Hot and 42

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tight…I love the way you feel.” Charlie whimpered and his hands on Ricky’s chest curled, trembling. Ricky slid his free hand around to Charlie’s back, urging him down to lie on his chest. He thrust his fingers, in and out, scissoring sometimes, other times just in gentle circles. He could do this all night and be content, but Charlie had other things in mind because before long that lean body was moving sinuously against him. His lover’s hips circled and rocked eagerly. “You want me to fuck you?” He breathed in Charlie’s ear, feeling the shiver run the down his lover’s spine. He nipped Charlie’s earlobe. “Fuck you hard and fast or gentle and slow? However you want it, take me.” Another hard shudder and Charlie pushed to sit astride him again, looking down through the thick curtain of his hair, his eyes dark in the shadows. Ricky couldn’t look away, transfixed. Charlie was, without a doubt, the most stunning man he had ever known. “I’ll take you, Ricky. Take you to heaven inside me.” His words were a husky promise, and Ricky held his breath, trembling as Charlie reached behind him and his fingers closed around Ricky’s cock. Charlie’s eyes fluttered shut, his lips parting on a soft moan as he sank back. Ricky found himself holding his breath as his cock was surrounded by that incredible heat he craved. “Charlie!” Ricky’s breath came out in a rush and Charlie’s eyes opened, a mysterious smile crossing his lips. “Right here.” He 43

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leaned down over Ricky, the blanket draping on either side of him. The expression on his face was so sensuous and joyful Ricky’s heart hammered. For some reason, he gave this to Charlie. For all of his anger, he could still inspire something beautiful in his lover. “They’d have to tear me from you,” Charlie said on a breath. With that vow uttered in his whiskey voice, he started to move, undulating in long, slow waves against Ricky, clenching around him. Ricky was mesmerized. It should be impossible to be that unearthly erotic and still be real. His hands traveled to Charlie’s torso, touching him as his lover rode him. Charlie’s flesh was silky warm, the muscles fluid under his hands. He was real. The sound of their cries hovered in the little cocoon they’d made for themselves in the bushes. No one else existed but the two of them. There was no war, no protest, and Ricky wanted to stay right there forever. He didn’t need anything else, just Charlie. It ought to frighten him, how firm that thought was, but it was exhilarating. He lifted his head and kissed Charlie, swallowing his moans, drinking in his sweet, spicy taste, the musky scent of him. Charlie’s hair fell around his shoulders in a thick tangle, tickling his skin. Ricky groaned, rocking his hips harder and shivering when Charlie gasped against his mouth. He slid both arms around Charlie, their bodies sliding against each other as they moved in erotic rhythm. “My love…” Ricky breathed against Charlie’s cheek. The 44

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cold didn’t register. The sounds of the others seemed a hundred miles away. Ricky smiled. “Gonna carry you off and keep you all to myself.” Charlie lifted his head, meeting Ricky’s eyes and he smiled in return. “That sounds perfect.” It did. Ricky slid both hands down Charlie’s back to grip his ass, rocking his lover on him, and the rhythm was mindblowing. Charlie clenched and relaxed with every thrust, his hips circling just so, and Ricky shuddered. He rolled then, laying Charlie out beneath him, and his hand slid the length of one leg, urging it up against his shoulder. Charlie arched and Ricky groaned as he sank even deeper inside that exquisite tight heat. The slow passion was giving way to the burning need and Ricky didn’t resist. It almost always ended that way. The passion between them was stunning in its intensity, tearing away any lingering doubts. “More,” Charlie gasped, his tongue wetting his lips, and Ricky could only nod. His thrusts sped up and he slid one hand between them to wrap around Charlie’s cock. He shivered, his arms wrapped around Ricky, and he kissed him with a power that stunned Ricky. Only Charlie could pour poetry into a kiss, make him feel more loved and secure without words than another person could with a declaration. This was a night for magic and Ricky vowed to stay up till dawn so he wouldn’t lose one moment.

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CHAPTER 4 Ricky shook his head as Charlie wove a garland of flowers with his clever fingers. The morning air was cool and they were walking with a number of other protestors toward the White House. All of his anger had dissipated and when Charlie plunked the flowers onto his head with a grin, Ricky rolled his eyes and laughed. “Yer a lanky goof.” Charlie shrugged, then laughed himself. “Probably.” Ricky took his hand as they walked up to the wrought iron gates surrounding the mansion at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. To his surprise, there was no wall of guards like at the Pentagon. The scene was deceptively serene, looking like one of the pictures his mama loved to collect. However, those 46

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white walls housed a man who insisted on continuing a war that had long lost its meaning. He didn’t see the blood, the horror. He didn’t have to worry about who was dying. He was enjoying his role as a leader and not counting the costs. For once, it didn’t make Ricky angry. It just saddened him. The crowd started chanting. “Hey, hey, LBJ, how many kids will you kill today?” Ricky jumped onto the ledge and grasped the bars, watching the house, listening to the chants and wondering if Johnson was even listening. There had to be something they could do to get his attention. Something outrageous that wouldn’t get them killed. He glanced around and noticed a handful of other guys talking amongst themselves. Ricky didn’t know why, but he got the feeling something was going down and he wanted in. He hopped down and grabbed Charlie’s hand, moving over to insert themselves in the group. “We can’t climb the fence, man. They’ll shoot us down like them Puerto Ricans,” one of the guys insisted. Ricky glanced at the fence, then Charlie, and a wicked smile curved his lips. Charlie got an “Uh-oh, I know that look” expression on his face. Ricky winked. “Well, they’d know we weren’t armed if we were naked. Not like they could claim concealed weapons.” Ricky arched his brows. “Ricky! You’re not stripping on the front steps of the White House!” Charlie’s voice was adorably scandalized. Ricky was sure it had more to do with Ricky naked in front of 47

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everyone than any offense to the White House and the asshole in residence. Ricky grinned. “Why not? Don’t want me to get shot, do ya?” He leaned in and kissed Charlie’s cheek. “Besides, you’re gonna get naked with me, baby.” Before Charlie could protest further, the idea caught fire and the other guys began to strip their jackets off. Ricky did the same and Charlie rolled his eyes before following suit. They’d gotten down to T-shirts when a rumbling began and Ricky turned to see a whole cavalry of motorcycle cops roaring down Pennsylvania Avenue toward them. Aw, hell. Shit meet fan. He grabbed for Charlie, who was watching the spectacle as if he planned on standing his ground, but Ricky saw the determined set of the officers’ jaws and knew they were in for it this time. “Not now.” Protestors scattered as the police waded in kicking and clubbing those nearest the gate. Poised to run, Ricky froze as Charlie lurched with a sharp cry, his eyes dazed. Ricky snarled and rushed the cop who was lifting his baton for another hit. “No!” The next thing Ricky knew he was tussling with the cop, blows glancing off his back and shoulders. Someone was kicking him in the ribs, but he didn’t care. They’d hit Charlie. All the months he’d known his lover, he’d never seen Charlie raise his hand to anybody, not even in self-defense, and there were plenty of people who went out of their way to try to give him a hard time. 48

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Words were Charlie’s weapons, ones he wielded powerfully at times. To see him get hit, when he’d done nothing to deserve it, drove all sense of reason from Ricky’s mind. He continued to struggle, more hands holding him down as he saw, with disbelieving eyes, Charlie wrench the baton out of one of the officer’s hands before tossing it over the gate. The action only infuriated the cops more. Ricky screamed, kicking furiously as Charlie was jumped, the sounds of other protestors running or falling all around. The cops shoved Ricky onto his stomach, the impact driving the air from his lungs as his hands were wrenched and cuffed behind his back. “Goddamn, stupid motherfuckers. Weren’t doing nothing to hurt no one and you hadda come out here and see what bad asses you could be. Charlie! Fuck, where are you?” “I’m here,” Charlie murmured, his voice muffled. “Pretentious prigs.” Ricky could barely breathe. His ribs ached and every breath he sucked in burned, but when they hauled him to his feet, he was relieved to see Charlie next to him, cuffed and with a bruise starting on his cheek. Good God, Ricky had never been so scared as when those cops had swarmed his gypsy love. He’d heard about people ending up dead when the cops broke up protests. “You okay?” He ignored the cop snarling at him to shut up and was relieved when Charlie nodded. Then there was no time more to talk, the officers piling them and the others who hadn’t managed to run for it into the police vans surrounding the area. Charlie was in a different 49

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van, and Ricky was crawling out of his skin. His fingers were numb by the time they dragged him from the van at the station. Asshole cop had closed the cuffs way too tight, and he tried not to wiggle his hands to keep the metal from cutting into his wrists any more. He was grateful as hell when the cuffs were removed and he was shoved into a holding cell with the rest of their group. His eyes scanned the crowd and then he heard Charlie cry his name and a blur rushed past others in the cell to barrel into him. Ricky grunted at the impact and his arms came around Charlie hard, one hand in his hair, the other splayed on his back as he maneuvered them toward the back of the cell. He sat down on the bench, Charlie beside him. “Shhh, hey, you alright, baby?” Charlie nodded, wide, worried eyes scanning Ricky as his hands moved with concern over him. “Oh, God, I was so scared. Are you hurt? There were so many of them. I tried to stop them but…” Ricky shook his head, catching Charlie’s hands. “I’m fine…bruised and sore, but fine.” He smiled when Charlie brought one of Ricky’s wrists to his lips and kissed the raw, reddened flesh where the cuffs had abraded his skin. “I’m fine.” He cast a hateful glare toward the front of the cell and the guards milling about. “No thanks to the good ole boys in blue.” “Ricky, we need—” “I cannot fucking believe it,” Ricky cut in, fuming. “We sneak into the Pentagon and get tossed down the steps. That’s 50

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to be expected. Hell, I’m surprised they didn’t arrest us then. But this? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me! “What for? Because you picked flowers in the park? Since when’s that been a crime? Because we’re stripping naked in front of the White House? Fucking call out the guard. What the hell is good ole LBJ afraid of? Realizing he’s an incompetent bastard?” “I think we were arrested for putting up a fight,” Charlie murmured. “I’m sure all the name calling didn’t help either.” “Don’t start playing devil’s advocate.” Around them their cellmates started to mutter as well, caught up in Ricky’s tirade and voicing their complaints. The cops glanced in and went about their business, sending a fresh wave of verbal mocking their way. “Ricky, I…” “Just look at them.” Ricky glared at their guards, adrenaline pumping through his body, his hands curling into fists. “So damn sure they’re right. Sanctimonious s.o.b.s.” He turned toward Charlie, gently touching the bruise gracing his cheekbone. “You could’ve been really hurt and I know you didn’t raise a damn hand to protect yourself.” To Ricky’s surprise, Charlie’s cheeks colored. He opened his mouth, shrugged and gave him a sheepish smile. “Well, to be honest, I did take a swing at one of them.” Ricky’s jaw dropped and Charlie reddened even more. “When I saw him hit you with the baton, I can’t remember ever being so scared. I had to get to you.” Ricky smiled, some of his anger melting away. He slipped 51

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his arm around Charlie’s slender waist and drew him closer. “I love you.” It was the first time he’d said it since last night and somehow it was even more real, here in this dirty, overcrowded cell than it had been last night in their little haven. Charlie’s eyes darkened and he gnawed on his lower lip. “Ricky, I really need…” Ricky frowned, tilting his head. For the first time noticing Charlie seemed worried. “Hey, what’s wrong?” Was he hurt after all? Ricky would kill those fucking sons of bitches if Charlie was hurt. Charlie shook his head. “I have to tell you…” “Charles Irvine!” one of the cops shouted, and both Ricky and Charlie glanced up. Ricky frowned, rising at the same time Charlie did. What was going on? “Yes?” Charlie asked, looking uncertain and wary. “You have a visitor, son.” The cop had a smirk on his face that Ricky didn’t understand. Ricky followed Charlie’s gaze past the cop to…holy shit. That was Jackson Irvine. Wow, they must have really made an impression if the fucking advisor to the Secretary of Defense had come all the way to the police station. It took a second for it to sink in that Mr. Irvine was looking right at Charlie, with a hard, cold glare, and Charlie was cringing. “Charlie?” Charlie turned and gave Ricky a pleading look. “I can explain.” 52

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Ricky stomach began to tighten. “Explain what? What’s going on here?” “Charles David Irvine.” Mr. Irvine waved to the guard, who opened the cell door. “Let’s go. Now.” When Charlie hesitated, the tone hardened. “Boy, do not push me any farther. Your mother is in hysterics.” Ricky’s eyes widened. His mother? How would the…oh, my God. Ricky’s wide eyes turned on Charlie, shaking his head. “No way. No fucking way, Charlie! You’re one of them?” Charlie’s eyes glinted as he drew himself up. “No, I’m not. He’s my dad, but that doesn’t make me one of them.” He turned back toward the man in the doorway and shook his head. “You shouldn’t have bothered. I’m not going.” Ricky stumbled back, the truth hitting him like a double punch to his gut. Charlie had been lying to him, had been pretending to be his friend, to love him. He must’ve been snickering behind his back the entire time. Around them, the crowd started to mutter, an ugly undertone to some of the words. “I’m tired of your games, son, and I’m sick of you embarrassing me,” Mr. Irvine snapped and gestured to the cops nearby. “Drag him out if you have to.” “You lied to me!” Charlie’s face turned pale as he met Ricky’s eyes. “I tried, I swear, Ricky, I tried to tell you. You were so mad when I met you. I knew you wouldn’t understand. But I was going to tell you. Every time I tried something came up or I lost the 53

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guts and…” Ricky’s stomach roiled as the man he’d trusted changed before his eyes. Everything Charlie had said to him had been one goddamn pretense after another. The crushing realization was followed by a rage that dwarfed what he’d felt yesterday. Everything else around them fell away. It was just the two of them—no jail, no protesters, no father from the defense department—just him and the man who had made a mockery out of his life. His eyes narrowed and his voice lowered to a hiss. “Bullshit, Charlie! You coulda told me a hundred times, but you didn’t. You lied. All the time you were pretending to care and understand, you were living off your warmonger father’s dime and knowing you wouldn’t ever have to set foot in ’Nam, draft or no draft. Daddy’d make sure of that, wouldn’t he?” Ricky’s shaking fists clenched in fury, and even though some part of him wailed at the way Charlie was shrinking away from him with his huge gypsy eyes full of hurt, Ricky didn’t stop. “You don’t have to worry about going there. Dying like my brother, like all those other kids who never get a chance to live!” Ricky shoved Charlie toward the cell door. “Go on, run home to Daddy. I never shoulda trusted you.” Charlie’s voice was broken and trembling. “Ricky, please…please don’t. I was going to tell you. I just… Give me a chance.” Ricky shook his head sharply, taking a step back. His eyes burned and he glared at Charlie. His heart was broken. The 54

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man he loved, the only person he’d ever loved, was a fraud. A liar. And hadn’t ever been anything else. “No. Get out. I’d rather spend my time here, in jail, with people who are real. Go away.” Ricky turned his back, pushing through the crowd to the far end of the cell and sank down on the bench. He refused to look back. He’d never known Charlie at all. The sound of the cell door clanging shut echoed and Ricky flinched, eyes closing against the tears that wanted out. *

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Hours crawled by in slow degrees. Their numbers had dwindled as some of the other protestors were bailed out or brought before the commissioner. Ricky sat in his corner, hunger gnawing at his stomach, a vast emptiness gnawing at his heart. The officers had provided food, but the thought of eating made him ill. Ricky didn’t know what he was going to do. He didn’t have any money for bail and he wasn’t about to call his folks and ask for help. They’d been through enough as it was. He’d gotten into this mess on his own. He was scared. He didn’t want to stay the night here and, as the sky darkened outside, that became more and more of a possibility. Charlie would’ve figured out a plan, but Charlie didn’t have to. He had his daddy to come help him out of his scrapes. The thought of his gypsy lover made Ricky’s insides twist into painful knots. It was like finding out your grandmother killed 55

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puppies—impossible to believe and horrifying because it went against everything they represented. Charlie wasn’t a liar, at least not the Charlie he thought he knew. “Ricky.” Ricky’s head shot up at the soft sound of Charlie’s voice and he stared in disbelief. Charlie’s hands grasped the bars, his reddened eyes sorrowful and afraid. “What?” He was so stunned he couldn’t say anything else. Charlie took a deep breath, his gaze steady. “It’s time to go. You’ve been in there long enough. I…I have explanations I owe you.” Ricky steeled himself. He pushed to his feet and stalked to the bars, holding his hand out. “Gimme my brother’s tags. Then get the fuck out.” He’d been furious with himself when he realized Charlie had walked off with them. He’d nearly broken down then, terrified he’d never get them back. They were all he had left of his brother. Charlie’s eyes shimmered, but he shook his head resolutely, stepping back from the bars. “No. Let me explain and then if you still want them back and still want me gone, so be it. But listen first.” Ricky gripped the bars, the anger that had faded over the day roaring back. “Explain what? There’s no explaining! Give ’em back, damn it!” He shoved his hand through the bars, palm up, gritting his teeth when Charlie again shook his head. “Bitch, those are my brother’s! Damn you!” “Ricky, stop. I won’t keep them if you don’t want me to, but please make that decision after we have a chance to—” 56

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“No!” Charlie’s eyes narrowed and he drew a deep breath. “Ricky Anderson, I did not kill your brother. I’m not the reason he’s dead. Let me explain before you sentence me.” Ricky froze. How dare Charlie bring up Randy? How dare he even utter his name? For a long moment Ricky couldn’t speak, he was so furious. And, in that moment, he began to think. A wailing little voice clamored to be heard, insisting Charlie wasn’t a liar or a fraud, that surely it was a misunderstanding. Ricky glared. “Doesn’t seem I have a choice. If you think you’re getting away with those tags, you’re a damn fool.” Charlie sighed. “Maybe I am. But I’m a fool who loves you. Come on, farm boy.” He waved the guard over and Ricky reluctantly stepped out of the cell, ignoring Charlie. It was a lot harder to ignore that little voice in his head that ached to believe, though. Ricky didn’t say anything as he handled the paperwork. He just wanted to get out of there, get his brother’s tags back, and go home. Try to forget this entire thing had happened and, somehow, try to forget Charlie. His heart seized at the idea. Once outside, Ricky turned to Charlie on the steps. “There. You did your good deed. I hope you feel redeemed…now, gimme the tags and leave me alone.” Charlie’s eyes were huge and sad, but he shook his head. “Not yet. You’re going to listen to me, Ricky, and then make that decision. Come on.” Without a glance back, his lover— former lover—started down the road. Ricky scowled, but had 57

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no choice except to follow, fuming the whole time. Finally, a few minutes later, Charlie stopped, looking around at the sloping, grassy hill. Charlie sank down on the grass and wrapped his coat tighter around himself, hugging his arms to his chest. He took a deep breath and lifted his head to meet Ricky’s eyes. “I didn’t tell you who I was at first because you didn’t need to know. I had enough shit from people who had figured it out, and you had more than enough reason to be angry. Then I fell for you and, damn, I fell hard. It came out of nowhere, and I knew if I told you who my dad was you wouldn’t have anything else to do with me. So I decided, well, maybe if he gets to know who I really am, he can separate me from my family. That’s why I invited you to the Students for a Democratic Society rally. That’s who I am; that’s what I believe in.” Ricky averted his gaze, jaw working. That inner voice was no longer quietly crying to him to believe, it was screaming. No, no he lied to me! He’s one of them! But deep down, where that voice lived, Ricky knew it wasn’t true. He was hurt and so angry, but he couldn’t honestly tell himself Charlie was like the rest of the world and believe it. Charlie touched his chest, right where the dog tags lay underneath his shirt, his eyes going distant before focusing back on Ricky. “The first night we had sex, I tried telling you. But booze and reefer don’t make for illuminating conversation. After that night, I began to be afraid to tell you again because I knew it was wrong you didn’t know and that 58

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part of our relationship was a lie. You’d be mad, rightfully so, and every time it seemed I got up the guts to tell you, we’d get interrupted or the subject would get changed and I’d let it. “When we decided to go on this trip, I swore I’d tell you before we came back.” Charlie glanced away. “Not because I thought we’d run into my dad. I thought he was at home in Michigan this week. It just seemed like the perfect opportunity, both of us heading out on something we believed in.” Ricky’s eyes burned as he finally sank to the grass. He remembered the first night they’d made love. Even drunk and high, he remembered it clearly. He’d been scared and unsure, hadn’t known what the hell he was doing, but it had been perfect and beautiful and had only reinforced the connection they shared. Charlie wasn’t finished, though, and Ricky was pulled out of his remembering. “I can’t help who my father is, anymore than I can help profiting from it. I hate it, knowing I’m exempt when there are so many others who are scared to fucking death and don’t know what to expect. You want to know what else? There’s a part of me, deep down inside, that’s grateful as much as I hate it. I wouldn’t last two seconds. I’m not a fighter. I don’t have what it takes. If it came down to kill or be killed, I’d be dead, and that’s the truth.” Ricky’s insides knotted. The idea of Charlie in this war was…horrifying and as obscene and nauseating as the idea of an angel condemned to hell. It made Ricky sick to imagine, for even a second, gentle Charlie over there, facing what Randy 59

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had faced, dying like Randy had died. He swallowed hard against the bile and his eyes stung. Charlie picked at the grass, his voice turning husky. “My dad would say it’s because I’m not really a man. I confirmed it in his eyes when I told him I was in love with you.” Ricky lifted his head, unable to hold back the tears aching behind his eyes any longer. “You lied to me, Charlie. God, to find out like that, in front of everyone, to be blindsided…” He shook his head. Ricky wanted to believe his reaction would have been different if the circumstances had been otherwise. “Maybe the way I reacted confirmed all your fears about telling me. But if you’d told me last night…or any other night when it was just us and we were having one of our allnight talks… Charlie, I’d like to think I’d have reacted differently.” He looked down, then back up, swiping at his damp cheeks. “It hurt so bad.” “I…I know and I’m so damn sorry you found out that way. I never intended for it.” Charlie’s cheeks reddened. “Hell, I never even imagined it as a possibility until we were in the cell. I tried telling you last night. I know trying isn’t doing, but when we were there by the fire, I was going to tell you.” Charlie reached out and tentatively took Ricky’s hands in his own. “I’m sorry. I can’t say it enough. I guess my timing sucks because when I started to, you told me you loved me and…” Charlie broke off and when he spoke again, his voice was barely audible. “I really wish I had told you before that.” Ricky’s mind raced, remembering last night how much 60

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he’d needed Charlie and the comfort. That’s why he’d asked Charlie to sing to him. He knew there was something weighing on Charlie’s mind from the song he chose and the tone of his voice. Charlie had been afraid he’d screw it all up and when Ricky had asked him, Charlie had given him that poem. He was always doing that, when he couldn’t voice what he wanted to say. Charlie had told him; Ricky just hadn’t understood at the time. Charlie’s voice whispered in his mind. Am I what I reveal? The sum and equal of all my parts. Or am I who I chose to be? Untainted by familial policy. Ricky tightened his hands around Charlie’s and then freed one to lift Charlie’s chin gently. The sight of Charlie’s eyes shimmering tore at him with the need to comfort him. It occurred to him that Charlie never sought comfort from him; he’d spent the entirety of their relationship soothing Ricky’s angers and fears instead. “When you asked if I wanted to get away I was so damn grateful. I had to talk to you. It was burning up inside me.” Charlie’s shoulders sagged and he shook his head breaking his gaze away. “Then you asked me to love you, and I let it go again. I have no excuse, no way of making it up to you. I know I hurt you and I know it’s going to be hard for you to forgive me, but I love you so much, Ricky. I need you. I’m sorry. Please, give me another chance to show you.” Ricky shook his head, and Charlie’s face fell. Then Ricky smiled and it was such a beautiful thing to watch hope light up 61

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in those gypsy eyes. “You don’t have to show me, Charlie. And you don’t have to make it up to me.” The annoying little voice in his head was singing a happy song. He shifted to his knees in front of Charlie and cupped his lover’s face in his hands. “You told me…I just didn’t hear you. I’m sorry I said those things to you this morning. Please believe me, I didn’t mean them. I lashed out and I shouldn’t have.” He gave Charlie a sad, hopeful look. “I’m sorry.” Charlie didn’t say anything, just wrapped his arms around Ricky’s neck and clung. Ricky held him tightly, rubbing his cheek against Charlie’s hair. “I love you so much,” he murmured, eyes closing. Then he pulled back, just a little, and met Charlie’s eyes. He placed his hand against his lover’s chest, the dog tags pressing against his palm through Charlie’s shirt. “I gave you these because I trusted you. I forgot for a little bit today and I promise you right now I’ll never do it again. I swear.” Ricky smiled, a little teasing. “Not to say I won’t lose my temper and act like a jackass ever again, but I’ll remember why I gave you these tags to keep for me.” He brushed a lock of hair back from Charlie’s cheek. “Because you keep me safe, Charlie. I trust you to do that, in the deepest part of me. I won’t forget again.” Ricky intended to spend the rest of his life with this man, this beautiful gypsy soul who owned him completely. And he vowed to himself he would never forget that when it came down to the end of the world…Charlie would save him. Ricky only hoped he could do some saving of his own. 62

ABOUT THE AUTHORS

Fae Sutherland has always dreamed of being a published author, starting off her writing career at age 11 with a horrific “Monkees” fan fiction that will, luckily for all, never see the light of day. At age 34, she has since progressed to more serious writing, though always keeping that dash of irreverence and fun. Fae tells the stories that the muses give her, but though she is multi-published both solo and jointly, she truly does prefer writing with her co-author Marguerite Labbe best. When she’s not working hard on writing new stories to make her readers sweat or slaving over edits for completed work, she spends her time on website and graphic design, being with her closest friends and playing The Sims 2 until the wee hours of the morning. Marguerite Labbe has been accused of being eccentric and a shade neurotic, both of which she freely admits to, but her muse has OCD tendencies, so who can blame her? Her husband and son do an excellent job keeping her toeing the line, though. Together with her co-author Fae Sutherland, Marguerite has found a shared passion for beautiful men with smart mouths. When she’s not working hard on writing new material and

editing completed work, she spends her time reading novels of all genres, enjoying role-playing games with her equally nutty friends, and trying to plot practical jokes against her son and husband. Her son is learning the tricks too quickly and likes to retaliate. You’d think she’d learn. Find out more about Fae and Marguerite at their website: http://chasethedream.net *

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When Noah Parker left his hometown six years ago, he left behind more than his family and the confines of a town he’d outgrown. He also left behind Cal Green, his childhood best friend and high school love, and it’s the one thing he’s regretted ever since. Now, called home by his ailing father, Noah decides he’s had enough of regrets and sets in motion a plan to convince Cal that they’re meant to be. Noah has a full tank of gas, a reluctant passenger, and 629 miles to change the past before his gas, and his time, runs out…

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