Chapter 30

He heard Mick inhale a shuddering breath, and a drop of wetness landed on Elliot’s cheek. “I wish I could.” Mick’s voice trembled.

“I can’t stay. Even for you, honey.” Elliot was crying now, too, big hot tears wetting Mick’s expensive wool suit jacket.

“I know.”

When their tears finally dried, they spent the rest of the night making desperate love, saying nothing, letting their bodies do all the talking.

Two days later, Elliot was back home, enjoying the peace and quiet in a freezing cabin in the mountains. Trying to stifle the disillusionment he felt with the world and himself, while hoping he would have time to get over it before it was time to go back to work.

* * * *

Elliot was in a much better mood when he woke up a few hours later. The sun was up, the snowing had stopped, and the fire had taken care of the arctic chill. He stretched, trying to get rid of the stiffness caused by sleeping on the floor. He spread out his limbs and arched his back, feeling like a cat basking in the sunshine streaming in from the windows.

“Meow,” he purred and burst out laughing. “Great. One month in the woods, and I’ve already gone crazy.”

He threw a glance at his phone to check the time and gasped when he noticed the date. February fourteenth.

“Shit.” He clenched his jaw, and his fingers found their way to his beard, grabbing a strand, starting to coil it around his index finger.

Today, two years ago, he’d met Mick.

His favorite club had arranged a Boycott Valentine’s party, and a couple of his friends had dragged him along. He’d danced for a while but decided he wasn’t really in the mood for a we-hate-love-celebration, so he’d waved goodbye to his friends and turned to leave.

And almost ran right into the sexiest man he’d ever seen. Mick.

Dressed in a well-fitting gray pinstripe suit, Mick was slender and tall, with legs that went on forever. Elliot had tilted his head back and looked up into a pair of amused blue-green eyes that reminded him of the ocean on a sunny day.

“Wow,” Elliot had choked out, wondering if he’d swallowed his tongue or if it only felt like it.

Mick’s mouth had quirked in a smile, unlike anything Elliot had ever seen. It curled up on one side and down on the other, but there was no doubt that it was a smile. A damn sexy one.

“You’re hot. Wanna dance?” Elliot had blurted out, then smacked his palm against his forehead, cursing his ineloquence.

Mick had thrown his head back and laughed. “Sure,” he’d said and let his gaze wander up and down Elliot’s body.

Elliot had squirmed under the intense scrutiny and pulled on his beard, a nervous tic he’d never managed to quit. Mick had stared at something on his cheek, but before Elliot had had time to worry something was on his face, Mick had leaned in and put a soft fingertip in Elliot’s deep dimple. He’d wiggled it around with minute movements, and Elliot had giggled at the tickling sensation

Mick had smiled his glorious smile again. “Come on then, Dimple-Boy. Let’s dance.” He’d grabbed Elliot’s hand and pulled him to the dance floor, where they’d spent the rest of the evening laughing and dancing. And when Elliot had asked Mick out for a date, the answer had been yes.

Two years. Wow. Before he let himself think too much about his decision, he started typing out a message.

Happy Valentine’s Day. I miss you <3

He pressed send, jumped off the floor, and put the phone on the bookshelf under the stairs.

“Time to start the day.”

* * * *

Elliot waded through the snow in the waning afternoon light. The chill stung his cheeks and made his nose runny, but he was happy. After shoveling what had felt like a ton of snow at the cabin, he’d spent the afternoon with Emma—the older sister of a friend from high school—from whom he rented the cabin. She lived with her husband Hank and their two kids a couple miles further up the mountain, in an off-grid house they’d built from scratch.

Elliot could never imagine life almost entirely without electricity, but he respected their choice and tenacity. He hadn’t been as admiring of their lifestyle when he’d had to use the outhouse, though. It was so cold, he’d thought it best to plead with his penis, trying to convince it not to crawl into hibernation inside his body as he took care of business.

No, Elliot loved the peace and quiet of the mountainside, but he still wanted all the comforts of modern life. Like a toilet. And running water.