Page 12 of Only One Bed: Anthology Vol. 1
Remi’s hands stopped where they were, the pen no longer moving. “What?” he asked, his voice low and hardly carrying over the now constant rumbling of thunder and moan of the wind that was picking up in earnest.
“I said I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” Remi looked up at him, eyes stony and cold. He tucked the clipboard close to his body with a snap and barked out a laugh. “Why am I not surprised you’re apologizin’ now.”
Grant blinked in surprise and rocked back on his heels. “What are you--”
“You would be the one to bring it up, even if you were fine leavin’ it.”
“Woah, woah,” he held up his hands and came forward. “Remi, look, I want to talk to you about that. I miss--”
“Here’s your damn invoice. Be back in two weeks with whatever you need.” Remi ripped the invoice free and held it out with a jerk of his hand. It was like a shield between them, or maybe a knife? Grant figured it was meant to be a knife, not a shield, not with the way it was stabbing him and reminding him of the distance between the two of them now. His eyes narrowed, his displeasure showing plainly on his face.
“You know what?” Grant said, voice low. He could feel the thunder now, it was rumbling deep in the earth, the vibrations humming through the dirt and up his feet. He locked eyes with Remi and took another step closer. “I’m sick and tired of this bullshit, Remi. Grow up.”
Remi jerked back as if he had been slapped and drew himself up to his full height; an impressive sight, as the man was well over 6’3. He crossed his arms, biceps straining the material of his work shirt as he did so. Grant clenched his fist and focused on the thunder’s presence. Now was not the time to get distracted by a well placed flex.
“Grow up?” Remi cocked his head to the side and scoffed, gray eyes narrowing. “You’re the one forcin’ me to keep coming up to this damn place week after week, month after month. Drive me half crazy with it!”
“Ah, hell, Remi. No one’s ever made you do a damn thing you didn’t have a mind to do and you know it.”
“Shut up, Grant. Pay the damn invoice and--”
“And what? You’ll be back in two weeks?” Grant crossed his arm and lowered his chin challenging the other man with a pointed glare.
Remi’s mouth snapped shut, his jaw clenched. Grant could tell from the way his lips pursed that the other man’s teeth were probably grinding painfully against each other. Good, he thought, he was glad for the discomfort Remi was in, he hoped the next time the man clenched his damn jaw that his teeth cracked and fell out of his head. He was tired of being the only one to try and fix what had happened. He’d tried to talk to Remi all those years ago, had tried it again the first time he’d seen his familiar face. It had been impossible not to---the sight of him had brought back all the times they’d shared, the kisses, hungry hands and the feel of skin on skin that had left him feeling drunk when not a drop had passed his lips.
Grant hadn’t wanted liquor. He’d wanted Remi, all of him, morning, day and night, and for a time he’d had him. It hadn’t been fair that his play at a bigger future had cost him what they’d found in the other, what he hadn’t been close to finding in anyone else since.
So now, as they stood off against the other, Grant was glad Remi was uncomfortable. That his jaw was probably aching. That there was nothing left for them to say. He’d said his piece, shut the other man up and that was enough for him, so he jabbed a thumb at the door behind Remi and said, “See yourself out. I’ll be along. Storm’s coming.”
Remi said nothing for a second and that moment stretched into two before he sighed the breath coming out of him in a long sigh. He slapped the invoice onto the work table next to him and shook his head. “Pay up by Monday.” He turned on his heel and stalked out of the greenhouse.
“Mississippi one….” Grant crossed his arms and sighed before uttering, “Mississippi two…” He wasn’t in much of a mood for running into the other man when he’d just let loose on him. “Mississippi three….” He sagged against the table by the door and felt his heart lurch when Remi’s truck roared to life. He stayed put counting to the time of fifteen before he let himself move. He closed the door with a slam and locked it though he didn’t much know why. No one came out here but him, and everyone knew it was his land. Things didn’t go missing in Plenty, not like in the city, but he did it anyhow. He stopped at the door of his truck and looked off in the direction Remi had gone. There was no sign of him. If his heart wasn’t still slamming in his chest, he’d have never known he was even there.
Grant didn’t like that. But it was what it was, and at the landing of a fat raindrop he pulled his door open and swung up into the cab of his truck, determined to put the whole thing out of his mind. It was hardly 5 o’clock, if he let Remi take over his thoughts now, he wouldn’t get a wink of sleep.
His hands clenched on the steering wheel. That was a laugh. Remi Wilson had occupied more than his fair share of Grant’s thoughts, and even if he tried to put it out of his mind, he’d stew over what had happened today for the rest of the evening. He sighed and leaned forward, looking out the window as the rain began to fall in earnest. A crack of lightning brightened the sky as sure as a camera flash and Grant jumped, despite having grown up with such storms. He’d loved storms when he was a child but it didn’t rain quite like this in Los Angeles; there the storms rolled in, water on pavement, the heat and bustle of the city devouring the wild of a thunderstorm.
But here?
In Plenty storms were allowed to be. Their power and force unfettered as it settled on the land and people. There was a beauty to it, a certain solitude that could happen when everything was a flurry of water and light, the outside disappearing from thought with each passing second. The drum of rain on a roof, the way it tapped against window panes, it was all a melody he knew by heart, except that now Grant hated it.
Hated it for the fact that it reflected the anger and confusion at seeing Remi as he had. His emotions felt as tumultuous as the rain and lightning, and he didn’t much care for it. He didn’t want a storm. Not now. What he wanted was to go home and change out of his work clothes. He wanted to pull on a pair of sweats, reheat whatever leftovers he had, and watch whatever sports he could find. He’d watch ice curling, competitive chess, or bobsledding if it just meant he could shut off his brain for a solid half hour.
Remi always did have a way of making him feel like he was coming apart at the seams. Grant’s grip tightened once more on the wheel and he leaned forward squinting out the windshield against the raging storm. He was just turning the corner, his truck climbing a long hill that had the engine straining and wheels spinning against the now muddy road. Grant blew out a sigh as he crested the hill and vowed to have the road regraveled. The last time he could remember it being done was when he was in high school, and from the way his truck was working overtime it was sorely needed.
Grant squinted against the falling rain and turned carefully, easing around the corner to see the sight of another vehicle very nearly sideways across the road.
“What the hell? Who is that?” He reached out, speeding up the windshield wipers to get a better look at who had managed to get themselves stuck this far out from town. It was only when he drove forward another hundred feet that he recognized the familiar flash of teal blue.
It was Remi.
“Sonofabitch,” Grant huffed out a laugh. Remi was standing with hands on his hips, hair and clothes plastered to his body and face. He swallowed hard and was grateful for the small flair of pleasure he got at seeing Remi stuck in the mud after their little run in. He laughed then, even threw his head back and let the sound of it fill his truck. Maybe he wouldn’t be trying to clear his mind tonight, not with the image of a stranded Remi to keep him entertained. He was still laughing when he slowed, or at least he meant to slow as he came down the hill---instead his wheels spun and locked and before he knew it the truck was sliding forward.
“Shit!” Grant turned the wheel guiding the truck away from Remi and onto the shoulder. He swore as the truck came to a sliding stop. He sighed and refused to look out the window where he knew Remi was. Where the other man was probably, as in, definitely staring at him. He threw the truck in reverse and hit the gas but to his chagrin, the truck only rocked back an inch before the wheels began to spin.
Out of the corner of his eye he could see Remi’s figure approaching and he grit his teeth and tried once more to back right out of this bad dream. “I shoulda never laughed at his ass. I knew it.” His foot pressed on the gas again, he pressed on the pedal until the damn thing nearly went through the floor but again the truck didn’t move and still Remi came closer.
