Henry’s man. That phrase set Temple’s teeth on edge. “Vik is his own man.” He ignored the slight lowering of Syren’s eyelids. “And I checked on him,” he said curtly. “Now I’m ready to move on.”
“Hmm.” Putting his drink down on the table, Syren placed both feet on the floor and leaned forward. “Did I ever tell you how Marshal and I met?”
Kane, Syren’s husband, was a former federal marshal. Working close to—and with—the couple, Temple noticed that Marshal was Syren’s pet name for his husband.
“He was mourning the death of his longtime partner,” Syren told him. “And I was a thorn in his mind.” He smiled, an indulgent thing, before quickly sobering. “Do you want Vik?”
“How do you even—” Temple shook his head. “Our stories are not the same.”
Syren’s eyebrow shot up. “Oh? What is your story?” He glanced at his watch. “I’ve got time.”
Talking about it was the last thing Temple wanted to do, but he needed to relieve all the noise and chaos happening in his head. So he told Syren about all of it. From Vik blaming him for Henry’s death that night and his own guilt, to coming back to Hadley Cove and Vik’s apology that turned into something he hadn’t expected.
“So you feel as if you betrayed Henry.”
It wasn’t a question. “Of course I did!” Temple jumped to his feet, running his fingers through his hair and grimacing. “Vik is his—”
“Vik is his own man.” Syren lifted his chin, staring him down. “I believe you just told me that.”
“Yeah, but— Is this just the two of us grieving? Turning to each other because we understand what the other is going through?”
“And what if it is?”
“I can’t—I think…” Temple dropped back into his seat as he said, “I think I want more.” He rubbed his suddenly damp palms along his thighs, staring at Syren as the words echoed in his head and in the room. “I want more.”
The smaller man’s lips twitched. “Only way to get what you want is to ask for it.”
“I can’t.” Because he couldn’t deal with Vik rejecting him. He didn’t want to hear that the other man didn’t feel the way he did.
But maybe it scared him more that Vik would say yes? That he would reciprocate?
Syren left a short time later after telling Temple to call him back after he talked to Vik.
Once he closed the door behind Syren, Temple checked his phone and saw a voice message from Vik. His heart thudded, finger hovering over it. Just as he went to hit play, a loud banging came on his front door.
Damn it!
Phone in hand, he went to the door and yanked it open.
A man stood there, fist raised to knock again. Brown hair perfectly coiffed, green eyes narrowed. He looked almost out of place in his fancy suit, expensive watch, and shiny leather shoes, wearing the persona of the very thing he despised.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Demming smirked. “Would’ve called, but I doubt you’d have answered.”
No, he wouldn’t have. Ever since that one job Temple did with them after Henry died, Demming reached out to him every time they had something new, but Temple refused to return.
He didn’t bother asking how Demming knew he was back in Hadley Cove. “What do you want?” But he already knew.
“Got a job. Figured I’d bring it to you personally.”
The day after getting fucked on his kitchen counter by his dead fiancé’s best friend, Vik went to therapy. He called up his therapist for an emergency session because he needed to talk through the mess that was in his head. He needed somebody to listen to him as he worked through the guilt he felt.
Guilt about not feeling guilty.
Now that was a doozy.
He’d mourned Henry for two years and he’d known in the abstract he would likely find somebody else. That he’d want somebody else. One day. He hadn’t banked on that person being Henry’s best friend. But he couldn’t help who he wanted or what he felt. Once he’d woken up on that couch, he’d waited for the guilt to kick in, but it didn’t. He’d waited for the feeling of betrayal to swamp him, but it didn’t.
Henry was gone and he had no say in what Vik did with his life or who he did it with.
Maybe Temple didn’t feel the same. Maybe that was why he’d disappeared—again—and wasn’t answering Vik’s phone calls. That hurt. They’d shared something intense. He’d given Temple parts of him he hadn’t thought he still could. Then the other man left while Vik was sleeping.
He’d snuck out of Temple’s place while the other man slept too, but they’d only shared a kiss that time. Temple hadn’t yet fucked his soul out of his body.
The second Java Bean location was set to open soon, and he wanted to share that moment with Temple. Was it too much? Did Temple want any of it or had he just wanted that one moment and was therefore done with Vik now? He had to know. The silence was killing him. He’d gotten in his car a dozen times to drive over to Temple’s place, but he didn’t want to be that guy.
If Temple was indeed done with him after getting what he wanted, then Vik wouldn’t push himself on him. But it sucked that it didn’t appear that Temple felt the same. Or maybe again, the idea of being with Vik was just too much.
Two days after that night, after a long day of preparations, he went home to the big empty house and took a shower. Afterward, he made his way back downstairs and poured himself a glass of wine. Then he sat on the couch where Temple had fucked him so good and picked up his phone. This would be his final call, he promised himself.
The last time he reached out to Temple.
When voicemail kicked in, he sighed. “Temple.” He swallowed. “I…Uh, I wanted to tell you that I don’t regret it. Nothing about what we did was a mistake, but if that’s the way you feel, I’ll try to respect it. The second Java Bean location is opening in a few days and I wanted— Maybe you could come?” He squeezed his eyes shut. “I would love to have you there. If you don’t—If you don’t want me the way I want you, tell me,” he whispered. “And I’ll stop calling. Or hoping.”
He ended the call and gulped the rest of his wine and stretched out on the couch, imagining he could still smell Temple’s skin. Eyes closed, he imagined he felt Temple’s weight over him, pressing him down into the couch, surrounding him, making him feel safe and cared for in a way that Vik missed so very much.
How could he not want Temple? He was beautiful and strong, but more than that, Vik didn’t have to tell him about his pain. Temple already knew. And Vik didn’t have to wonder about Temple’s. They already knew each other’s damage. They were inextricably linked by their love for Henry, by their grief for him. Losing him had driven them apart but it had also brought them back together.
Why would Temple be back in Hadley Cove now if it weren’t fate—or Henry—pushing them together?
Vik refused to believe anything else.
Seven
After talking to Demming, Temple listened to Vik’s voicemail then went out to find him. He had to drive past The Java Bean to get to Vik’s place and when he spotted Vik’s car parked on the street in front of the coffee shop, he pulled in beside it and got out.