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seemed to enjoy it. Not enough apparently.
Rather than wait for an introduction, he moved past the two and headed inside calling
Connie‟s name. She appeared from the back of the house and looked at him as if she assessed his
reaction to seeing the woman. She waved a hand. “She‟s nobody. He just met her a couple days
ago. Okay, I need my bed and things moved out…”
They slaved away all afternoon, going from Trevor‟s house to Connie‟s new apartment in the
city to the storage unit where the rest of her stuff was being held. When Trevor saw it, he rested
his fists on his hips, legs spread a bit apart. “You‟re a pack rat, Connie.”
“Oh stop being lazy.” She swatted his arm and left the area with a few items.
Craven rushed to do the same, but when he turned around to leave the storage unit, Trevor
blocked his path. Craven couldn‟t get by unless he wanted to bring some part of himself in
contact with Trevor‟s body. The thought excited him, but wasn‟t an option.
“Are you going to move?” he asked. To his annoyance, hostility was plain in his voice. He‟d
wanted to appear neutral like he didn‟t give a fuck.
“Why are you avoiding me?” Trevor asked. “Why haven‟t you called?”
“I could ask the same,” he countered. “Oh, by the way, thanks for the lawyer, but I could have
handled it. I‟m not as incompetent as you might think.”
“Why the hell would I think that about you?” he spat.
“Whatever. I have work to do.” Craven tried moving around him, but Trevor grabbed his arm.
Craven found himself focused on that muscle, sheened from all the physical activity. Trevor had
worn a short-sleeved T-shirt, something Craven didn‟t think he owned. He looked really casual
for the first time he‟d ever seen him.
“Whose car is that you‟re driving, because it doesn‟t look like your style,” Trevor asked.
Craven would like to believe there was jealousy in his tone.
“Who‟s the bimbo hanging from your arm?”
They glared at each other, neither giving an inch until a throat was cleared behind Trevor.
They turned to the red, angry face of Trevor‟s date. “The „bimbo‟ is standing right here, and I
didn‟t hear you defending my honor, Trevor.”
Craven pushed past Trevor and headed out with his arm load. Let him soothe her the way he
knew how. Maybe she‟d make him forget how obvious Craven‟s jealousy was. He wished this
stupid day was over, and he could get back to his life. When he got to the van, he threw the box
into it without thought to what was inside.
“Hey,” Connie complained.
“The next time you need to move,” he growled, “fucking ask someone else!”
“Craven,” she called as he stomped by to get into the van. There he had a bottle of water, and
he drained it and wiped the sweat from his brow. In the pouch beside him, he dug out his iPod
and thrust the buds into his ears. Rock blasted into his head, and he closed his eyes. This would
be enough to get him through.
By evening, Connie was all moved in, and Trevor and Craven hadn‟t spoken more than two
words to each other. Craven had noticed the woman was much more subdued than her earlier
exuberance, but that didn‟t make things better for him. He played the good brother, and then
refused Connie‟s offer to treat them all to dinner and left. Back to burying himself in his work,
and he would never have to see Trevor again. The experience had taught him it was time. He
would crush his heart and start a new relationship if only by force. Nothing serious, just casual
dating maybe eventually sex, and sometime in his future, he would stop loving Trevor.
Chapter Eight
Craven paced on the stage reviewing his song in his head. This one hit home a lot harder than
all the rest. Tonight was the first time he would perform it live with an audience, and his stomach
knotted every time he thought of it. Normally, he wasn‟t the type to get stage fright. People had
called him a natural when it came to performing, but this was his heart—words he had never
shared with another living soul. Maybe he was soft for feeling it or putting it into a song, but that
was who he was.
“Craven,” someone called.
He stopped pacing and looked up. His boss—no, partner he thought with some pleasure—
waved him over to his office. They were renovating a closet to be converted for him to use as an
office. He didn‟t mind. The space was way more than he needed, and he tended to spend his time
on the stage more than anywhere else.
Craven stepped off the platform and crossed the club floor. He followed Barry into his office.
“What‟s up?” he asked.
“This.” Barry lifted a package from behind his desk and handed it over to Craven. Because of
its odd shape there was no way of mistaking what it was. The gift was professionally wrapped in
spite of the shape making him figure Barry had hired someone to pick it up.
“That was unnecessary,” he said. “I mean I appreciate it, but wow.”
Barry laughed. “Well, I‟d like to take credit for it, but I‟m not that generous.”
Craven knew he spoke the truth. If Trevor‟s lawyer hadn‟t been there to renegotiate their
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