Page 9 of Fusion (Gravity #2)

Beau

Chicago, Illinois

“Fuck, the traffic’s bad,” Scott said with aggravation, driving the last leg of the trip. I stayed focused on the street signs and the MapQuest directions that I’d printed before we left the house. Dash was still in my ear, asking all sorts of questions I ignored. He was standing out front of the parking garage, waiting to guide us in.

There were too many cars on the street and none of them cared about basic consideration. Somebody had to let us over. Scott needed to change lanes, but this truck was pretty massive compared to the smaller vehicles weaving through traffic. We also needed another minute to signal a turn just ahead.

“Left at the light. Dash’s out front waitin’ for us,” I said, pointing toward the streetlamp just ahead. “Force your way over. They’re not gonna let you in.”

“I don’t want to wreck your truck,” Scott said, hesitating.

“We’re bigger than all the cars on the road. Get over,” I said, turning to look out the back window. “You got a chance comin’ up.” Seconds later, I shouted, “Now. Put the truck in that lane.” Of course, there was a crescendo of annoyed honks coming from behind us. I didn’t care. I was tired of being inside this cab, but I easily admitted the large lake just to our right soothed some of my irritation.

“Do we park in the garage to unload?” Scott asked.

“Yes. Pick me up and I’ll guide us to the service elevator,” Dash said. “I can’t wait to see you.”

“We’ll pick him up, and he’ll guide us into the garage to where the service elevators are,” I explained again, maybe for the fourth time. At the light, I could feel the tension in the truck. The only noise in the cab came from the blinker, ticking over and over again.

“Tell him I miss you,” Dash instructed, clearly not picking up what was happening inside this truck.

“I’m not saying that to him,” I said, watching Scott bust a move, turning left before oncoming traffic began to roll forward. The cars in those lanes started with their long honks and clearly given hand gestures showing what they thought of us. Dealing with this kind of traffic was going to be a lot to handle every day.

“I see you,” Dash said. I spotted him too. He was handsome in crisp blue jeans, white runners, and a blue jacket zipped to the collar. When we left Dallas, it was shorts and T-shirt weather. The temperature had dropped by thirty degrees on the way up.

“You see him, right?” I asked Scott. My gaze focused on Dash, raising his hand to make sure we saw him.

“’Course, I do. Do I pull up in front of him?” he asked.

“Yes,” Dash answered, walking a few steps into the street.

“Yeah,” I said, repeating Dash’s word. We barely had the gearshift in park, with Dash rounding the hood of the truck in my direction, before the phone call ended, and my door was yanked open. The cool air blew inside the cab as I was enveloped into his arms. His lips and face buried into the crook of my neck. I felt his love to my core.

“I missed you.” I circled my arm around his back while releasing the seatbelt holding me in with my other hand.

“How could you miss me? We’ve spent most of our free time on the phone together.” The words were intended to come off as playfully sarcastic, but with the way my arm stayed locked around his back, he had to know my truth. His palms came to my cheeks as I turned, putting a foot out the door. He didn’t let me out but stayed in my face as he drank me in.

“We don’t do this again. I like you being with me. Promise,” he said.

I leaned forward to kiss his lips and forced myself out of the cab. A loud honk came from behind that instantly grated on my last nerve. The agitation was quick and thorough. I believed Dallas had some bad road rage, but they seemed downright hospitable compared to these drivers.

“Come on, guys. We gotta move,” Scott said, lifting a hand high to flip the driver off through the back window.

“Get in the middle of the front seat,” I said, ushering Dash inside. I climbed in beside him. Based on the next honk, then the foul language shouted at us, I wasn’t moving fast enough for the driver’s liking. That last nerve snapped, halting my progress to sit beside Dash.

My guy grabbed my wrist before I could move a solid step in the other car’s direction. I’d teach that motherfucker how to be patient when necessary. Scott’s door opened, he began to leave the driver’s seat, ready to have my back.

“No, no. No fighting today,” Dash said loudly.

“We aren’t fightin’. We’re explainin’,” Scott said, but he stopped, waiting to see what I was going to do. The trip had been long and the drive into Chicago had been awful. Seconds passed. Dammit if Dash wasn’t right. We didn’t need all this tension in front of our new home.

“Lee, get in the truck,” I said, forcing myself to follow my own instruction, regardless of the way the guy tossed his hands in the air, brushing us off as a non-threat.

“Take the left into the parking garage and circle to the ninth floor. There’re freight elevators that go directly to our floor. It’ll be faster to use them,” Dash said. His joy erased my frustration. “Did you bring your jackets?”

“Yeah, but it was hard to believe we’d need them,” I said, threading our fingers together.

“I think we’re going to need an update in our wardrobe. We’ll have snow in the winter,” Dash said. He bent his head to my shoulder, lying there. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” I murmured. Luckily, Scott didn’t utter a word, probably still mad at all the horn-blowing and fuck-you hand gestures. That was okay. He’d take off back home early tomorrow morning.

“Park there.” Dash pointed to the empty space with Carter’s name on it.

“What kind of car is that?” Scott asked about the one parked next to the truck.

“It’s a Saleen S7. It’s Carter’s. He wants us to drive it. It’s a 2005 and hasn’t been driven in a year,” Dash explained nonchalantly.

Scott’s weird expression locked on mine. “What’s a Saleen?”

I shrugged. “Fancy usually follows Dash.”

“Y’all are strange men. Get out. I have a cart waiting beside the elevator. It’ll help limit the trips,” Dash said and hip-bumped me to get moving. The cool air from below was colder up here, causing me to reach for my jacket.

“How much does that thing cost?” Scott asked, nodding to the Saleen. Dash didn’t answer until he was pushing the cart toward the bed of the truck. I had no idea of the expense, but I knew it had to be high.

“More than most people make in a lifetime, I’m sure,” Dash said, lowering the tailgate.

Rope crisscrossed the top of the bed, securing the boxes in place. I made quick work of untying the knots while Scott assisted my guy in filling the cart eight boxes high. He and I grabbed more to carry, following where Dash led. My experience at FedEx had me familiar with the inner workings of high-rise buildings. This freight elevator was no different than any others. The hallway was good enough too. It was the entrance to the apartment that took my breath away and kept it that way as we put the boxes in the foyer and began exploring the place.

“Is this an apartment?” Scott asked, his head moving different directions, seemingly stunned by what he saw.

“I believe it’s a penthouse apartment,” Dash answered from behind, allowing us the raw advantage of taking in the picturesque furnishings and design. I’d seen parts of the home through Skype, but nothing prepared me for the luxury of the home. The highlight for me was the expansive windows in the living room. I assumed that was what they called this formal sitting room overlooking Lake Michigan. I was captivated, staring out at the churning lake. Large bodies of water always make me feel a little bit better about life.

Dash caressed a hand up my back until he gripped the nape of my neck. “I wanted to surprise you. There’s a boat dock to the right. We can rent something to fish on or buy a boat when we can. There are loads of free fishing docks around.”

“Fuck, Brooks. This place is nicer than your home in Dallas,” Scott said from the catwalk above us. “You got those waterspouts, ass cleaners in every bathroom.”

I pointed my finger toward the lake. “Check it out.”

“There’s some sort of transit heading in every direction. Even with the stops, it can be faster than driving,” Dash said, trailing his fingers down my arm to link our hands. “The kitchen’s in the other direction from where you entered. There’s a guest suite beyond the kitchen and two bedrooms upstairs,” he said, pulling me in the direction of Scott.

“The showers have jets all over the place,” Scott added. “And a detachable wand. I landed on the bed and it’s soft as shit. Lauren needs to see this place, or maybe not. She’ll want us to live this way.” Each syllable Scott spoke held more and more awe.

Dash acted as my tour guide, but I’d spent a lot of time on video in the main bedroom. Scott hadn’t gotten it wrong. The rooms were just as remarkable as the rest of the house.

“The downstairs loops around into a dining room, a gym, an office, and another sitting room. It took me a few days to find them. It was a whole closed-door issue that I didn’t feel comfortable breaching,” Dash explained. His happiness was evident with the giant grin on his face. He tucked his hands into his jeans, patiently watching us discover the cool amenities that neither of us had ever seen before.

“What a badass place to live, Brooks,” Scott said on our ride down to finish unloading the truck. “And his old man’s gonna have a fit when he finds out?”

“I guess he already did,” I said when Dash didn’t immediately answer. “It went over like Dash and Carter expected.”

“Good, he’s a motherfucker,” Scott tossed over his shoulder. The unloading didn’t take nearly as long as the loading had. Not having to relay to Dash everything everyone said helped too.

“I made tentative arrangements to eat deep dish pizza at Lou Malnati’s. It’s been recommended. At least that’s where I’ve been pointed. I printed an online guide to experience Chicago in a day. I thought Scott might like to explore the area before he leaves,” Dash explained, pulling the last remaining clothing onto the cart then taking us back to the elevator.

“Whatever you want to do. I’m sure Lauren’s gonna drag my ass back here soon enough,” Scott said, pushing the floor button as the elevator doors closed behind us. “If you guys wanna unpack, that’s cool too.”

“I could eat,” I said, winking at my guy.

“When can’t you eat?” Dash retorted.

“Wait,” I said with enough urgency that drew both Scott’s and Dash’s attention. “Lauren’s pregnant.”

“What?” Dash said, having the same shocked response as me.

At the same time, Scott said, “Brooks, it’s a fucking secret. You failed.” Scott punched me in the arm when I scooted past him. It wasn’t necessarily a hard hit but added to the happiness of my moment.

“I win,” I said to Scott’s sputtering.

“How was that a win? Loose lips don’t constitute a win of anything,” Scott said, following me out.

“I win.”

Days later

“Where are you now?” Dash asked again for at least the hundredth time. I honestly had no idea. Besides everything looking the same over the whole entire city, and this being one of the first times that I’d ever had to maneuver mass transit, the bus I was now on was packed to the gills. It was hard to judge distance and harder to learn the stops with Dash talking in my ear.

Whatever. I was done trying to figure it out, so I stepped out onto the street when the doors opened again. The cooler air hit immediately, a welcome relief from the sauna I’d been standing in. The phone was stuck to my ear, the people around me on a perpetual power walk, and I stood in the middle of the chaos, trying to catch my bearings.

“I’m not sure. I gotta move closer to the street signs,” I said and started that direction.

“Stop right there. Now turn around.” Although I couldn’t see him, I heard the scraping of a chair against a hard floor. I did turn but uncertain of what I was meant to find. Another challenge of being in Chicago. Every building appeared identical from the street view. “Babe!”

It took a moment more to scan the first-floor restaurants to see Dash’s head poking out of a doorway. Like a magnet, I was drawn to him. So much had changed in my life in such a short amount of time. Birmingham to Dallas had taken a minute to get used to, but Dallas to Chicago was an entirely different level of change. The two major cities were ridiculously different from each other. Even navigating through the crowds to reach Dash felt like a monumental task.

“It’s crazy out here,” I called steps away from my guy. The way he looked at me calmed my slightly ruffled feathers. With all his charm focused on me, he effortlessly drew a smile as he leaned against my chest and lifted. He had no reservations about public displays of affection. He was like a magic balm, turning my souring mood into joy. He kissed me short and sweet.

Like so many other restaurants and bars we had tried, Chicago’s long history hung on the dark interior walls and poorly lit space. Another common feature, the doorknob had a large bell attached, rattling as if the door’s bang wasn’t enough of an indicator that someone had arrived.

“Our booth’s over here,” Dash said, threading our fingers together and guiding us to the seat. I’d recently confessed to him how much I liked U-shaped booths. I could easily slide in next to Dash. Since then, all our dinner spots had that kind of set up. This one was no different. “He’s here,” Dash called to the bartender who raised a single brow as he looked at me.

“Draft?” he asked.

I nodded and took my seat, scooting around to meet Dash in the middle. We’d spent three full days in Chicago, and two of my personality traits firmly established themselves. First, I could pinch a penny. While this habit annoyed Dash, I felt a sense of pride at my thriftiness. Second, this move had brought Dash and me closer than ever. With no familiar faces, every aspect of our lives was a new experience. We loved exploring the city’s layout together.

“Tell me about the job interview. Were the blue jeans a bold choice?” Dash asked, scooting closer to me, his cocktail moving with him. “I’ve been here awhile. I’ve had a few.” The glass lifted as if I might not understand he meant drinks and not interviews. His beautifully masculine face, staring only at me, held no signs of the worry that had plagued him for weeks. Only love and contentment.

From this point forward, he’d focus on my happiness. He was determined to make our lives as comfortable and joyful as possible. Oh man, I loved him.

I backed away long enough to shrug off the suit coat he’d made me wear. “Most of them were wearin’ their uniforms. I did get a couple of under the breath fancies when I was bein’ toured around…”

“Tour, meaning you got a job?” Dash asked excitedly.

“Don’t know yet. I have to go through the process. They processed my transfer request and my application to buy a route. At least, it’s not off the table. The distribution center is about twenty minutes away from here. Maybe in LaGrange? I’d start in Downers Grove, I think. They said the roads change names through every city, did you know that? It’s kind of weird.”

“I didn’t know,” Dash said, still lovingly staring at me. “And yes, it’s weird. But it straightens out some of my confusion. I’ll talk about somewhere I want to go and say the street name, but they always correct me. It’s not easy to navigate around here.”

“Draft for you,” the bartender said with a strong Italian accent, handing the beer over. “Another vodka soda for you. Do I still keep them coming?” A new cocktail glass was placed in front of Dash, who responded with a thumbs-up while finishing the remainder of his previous drink. “You ready to order food? Or are you here for the game?”

“Both.” Dash kept his eyes pointed toward me. “Dallas vs Phoenix. The Mavericks are expected to sweep. We might have some people from school join us,” he said. This was a date to mark since Dash never spoke of sports. “We’ll have a little bit of home. The sign outside says this place has the best pizza in Chicago. What do you want?” he asked me, finally turning his attention to the bartender, ready to order.

“Somethin’ with a variety of meats. I like it all,” I said, lifting the beer for a pretty decent size swallow.

“I got cha,” he said and left us having no idea what we’d ordered. Another Chicago way.

“Who’s comin’?” I asked.

“Just a few people I’ve met,” Dash explained. “I invited them casually. I doubt they’ll come.”

“Well, you’re mistaken then.” A female voice drew both our attention as I draped my arm over the ledge behind Dash. Without hesitation, she dropped down in the booth, scooting toward me, a guy trailing her. “Pierce is on his way.” She regarded me with direct curiosity in that particular way lawyers had at looking at something. “I’m Mandy.” She extended her hand for a formal handshake. I hadn’t expected that but obliged. “This is my husband, Denver.” I understood his acknowledgement way better when I received a nod.

“This is my guy, Beau,” Dash stated proudly.

“Thank God you’re here,” Mandy said with flair while looking at me. “We thought he was insane with the way he talked about you all of the time.”

“We’ve all heard the story of how you met,” Denver added, lifting a hand to gain the bartender’s attention. “We got trapped one night at your condo, hearing about all the years he waited on you.” Denver turned a playful stare at Mandy. “I’d’ve moved on, for sure.” She knocked him in the chest with the back of her hand.

Well, this was news to me. Since Dash had me on call most evenings and into the night, he never mentioned having friends over or that he wasn’t right there with me all night. I tilted my chin toward Dash, but didn’t get much of a reply. My guy was on his way to a solid drunk. “They came over a couple of times. Always late. Study sessions.”

“That turned into quite the party,” Mandy added. “Dash knows how to have a good time. We played guess the name of the song and indulged ourselves into oblivion.” Something caught her attention as she spoke and never missed a conversational beat as she added, “Hey, Jay, we’re here. The group’s together again.” Their confidence levels were insane. Jay ordered a drink at the bar then took the seat next to Dash.

“Hey, buddy. I’m Jay. I’m glad you’re here.” Jay’s hand also came across the table, forcing my arm from around Dash to shake his. “Beau, right? We’ve all heard about you. Maybe our team lead can focus now.”

“Ha ha,” Dash responded, sitting up a little straighter. “I’m already carrying you all.”

“Grey Goose and tonic, extra lime?” a new waitress asked at the head of the table.

“That’s mine,” Mandy said. She waggled her fingers to get her drink.

The waitress passed that over and set Denver’s drink in front of him. “Goose Island for you. The volume on the game is going up.”

As if she had mind control, the TV’s volume increased, and the game began. Less than minutes later, our pizza was delivered to the table. After a thank you , I pretty much didn’t say another word for the evening. I attempted to keep up with their discussions; they were incredibly intellectual, and so far out of my intelligence league. The needling poking around my head wanted me to worry, and I would. Though, maybe not. Dash needed this regardless of how well I fit into his crowd.

I was damned good at silence, which I planned to be, all of the time.