Page 1 of New Year (Reconstruction #3)

PROLOGUE

Nat Hawking was fifteen the first time someone stuck a dick in his ass, and in the last eight years, he’d lost count of the number or names of the dicks who’d gone in once. He could, however, count and name the dicks who’d gone in more than once, and it was a short fucking list. And at the very top was Angelo Voltini.

Suave, sexy, wealthy real estate investor Angelo, who was, inexplicably, standing in the same convenience store as Nat, looking amazingly well for someone who’d nearly died a few days ago. And Nat’s sheer delight at seeing Angelo up and about for the first time since the sidewalk outside the burning bar, momentarily made Nat’s brain fall out of his head.

It was the only explanation for why he didn’t duck behind the protein bar display, and instead blurted out, “Angelo?”

Angelo jumped, jostling the iced coffee in his hand. He blinked dumbly at Nat, and then his eyes widened. “Jesus Christ.”

“Nathaniel Hawking, remember?” Nat teased, falling back on the kind of flirting that used to get him good tips at Tim’s. He knew he looked a mess. “Accidents always look and feel worse a few days later.”

“That’s for damned sure.” Angelo’s surprise melted into a gentle protectiveness Nat had missed so much. “When we texted, you said you were okay.”

“I am.” Liar.

“Your face looks like a Neapolitan pizza and your arm is in a cast. That’s not okay.”

Nat tried to shrug, but his hands were full of snacks he needed to deliver soon, or Austin was going get pissy. He also wanted to bask in the glow of a friendly face for a few more, precious minutes. “Hey, I’m alive, walking around, and pigging out on over-salted snacks, until I can find a job that’ll take a one-armed college dropout with bartending experience. Not a great résumé, but again, I’m alive. So are you.”

Thank God, they were both alive. Nat, Angelo and Sasha had gotten very lucky on Tuesday night. Nat and Sasha both worked at a local LGBTQIA+-friendly bar named Tim’s. Angelo had been too drunk to drive himself home, so Nat had volunteered. They’d been nearly finished closing up the bar when the boiler exploded. Sasha had superficial burns and bruises. Angelo had taken a piece of shrapnel to the gut, and all the blood had scared Nat to death, but he’d just needed stitches.

Nat had taken the brunt of the blast on his left side, and he had a still-healing burn on his cheek, a cast on his wrist, and two fresh injuries Angelo would never know weren’t from the accident.

“Wait, what?” Angelo tilted his head to the left, like he always did when puzzling out a problem. “When did you drop out?”

“This semester. Couldn’t afford it anymore but I wasn’t a great student anyway.” Both completely true, but not the entire reason; he needed to work and earn his keep, according to Austin. Not that he was bothering Angelo with his personal life in the middle of a convenience store, so he pasted on a sunshine-y smile. “There’s something better out there for me.”

Angelo finally smiled. “Yeah, there is. I can’t believe you’re already looking for a new job.”

“Well, it’s not like Tim’s comes with paid sick leave or severance, and a guy’s gotta eat.” He also needed an income stream again, if he was ever going to make a clean break from Austin. One of these days, Austin was going to push him too fucking far….

“A guy’s gotta eat more than beef jerky, too.” Angelo eyeballed his armful of snacks. “You know, you should sue. It was their boiler that blew us all to hell.”

Nat shook his head then flinched when his sore neck protested the sudden movement. “No, if I do that they’ll never reopen, and the neighborhood will lose the best bar in the city. Besides, the owners are paying my medical bills. Sasha’s too.” He glared at Angelo. “Don’t you dare sue them, either.”

“I’m not going to. It was an accident, and I have my own insurance.” Angelo shrugged. “Besides, I want to see the place reopen, too. I’ve had some pretty great times there. Including most of the last visit. Thank you for taking care of me that night, Nat. I mean it. Not just getting me out after the explosion, but not letting me drive. I know it’s your job to watch out for customers but still…thank you.”

Angelo’s sweet smile boosted the genuineness of his words, and they warmed Nat deep inside. He’d never stopped caring about Angelo—not even when Nat broke up with him. He’d broken up with Angelo because he cared. Angelo was safer away from Nat.

“You’re welcome.” Nat bit his lower lip then flinched at the shock of pain. Damned cut. “Ow.” He really needed to get going, but he couldn’t stop himself from asking, “Um, so are you recovering alone or is your ginger bear bestie letting you recoup at his place?”

“Something like that. I’m staying in the carriage house behind the big house he lives in.”

“I thought you rented that to a single dad and his kid?”

“Patrick and his son actually moved into the big house with Russell a few months ago. Funnily enough, I found out they were dating the day after you and I broke up.”

“Oh, wow.” Nat had never met Patrick, and he only knew Russell from his visits to Tim’s, but he was still irrationally jealous of them both. “Are they happy?”

“Stupidly happy, and I’m happy for them, especially Russell.”

“So you’ve got the carriage house all to yourself, huh?” Maybe, just maybe, Nat could have a place in his back pocket to crash at, if he ever found the balls to leave Austin, once and for all. Maybe?—

“No, actually, Patrick’s older brother Bryan got out of prison and I rented the carriage house to him. He’s letting me stay with him.”

That news kicked Nat right in the teeth. So much for hiding out with Angelo for a while. And his disappointment unleashed his snarky inner bitch. “Really? You rented to a felon?”

“Patrick vouched for him, and I got to know Bryan before I agreed to it. It’s why I’m comfortable living with him for a while.”

Nat frowned, mostly at himself, because that had been a fucking rude thing to say. Angelo didn’t seem upset, though. “Okay, well, be careful. Please?”

“Aw, I didn’t realize you still cared.” Angelo’s teasing tone only made Nat sadder.

“It wasn’t about me not caring anymore, babe.” He furrowed his brow, wishing he could tell Angelo the truth. Desperate to confide in someone. But doing that put Angelo back in Austin’s crosshairs. No. “You wanted more than I had to give when we were together. Wrong time for us, that’s all.”

“To borrow an old cliché, it’s water under the bridge, right? We’ve both moved on, and we’re friends.”

“Yeah, we are.” His phone began playing music he’d come to dread, and Nat flinched. He’d dawdled too long. “Listen, I gotta go. Take care, Angelo.”

“Take care.”

Walking away from Angelo was one of the hardest things he’d done in a long time. Partly, because he knew what kind of amazing, generous, sensual man he was walking away from; partly, because he knew what kind of arrogant, selfish, brutal man he was walking back to.

The first time Nat met Angelo at Tim’s, the older man had slipped right under Nat’s skin with a few flirty words, and in only a couple of brief hours, was sliding into Nat’s body. They’d had incredible sex at Angelo’s most recent renovation site. Angelo liked to live at those sites to save money, and the illicitness of it had added to the thrill for Nat. It had been the best sex he’d had in years, maybe his entire adult life, if Nat was honest with himself. Both passionate and tender, and full of chemistry.

Naturally, Nat had gotten attached quickly. Even Angelo, who had a reputation for no repeats, continued seeing him for over a month, and they’d even had a brief, post-coital discussion of exclusivity. They’d both been pretty drunk and high on endorphins, but it had felt nice. Nat finally felt special again.

Nat hadn’t felt special in so long that his body had forgotten the sensations of being held by loving arms. He craved the familiarity of Angelo’s strong, protective arms, but he didn’t dare reach for the man. Not with Austin waiting in the car for his fucking Slim Jims.

Nat silenced his phone, then paid for his snacks and fled the store. Austin’s black, two-door Mustang was parked at the farthest pump, and he was already back inside, engine going for the heat in today’s February chill, the rumbling noise like a growl of disapproval at Nat for taking so long. He hated that car, with its deeply tinted windows and wide backseat. Austin loved that car for the same reasons.

Nat tugged on the passenger door handle. Locked. Not really a shock, but he was cold, sore, heartsick, and just wanted to get on the road to their destination so he could try and relax for a while. This entire week had been beyond stressful. It wasn’t every day you nearly died because a boiler blew up, and he’d never been admitted to the hospital, only spent the night in the ER.

A brief respite.

He knocked on the window, barely able to make out the faint shape of Austin in the driver’s seat, hands moving in that orchestra conductor way he had during phone calls. Nat’s own beater car didn’t have a Bluetooth hookup, and he was a little jealous of the new cars he’d been in lately. But Nat had learned to make do with the essentials. Bells and whistles were for other people, not him.

Irritation growing, Nat knocked a second time, maybe a little too hard. The lock finally popped. He reached for the handle. In the same second as he pulled, the car locked again.

Motherfucker, I don’t need this childish shit today.

It unlocked. Nat counted to ten in his head, then pulled. The car door opened and he slid inside with his bag of goodies. The heat was blasting at an uncomfortable temperature, but Austin had also shucked his warm coat and only wore a sleeveless muscle tee. He loved those shirts, because he loved the way they showed off his upper arms. One of his prized possessions was his set of Rogue dumbbells.

“Took your sweet time,” Austin drawled, angling to give Nat his full attention. The display screen was set back to Radio, so he’d ended his call.

“Sorry, there was a line.”

“You got my cookies?”

“Yes, the Slim Jims, cookies and some chips. It’s all in there.”

“Gimme.” Austin snatched the bag. For a twenty-eight-year-old man, he often acted like someone half his age. He was also handsome enough to seduce the devil, with curly black hair, high cheekbones, and the sort of wicked smile that would charm a nun out of her habit.

Austin’s shoulders stiffened and his mouth went flat, sending nervous bees buzzing into Nat’s gut. Austin pulled out two packs of sandwich cookies. “What the fuck are these?”

“Your cookies.”

“No, I told you to get the duplex cookies. One side is vanilla and one side is chocolate.”

Nat stared at the packs he’d chosen: one vanilla and one chocolate. “It’s all they had in stock today. I didn’t see the duplex cookies.”

Austin threw both packs directly at Nat’s face. Nat deflected one with his cast but the other smacked into his bruised cheek, and he yelped. It wasn’t the most painful hit ever, but his poor, abused body needed a goddamn rest.

As if. You know where you’re going today.

Didn’t matter that Nat’s face—as Angelo had so eloquently told him a few minutes ago—looked like a Neapolitan pizza. They’d made the date two weeks ago, and Austin had been furious when Nat came home from the hospital, ten hours after his shift had ended, battered and wearing a cast.

His pain hadn’t mattered to Austin. He’d only cared that they might make less money now that Nat looked less than perfect.

A feather of resistance and anger tried to float up inside Nat, but he was just too fucking tired. “I’m sorry I got the wrong cookies,” he said. “I won’t do it again.”

“Good.” Austin tossed the bag onto Nat’s lap and reached for the shifter. “Time to get going. We don’t want to be late.”

“No.”

Nat had been in the middle of contemplating his choice to buy the single packs of vanilla and chocolate cookies when Angelo approached him. Grabbing one of each, instead of admitting defeat that the duplex wasn’t in stock, had been Nat’s fault. He’d let himself be distracted by a kind voice he regretted ever letting go.

Austin sped away from the gas pump. Someone honked close by, and Nat instinctively braced for impact, but Austin swerved away from whoever he’d cut off. Nat tried to settle down and relax for the hour-long drive west, to mentally prepare himself to perform once they arrived. But Austin was constantly asking to be handed his snacks, open and ready, or for Nat to hand him his fancy insulated tumbler of fancy, hydrogen-infused water from his fancy, super-expensive filter.

Austin had tried to explain the fancy water thing to him once, as it had been sold to him, but Nat didn’t get it. He didn’t taste a difference from the bottled water he drank at work. Water was water. It already had hydrogen in it.

In between snack duty, Nat gazed out the window at the bland scenery, wishing like hell he could put his ear buds in and plug into his music. Music always helped take him away from the worst moments in his life, to disassociate from the worst of the pain and abuse. Yes, he always had the music in his heart and his head, but hearing it in his ears was more grounding. More immediate.

More real.

But Austin wanted Nat’s attention on him and on what they’d be doing once they arrived, not distracted by his phone, so Nat didn’t even try. The cookies had hurt enough; he was too tired and sore to risk an actual slap. So, he stared, tried to hear the music in his head, and existed as calmly as possible until Austin took an exit off the highway.

“Plug it in,” Austin said.

Nat snapped to attention and put the address into the GPS. The mechanical voice blared to life with the first direction to their destination in this somewhat small town.

Small towns hide the worst secrets.

Eventually, Austin pulled into the driveway of a two-story, white house with blue trim. Not so different from a dozen others they’d passed on this same street. Austin told him to bring the insulated cup, and they both walked up the path to the front door. Nat’s insides began trembling with nerves when Austin rang the doorbell.

The front door swung open, releasing a cloud of warm, vanilla-scented air scented that did nothing to settle Nat’s stomach. The man in front of him looked like a linebacker for the Tar Heels, all muscles and very little neck, and he was dressed in only a bathrobe.

“Right on time,” the behemoth said. “I respect that.” His roving leer passed over Austin and landed briefly on Nat. “Heard you had a week, kid. You up for this?”

No, I am not up for this, I don’t want to do this ever again.

Nat summoned from the reservoirs of his courage, straightened his spine, and replied, “I’m up for anything you think you can give me,” in his best sassy voice. The voice Austin liked him to play up for the camera.

Behemoth studied him silently for a long moment, as if testing the truth of that lie, and Nat refused to blink. If this guy changed his mind and turned them away, Austin would take his fury out on Nat the minute they got home.

Thankfully, Behemoth blinked first then nodded. “Come on inside. We go live in less than ten minutes.”

Fuck my fucking life.