Page 11 of New Year (Reconstruction #3)

CHAPTER NINE

Nat spent Saturday attempting to find his courage again by going to Neighborhood Shindig for lunch. He still sat under the pavilion with his back to a support beam while he ate, but he was out in public. Exposed. Watching the ebb and flow of customers in and out of what was essentially an open-air mall. He also listened to a local college band perform, while he ate his kebab combo tray from Stick It.

Being anonymous in a crowd of people was kind of fun.

Around two, Nat took the bus to his favorite thrift store, a few blocks north of the college campus. The shirt he’d worn to Tim’s last night was his only nice shirt, and he needed something else for tonight’s actual date with Zack. He grinned like a fool while he browsed the racks of men’s shirts in the store, savoring another bolt of excitement from the idea of dating someone like Zack.

Dating someone he knew, deep down, wouldn’t demand or coerce or force anything from Nat that Nat wasn’t willing to offer. Nat had only brushed the surface of all the shit in his past, but rather than the hints scaring Zack off, Zack wanted to know more. Nat wanted to tell him more. But talking about the things that gave him nightmares also terrified him. He’d tried telling Austin about his mother a few times, and he’d been supportive at first. Supportive long enough to reel Nat in, make Nat trust him. Make Nat fall in love with him. Then Austin had stopped caring and told Nat to shut up about it. To forget the past, stay in the present.

Nat had absorbed that so deeply that he wasn’t entirely sure Zack did want to hear about Nat’s traumatic past.

A shiny green shirt caught his eye. It had long sleeves, white buttons, and a smart collar with white embroidery on it. Not a pattern he recognized, but the shirt was gorgeous and stupidly affordable at six bucks. No stains or tears that he could see. Perfect for a date with a hot older man.

He browsed a bit longer, since he had time to kill before he expected a text from Zack, and found a nice pair of jeans in his size. A few small trinkets caught his eye, but he’d long ago been disabused of the notion of accumulating useless items. He only kept what fit into his backpack.

Except for some of the extra clothes he had stored at home. If he had to run, he would have to leave a few things behind. Unless it was winter. Then he’d wear layers.

Stop it! Think about the present.

Staying in the present was something he and Austin could agree on today. Today was about his date with Zack.

Nat paid for his shirt and jeans, then walked to the nearest bus stop. The best part of a college town the size of Reynolds was a pretty regular bus schedule, so he didn’t have to wait long. He found a seat in the middle of the bus and settled in with his bag. At the next stop, he only paid half-attention to the people getting on and off—until curly black hair flashed in his periphery. Nat’s head snapped to the side, stomach gurgling with acid, heart slamming into his ribs like a bucking bronco.

The guy sat near the front, same side of the bus, and someone else’s head obscured Nat’s view. Nat hunched down in his seat, terrified that head of black curls belonged to Austin.

Please, not Austin, he can’t find me, I can’t see him.

He angled so he could see if the black-haired man left, and regulated his breathing so he didn’t have a fucking panic attack on a public bus.

Public bus.

Why would Austin be on the bus? He had his own car. He was a control freak who loved driving himself places and hated public transportation. Even if his beloved Mustang had broken down, he’d call up a friend for a ride, or rent something just as sporty.

Logically, that guy was not Austin. Fear kept Nat firmly in his seat when the bus paused at his stop. He couldn’t exit past the guy on the very slim chance it actually was Austin. Couldn’t risk it. Would not risk it. Coming out alone had been idiotic. What if he’d put himself right in Austin’s crosshairs? How long was he going to be stuck on this fucking bus?

The guy got off at the next stop. Nat leaned toward the window and peeked out. Too short, different profile. Not Austin.

Nat’s body turned to jelly as his adrenaline waned and his fear drained away into exhausting relief. Of course, it hadn’t been Austin!

Ashamed of his foolishness, Nat got off at the next stop, which left him a long way from home, but he didn’t care. He walked, sweating the entire way. His feet and legs hurt by the time he reached the house, and he went straight into the bathroom for a shower. Sat under the streaming water and tried to rid himself of the last of today’s intense fear. Fear over being discovered that slowly disappeared, replaced by a burning anger.

Even after two months apart, Austin was still controlling him. And that pissed Nat off.

He was still pissed later, when he was dressed and trying to read, and Zack texted that he’d be home in about thirty minutes. Nat tried to concentrate on his latest book, but he’d been staring at the same page forever, his mind stuck on that bus. Emotions fluctuated between shame and anger, both leaving him unsettled and slightly nauseated, when a sharp clicking noise startled a yelp out of him. His book tumbled to the floor.

“Hey, it’s just me,” Zack said from by the front door. “Nat?”

“Sorry, hi.” Nat reached down for the book, annoyed at himself for bending a few of the pages. “Shit.”

“I didn’t mean to scare you. I thought you’d hear my car.”

“I was a million miles away. Not your fault.” He smoothed out the pages as best he could, then put the battered book on the side table. “How was work?”

“Pretty uneventful, which is what I always prefer over even minor catastrophes. Steady pace until I left.” Zack circled the couch, tie undone and jacket draped over his arm. “Chase and I spoke briefly this afternoon.”

Nat didn’t need to ask, but he still posed his response as a question. “About us?”

“Apparently, the hostess mentioned I was distracted, so Chase asked why. I admitted we were going on a date tonight.”

“Our date had you distracted at work?”

Zack’s lips quirked into a flirty smile. “Can you blame me?”

Nat had no idea why Zack would be excited to go on a date with him; Nat was nothing special and carried a dump truck full of baggage everywhere he went. But Zack saw something in him that Nat didn’t see, the same way that in Zack, Nat saw a deeply interesting man in the past, and a very tender heart in the present.

“I’m excited, too,” Nat replied. “I even bought a new shirt.”

“I noticed.” Zack’s obvious once-over made Nat’s insides tingle with anticipation. “Give me ten minutes for a quick shower and change?”

“Sure.”

Nat spent the time fruitlessly trying to smooth those book pages out, but once paper was folded, it was next to impossible to remove the fold completely. He hated the damage but the book was still readable. It wasn’t damaged beyond repair. Much like people. You could bend them, fold them, twist them, and tear them, but they could still be mended and have value.

But broken people were also like antiques: not everyone saw the value in what was being offered. Some people always saw dirty, dusty things.

Zack emerged from the bedroom in a simple black polo that showed off the silver glints in his hair, and he was carefully fixing the clasp on his watch. The fact that he still wore an actual wristwatch was such a turn-on for Nat, who knew few other people who wore one that wasn’t connected to their phone and pulse. “I hope you like tapas,” Zack said.

“I’ve heard of it, but I don’t think I’ve ever eaten it.”

“You’ve likely eaten the various components as sides or garnishes, but tapas is an entire experience. Are you game?”

“Definitely.” Nat wanted to share new experiences with Zack. Wasn’t that the entire point of a date? To try something new? Or someone new?

“Fantastic. Ready?”

“Yup.” As soon as Nat stood, he realized he needed shoes first. Then they were in Zack’s car, heading toward the east side of Reynolds. A nice neighborhood with a mix of residential homes, businesses, and the occasional chain store. Zack pointed out their destination as they drove past on Rio Street, on a hunt for good parking.

Nat couldn’t stop plucking at the hem of his untucked shirt as they walked down the bustling sidewalk toward Rio Grille. It was dinnertime on a Saturday, so the area was full of diners and shoppers, and possibly workers heading from one shift to another. So many people, and Nat kept looking. Always watchful. The guy on the bus hadn’t been Austin, but they were in an area Austin had loved. Near restaurants they’d frequented when Austin had wanted to go out, rather than order in.

They’d never eaten here, thank God. Austin thought small plates were fussy and sharing food was what poor people did. To Nat, the whole thing sounded like a fantastic adventure. The kind of adventure that kept his clothes on and didn’t leave Nat worried which parts would end up online for paying customers to enjoy.

They were seated at a table against one of the street-facing windows, which unnerved Nat at first. Anyone walking by could see him. But he couldn’t spend his entire evening worrying that Austin, or someone Austin knew, might spot him randomly in a restaurant window. Tonight was about his date with Zack and nothing else.

He loved the atmosphere of the place, with its terracotta-colored walls, high ceilings, and gently piped music. Some places blared music so loudly that it joined with the conversation and created a bar-like cacophony that stirred Nat’s anxiety. The ambiance here was peaceful, relaxed, and it kept Nat’s nerves buzzing steadily along at a low hum.

“Would you like wine?” Zack asked.

“Sure. I don’t know much about it, but I’ll drink it as part of a meal.” Nat glanced at the wine list on the back of the menu their hostess had left with them. “What do you think?”

Zack grinned, and when their server arrived, ordered two glasses of something French-sounding, plus water for each of them. Nat was okay with being ordered for, since he wasn’t familiar with most of the menu. Sure, he liked olives and had eaten hummus, but he’d never tried lamb, and he couldn’t tell anyone what tabbouleh was.

“How do you feel about the tasting and sharing menu?” Zack asked. “Option number two is my favorite, because it comes with lamb and poultry dishes, so there’s a touch more variety. Lamb isn’t for every palate, especially if you aren’t used to gamey meat.”

Nat scanned the dishes listed under that option. “Um, that sounds great. I’m going to have to trust you, because I haven’t had most of this stuff. I mean, I’ve had kebabs, and I tried a gyro a few years ago, but I don’t have a very refined palate.”

“Thank you for trusting me, Nat.” When their server returned with the water and poured them each a glass of white wine, Zack ordered their entrée. That done, he raised his glass. “To our first date.”

Nat raised his glass, too, and gently tapped the thin rim to Zack’s. “To our first date. And to new experiences.”

Zack smiled then sipped his wine. Nat did the same, unsure what to expect. The wine was sharp and lacked sweetness, but it still had a strong flavor of…something. Not bad. Would definitely be better with food.

“So.” Zack relaxed into his chair and rested his hands in his lap. “Tell me more about this unrefined palate. If you don’t mind.”

“It’s not that exciting.” Nat glanced around, but the various tables were spaced out enough, the music and conversations just loud enough, that no one could easily eavesdrop. “Growing up, we ate a lot of frozen meals, fast food, or donated meals, which was as exciting as it sounds. College was cafeteria food or instant noodles, typical stuff. When I was with Austin, we ate out sometimes, but he was very steak and potatoes. Not so much with trying new things.”

Not in terms of eating food, at any rate. Using food for entertainment had been a temporary fetish of Austin’s, but he’d decided it was too messy.

“My parents were very much the same way,” Zack said, a touch of sympathy in his soft voice and tender smile. “Every Sunday was the same roast beef dinner. My father hated spicy food, even chili. He thought Indian curry was invented by the devil, and I wish I was kidding. The man was…”

“A bigot?”

Zack snorted. “Very much so, yes. Part of my desire to work in fine dining was the chance to explore all the things he thought were demonic and unclean. To embrace what was considered different at the time, but is very much mainstream now, thanks in large part to celebrity chefs and reality TV.”

Nat couldn’t stop himself from asking, “Would you ever want to compete on one of those shows? Be on TV?”

“God, no. While it’s true that to succeed in this industry, you need a big ego? A big ego doesn’t always translate into actual cooking skills. No, I am content with the little corner of the culinary world that I inhabit right now. I tried reaching for more, and it became far too much to handle. I crashed. I’d rather stay the course than risk crashing again. I might not survive a second time.”

“I get that.” Nat didn’t want fame or fortune, either. He wanted to feel safe and loved and wanted—and to know those emotions were genuine, not an act meant to garner attention from outsiders. His mother and Austin had so much in common that hindsight was like a blade to his throat. “Sometimes anonymity is the healthiest option.”

“It can be. So many people your age live every moment of their lives on social media, and they have no concept of privacy. Anonymous isn’t a familiar concept, and that’s a shame. They desire being seen by millions of strangers on the internet, rather than being seen by a few, truly important people in real life.”

“That’s Austin in a nutshell. He was constantly going live on his phone, and I hated it. I was just a prop on The Austin Show, and I wish I’d seen that more clearly a lot sooner.”

Zack leaned across the table and squeezed his wrist. “But you see it now. And being able to see it now will help you see it in others going forward. You figured it out at twenty-three, Nat, and that’s huge. It took me until my late thirties to really start seeing the worst in people, even when the behavior was right in front of my face.”

He’d butted up against that topic before.

“Will you tell—?” Nat’s question was interrupted by their first course.

Zack talked him through the cosas de picar, which was a collection of olives, marcona almonds, Iberico ham slices and different cheeses. After that, the new courses kept arriving at a steady rate. Too steady for any real conversation that wasn’t centered around the plates, and the different ways to combine the food and condiments and bread options. He couldn’t hope to remember all the Spanish names for the dishes, and that was okay. Nat didn’t love everything, but he did try everything, and that’s what was important at the end of the meal: the experience.

The wine also went perfectly with the food, and Nat was warm and tipsy by the time the bill arrived. Zack quickly handed over his credit card, and Nat didn’t try to split the bill. It had been Zack’s invitation, after all, and Nat was very much ready to properly thank Zack for their date when they got home.

The wine didn’t help his naturally loose tongue, and on the drive home, Nat blurted out, “Did you leave Wilmington because of a guy?”

They were stopped at a light. Zack’s fingers flexed around the steering wheel. He glanced briefly at Nat, his expression difficult to discern in the bad light. “Yes and no, and it wasn’t because I’d ended a romantic relationship. Far from it, actually. And how about we put a pin in that until we get home?”

“Okay.” Nat had hit a nerve, and he didn’t want their sweet, fun night to crash down because he couldn’t control his dumb mouth. But he’d asked, and he wanted to know. To hear more about Zack before Nat committed to having sex with him—something he really, really wanted to do now. His libido was singing, eager for sex for the first time in months.

Not just sex. Sex with Zack Matteson.

By the time Zack silently pulled into the driveway and shut off the engine, an odd tension hung in the air, and it was all Nat’s fault. Him and his stupid big mouth. He wanted to sink into his seat and hide from his dumb question, and he lingered in the car after Zack departed. But Zack surprised him by circling the car and opening Nat’s door. Offering Nat a hand. So sweet and gentlemanly that Nat accepted it.

Zack held his hand on the walk to the door, and through the process of going in and resetting the alarm. He led Nat straight to the sofa and sat them down, knee to knee. Nat’s stomach squirmed, uncertain if he’d killed the mood of the night or not.

“After I moved away for college,” Zack said softly, “I began to experiment with my sexuality. I met a lot of new people and tried a variety of things I’d never imagined existed, let alone had an entire community who supported it and taught how to do it safely.”

Not an idiot, Nat blurted out, “You mean BDSM?”

“Yes. I had an affinity for it, domination in particular, and I was good at it. I loved putting my entire focus on my sub, on making him squirm and beg and finally come. On taking care of people. It’s how I met Chase.”

Nat blinked, an odd heat flushing his body. “Chase was your sub?”

“For a time, yes.” Zack flinched. “Without breaching his privacy too badly, we tried. We loved each other intensely for a time, but it couldn’t work. Not in the long term, and our breakup was traumatic for us both. It’s why we lost touch for years. He left Wilmington. I stayed and worked my ass off creating a comfortable living. But I also drowned my pain in BDSM. In particular, in the parties I began hosting.”

A cold ball of ice formed in Nat’s stomach. Parties.

“Beau is hosting another party, Natty, come on. You’ll love it.”

Nat hadn’t loved it.

“What, um, kind of parties?” Nat whispered.

“The kind that allowed men with certain desires to meet other men who were willing to participate.” Zack’s face twisted in pain, and Nat braced for him to end the conversation. And the date. For their beautiful night to be flushed right down the drain, because of his runaway curiosity.

After the absolute joy that had been walking Nat through his first tapas dinner, Zack hadn’t expected things to get so serious, so quickly. But he also wasn’t surprised. Nat was a naturally curious person who said what was on his mind, a trait that Zack found refreshing. He was incredibly attracted to Nat, had hoped their evening would end with at least a make-out session, and now they were talking about this.

And Zack couldn’t make himself lie or obfuscate the truth. Not when Nat had given him a few more crumbs of information about his painful past with Austin. Zack wanted to be honest. “At first, I was incredibly careful about who attended my private parties, about consent, and about the consumption of drugs and alcohol while in my home.”

“At first?”

Zack nodded, his face flushing. He undid the first two buttons on his shirt, too hot, and ashamed of so many of his past actions. “As the years went by, my arrogance rose above my better judgement. I stopped trying to see people for who they were, or to judge their intentions in a safe way. I preferred attention to discretion, and it became an addiction.”

Nat’s gaze drifted to the left briefly, then snapped back to Zack’s face. “The violent narcissist friend of yours. The one who went to jail. He went to your parties?”

“Yes.” Allowing Brett Jones to remain in his life and attend his parties for so long was one of his biggest regrets. But Zack himself had been seduced by the glamor of his own lifestyle, the power of hosting those parties for so many wealthy, gorgeous men, and the high of chasing the perfect scene. “Brett and I were personally involved for a brief time. I was his Dom, but we weren’t a good fit.”

In retrospect, Brett had never been a true sub. He’d been struggling, needy, and willing to give anything for a warm bed and hot meals. And in some ways, Zack himself had taken advantage of that. But everything had been consensual. Back then, Zack had been careful about double and triple-checking consent before scenes. When he’d been a good Dom.

“Did you dump him because he was a jerk?” Nat asked.

“No, our chemistry was wrong, and it became clear that he didn’t need a Dom. He wasn’t what I’d categorize as a Dom or a sub, he simply enjoyed kinky sex. But we remained friends for many years. And it was our prior relationship that blinded me to what he’d become.”

“What made you finally see him?”

Zack blinked away the memory of Riley, gagged and bound in a swing, drugged and terrified out of his mind. “He lied to me about something dangerous. Something that, had it continued, would have been a crime. I did my best to make amends to the injured party, and I stopped hosting. Left the lifestyle. Did some serious reflection on who I’d become, and I didn’t like that man. I realized that while I did enjoy certain aspects of kink and domination during sex, the lifestyle itself was toxic to me as a man. So, I left it all behind.”

Nat was staring at his fingers, which were twisting together in his lap, his shoulders hunched. Zack studied him for signs of serious distress, but he wasn’t shaking or making any sort of noise. Nat was just…thinking? Absorbing everything Zack had revealed. It was a lot to process. Not everyone understood what drew others to the BDSM lifestyle, even though a lot of those same people did enjoy some small aspect of kink.

When Nat looked up, his eyes were wet but held no censure. “What specifically did Brett do that could have been a crime?”

Positive he’d completely blown their date, even though Nat had been the one to bring up the subject, Zack admitted to his greatest shame. “During my parties, I allowed guests to participate in consensual scenes in my playroom. In the beginning, I always spoke with both participants to make sure all acts were consensual, especially when bondage was part of the scene. During the final few months, as my depression deepened and I drank more, I grew lax in my precautions.”

Zack allowed old shame to wash over him, because the shame had been earned. “It was Brett’s birthday, and he told me his current boyfriend had agreed to a scene as his gift. It was a non-consensual scene, and Brett reassured me that even if it appeared Riley was unwilling or confused, it was part of the script they’d written together.”

Nat’s face had gone ashen, his eyes widening. He didn’t say anything but the hurt radiated on his face like a neon sign.

“Brett escorted Riley to my party, and I could tell Riley was uncomfortable with so much public sexual activity. There was entertainment in the living room, and some guests wore very little. But Brett was excited, and I loved seeing him happy, because we had history. When Brett asked me to be part of the scene, I hesitated. He insisted Riley was okay with the change to the script.”

“But you didn’t ask Riley.” Nat’s broken voice jabbed tiny slivers of glass beneath Zack’s skin.

“No, I didn’t. We took Riley into the playroom and undressed him. He was inebriated, but I didn’t realize how badly, because I’d been drinking, as well. Which I should not have been doing. I let all my guests down by drinking, but I let Brett and Riley down the most. Riley protested after we had him strapped up in the swing. I felt wrong about Brett putting a ball gag in Riley’s mouth, but I didn’t say anything, because I still trusted Brett about the scene being a birthday gift. It was the first time Brett had lied directly to my face, and I couldn’t see it.”

Zack rubbed both hands over his face, unable to look Nat in the eyes. “Another guest, someone I’d known for about a year and who was lightly into the scene, he came into the playroom and challenged us. Me and Brett. Boxer said he knew Riley, and he insisted we take the gag out so Riley could tell Boxer he was into the scene.”

“But Riley wasn’t,” Nat said when Zack couldn’t find his voice, too wrecked by his own shame over the years-old memory. Over what Zack had almost allowed to happen.

“No, Riley wasn’t. Brett admitted he’d given Riley GHB. I helped Boxer get Riley out of the swing, get him dressed, and then Boxer took him home.” Zack rubbed his eyes against grateful tears. “Riley and Boxer are still together today, as far as I know.”

Nat’s entire body jerked. “Really?”

“Yes. For all the horrendous mistakes I made that night, it brought two lonely souls together, and I’m happy for them both. I apologized to them, as well. After that, Brett spiraled, and he was eventually arrested for stalking, assault and animal abuse. After everything that happened in those few months, I realized I had to stop. To start over. To become a better man.”

Zack stood and stalked to the living room window. The shade was down, so he didn’t have anything to stare at, but he needed the distance. Distance from Nat’s disappointed frown and Zack’s own overwhelming disgrace. Even years past the events, he couldn’t leave it completely behind. The “scene” that night could have been so much worse, but it had still been traumatizing for Riley. The look in Riley’s eyes the night Zack had personally apologized had told him that.

He was thankful every single day that Riley and Boxer had found each other, even if the method had been messy and traumatic.

Fabric shuffled. The floor creaked. A hand rested on his hip. Zack closed his eyes and concentrated on that single, grounding touch. “I wish.” Nat’s voice cracked. “I wish someone had been there, just once, to get me out of my own swing.”

“Fuck, Nat.” Zack turned and swept Nat into his arms, practically hauling Nat off his feet. Nat clung to him, face pressing hard into Zack’s neck. Zack didn’t want to imagine all the metaphorical swings Nat had been trapped in over the years. Trapped by Austin, someone who should have loved and protected Nat. No Boxer to stand up for him and to say stop. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” Nat spoke the words against his skin, breath hot and damp. “Not your fault, but you’re here now. We’re both here now.”

“I hate what he did to you, and I don’t even know the details.”

“I hate what Brett did to you, too. He betrayed your trust, too, Zack.” Nat pulled back, both eyes red and damp, but also blazing with an emotion Zack couldn’t identify. “We both spiraled, and now we’re here. We found each other.”

Zack inhaled a sharp breath, not trusting his own instincts or what he hoped Nat meant. “Do you still trust me?”

“With my whole body and mind. You could have lied about everything, made yourself out to be a hero in the Riley story, but you owned your mistakes. You showed me what kind of man you are.”

“Which is?”

“Honest. You have integrity, but you’re also just as fucking flawed as the rest of us. You could have spun me so many stories, nudged me in any direction you wanted, taken advantage of my situation. But you didn’t. You never have. I really…like you for that.”

Zack quirked an eyebrow, charmed by Nat’s hesitation. “Like me?”

“Yes. It’s way too soon to think about the other l-word, but I really like you, Zack. As a friend. As a man I admire and want…to be with.”

Heat and arousal pooled in Zack’s belly and tickled toward his groin. But he had to be sure. This couldn’t be a mistake. Never a mistake, not with Nathaniel Hawking. He cupped Nat’s cheeks in his palms and held him steady, gazes locked. He studied Nat’s eyes, seeking any hesitation. Any hint this wasn’t what Nat wanted.

“Tell me what you want, Nat,” Zack whispered.

“I want you.”

“Not good enough.” A sliver of his Dom side came back. The part that needed his sub to verbalize his needs and desires, so Zack didn’t make a mistake. “Tell me.”

Nat sucked in a sharp breath, then leaned up so their noses nearly touched. “I need you to make love to me tonight. Please?”

Yes. “Yes.”