Afraid to Fly (Anchor Point #2)(24)

"Give it time," he said through his teeth as we continued up the path. "You'll figure it out."

"What do you mean?"

He sighed, avoiding my eyes. "My back pain kind of runs my life. I get nervous when it starts interfering with other people's lives, because they don't tend to stick around at that point. And I can't say I blame them."

"Travis." I stopped, and he did too. "You're talking to someone whose life is ruled by something that happened three years ago and won't leave here." I tapped my temple. "I've been told to ignore it, or get over it, or that I'm faking it, because it's literally all in my head." I paused. "Do you really think I'd give up someone who takes me seriously because you've got something from the past fucking with you too?"

His lips parted, and he slowly released a breath. "I hadn't thought of it that way."

I smiled. "Seriously, don't worry about it. You'll have to do a lot worse than have a bad back to get rid of me."

At that, he actually laughed, lowering his gaze.

"Take care of yourself tonight," I said. "See how you feel tomorrow, and then maybe we can do something easy this weekend. I've been meaning to check out the pier in town, so if you want to, we could go walk down there. I mean, if you can move."

"That sounds like fun." Travis paused. "Actually, I have a friend who'd like to meet up with us for dinner if you're interested." 

"Sure, I'm in. Let me know when and where."

The smile broadened a little. "Okay. Let me recuperate a bit, and I'll let you know."

"Great. Looking forward to it."



It was a little over a week before Travis had fully recovered and his friends were available. They all knew the town better than I did, so I deferred to them to pick a place. They settled on a bistro a few blocks from the waterfront. I hadn't even heard of it, but apparently Sean and Paul swore by it, and Travis had been impressed the few times he'd been here. That was a good enough endorsement for me.

So, on Saturday afternoon, we sat down at a table by the window.

While we waited for Sean and Paul, I opened the menu and was greeted with all manner of entrées involving sauces and cheeses I'd never even heard of. Everything looked utterly decadent. "Wow. This all sounds amazing."

"Doesn't it?"

"Yep. Thank God PRT is over."

Travis laughed. "This is the best part about post-PRT." He flashed a toothy but somehow uneasy grin. "Eating."

"Damn right." I touched his leg. "You okay today? You seem kind of nervous."

"What? No." He held my gaze, but the tightness of his lips gave him away.

"What's going on? I'm the one who's supposed to be nervous, remember?"

He laughed softly, shifting his eyes toward the menu. "I . . ."

"Talk to me. Is there something I should know before I meet them?"

"Actually . . ." He gnawed his lip.

My stomach clenched. "Travis?"

He inhaled deeply and turned to me. "Okay, it's probably not even a little bit relevant, but I'd feel kind of weird going into this if I didn't tell you."

"All right . . ."

"Paul and I have known each other a long time. Most of my career. When we were younger, we . . . uh . . ."

"He's an ex?"

"Well, not exactly." Some color rose in Travis's cheeks, and he laughed shyly as he lowered his gaze. "I wouldn't say we had a relationship."

"But you slept together."

He nodded. After a second, he looked at me, brow pinched with what seemed like uncertainty. "So I guess I just wanted it out in the open. So there's no-"

"Relax." I patted his leg. "It's not a big deal to me." I paused and faced him again. "Uh, one question."

Travis tensed. "Hmm?"

"Am I allowed to ask him for pointers, or is that-"

He burst out laughing. "Shut up."

"What? It's a valid question, don't you think?"

"If you do, I swear I will-" He glanced at the door and did a double take. "There they are." He turned to me. "Don't you dare."

I smothered a laugh. We both stood as a couple approached, and Travis introduced us.

"This is Paul and his fiancé, Sean," he said. "And this is Clint."

"We've been hearing a lot about you." Paul extended his hand. "It's great to finally meet you."

"Likewise," I said.

We shook hands all around, and they took their seats opposite us. As we all perused the menus, I stole a few looks at them.

They were not a couple I would have expected to see together. At the same time, they were perfect together. There was at least twenty years between them. Even if Sean's hair hadn't been dyed-mostly black with some blue highlights-I was pretty sure he wasn't hiding as much gray as his fiancé had.



       
         
       
        

And as they discussed dishes and appetizers, all it took was one glance and a quick smile between them, and it was obvious they were madly in love. They were affectionate too. Subtly, but considering they were a same-sex couple out in the open, any little touch could attract unwanted attention. Maybe they felt safe enough here and with us, or maybe they were like this all the time, but I admired how casually and comfortably they touched each other. Sean had his arm slung across the back of Paul's chair for a few minutes. Whenever Paul wasn't flipping through the menu or buttering a piece of bread, he had his hand resting on Sean's leg beneath the table. Once in a while, one would playfully nudge the other, and get an elbow back. They'd go back and forth a few times before erupting into laughter like a couple of kids.

After we'd ordered, gone through a shared plate of brie quesadillas, and were waiting for our entrées, Travis asked, "So how goes the wedding planning?"

Groaning, Sean buried his face in his hands.

Paul laughed, patting Sean's shoulder. "That answer your question?"

"Wedding planning is a nightmare," I said. "I don't envy either of you."

"Ugh." Sean dropped his hands and leaned against Paul. "I really should've put my foot down about keeping it small and simple. My mom wants to invite everyone she's ever known, and . . ." He rolled his eyes. "Every time we talk, the whole thing gets bigger."

"We could always elope," Paul said.

Sean grumbled something I didn't understand. More clearly, "You think she won't leave me alone now?"

"Fair point," Paul said into his drink.

Travis and I exchanged glances, and chuckled.

"Anyway." Sean sat up, shaking himself. "Enough about that bullshit." He reached for his drink, and as he did, looked at me. "So you just moved here?"

"Yeah. End of the summer."

"What do you do?" he asked.

"Well, I work in training now, but before I came here, I was a . . ." I hesitated, glancing at Travis. He gave me a slight nod, and I hoped he understood I'd been looking for encouragement before admitting my job to an ex-pilot. "I was an RAP."

"A what?" Sean asked.

"Remote aircraft pilot," Paul said before I could. "He flew drones."

Sean's eyes lit up. "Really? That sounds like a really cool job."

I laughed uncomfortably. "The novelty wears off pretty fast, believe me."

He scowled. "Happens with any kind of work, doesn't it?"

"Well . . ." Travis looked at Paul, and they both grinned. 

"Hey, that's not fair." I elbowed Travis. "I wouldn't call screaming around the sky at Mach 1 'work.'"

Paul shrugged. "I got paid for it."

"I had to get out of bed at ass thirty to do it," Travis said.

"There was paperwork involved," Paul said.

"Ah." Travis pointed at him and looked at me. "Paperwork. That makes it work."

Laughing, I put up my hands. "All right, all right. You guys win."

Sean chuckled and patted Paul's shoulder. "No wonder you're bored with retirement."

"Of course I am." Paul sighed dramatically. "What is a guy supposed to do with himself when he doesn't have to be out of bed until whenever-he-wants o'clock?"

"Oh, shut up," Travis muttered. "And besides, what about that volunteer gig you had? At the animal shelter?"

Paul sobered and shook his head. "I had to quit. Too depressing. We're still going to send them donations when we can, but I just . . . I couldn't keep doing it."

Sean turned to him and raised an eyebrow. "And the other reason?"

Paul laughed sheepishly, resting a hand on Sean's leg. "Because I kept coming home and asking you if we could adopt one more critter?"

"Uh-huh."

I laughed. "So how many did you collect before you quit?"

Sean released an exasperated sigh and held up seven fingers. "Four dogs. Three cats. And we fostered a parrot for two very, very long months."

"How did that go?"

Sean facepalmed. Paul groaned.

"That good, eh?" Travis chuckled. "I thought you liked birds."

"I did," Paul said. "Right up until I had to keep chasing one around the house and pulling him down from the crown molding, which he was trying to chew. And I had to use a damn oven mitt so he didn't take my hand off."