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“Wow, I’m impressed.” Micah’s tone held just the right amount of sincerity without being over the top. He didn’t quite pull off the same subtlety with his next question, though. “I guess that doesn’t leave a lot of time to make it back home, huh?”
“It’s not my home, Micah. It hasn’t been for a long time.” It had been fourteen years since his parents had passed, and with no other family, August had no reason to return to Indianapolispermanently. “However, I’ll be in town this coming weekend to visit Meredith.”
“You’ll be in town for your birthday? We should celebrate.” Micah stopped and swallowed audibly. When he continued, some of the enthusiasm had vanished. “I mean, if you’re not busy, of course. If you’d rather not, I’ll understand.”
August didn’t know how he felt. The part of him still hopelessly in love with the guy wanted to move back to Indianapolis, buy a house, build a picket fence, and live happily ever after. The rational part of him, however, knew that would never happen, and being near Micah without actually being with him sounded plain miserable.
“I’d love to see you.”
What? Wait. I would?
“I look forward to it.” Micah’s reply felt more intimate than his previous excitement, and August clenched his fist on his thigh as his breath quickened. “I should get back to work.”
August glanced at the clock on his computer and opened his schedule of appointments for the day. “Yeah, same here. My four o’clock will be here any minute.”
“What is it you do, Ant?”
“I’m a therapist,” August answered distractedly as he pulled his patient’s file from the bottom drawer and placed it on top of the desk. “Sex therapy to be more specific.”
“Right then.” Laughter colored Micah’s voice, and he paused for a heartbeat before composing himself. “Well, you have my number now. Be sure to use it.”
“I’ll call when I get into Indy.” Gods, he didn’t know how he’d convinced himself it would be a good idea to see Micah again, but he blamed Meredith. If she hadn’t been so quick to gossip, none of this would have happened. “Take care of you.”
Their old goodbye came without thought, rolling smoothly off his tongue as though he’d uttered it a thousand times in the last twelve years. In truth, it was special, and he never used that parting line with anyone except Micah.
Thankfully, Micah didn’t comment on his Freudian slip. “Goodbye, August.”
“Ian, do you have the Sky Room reserved this Saturday?”
Ian looked up from the television and frowned. “No. Why do you ask?”
“I have a friend coming into town this weekend, and it’s his birthday.” Crossing the living room, Micah flopped down on his parent’s ancient sofa beside his roommate and sighed. “He’s…important.”
Sweet mercy, he’d loved August Tucker something fierce. For years, they’d spent every waking moment together, planning their future or just existing in each other’s company. Leaving had been the hardest thing he’d ever had to do, and for the first year, Micah swore the separation would kill him. If making himself miserable was the price he had to pay to protect his mate, though, he’d do it all over again without hesitation, but damn, he’d missed him.
“A friend, huh? Would this friend happen to be the infamous August Tucker you’ve spent the past decade pining over?” Ian fell back against the cushions and laughed when Micah flipped him the finger.
“You’re an asshole…but yes.”
Ian pressed his fingers together, placing the tips under his chin while he pursed his lips. “How long have we known each other now?”
“Get to the point.”
“Right, right. Twenty-eight years,” Ian continued as though Micah hadn’t spoken. “Wow, I’ve been putting up with your shit for most of my life. I think that qualifies me for sainthood or something equally noteworthy.”
Micah rolled his eyes. “Ha, ha, you’re a fucking riot.”
Ian winked at him, but his tone softened. “I’ll reserve the Sky Room for you, Micah, but…just don’t get your hopes up, okay?”
“He sounded fine on the phone,” Micah responded defensively, “happy even.”
“Twelve years is a long time, and people change.” Ian held up a hand to cut off Micah’s protest. “Look, you know I always liked August, but the boy you remember may not be the man you reunite with this weekend. Besides…”
“What?”
“Nothing, man. Forget I said anything.”
“No, if you have something to say, let’s hear it.” Micah slid to the edge of the cushion and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and letting his hands dangle between his thighs. “Spit it out, Ian.”
