Undue Influence Read online

  “You suck at pasta.”

  Freddy performed a shrug. “Well, I already have the squash, and I also picked up some decent-tasting local ricotta, so it’s getting made one way or another.”

  “It would be better with goat cheese,” Ben said. “Ricotta, even good ricotta, is boring.”

  Freddy just raised his eyebrows and tried not to grin. He’d won.

  “Damn you.” Ben shook his head. “Who’s coming?”

  “Henry and Lulu McGuire.”

  “That’s it?”

  They were really the only people he’d become reacquainted with since he’d been back. Also, he pretty much hated everyone in this town, and, back in the day at least, the feeling had been mutual. Anyway, he hadn’t wanted to overwhelm Ben with huge numbers. “That’s it. Did you know Henry swings both ways now?”

  “I barely remember him.”

  “Well, he didn’t used to.”

  Ben smirked. It was nice to see, so Freddy played it up by waggling his eyebrows.

  “All right, go for it. But invite some more people.”

  “Really?” That was the last thing he’d expected from Ben.

  “Yeah. If you’re into Henry, we need more people. It’s going to be weird and double-date-like otherwise, and I’m not—”

  His voice cracked, and Freddy felt like a dick. He wasn’t into Henry, not really. He might be good for a little fun if the opportunity presented itself, but that was it. Freddy hadn’t been thinking about the dynamic of the dinner. Realistically, both Henry and Lulu would be flirting with him, which would leave Ben out of things—which missed the point of the exercise entirely.

  “Of course.” He laid a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I’ll rustle up some more guests.”

  Hey. This is Freddy. Lulu gave me your number. What are you doing tonight?

  Adam let his phone clatter onto the hood of the Corolla he’d just finished with.

  What he was doing tonight was working on an emergency repair for Mrs. Littleton—she of Chihuahua fame—and then he was supposed to go to career night at the high school and man the Anderson Motors booth because Rusty had decided to set up a “How to Become a Drag Queen in Five Easy Steps” booth, so his attention would have been divided.

  The irony wasn’t lost on him. Rusty, who’d spent years nagging Adam to get out of town and go to college, now needed him to explain to teenagers why they should consider fixing cars for a living.

  He picked up his phone to type a reply.

  Nothing.

  Freddy: Can you come to dinner at Ben’s around seven? I took your advice, and I’m having some people over for dinner.

  The idea that Freddy would want him to come. That after all that had come between them, he would still seek Adam out… Butterflies marshaled in his stomach.

  Adam: Sure. What can I bring?

  Freddy: People. Ben, uncharacteristically, wants a crowd. I don’t really know anyone in this town anymore. Can you bring your brother and sister-in-law, maybe? Or anyone, really.

  So much for feeling special that Freddy had chosen him. But watch how fast Adam could set aside his pride. He’d had too much of it, by proxy, back in the day, and tonight he was going to listen to the part of him that just wanted to be with Freddy, at any cost, under any circumstances, even those in which he was merely a seat-warmer.

  Adam: You got it. See you soon.

  Chapter Seven

  Eight years ago

  When Freddy had considered love, which wasn’t often, he’d assumed it would be messy. In movies, there was always some big misunderstanding that drove the lovers apart. There was plotting, angst, suffering. No thanks. It all seemed way too exhausting.

  It turned out falling in love was the easiest thing in the world. All he had to do was walk.

  And with each step, he fell a little more.

  “You don’t have to keep walking me, you know,” Adam said shyly. They were twenty minutes into what had become their regular Saturday night walk out to Kellynch. Adam usually said some variation on this, but he always waited until they were well underway, which suggested to Freddy that he didn’t really mean it.

  Freddy made a vaguely dismissive noise. He used to say things like You’re on to something with all this walking. It does clear the head. But they were beyond that now. Now, it was enough to dismiss the sentiment and let Adam fill in the rest. Which was that he wanted to be here. Didn’t care that it would be four in the morning by the time he finally got home, having trekked a total of eleven miles.

  Which wasn’t to say it was all easy logistically. It was easy emotionally, but sometimes he didn’t know what to do. Whether, for example, it would be okay to grab Adam’s hand at some point.

  God. Listen to him. Freddy used to be a certified slut. After the unfortunate town-square dick-sucking debacle, he’d made a rule not to hook up with people in Bishop’s Glen proper, but the region was full of towns—and tourists. He got laid a lot. Well, he used to. And he had never gotten himself twisted into knots over holding hands, for fuck’s sake.

  But it wasn’t like he’d gone all heart-eyed-emoji soft. Well, he had, but he was still himself. He didn’t want to just hold hands with Adam. He wanted to kiss him. All over. He wanted to strip him bare and look at every inch of his pale skin. He wanted to fuck him. And it was always there, that desire. It was just that he didn’t know how, or whether, to act on it. When it wasn’t just a hookup, this shit mattered. You had to do things at the right pace. In the right order.

  Because the thing was, he’d told Adam stuff. About how he stupidly, irrationally, wanted to know his dad. Or at least know about him. But that he was too proud to ask his mother for details—because she was proud, too.

  About how he’d dropped out of school because he didn’t realistically see himself doing anything that required the diploma, so why go and subject himself to all the shit everyone gave him every day when he could be out making money?

  Confidences had been exchanged, was the point. And whether Adam knew it or not—whether he wanted it or not—he had Freddy’s heart. Freddy might have a lot of sexual experience, but he had no experience with love. So, as easy as it had been to fall, it made things weird sometimes.

  One of the awkward logistical spots was always the foot of the driveway to Kellynch, where they parted ways. He never knew how to extricate himself—probably because he didn’t want to extricate himself. Usually they talked for a few minutes, Freddy kicking the gravel like he was an aw-shucks character out of Mayberry, searching for something to say to extend his stay—something dumb like asking Adam about the flowers on the property. Eventually, Freddy would turn around and start the long walk home.

  Tonight had started the same as always, with Adam saying, “Thanks for keeping me company.”

  “No problem.” Freddy had just started doing his gravel kicking thing when, holy fuck, Adam kissed him.

  He was so startled that he jerked his head a little, so Adam’s mouth landed on his jaw instead of his lips. Adam started to pull away, but Freddy shot his hand out, grabbed the back of Adam’s head, and corrected his aim. Brought their foreheads together.

  And Jesus Christ. If Freddy had known that actually having your heart invested in someone could make touching them feel like this, maybe he would have tried to fall in love sooner. Because as they stayed there, their lips almost but not quite touching, fireworks went off inside Freddy. He was breathing as hard suddenly as if he had run all the way from town.

  He wasn’t sure who moved, just that what had been half an inch of space between them became none. Adam’s lips were so impossibly soft that Freddy couldn’t stifle a groan. His jaw went slack with desire, and this brought Adam’s tongue in contact with his mouth, and he was sure he would die because—

  “Eww.”

  —because Adam was pulling away?

  He’d been about to expire from the pure, undiluted pleasure of Adam’s tongue in his mouth, but it turned out that not having Adam’s tongue in his
mouth was way, way more dangerous.

  But, okay, he needed to tune into what was happening here because if he’d done anything to push Adam, to make him feel unsafe, he’d just walk into the woods right now and kill himself.

  But no. Adam was grinning. Kind of sheepishly, but still, he didn’t look upset.

  “I don’t kiss smokers,” he said.

  Freddy laughed. You had to admire the guy. He’d been expecting to be rebuffed with any number of objections, the most likely of which would have been some variation on You’re not good enough for me. Adam wouldn’t have said it like that, of course. He was too good-hearted. But Freddy would have known how to interpret I think we should just be friends or I’m not really looking for a boyfriend right now. He knew what everyone thought of him.

  “Right,” he said, unable to resist returning the grin Adam was still sporting. “I guess I should be going anyway.” Adam nodded, and Freddy turned and started the long trudge home.

  Once Kellynch was out of sight, he lit a cigarette and told himself to enjoy it because it would be the last one he ever smoked.

  Present day

  Five hours after Freddy’s text, instead of trying to bring Mrs. Littleton’s Buick back from the dead, Adam found himself climbing the steps to Ben Captain’s lake place.

  “Oh, my God, I’ve always wanted to see this place!” Chloe was practically levitating with glee. When Adam had told Mark and Chloe about the invitation and suggested that one of them come with him, suddenly they’d been able to find childcare that wasn’t him. He’d thought about inviting Rusty, who, like Chloe, had been intensely curious-bordering-on-nosy about Ben and Ben’s house—so much so that he probably would’ve happily thrown over career night, but Adam had decided that would be a mistake. That night at Whine, Rusty and Freddy had been…well, not cold toward each other exactly, but not overjoyed to see each other. Freddy had never seemed to be a fan of Rusty. And Rusty, of course, felt the same way. If Adam invited him along, he would come, but then Adam would be all paranoid about his behavior, worried that Rusty would accuse him later of falling for Freddy again.

  And he would be right. Except not again. There was no again. There was only still. Always.

  “Hey.” Freddy opened Ben’s front door before they could knock, and Adam’s stomach did a funny little dance. Freddy’s glance slid over everyone, and Adam thought for a moment it might have lingered a beat longer on him than on the others but decided no, he’d been imagining that. “Thanks for coming.”

  “Thanks for having us,” Adam said, as Chloe and Mark pushed their way inside. He handed Freddy a bouquet of peonies, which used to be his favorite. Even if Freddy hadn’t let his gaze linger on Adam just now, Adam was pretty sure he wasn’t imagining the extra-long look Freddy gave the flowers.

  Freddy had admired the peonies at the bottom of the driveway at Kellynch, and Adam had decided one night—the night they tried to kiss for the first time—to give him one on the next visit. That had started a tradition of Adam cutting Freddy a blossom each Saturday night before they parted ways. He still remembered Freddy’s shock the first time he’d done it. “Nobody’s ever given me anything like this,” he’d said—and then he’d grinned and kissed Adam so hard he’d almost seen stars.

  Peonies grew all over Kellynch this time of year.

  But Adam, seeing as he was no longer Adam Elliot of Kellynch Estates, had had to buy the flowers at a florist.

  Inside, the McGuire siblings were already sipping wine. Ben was introduced, though in a town like Bishop’s Glen, everyone generally knew each other by sight or by family connection if not firsthand.

  “I used to work at Greta’s Grocery, so I knew your father a little,” Mark said to Ben. “He was a regular customer.”

  “I hope you won’t hold that against me.” Ben smiled to indicate he was teasing. Ben’s father had worked at a popsicle factory that closed when Adam was a kid. The workers had been laid off, but Ben’s dad had never really found his feet again and he’d become quite a conspicuous alcoholic. He often appeared in the crime blotter Wilhelmina and Betsy liked to read.

  No one here would hold that against Ben, though. Rusty would have, which ratified Adam’s decision not to bring him along. “The go-nowheres”: Ben was, unbeknownst to himself, a founding member.

  “And I’m older than you all.” Sophie greeted them with a smile. “So I’m not sure we’ve ever met formally. This is my husband, Geordie.”

  Adam froze for a moment. He hadn’t realized Sophie would be here. But that was stupid. Freddy had been desperate for guests—that was the only reason Adam himself was here—so of course he would invite his sister and her husband.

  He was still stuck, unsure what do to as he stood near the kitchen island while everyone else fanned out into the main living space, when Sophie came over and laid a hand on his arm.

  Her nails were shaped exactly like Freddy’s, Adam realized with a jolt.

  “I want you to know I’m sorry your family lost Kellynch and also that I plan to take very good care of it.” She spoke softly, so that only he could hear, and with such seemingly genuine kindness that some of his unease dissipated.

  “Thank you,” he managed. “It’s a special place.”

  “This house is gorgeous,” Chloe cried, drawing their attention. Adam was torn between relief at being interrupted and embarrassment as her eyes bugged out as she took in the home’s interior. Adam tried not to be flustered by his family’s naked ambition, but they sure made it difficult sometimes.

  The reno really had been stunning, though—he was just better at controlling his eyeballs than Chloe was hers. The original log cabin structure had been expanded on and the interior walls torn down to create a great room where the kitchen bled seamlessly into dining and living spaces. The log walls and rustic wooden planked floors gave everything a warm, homey feel. Although the space had been made bigger and more functional, it retained its original character. Adam appreciated that.

  Soon, everyone was sitting in the living area except Freddy, who was cooking, and Ben, who was sitting on a stool at his kitchen island halfway between Freddy and the others, bossing Freddy around.

  “Go away!” Freddy finally said. “You’re cramping my style.”

  “That’s because you suck at pasta.” Ben smirked. If he was really as distraught as Freddy had suggested, it was good to see him in a teasing mood.

  Freddy took a sip of his wine with one hand and pointed toward the living room with the other. “I love you, man, but go.”

  “You were a lot meaner on TV,” Chloe said, and everyone laughed.

  “That’s true!” Sophie said. “TV Freddy never would have admitted to loving anyone.”

  Ben came to sit on the sofa. “They kind of created a persona for him that was a lot meaner than he actually is.”

  “I am, too, mean!” Freddy called from the kitchen.

  “He’s a big softie,” Ben stage-whispered. Then he raised his voice. “Who can’t make pasta to save his life.”

  Adam could see the McGuires and Mark and Chloe struggling to absorb the idea that Freddy was, to quote Ben, a big softie. To be fair, that wasn’t a side of Freddy anyone had really seen, back in the day. Anyone else. Adam had seen it.

  “How hard is pasta?” Chloe asked.

  “I think it’s homemade pasta,” Adam said. He’d seen Freddy rolling out big sheets of dough and cutting little squares out of them.

  “Wow.” Lulu popped up and made her way over to the kitchen. “I need to see this.”

  Adam noticed that Freddy didn’t object to Lulu’s help the way he had Ben’s. In fact, he started showing her how to seal the edges of the raviolis. The rest of them continued chatting, but Adam couldn’t prevent himself from straining to overhear what was happening in the kitchen. They seemed to have moved on to making an avocado salad.

  “Give them a squeeze to see if they’re ripe,” Freddy was saying. “There’s nothing worse than a woody avocado.”

&nbs
p; “How’s this?” Lulu asked.

  Freddy’s fingers closed around the fruit. “That one’s too hard.”

  “I don’t know. I enjoy squeezing hard things.”

  Freddy laughed, and Adam’s face flamed as if he were the target of Lulu’s double entendre.

  And he was so jealous. God, he was jealous. If he’d done things differently eight years ago, it might have been him there in the kitchen, helping Freddy. Bantering with him. Instead, his life was the same as it had always been. He fixed cars, he read books, he played with his niece and nephew, he went to Whine on Saturday nights. It wasn’t that he didn’t like those things or that he yearned for a bigger life. As he always told Rusty when he was on one of his rants about how Adam should leave town, he liked Bishop’s Glen. He had no ambition to live anywhere else. It was just that seeing Freddy again had thrown into sharp relief how…heartbroken he still was. How much cutting Freddy out of his life had been like cutting off a limb. And since he’d just been thinking that losing Kellynch was like losing a limb, he didn’t have too many of those left.

  A bit overcome, Adam got up and walked to the other side of the room under the guise of looking out the sliding glass doors to the deck and the lake beyond. It was better to take himself out of listening range of the kitchen. He let the swirls of conversation from the living room wash over him without really hearing anything.

  Eight years had gone by. He should be over this.

  Adam, in an attempt to become a proper gay, had hooked up with a few guys in those eight years—well, four, to be precise, and they’d all been in the first two years.

  Which was totally pathetic when he thought about it. Part of him had hoped that one of those hookups might lead to more. To an actual relationship. And to be fair, one or two of the guys might have been game. It was just that no one had ever measured up to Freddy. When you fell madly in love with the first person you ever had sex with, it was hard to settle for just sex. He’d tried. It had been easy enough to find guys to have sex with—to exchange physical touch with until they both got off. What he couldn’t replace was Freddy. The way Freddy had cared about him. Walked everywhere with him. Patiently taught him what his body, which had always been something of a millstone to Adam, was capable of. Acted like the clumsy blow jobs Adam gave him on the dock were the greatest thing ever. And then blown Adam’s mind in return.