Biting his lip to hold back his tears, he headed down the hallway, realizing there was only one place he could go.
Home.
“What do you mean you aren’t at home?”
His voice was a little higher pitched than he’d care to admit, but this was the absolute worst day for his dad not to be available for him to complain to while they ate ice cream at the island in his dad’s pretentiously large kitchen.
That was all he wanted.
But apparently, the universe wasn’t done screwing him over.
“Sorry, kiddo,” his dad said, sounding genuinely remorseful and a little hesitant. “Did you and Danny get in a fight or something?”
Sighing, he turned on his blinker to change lanes so he could take the next right. He was on Woodward Avenue, just outside of Detroit, heading to his dad’s place in Bloomfield Hills, but if his dad wasn’t actually there, then his plans just changed. None of the people he called friends were the kind of people he’d want to show up on their doorstep unexpectedly, and most were more coworker than true friends.
Which was sad in and of itself.
Fuck, how did his life get to this place?
“Beau?”
Oh right, his dad was still on the line waiting for some sort of explanation as to why he’d called him near tears to make sure he’d be there when Beau arrived, ice cream in hand.
“I wouldn’t call it a fight, no,” he murmured, carefully maneuvering around Friday evening traffic in the Lexus his dad had gifted him when he’d graduated from college. “I would say we aren’t together anymore.”
He was nearly to the on-ramp for I-75 before his dad said anything. “I’m not sure how to respond here. Should I try and talk you out of calling things off or console you over it being over?”
God, he loved his dad. When it came to business, Garrett Singer was an absolute shark, but with his kid? Supportive teddy bear was the only way Beau could ever think to describe it.
When Beau came out, when he decided to pursue accounting instead of business because he didn’t want to take over his dad’s company one day, when his roommate in college spread a vile rumor about him, so he had to fight with the university to let him transfer dorms, and even when he started dating Danny, his dad had always been there and always backed him up. No matter what.
“I found him screwing that new assistant of his, so console, please. Also, I’m going to need you to fire both of them on Monday, okay?” His voice was a little wobbly by the end, his composure finally cracking now that he was talking about what had happened.
“What! That piece of shit!” his dad exploded, curses flying as he threatened everything from ruining Danny’s career to beating the shit out of him.
By the time he wound down, Beau actually felt a little better. When the shock had started to wear off, he’d kept hearing Alexander’s moans on repeat in his head, and it had been starting to get to him. His dad’s anger on his behalf soothed a little of the pain he felt deep in his chest.
Taking an audible breath, his dad finally said, “I’m so sorry, Beau. And I’m really fucking sorry I’m not at the house. You can still go stay there. I’ll head out first thing in the morning and be there by brunch.”
Beau smiled and wiped at the stupid wetness on his cheeks. “It’s fine. I’ll just go up to the cabin. I might even stay next week too and just work remotely. I bet my boss will be okay with that.”
His dad wasn’t technically his boss since he was the owner and CEO of the company. Beau was just one of several accountants who worked for Singer Development, but the CFO, who he actually answered to, was also his godmother, so he wasn’t too worried.
“What? No. Not with this snowstorm moving across Lake Michigan. It’s supposed to hit the shoreline in an hour and dump like a foot or more of snow. Just go to the house.”
His dad was getting his bossy, I’m-in-charge-so-do-as-I-say voice, and Beau was not here for it. “I’ll be fine. I’ve lived in Michigan my whole life—I think I can handle a little snow.”
“Beau—”
“Dad, no. I’m going. I want to be… away from all this crap.” Even at twenty-five, he hardly ever told his dad no when he’d dug in about something, but Beau was so exhausted he couldn’t have a calm conversation about it and try and coax him into seeing reason.
He was pretty sure his dad muttered something under his breath about obstinate children, but Beau chose to ignore it.
“Fine. But if it starts getting bad, just get a hotel room somewhere and wait it out, okay?”
Smiling, he changed lanes to go around a slow semi. “Sure thing.”
He wouldn’t need to do that though. Like he’d said, he was confident in his ability to drive through a little bit of snow, and he’d be at his dad’s cabin long before any real accumulation happened.
His dad was such a worrier, but Beau knew what he was doing. He’d spend a week mourning the loss of a relationship he never should have agreed to in the first place, then he’d go home, and that would be that.
He’d be able to get back to his easy, solitary life like the last year hadn’t even happened.
And that was… great.
Right?
Chapter 2
There was a car creeping down Coop Frances’s driveway.
As he peered around his curtain, he could just barely make out the headlights with how heavy the snow was coming down.
Who the fuck would be dumb enough to be out driving in this weather, and why the hell would they be visiting him?
Trucker whined next to him, tail thumping against his leg because the traitorous dog loved visitors.
“They must be lost,” he muttered. Trucker barked once and danced in place, even more excited, it seemed. “Settle down. They won’t be staying to give you any attention, glutton.”
Telling Trucker to stay, he pulled on his red plaid coat, black knit hat, and heavy winter boots and stepped out onto the tiny porch on the front of his cabin. He only used the place when he came up north to hunt or fish or occasionally get away from his nosey sister trying to pressure him into going on a date with her dentist… again.
Coop had been there and done that, and while the sex had been fine, he supposed, it hadn’t been worth a repeat.
Not that Coop did repeats.
Repeats meant getting emotionally attached, and Coop didn’t do that anymore. He was too set in his ways to try and turn his life upside down to accommodate another person. Being forty next year meant he was allowed to be, as his sister called it, a “grumpy old man.”
He wasn’t going to even step off the porch before sending the trespasser on their way, but when the overhead light came on as the engine turned off and he spotted pale, round cheeks and messy blond waves, he found himself edging closer to the top of the stairs.
The driver’s-side door popped open, and the car was close enough that he heard the young man muttering to himself, though he couldn’t quite make out the words. The guy took two steps away from his car—two steps too many; why wasn’t Coop telling him to get lost already?—and somehow managed to trip and fall in the snow, landing on his hands and knees.
“Fuck,” Coop spit out, hurrying down the stairs and rushing over to the young man. It didn’t seem like he had moved an inch since hitting the ground, and worry began to fill him. Crouching next to the guy, Coop hesitantly set a gloved hand on his shoulder. “You okay?”