Vik swallowed, nodding. “Yes, my dream.” He shifted. Henry and Temple had been like brothers, so it didn’t surprise him that Henry would have told Temple about Vik wanting to quit his corporate job and open a string of coffee shops. He’d complained endlessly to Henry about his job, but always waved away his lover’s suggestion to quit and do what made him happy. Vik hadn’t been brave enough back then. “I-uh, I have to go.”
“Right.” Temple nodded. “Me too.” His gaze lingered on Vik’s face. “It was good seeing you, Vik. Congratulations on everything.” Then he walked away, pulling his black hoodie up over his head once he stepped outside.
He’d expected to cross paths with Vik sooner or later but had hoped for later. He’d dreaded the moment he saw Vik again and for good reason. A hammer to the chest couldn’t have hit him harder, finally coming face to face with the other man after two years.
Back at his place, he shrugged out of his coat and hung it on the hook near the door then made his way to the kitchen. He’d been in such a hurry to leave the coffee shop, he’d forgotten his doughnut and drink. He shook his head at himself and paced, running his fingers through his hair.
He had become familiar with guilt over the past few years, but now a fresh wave of it washed over him. For a minute there, staring down at Vik, Temple had wanted to hug the other man.
Out of relief. Mutual understanding. And especially when Vik’s eyes lit up for a brief moment when talking about owning The Java Bean. Something Temple would have known about if his grief and cowardice hadn’t chased him out of town, cutting off all contact with Vik.
That and Vik’s words the last time they’d seen each other. When Temple delivered the news.
Vik’s accusations echoed even now because they were true. It was Temple’s fault that Henry was dead. That Vik was alone. He’d promised Henry he’d look out for Vik, and what had Temple done instead?
Tucked tail and ran. He’d left the freelancer’s group too. It’d been too painful to even think about seeing them, working with them, with Henry not being there. They all called to check in on him from time to time, mostly Demming asking when he’d be coming back, but Temple always dodged those calls. He’d gone solo, taking jobs all over the country and the world, but after his most recent job in Costa Rica, he’d felt the inescapable pull to come back to Hadley Cove.
He’d ignored it until he couldn’t. Now here he was.
He’d wanted so much to wrap his arms around Vik, but Temple remembered the last time he’d done that. Vik’s wails had dogged his heels—no matter where he went—for two years. Though for a brief moment there in the coffee shop it’d quieted down.
Vik looked the same, yet different. He’d put on a little bit of weight, was softer around the middle than the last time Temple had seen him, but he was still slender. Smaller than Temple. He’d always been warm and full of life, but just from staring into his eyes, Temple knew that had changed. His hair was only a little bit longer on top, the back and sides shorter. He still wore his engagement ring; Temple couldn’t help staring at it when Vik had held up a finger to the plus-sized dark-skinned woman behind the counter. They were ten years apart in age, Vik’s thirty-two to Temple’s now forty-two. Temple felt every one of those years and he wondered if Vik did, too?
Did he still blame Temple for what happened?
Dumb fucking question. Of course, he did.
Why wouldn’t he, when Temple still blamed himself?
It should have been Temple who’d taken that bullet. Henry had everything to live for while Temple had nothing. How was that fair? Maybe this was his penance, having to watch Vik, having to witness what Temple’s actions had wrought.
He inhaled deeply, ignoring the chill in the air. The heat hadn’t yet kicked in, not that he cared. He stared out the kitchen window of his apartment above Bella’s Pizzeria, watching the snowfall. He used to love the cold and had owned a cabin out near Hadley Lake. But he’d sold that two years ago when he left since he’d had no plans of ever returning. Now, he rented an apartment that he could leave at any given moment.
He’d barely noticed the calendar when he made his decision to come back to town. The holidays were never much on his radar. Hadn’t been on Henry’s either, until he met Vik.
Now there was a man who loved Christmas and everything that came with it. His cozy coffeeshop had given off the warm, holiday vibe. Small, quaint, and intimate. Cheerful staff and some good coffee and food too.
But so much had changed. Did Vik still love Christmas?
Henry had insisted Temple join him and Vik for dinner every Christmas Eve. Not Temple’s thing, but he obliged for Henry. Because Henry was brother and father and best friend, and Temple loved him. He’d loved him since they bumped into each other on Temple’s first day at the Ridgeside Group Home for Boys in Denver. In under two hours of that initial meeting, they were best friends. Inseparable ever since. They could never tell each other no. They’d gotten into mercenary life by accident. With only high school diplomas as their highest form of education, and with no other family but each other, they’d taken to traveling around hiring themselves out as bouncers and bodyguards. Then Henry had witnessed a young man almost raped at a club one night and it had spurred him to act. Together they’d made it their mission to watch out for stuff like that, taking justice into their own hands with regards to the perpetrators.
Demming had approached Temple—after Temple had just finished knocking some skinhead’s teeth out for attempting to drag a young woman into an alley—about joining his group of freelancers. Temple agreed, but only if he could convince Henry to come along.
They’d spent almost ten years working together as a group, but Henry hadn’t wanted to go on that fateful mission. But Temple asked and he’d promised his friend it would be the last time.
That was a promise he wished hadn’t been kept.
Now he couldn’t stop picturing Vik as he stood in front of Temple earlier, gaze landing everywhere but on Temple, biting his lower lip. He did that when he was nervous. Which meant Temple made him nervous. What did he think when he saw Temple? Did he remember all the accusations he’d thrown at Temple as he’d pounded him with his fists, tears wetting Temple’s shirt?
Of course, Vik did.
Temple got the man he loved killed.
Temple hadn’t given much thought to how his presence would be such a stark reminder, an unwanted trigger. He’d simply followed the itch that told him to return to Hadley Cove, but shit…
Maybe coming back had been a mistake.
Three
Another night of no sleeping. Nothing new there. What was new was Vik tossing and turning as he relived the moment when he collapsed in Temple’s arms and they ended up on the kitchen floor. When he screamed and wailed. His grief had needed a reason, someone to blame, and he’d lashed out at the person readily available. Through it all, Temple’s hold on him never faltered…until Vik chased him away. Told him to leave.
He’d talked endlessly with his therapist about that moment, about his regret at not being able to apologize to Temple. But when he finally had the man in front of him and the chance to do the right thing, his shame wouldn’t let him.