Bending the Iron - 5. Chapter 5

Two weeks of heaven.

There might have been a time in his childhood when Michael had lived such a string of perfect days, but he couldn’t remember when specifically. He slept deeply and went to work with a smile on his face. The hours in between belonged to Eric.

The following Thursday marked the end of his night turn, and he woke that afternoon looking forward to three days of freedom. Anticipation of a different sort had him pulling into the museum at barely three o’clock.

“You’re early,” Maggie said as he sauntered by the front desk, whistling.

“Got three days off coming.” Michael shot her a crooked smile.

Maggie popped her gum. “You get three days off in a row every three weeks. Don’t ever remember you dancing through the door before.”

Michael digested the playful remark, then ducked his head. “It’s been a long month, that’s all. The break’s welcome.”

“I bet. And I’m sure a certain someone has absolutely nothing to do with your good mood.”

Had they been that obvious? Besides the twice they’d left the museum together, Maggie had never even seen Eric in his company. “He’s a friend,” Michael mumbled. “I enjoy helping him out.”

“Huh?” Maggie stopped straightening the piles of brochures stacked on the counter. “I was talking about Pete.”

Of course she had been. Michael blew out a breath, trying to recover the conversation. He never got the chance. Maggie waved off his mistake. “Eric said Pete hasn’t even been ordering beer with lunch, you know that? Just Coke.”

And his grandfather had been a real gentleman the other night. That’s what Michael gleaned from Maggie’s fond smile. Yep, the old guy was definitely on Maggie’s mind. Michael prayed he didn’t get the same lovestruck expression on his face every time he thought of Eric. Just because Maggie hadn’t noticed didn’t mean his interest was well-masked. He’d been careless and far too casual about how things looked between them.

Unsettled, he left Maggie behind and climbed the steps to the second floor.

Pete met him at the door. He had a cloth tucked into the front pocket of his jeans and a set of Allen wrenches in his hand. “Mikey. You’re early.” Pete tilted his head back. “Did you get enough sleep?”

“Yeah, Paps. Plenty. I’ve got three days off anyway. I can catch up on it this weekend.”

“Back on daylight next week?”

Michael nodded, scanning the room for Eric. “Starting Monday.”

“He’s in the storage room,” Pete said.

Michael shook off the automatic thank-you. The unsettled feeling in his stomach bloomed to a nagging ache. He tried playing dumb. “Huh?”

“Eric. He’s in the storeroom.” Pete’s gaze held his unflinchingly. “He’s been waiting for you to help him crate some of the bigger pieces.”

“Ah.” Eric had mentioned something about that. They were dismantling one loop altogether, and the buildings were being stored while the tracks were repaired. “I’ll go give him a hand.”

A strange sound gurgled up Pete’s throat. Michael decided it was a grunt of agreement—that was more appealing than calling it the laughter it probably was—and brushed past, circling the model to reach the other side of the room. He stepped through the storeroom door and right into Eric, who caught him by the arms, paralyzing him on the spot with a sunny smile.

Michael’s heart stuttered before picking up its normal rhythm. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Eric responded, eyes going soft. “You’re early.”

“Is that a complaint?”

Eric’s hands drifted to Michael’s waist. “My only complaint is that I can’t say hello the way I really want to.”

They could both agree on that. For all the time spent together at the museum the past couple of weeks, they’d found almost no opportunity to be alone. Stolen moments in the stairwell and quick gropes in the storage room weren’t going to hold them much longer.

“Don’t you have an errand or something you could send Pete on?” Michael growled, getting as close as circumstances would allow. The twelve inches between them sizzled.

Eric tried a mock scowl. “That’s not very nice.”

No, but Michael wasn’t buying the scolding tone. Not when Eric’s chest was rising and falling too rapidly and his eyes were on Michael’s mouth. Eric’s tongue darted out to wet parted lips, and Michael lost the battle with his good sense. “Come here,” he said. “Just for a second.” He pushed at the door with his boot, and Eric caught it before it latched, leaving it ajar enough to pretend at propriety.

He stepped into Michael’s arms, tilting his mouth so that the kiss was deep and intimate from the first touch. The quick peck Michael had planned evolved into a kiss with hands and teeth and those short bursts of breathy laughter Eric made when aroused. They didn’t part until they reached the tipping point, when Michael relied more on Eric than on his own two feet to support him, and Eric, thankfully, had found a wall to hold them both.

Holding his eyes open became a losing battle. Michael closed them, trusting Eric to keep an eye out for Pete. “Hey, Michael,” Eric whispered. His fingers traced along Michael’s ribs. “Come away with me for a couple of days.”

It took a minute to form a reply. Caught in a strange place—somewhere between aroused and blissed out—all he managed was, “What?”

“Come away with me, babe.” Eric’s teeth latched onto the shell of Michael’s ear, and he felt the gentle tug all the way to his toes. “You have some time off, right?”

“Um.” He did, but he couldn’t go. It would mean leaving Pete to his own devices. The injustice of it left a bitter taste in his mouth. “Jesus, I want to.” So badly he could taste it, and all its possibilities. “I don’t know about leaving Pete alone.”

Eric didn’t sound the least bit discouraged. “Thought you were the one who was advocating for the old guy’s independence.”

Michael saw the irony. “Yeah, but...”

“What if it was only for two days? And Maggie promised to keep an eye on him.”

That had the potential to be disastrous. If Pete knew Michael had arranged a babysitter, there’d be hell to pay. Plus... “I couldn’t ask her to do that.”

“Michael, maybe she wants to do that.” Eric stepped back, running his hands through Michael’s hair before letting go completely. “I have places I want to take you.”

The temptation crawled up Michael’s gut and into his throat, but leaving his responsibilities to someone else rubbed him wrong. It wouldn’t be for any kind of emergency either. Just for a bit of fun. Still...wasn’t he due?

“You deserve a break,” Eric coaxed, echoing his thoughts. “Please.”

“I’ll ask him.” Not a light promise, because it wouldn’t be a comfortable conversation. The fact that he was even considering it said much about how badly he wanted to escape. “But don’t get your hopes up.” Eric’s smile lit up his face, and Michael would’ve promised him anything in that moment to keep it there. He drew in a deep breath. “No time like the present, I guess. I’ll be right back.”

“Really?” Eric lunged forward for another quick kiss. “Okay. I’ll hang out back here. Give you some privacy.”

Privacy would be good. Unless Eric wanted to listen to Michael’s stumbling explanation of how he wanted to take off with another guy for a couple of days. On the other hand, maybe Pete wouldn’t want the details. He’d certainly never liked to discuss the subject in the past. Michael swallowed his nervousness and went in search of his grandfather.

The model room was empty. Aside from the occasional train whistle and clickety-clack of wheels on rails, nothing moved or made a sound.

“Grandpap?” Michael called. In answer, the lights dimmed and night came to the railway. Everywhere across the diorama, soft yellow lamps brightened in tiny mullioned windows. Street lamps began to glow. The locomotives circled the darkened countryside, cutting a path with their flashing ditch lights. Nobody answered Michael’s call.

Setting his jaw, Michael strode around the end of the diorama and into the stairwell.

The ground floor lights were also dimmed, probably to save money since the museum was currently devoid of visitors, but Michael spied Pete alongside one of the interactive displays, brow furrowed in thought. Michael’s steps faltered. Caught in a storm of indecision, he stopped halfway across the room. Whatever was occupying his grandfather’s thoughts looked serious.

It was Pete who moved first, shifting in place and raising his eyes. He caught sight of Michael and for a split second the pensive look deepened. Then it slid off his face and a warm smile replaced it. “Hey there,” he called across the room. “Are you two done already?”

Michael swallowed twice before speaking. “Nah. Just getting started.” Rather than babble excuses, he left the explanation at that. Hands slung into his pockets, he meandered over to join Pete at the glassed-in display. “This used to be my favorite.”

Pete nodded, laughing under his breath. “I remember. You and that Carter girl used to race each other for hours.”

“And I’d always have to be the blue train,” Michael mused. Caroline—the Carter girl—had always wanted the red engine, and their competition had been a serious one, if contrived. The trains always ran the same speed from one end of the diorama to the other. It was how quick off the mark you were pushing the start button that made all the difference. And when Michael had gotten consistently better at that, Caroline had stopped coming around. Michael smirked, remembering how his feelings had suffered. Childhood was all about dramatics. Small things that meant the world.

“I’m surprised you remember that.” Michael bumped his shoulder against Pete’s.

“I remember. You let her win sometimes just so she wouldn’t cry.” Pete’s pursed lips were at odds with his light tone. “You were a good kid, Mikey.”

Talk about a conversation that was turning to things Michael had no wish to revisit. He pulled in a breath. “Listen, Paps. I’m back on the seven-to-three shift starting Monday. I was thinking...” He sighed. What he was thinking was that this request shouldn’t tie him up in knots. “I was thinking I’d get out of town for a day or two. Would that be all right?”

Pete’s gaze had returned to the train set, but now it swung back to Michael, keen and searching. “With Eric?”

Michael braced himself. “Yeah.”

“You can do what you like. I ain’t your keeper.”

But I’m yours. “Well—”

“You deserve a vacation, Mikey. Been a long time since you’ve been on one.”

Try forever. Sure, he deserved it, but earning it and taking it were two different things. Of all his grandfather’s possible reactions that Michael had considered, approval hadn’t been on the list. Now one of the two of them would have to broach the uncomfortable subject of Pete’s care while Michael was gone.

“You’d be okay then? If I left tomorrow and came back on Sunday?” He had no idea what Eric was planning, but whatever it was, it would have to come to an end by Sunday anyway.

“Yeah.” Pete waved him off. “You don’t have to line up people to haul me back and forth. I’ve got plenty to do at the house, damn ancient piece of crap. Something always needs fixing. If I get to wanting anything I don’t have there, I can call Maggie.”

Looked like the old man could still surprise him after all. “I appreciate that,” Michael said.

Pete grinned. “You two have fun.”

***

He met Eric the next morning at the museum, leaving his truck tucked away behind the dumpster.

“I’ll get that.” Eric snatched Michael’s overnight bag from his hand. Whistling, he stowed it away in the back of the jeep. Michael spied a similar black bag already nestled on the floor behind the driver’s seat. He stared at it, trying to glean a hint of their destination from the scuffed duffel. They’d both packed light.

“Ready to go?” Eric straightened, hands on his hips. Damp hair and rumpled T-shirt aside, he looked alert and happy. And a bit apprehensive. “I hope you like your surprise.”

There wasn’t any doubt in Michael’s mind. “I’m sure I will.”

“Always knows what to say,” Eric muttered, jogging around to the driver’s side. “Hop in. We need to get moving.”

So they were on some sort of schedule. To not ask questions took all of Michael’s considerable willpower. He’d lain awake the night before, not guessing destinations so much as relishing the anticipation of their time together. God willing, some of it would be private.

He climbed into the jeep and Eric pulled out onto the street, pointing the car south, in the general direction of Pittsburgh. But they didn’t hold that course for long before veering east, following the lesser-traveled roads over the larger interstates. He kept track of their route, but said little, trusting that Eric knew his way.

“Have you ridden on a lot of trains?” Eric asked him after ten minutes of silence.

Michael tore his eyes from the passing landscape. Hickory might be a depressing town, but no place in the world beat this part of the country for stunning fall colors. Hills rose up on all sides as they drove through wide green valleys. Trees of every shape and size spilled their color down the slopes. Majestic brown-leaved oaks towered over the smaller red and yellow maples, while orange hickory and ash dotted the spaces in between.

“One or two. When I was a kid. My parents had close friends in Philadelphia, and a couple of times I rode out there with my mom on Amtrak.” He shrugged. “Not sure that counts.”

Eric laughed. “It counts. Barely,” he added, winking.

Encouraged by the wink, Michael slipped a hand onto Eric’s thigh and smirked when his eyes fell closed.

“Watch the road,” he reminded him, rubbing his thumb in a circle.

“Easier said than done.” Eric shot Michael a pleading look. “And almost impossible with you doing that.”

Michael squeezed Eric’s leg, then released it and sat back. Eric’s sigh of relief brought a crooked smile to his face, but it disintegrated into a frown when Eric turned the Jeep due east at the next crossroad. “Okay, you win. Where are we going?”

“It took you long enough to ask.”

“Honestly, the destination wasn’t too important to me.” What he’d wanted more than anything was Eric’s company.

“You say that, but that’s only because you’re not used to putting yourself first,” Eric said. “There are places you want to go and things you want to see. You crave so much, Michael. I saw it the first time I laid eyes on you.”

How could anyone see that? Especially a virtual stranger. It unnerved him, and it had been meant to. Eric’s gaze was far too insightful. “Even if that’s true,” Michael admitted, “and there are things I...crave, I couldn’t tell you what they are. I have no idea.”

“You don’t know what you want?”

“No.” Not exactly. The details of those things had been lost long ago, buried beneath the hiss of the glass vats and the pop and crackle of whiskey being poured over ice.

“Okay.” Eric sounded anything but put out. “We’ll work on that part then. Hopefully this weekend will be a good start.”