Best Laid Plans (Garnet Run 2)

Several hours, a great deal of swearing, and one near accident later, Rye was at his wits’ end. Tired, hungry, and doubting that wood was a suitable medium for anything, he kicked at the floor and swore.

There was a soft knock on the door.

“You need some help, love?”

Charlie.

“Um, you can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because, Charlie, it’s your present! But I fucked it all up.”

The door opened.

“I have my eyes closed,” Charlie said.

Rye threw a drop cloth over the abomination on the table before him.

“Okay you’re good,” he told Charlie.

Charlie crossed to Rye and scooped him into a warm hug. He’d clearly gotten home from work, showered, and cooked without Rye noticing.

“Time is it?” Rye murmured, burying his face in Charlie’s neck. He smelled so good. He smelled like home.

“Almost eight. Come on and eat.”

“Can’t,” Rye said. “Gotta finish.”

Charlie’s hand went to his hair like it always did, untangling the long strands. It always soothed Rye. He pressed even closer to Charlie. He didn’t want to work on this thing anymore. But he didn’t have anything else for Charlie and no way was he showing up empty-handed for their first anniversary together.

Maybe he could still order one online? No, it would never get here on time.

“I haven’t seen you all day,” Charlie said. “I want to spend time with you. I don’t care if it’s in here working on my present or in there hanging out. But we’re not spending another evening apart.”

The flush of warmth that always suffused Rye when Charlie said things like that rushed through him. He squeezed Charlie around the waist.

Rye was a fighter, but one thing Charlie had taught him was the honor in knowing you were beaten. And this damn computer desk had absolutely beaten him.

“I fucked it up,” he murmured. “I’m sorry. I wanted it to be perfect for you because you’ve made me so many things. You built me a whole...” He shook his head. “But I messed it all up.”

Charlie’s rough hands were so gentle on his cheeks.

He looked up into Charlie’s gorgeous hazel eyes and saw no disappointment, only love.

“I bet we can fix it. Or if we can’t fix it, we can make a new one.”

“Shouldn’t have to make your own present,” Rye muttered.

“I like making things. And I love making things with you. So it’s still a present.”

Rye snorted. “Cheesy,” he said.

But he liked it.

“Okay, fine. So, you know how your back hurts a lot and you’re always hunched over your computer. This is—was supposed to be—an adjustable laptop desk thing. It sits on your desk and it’s angled and you put the laptop in it, then you have the keyboard on the desk and type there so your shoulders don’t hunch forward and it doesn’t strain your back.”

Charlie blinked. A slow smile spread across his face and he stroked Rye’s hair back.

“Wow. That’s a great idea. Thank you.”

He said it like he’d opened a gift that was the ideal of what Rye just described.

“Well, uh, don’t get too excited cuz I messed it all up.”

Charlie dismissed this and reached for the drop cloth. Rye bit his lip. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as he thought. Maybe Charlie would unveil it and it would be like a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat.

Charlie tossed the drop cloth aside and made a choked sound.

It hadn’t been miraculously fixed. In fact, if anything, covering it up and revealing it again showed its flaws to full—and horrifying—effect.

“Um,” Charlie said.

Then he started laughing.

For a moment, Rye’s pride was hurt, then he started laughing too.

The laptop desk looked more like an emboldened wooden grasshopper, reaching its claws out to consume a laptop. It was crooked, both vertically and horizontally. And somehow Rye hadn’t noticed before that the screws he’d used were too long and now posed a bloodletting hazard for anyone who tried to adjust the desk.

Charlie was whooping with laughter. He grabbed Rye in a tight hug.

“You’re so damn cute I can’t stand it sometimes,” he said.

Rye scowled and mumbled, “Mnot cute.”

But do you want to know a secret about Rye Janssen?

He liked that Charlie found him cute.

Don’t tell.

Rye gestured helplessly at the hunk of misshapen wood, about to tell Charlie what he’d been trying to do. But Charlie spun him around so they were facing each other, put his hands on Rye’s shoulders, and said, very seriously, and very gently, “That is beyond saving, my love. But the idea is great and we should absolutely make one.”

And somehow, even though Charlie had told him all his hours of effort had amounted to garbage, Rye was grinning. Because he loved that Charlie was honest. It meant he never had to guess what he was thinking. Charlie always told him.

“Okay,” Rye said.

He rested his head against Charlie’s chest and pulled Charlie’s arms back around him. They fit together perfectly. Rye never felt safer or happier than when he could feel the steady thump of Charlie’s beautiful heart.