Wood: A True Lover's Story

“So you wanted to talk,” Wood said, getting right to it. The brisk air was already cutting through his thin pajama pants.

“Trent is like a son to me,” Mike started, staring straight ahead. Wood kept his face forward, but he could see the set of Mike’s stern jaw and fierceness in his dark eyes out of his periphery. “He likes to delude himself into thinking that he has no family and that no one gives a fuck about him, but he’s wrong. Trent has a father, me, and a lot of brothers.”

“Understood.”

Mike slowly turned to face him, a sinister laugh escaping between his clenched teeth. He cocked his head to the side, studying him as if Wood was interesting, or crazy. “No you don’t. You don’t understand. So let me be frank.” Mike paused, and Wood could see the sincerity blazing in his eyes. “If you hurt my son, Wood… I’ll kill you.”

Wood nodded firmly.

“If you hurt my son… and try to run, I’ll find you… then I’ll kill you. I got a tree-stump grinder, I know what to do with your body, Wood.” Mike slapped him hard on his shoulder, his grin going from evil to satisfied in a blink. “Nice talk. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Wood shivered as he stepped back inside his home, and it had nothing to do with the cold temperature.

“Hey. I decided to make you something hot. You’re probably not in the mood for cereal since it’s past lunchtime,” Trent said, flipping what looked like two grilled ham-and-cheese sandwiches. “What’d Mike want? To talk about your job?”

“Something like that.” Wood sighed, removing his coat. He came up behind Trent just as he was sliding the last golden-brown sandwich onto a paper plate. “Thank you for the food.”

“You’re welcome.” Trent let Wood kiss the side of his neck before he stepped to the side so he could eat.

Wood was wiping his mouth clean by the time Trent returned the cheese and ham in the refrigerator and washed the few dirty dishes.

“I need to speak to you,” Wood said, leaning against the counter.

Trent dried his hands, giving Wood a weary look. “Uh-oh. Nothing good ever follows those words.”

“Depends on how you look at it.”

Trent tossed the paper towels he’d used to dry his hands in the trash and took the steps needed to put them chest to chest. He stared up at him, all passion and neediness in his gaze, and Wood struggled not to get distracted.

“Why haven’t you told Bishop yet?” Wood asked, hoping his voice didn’t reflect his worry. But he could admit to himself that he didn’t want to just be an experiment to Trent.

“Tell him what?” Trent feigned stupid.

“Don’t play with me,” Wood growled as he pushed off the counter and stood at his full height.

Trent was forced to take a half step back, his eyes widening a fraction as Wood towered over him. “Oh, you mean tell Bishop about us. I will… soon.”

Wood knew he was glaring hard enough for Trent to get his point.

“Very soon.” Trent stroked his chest, his voice lowering to a husky whisper. “I promise. I just need a little more time to sort this shit out in my head, that’s all. Me and you are still pretty new, y’know.”

Trent pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, not quite meeting his eyes and Wood knew he was lying. “Bullshit.”

Trent froze. “You never curse. Well, not like that anyway… Why are you talking like—?”

“Why are you lying to me?”

“I’m not,” Trent argued, turning away.

“You should know by now that you have to wake up pretty damn early to fool me, Trent.” Wood pressed into Trent’s back, but he didn’t make him face him. “Tell me the real reason. Because we’ve been in public several times, and you look almost proud to be with me. But at the first mention of Bishop, you start coming up with lies to hide us. To hide me.”

Trent let his head fall back on Wood’s shoulder. “I’m sorry for lying to you, but it’s better than telling you the truth.”

Wood kissed the side of Trent’s bed-tousled hair, needing him to be honest with him, always. “It’s all right,” he said as he began a deep massage against Trent’s lower back.

Trent groaned loudly, and Wood carefully worked the tight muscles, hoping to relax his lover enough that he’d be more forthcoming. “That feels good.” Trent moaned, pushing harder against Wood’s chest.

“Just tell me what the deal is, Trent, because I’m too damn old to be in anybody’s closet. Not after how long I’ve waited to call someone mine again. I know this is not the most conventional relationship, and I’m not even sure what to call us, but you have to admit that we have something here. And you don’t want anyone important to you to know about it. Why?”