Just His

Chapter 1 Geoffrey Spencer hoped his beat-up old car would make it to Big Bear. Now that he was halfway up the mountain road he regretted the choice to bring his older car. At the time he’d chosen it, taking his old Honda sedan seemed the best course. It was a Honda and had always been a good car to him, despite all the miles on it, and his new BMW was…well, new. He didn’t want to put a lot of wear and tear on it. Only now, as the weather turned colder—when had the heater given out anyway—and the clouds above him thicker, Geoff imagined the old car making all kinds of weird noises. If it started to snow and the Honda quit on him, he would be seriously f****d. Or more f****d. He was on his way to Big Bear and Jezebel’s cabin for an extended sabbatical. She’d given him permission to stay in the family cabin for as long as he needed. He had no clue how long he needed. His boss at the hospital, the head of Neurology, had advised him to take two months off. He hadn’t wanted to go, but it had been strongly suggested he either take the sabbatical or look for a new hospital. Ouch. Geoff knew his bedside manner could take some getting used to, but he hadn’t realized things had gotten that bad before he’d been talked to. No one at the hospital liked him anymore, he’d been told. There had been not so discreet questions about drug use—Geoff didn’t—and alcoholism. He had been drinking more than usual, but he wasn’t an alcoholic, of that he was certain. So, what had caused his breakdown? Stress for sure. He’d lost a young patient to brain cancer—a patient for whom he had really come to care. He’d gotten the lecture from the head of Neurology then that he had to step back and not take everything so seriously, but it had rocked Geoff. There’d also been his brief affair with Micah Florentine, a nurse at the hospital. Geoff had admittedly fallen far more for Micah than the guy had for him. Which was not at all. Micah wanted nothing from Geoff but s*x, and then had turned around and fallen for another doctor at the hospital, Linus Montgomery. Ouch. And then his dog had died and the plumbing in his house had needed fixing, which had cost a fortune. It had been one thing after another. Apparently, Geoff had let it affect his work. Thank God for Jezebel Michels, his friend since they were kids living across from each other growing up. Once upon a time, before Geoff gave up pretending he wasn’t gay, he and Jez had even been boyfriend and girlfriend in high school. She was the first person he told when he came out, partly because she was his best friend and soon-to-be former girlfriend, and partly because it was Jez’s little brother, Adrian, with whom Geoff had fallen desperately in love. But those days were painful and didn’t last. Geoff had moved on. But he’d still stayed friends with Jez, who’d thankfully offered the cabin to him. He’d come prepared clothing-wise for snow, if it happened, even chains for his tires, if needed. But he was not prepared to breakdown. He only hoped the sounds he heard really had been imagined. Geoff white-knuckled it the whole way to Big Bear, but finally reached the town. The Honda seemed to be all right after all, and as darkness crept ever closer, Geoff remembered Jez told him he would have to go to the grocery store for food as the cabin was not kept stocked. He made a stop at the local chain store, situated not too far from the Michels’ family cabin, and purchased food supplies for a week. Beyond that, he would decide when the week was over if he wanted to prolong his stay here. The “cabin” bore little resemblance to one made of logs or even one of those found at a National Park. It was large, two-stories, and as Geoff recalled from his two times there with the family when he was a kid, quite luxurious. There were six bedrooms and four bathrooms. It had a backyard with a covered screened-in deck with a Jacuzzi. The kitchen was larger than Geoff’s kitchen in his Los Angeles home. It had a family room, a living room, and a game room. And, of course, a main fireplace, as well as one in the master bedroom. They’d once rented it out to Big Bear visitors, but a couple of years earlier Jez said the family had made a mutual decision that they didn’t need to do that any longer. When he pulled into the driveway that led to the garage, Geoff spotted tire tracks in the mud that looked very much like motorcycle tracks. With a frown, he opened the garage door with the opener Jez had provided him. Inside, parked to the side, was a large Harley Davidson cycle. Had Jez forgotten a renter after all? Perhaps someone else from the family had rented it out without Jez’s knowledge. And wouldn’t that just suck if he had to turn around and make his way back to Los Angeles? But that did seem to be the way Geoff’s luck went these days. He turned off his car and got out. There was no door into the cabin from the garage, you had to walk around to the front, and so Geoff did, approaching the front door cautiously. He left his groceries in the car until he discovered just what was up. Should he knock? Jez had given him the key, but he didn’t really want his head blown off by some gun-happy renter not expecting him. He pushed the bell, hearing the heavy bong he remembered from his childhood. He waited and waited, getting colder by the minute. He could see his breath. He stomped on the doorstep to get his legs moving and warmer. If he did have to drive back he hoped it would be before it decided to snow. Geoff pulled out his key. The door opened at last and there, standing in front of him, holding the door open, was the very last person he thought he’d see. Ever again. Adrian Michels. One, two, three seconds passed. But the vision didn’t change. Oh, Adrian didn’t look quite the same as he used to. The last time Geoff had seen him…When was that? Six years ago? Then Adrian had been fresh-faced and young, sweet, adorable. Beautiful. He’d always had a baby-face. With a faint pink dusting over his cheeks, impossibly blue eyes with ridiculous eyelashes, dark and long. A heart-shaped face and Kewpie doll lips. Geoff had fallen hard. Now he had those same eyes and same lashes, of course. But his formerly long curly hair had been cut short, above his shoulders, and was now more wavy than curly. The pink cheeks were there, though. And those lips he’d never forgotten the taste of. Never would. “Geoff Spencer,” Adrian said the name like he was trying to recall it, like he knew it from somewhere and he was trying to recollect it. It was like a punch to the gut. “What the hell are you doing here?” Geoff demanded. It wasn’t his house. The house belonged to the Michels family. Yet he felt as though Adrian was invading it. Invading him. “I live here.”