Page 5 of Hummingbird and Kraken

Declan had worn it while the repair guy came to pick up his car and, as Geir had predicted, given him a funny look. He hadn’t taken off his makeup though, and Geir had just grunted and stepped a little closer. Well, the repair guy could fuck a goat, because Declan had Geir to protect him.

Then, he’d worn the shirt while he made lunch, even though he didn’t strictly need to.

Geir hardly had a scrap of food in the house, but Declan enjoyed the challenge. He’d found a can of mushrooms and some eggs to make omelets. There was a large canister of flour, nearly as tall as his hip, that he’d dug into to make biscuits.

The really good part had been the heaping handful of fresh figs Geir had brought him, looking slightly bashful. He’d picked them fresh from a tree somewhere out in the woods, and it made Declan feel warm inside.

While Geir was gone, Declan had found a skein of white twine and fancifully wrapped it around his waist, making a bit of a belt and keeping the shirt from billowing out into the food.

That made it feel much more like something that he would wear, a cute little t-shirt dress instead of a baggy men’s shirt. He didn’t want to give it back.

Geir hadn’t said a word about it, but he followed Declan everywhere with his eyes.

Sometimes he looked suspicious, when Declan tried to pry too much into his history and social life. He’d been living here for “a long time” and he did “not much.” When Declan asked about neighbors, he received only a suspicious grunt in reply.

But he was, well, maybe eighty percent sure that Geir was attracted to him. He didn’t say much, but no straight man would have watched him for that long or looked away so quickly when he was caught staring.

Geir had opened up a bit more over lunch, though, once Declan figured out the trick of it. Haltingly, and then with growing warmth, he told Declan about the river trees, which turned out to be quaking aspen. They grew well close to water, but most of the region, he explained, had hickory, oak, and walnut trees that were more flexible in their growing conditions. The little corner where he lived, had more of the spruce, birch, aspen, and willows that were like his native Norway.

He went on to explain the local fauna. The rabbits, woodchucks, and deer were beautiful, but a menace to people’s gardens. The black bears, foxes, and coyotes weren’t as common. He assured Declan that they wouldn’t come close unless he left food outside unattended. Sometimes Geir smiled when relating a story, as though it held some deeper meaning Declan wasn’t intended to grasp.

But Declan didn’t know anything about forests or animals, so who could say?

Geir described the different types of fish in the lake, but since none of them were salmon, tuna, or tilapia, Declan couldn’t really form a mental picture. Though to be honest, the only mental picture he had of the fish he knew the names of involved a squeeze of lemon and a side of asparagus.

What mattered, though, was that he felt like he’d found the key to Geir. He had a way to get inside. Geir loved the land and water where he lived, so he would answer Declan’s questions and even share funny anecdotes as long as they kept to that topic.

When both of their plates were empty, Declan stood and stretched luxuriously. It had been a long couple of days crammed into his car. But even more, he wanted to see Geir’s eyes on him. He pressed his palms toward the ceiling, arching his back, and then slowly rolled his shoulders as he wriggled and bent forward until he touched the floor.

Yes, Geir had definitely noticed how bendy he was. His eyes gleamed.

Declan stood slowly, making sure his ass was visible. He gave Geir a smile that could only be interpreted as an invitation.

But instead of coming over to appreciate what Declan was offering, Geir stood and headed for the door. Dammit.

“Don’t worry about cleaning up,” he said gruffly. “I’ll get it when I come back.”

“Oh, I can get it. When will you be back?” He wasn’t too worried. The asshole repair guy said the car wouldn’t be ready until Tuesday, so he had plenty of time to tempt the gruff, older man.

Geir just grunted as he closed the door. Of course.

Declan wondered if Geir was suddenly realizing that he was a lot less straight than he’d thought, or if there was something else going on. He was so cagey about anything personal that it could be anything from drug smuggling to grieving a dead lover to running from the law. Those could all be exciting adventures.

Or, Declan supposed, he could just be an introvert. But that was boring.

Declan cleaned up the dishes, which only took a few minutes, and then spent even less time organizing his stuff. Since all he could do was move it from one suitcase or bag to another, there wasn’t that much to do.

He realized that he’d accidentally grabbed a pair of Mike’s favorite jeans and took great pleasure in throwing them into the kitchen garbage, then cleaning out that little gunk collector thing in the sink right on top of them. He washed his hands of both the gunk and Mike’s memory.

Good. Now the house was cleaner and so was he.

It occurred to him as he was doing it that he probably should have missed Mike more. Or been angrier. Or something. But he’d kind of thought that Mike was cheating for a while. The only reason he hadn’t confronted him was because he hated being alone and didn’t have anywhere else to go. He wondered if Mike even realized he was gone.

When he’d logged on to Mike’s computer to check the weather and found the incriminating photos right at the top of his inbox, he almost wondered if the punky little twink in the photos had set him up.

Declan didn’t want Mike anymore; he was all talk and no follow-through. But he envied what the usurper might have with him. Maybe the twink had something that Declan didn’t. Some ineffable thing that would make a boyfriend care if he left or stayed.

Declan had been faithful, because he was honest even if he was impetuous. He’d tried so hard at the beginning, in a desperate attempt to be everything that Mike needed. And Bruce and Mateo and Aito and everyone who’d come before. Inevitably, he wouldn’t be enough. Or he would be too much.