Heartsville 03 - Another Shot (J.H. Knight)

Another Shot

J.H. Knight

The town of Heartsville means something different to everyone who lives there. For Aaron Forester, it’s a gay-friendly buffer between himself and the rest of the world. After being outed in high school and bullied to the point of violence, his family uprooted their lives and relocated to the small hamlet. He’s moved on from all that and now owns a popular café in the bustling shopping district. But after twenty years of happy living, Aaron’s past creeps up on him in the most unexpected way.

Brad Collins only has one regret and he’s carried it with him since he was a teenager. When he moves to Heartsville and gets set up on a blind date with the most adorable, engaging man he’s met in a long time, he couldn’t be happier. But Brad didn’t expect the guy to be the person he outed in high school—whom he’s now falling in love with.

Aaron and Brad hit it off instantly—in and out of the bedroom. But after a long overdue apology and a small serving of resentment, is their fledgling relationship worth another shot?

To the girls of Heartsville—Cate Ashwood, Jayden Brooks, Nico Jaye, and Piper Vaughn. Thanks for inviting me to play in your sandbox.

And, as always, to my family. Thanks for putting up with me.

Welcome to the gayborhood! In the cozy town of Heartsville, the streets are lined with trees, the shops are full of friendly faces, and happily ever after is just around the corner. Come get to know the boys next door—naughty, nice, and everything in between.

Chapter One

“Outta my way,
faggot
.”

Awesome. A crowded bus on a rainy morning was bad enough, but Aaron found himself shoved into Justin, his best friend, by a scowling asshole.
Faggot
.
Fairy
.
Sissy
.
Priss
. His personal favorite,
fudge fucker
. He’d heard them all, ever since he was outed his sophomore year of high school.

Twenty years later, he was old enough to shrug it off.

For the most part.

DaVita—Martin to his friends when he wasn’t in full drag—towered over Scowling Asshole. “Oh, honey,” she said with her hands on her hips. “You’re on the
wrong
bus for that nonsense.”

Karin, one of the regulars at Aaron’s coffee shop, spoke up then. “He’s on the wrong
planet
for that.” Karin came in with her kids every Sunday. She tipped well and always smiled extra bright when her wife joined them. She wasn’t smiling now.

Scowling Asshole seemed to realize he was severely outnumbered and hopped off at the next stop. Everyone applauded as he left.

“Have I mentioned lately how much I love our little gayborhood?” Justin asked from Aaron’s side.

Aaron snorted a laugh. “Let’s hope he was just lost and isn’t moving here. The property rates would plummet.”

“He wouldn’t last a weekend,” Justin mused. “I’d convert him myself and then release him into the wild to spread rainbows and glitter.”

“Like a big gay butterfly.”

“Exactly. He was a total closet case.” Justin nodded at Aaron. “He was staring pretty hard at your ass before he shoved it.”

“That’s just too much self-loathing for me to deal with. I’ll leave the converting to you.”

“I’ll take up your slack.”

“I knew you would.” They laughed and glanced out the window at the downpour. Aaron usually walked to work, but when it rained like this, all he wanted was to curl up with a good book or an old movie. Pity his little coffeehouse wouldn’t run itself. “Do you and Dildo have plans this weekend?”

Justin narrowed his eyes before answering. “Yes.
Dylan
and I have plans this weekend.” He laughed and asked, “Why do you call him that? You know he hates it.”

“I call him that
because
he hates it,” Aaron said, flashing Justin an angelic grin.

“He says it’s because you’re jealous that we’ve been together almost two years and you’re still cruising.”

“Two years going on twenty.” But Dylan wasn’t too far off the mark, unfortunately. Aaron was happy for Justin. Hell, ecstatic for him. But losing his ass-chasing buddy stung a little. Watching them be all twitterpated in his face sucked, too, but he couldn’t call Justin names, so Dylan got the bitchy end of Aaron’s stick. So to speak. “You’re like an old married couple.”

“
Well
….”

“Bullshit.”

Justin beamed at him, but he shook his head. “Nah, not yet. But we started talking about it last night, so maybe soonish?”

Aaron didn’t roll his eyes, because, really, how far was he going to carry his crate of sour grapes? But it was a near thing. “Fine, but I get to be best man. On your side.”

“Fine, but you have to stop calling him Dildo.”

“I promise I won’t call him Dildo anymore.”
To his face.
“
If
you guys actually go through with it.”

“That alone might be enough to get him to the chapel.”

They got off at their stop, and Aaron turned his collar up against the rain. It was barely October. Couldn’t Mother Nature give them a break for once?

“What’re your plans this weekend?” Justin asked as he popped open a huge rainbow-striped umbrella. Aaron usually teased him about it, but since it was big enough to cover them both, he kept his mouth shut on the topic.

“Feeding Mephistopheles tuna fish from my fork, probably.” God, a single gay man with a cat he was overly attached to. Such a cliché. “And calling my mother.” Might as well stew in the pot of cliché until he pruned up, right?

“Sounds
fabulous
.”

“I lead a glamorous life, what can I say?” They both paused when they got to the café, and Aaron smiled at Justin. “Thanks for the cover. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Keep your tits up, sweetie. Send that hot barista over with a toffee latte and a scone for me later.”

“You’re practically engaged. How does Dil— feel about you ogling my coffee slingers?”

“He doesn’t care as long as I only touch them in front of him.”

“I didn’t need to know that.”

“Then don’t ask.”

“Fair point.”

Justin gave him a fluttery little wave and skipped—yes, literally
skipped
—off down the street. At least someone was enjoying the weather.

Aaron paused to pick a few fallen leaves out of the planters by the door. In the spring, they would be bursting with flowers, and in another week or two he would have fall foliage and little light-up jack-o’-lanterns in them, but for now they were down to English ivy.

Two regulars occupied the purple velvet sofa in one corner of the café. Aaron nodded and smiled to them in greeting, but they were deep in conversation over their large mugs and Aaron didn’t want to interrupt them. Simon, one of his two employees, stood behind the polished wood bar whipping something up for a couple of giggling college girls as they flirted with him. In their defense, Simon was one of those super-hot ‘is he gay or is he just British’ kinds of guys. Technically speaking, he wasn’t British, but being raised in England until he was sixteen had left him with a pleasant accent. Aaron tried to ignore it. And his perfect ass.

He couldn’t complain, though. Simon’s favorite thing to do was flirt. Grandmothers, hot guys, puppies… Simon would wink and smile at just about anyone and most of the customers ate it up. Even Aaron’s father seemed to enjoy the attention. So did Aaron’s mother.

“You ready for a break, Simon?” Aaron asked as he came around the counter to wash his hands.

Simon, true to form, shot him a wink. “Soon as I’m done with these lovelies.” He swirled the foam in their mugs into two small hearts and passed them over. The girls giggled again and left him a five-dollar tip for their cookie (to share?) and two small fat-free, half-caf, sugar-free vanilla lattes. Or what Simon called hyphen lattes.

Aaron wondered what their reactions would’ve been if Simon had done his trademark ejaculating penis in the latte foam. Probably more giggles and a bigger tip.

“I’m just running down to the gym, and then I’ll be back,” Simon said, glancing at the clock. “I’ll grab a sandwich when I get back if it’s not too busy.”

Running down to the gym was Simon’s code for getting a quick blow job in the sauna after twenty minutes of cardio, but who was Aaron to judge? That was his own gym routine on a good day too.

“Take your time. It’ll probably be slow today.” As if to illustrate his point, a bright flash of lightning struck somewhere in the distance, followed by a loud thunderclap that practically shook the windows.

“That’s good. Clara called, said she’d be late.” Simon shrugged into a bright yellow raincoat and headed toward the door.

“She actually called this time? She’s getting better.”

“You know how she is. If she called, that means she won’t be here at all more than likely.” Simon pulled the door open, the bell chiming as he did so. “Back in half an hour.”

“Your ‘half hour’ is more like an hour. Why don’t you just say that?”

“If I said an hour, you’d dock my pay.”

“I should dock your pay anyway.”

“I’m getting paid for this, though, right?” Simon grinned at him before leaving.

Maybe he was too easy on his employees. They showed up late if they showed up at all, but when they were there, they worked hard and made Aaron’s customers happy. And in some weird way, their floating schedules and allergic reactions to punctuality added to the laid-back vibe that Aaron had come to cherish. The place wouldn’t be the same if he had people who showed up on time, ready to work, bright-eyed and focused, right?

Aaron was about to start refilling the pastry case when his cell phone rang. He dug it out and glanced at the screen. His sister’s face—bright red lipstick and thick eyelashes, with liner tilting up at the corners—smiled at him from her profile picture. Apart from the fair skin and green eyes, they looked nothing alike. She was voluptuous and curvy, where Aaron was lithe and lightly muscled. She bleached her light brown hair, and Aaron didn’t even bother to touch up the few silver strands he’d found in his. “What’s up, Mandy?”

“The water level,” she said flatly.

“I know, right? It’s supposed to be gorgeous tomorrow. Go figure.”

“Okay, that’s long enough talking about the weather.”

“You started it.”

“How’s it going?” she asked.

“Fine. Good. Little slow today, but I’d figured as much. You?”

“I’m fine. Look….” Getting down to business was one of her strong points. “Dad called. He’s cleaning out the garage, and we have to come by soon to pick up some boxes of our stuff.”

“What stuff?”

“Just ‘stuff’ is all he said. Knowing our parents, it’s your old G.I. Joe drag doll and my box of decapitated Barbie heads.”

“We were weird children.”

“If they kept that stuff, we had weird parents, so it’s not entirely our fault.”

Aaron couldn’t argue with that. “True.”

“I’ll tell Mom we’ll come over tomorrow, do the family dinner thing and all. Sound okay?”

“Yeah, sounds good. I’ll see ya then.”