Arcanum (Tales from the Tarot)

16. Chris

Chapter sixteen

Chris

S crolling through a decidedly un-sexy, medically-based article on the ins and outs of gay sex probably wasn’t the best use of my time considering I was at work, but I had less than eight hours to get the shit figured out. Since most of Mapleton was already tucked into bed for the night, there was no point in driving around aimlessly, wasting gas, so I’d come to the PD with every intention of completing the K9 training logs required by the state… until my mind wandered to other things.

Plus, I kinda lied to Greyson earlier. I did give a fuck about labels, but not in the way he probably thought. It’s not that I cared about the actual word in use, per se; labels made it easier to wrap my head around stuff. Everything in law enforcement could fit into a neat box or fall in line with some sort of checklist. Did a crime have these particular elements? Yes? Lock ‘em up! No? Then either get more evidence or find a new offender.

So, I decided I should try it with my sexuality and got to Googling. A surprisingly long list of terms and what they all meant came back in the blink of an eye, making me wonder why I’d bothered venturing beyond the “straight/gay/bi” model I’d grown up with for most of my life. It was like trying to order a fancy coffee at some overpriced cafe in the city. I didn’t need every syrup flavor, type of milk, and level of caffeine under the sun. All I wanted was something basic and easy for a pea-brain to understand. I quickly discovered the spectrum of sexuality was anything but .

Was I suddenly gay? No, probably not. All of my sexual experiences to date were with females, so I was more than likely safe scratching that one off the list.

Asexual? Nope. My sexual attraction to Greyson was what started this whole identity crisis. No, crisis was too strong of a word. Curiosity? Conflict? At the moment, confusion felt the most apropos.

Was I bi? Uh, maybe? Until we actually had sex, I was keeping that label in reserve. But that seemed the most likely choice considering he made my dick hard and he was a he, as far as I knew.

Queer? I’d always thought that was a derogatory word, but apparently, it was now en vogue and also kinda fit. What the difference was between queer and all of the other labels remained a mystery, so I moved on down the list.

Questioning? Definitely! Greyson made me question everything, from sexuality (obviously) to the bigger life questions and everything in between. Like, wondering how his lips tasted like vanilla. And would the rest of him taste like that too?

“Bro! Wake up!” Luke’s voice echoed in my head, followed immediately by his fingers snapping in front of my face.

I jerked up straight and glared at him, dropping my phone face-down on the desk so he couldn’t see what I’d been reading. “Jesus! Do you need something?”

“I’ve been trying to get your attention for the past five minutes.” He dropped into the chair at the desk across from me, hooking his thumbs in his vest carrier and lounging as comfortably as one could with gear on. “What are you doing?”

“Reading. What’s it look like?”

He snorted. “Yeah right. Who were you thinking about?”

I scoffed and rolled my eyes, stuffing my phone in my vest pocket. “No one. I just said I was reading.”

“So you always sit around with a dopey smile on your face while you ‘read’?” His teasing grin turned to a grimace. “Don’t tell me you’re back with Monica.”

My brows dipped lower, suddenly concerned about what kind of face I’d been making that led him down that path. “Monica? Wha—no! Hell no.”

“Good.” Expelling a breath, he shook his head. “I was about to come over there and smack you. You know she’s nuts.”

“ Now you tell me.” I gave him a mock glare.

“I told you back then, ‘Don’t stick your dick in crazy.’ You didn’t want to believe me.”

I couldn’t exactly argue with him. In hindsight, he had tried to warn me about her; I was too blinded to see it. I wanted to believe I leaned toward the optimistic side of things, but I’d also been bitten in the ass more times than I’d like to admit because I’d given the wrong people the benefit of the doubt. It’s probably why I’d been such a hard ass about Greyson from the get-go. Now look at me—tied up into knots over him and Googling shit like, “How to have gay sex.”

With the chapter on Monica officially closed, Luke proceeded to unwrap a giant frosted brownie with distinct moon- and star-shaped sprinkles and take a huge bite.

“Did you get that from Arcanum?” I asked, sitting up a bit straighter.

“Yeah. I went there the other day. Why?” He side-eyed his brownie as he chewed, his dark eyes widening right before he hunched over the garbage can under his desk, spitting out a mouthful of melted chocolate. “Fuck! Do you think there’s weed in here?”

“No. I just…” I made a face at him, trying to find the right words so I didn’t out myself. “You’re giving me shit about reading, but I didn’t picture you ever setting foot in a bookstore.”

“Guess I needed to see what all the fuss was about.”

“All the witch stuff?”

“No, the owner. Greyson. Aunt Beverly wouldn’t stop talking about him.”

A pang of protectiveness shot through me, stronger than when I first spied the brownie. “What about him?”

Luke shrugged, taking an exploratory bite out of the brownie before answering. “He’s an interesting dude, I guess.”

My eyes narrowed. “Meaning what?”

“I don’t know.” He swallowed the rest of his brownie quickly. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m guilty of something.”

“You’re always guilty of something, Endicott,” Stacey chimed in as she breezed through the doorway of the patrol room.

“Have you been there?” Luke asked, turning his attention to the petite blonde he’d been trying to bang ever since she got hired three years ago.

She threw a glance over her shoulder, pouring her coffee into one of the chipped and mismatched mugs we kept in the patrol room. “Been where?”

“The bookstore downtown.”

I turned my attention to Stacey as well, watching as she dumped a combination of powdered cream and fake sugar into her coffee. At that moment, I was immensely grateful Greyson had made my coffee. It tasted phenomenal and with a hint of… cinnamon? Maybe? I wasn’t huge on flavored coffee, but on a cold autumn night, it was an extra hit of coziness that I definitely appreciated.

“Yeah. I went after it opened.” She stirred her concoction and walked to the desk in front of the mailboxes, taking a seat so she was the third point of a triangle between us. “Cool place. The owner had these apple cider donuts when I was there. To die for! The last time I was there he didn’t have them, though. But the pumpkin streusel muffins were equally amazing. Books are cool and all but I wish he’d opened a bakery.” She took a tentative sip of her coffee, reconsidering. “Then again, my thighs are better off with the books, so I take that back.”

Was everyone in town obsessed with his baking?! Suppose it was better than taking too much of an interest in him , specifically. Despite the fact Karen Carlisle was still protesting the bookstore and screaming to anyone who would listen that Greyson was a witch who worshiped the Devil, no one else seemed to have an issue with him.

“Uncle Ed likes the pumpkin muffins with those little chocolate chips,” Luke said. “I guess he sneaks in there while Aunt Beverly is getting her hair done.”

“And what does the former sheriff say about Greyson?” I asked, mindful to keep my tone positive. Ed Endicott, in addition to being Luke’s great uncle, was a Belmont County legend in and out of law enforcement. While the Endicotts as a whole were one of the largest farming dynasties in the county, Ed started the sojourn into policing, becoming the longest-serving sheriff Belmont had ever had. Most of the police chiefs in the county cut their teeth under Ed’s mentorship. He may have been retired, but one phone call from him could make or break your career, so I tried to stay in his good graces.

Luke made a face and shrugged. “Didn’t say too much about him. He sounded surprised to hear CPD was looking into him, though.”

“You told him?!” My eyes nearly popped out of my skull, fully prepared to lunge across the desk and slap him upside the head.

He shrugged again, picking a purple star-shaped sprinkle off his brownie and nibbling on it between answering. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I? Even if he’s retired, he still likes to know what’s going on.”

“Because they cleared him! It was an accident. And now you’ve got the former sheriff thinking a murderer is living in town!”

“Oh.” Luke looked down at the brownie, chewing on his lower lip. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. Dude’s already got Karen Carlisle up his ass anyway. It’s not like Uncle Ed will be whipping up a mob outside his store.”

I shook my head, holding my tongue since dispatch had keyed up, summoning Luke over the radio right as he took a bite.

“Go ahead,” he said into his mic with a mouthful of brownie, making a face at Stacey and I as we silently gave him shit for being the chosen one of the evening.

“Respond to the 400-block of Birch for a loose dog complaint.”

Luke glared at me in earnest. “That’s your fucking zone,” he said to me, flipping me off as he answered. “En route.”

“I’ve got my own dog,” I said with a helpless shrug. “Sorry buddy.”

“Bite me.”

“Don’t say that in front of Nitro,” Stacey said as he walked out of the patrol room, grumbling.

As soon as he was gone, she claimed his abandoned chair and kicked her feet up on the desk. “Alright, spill it.”

“Spill what?”

“Whatever you’re not telling Luke.”

“What are you talking about?”

She rolled her eyes before meeting my gaze. “I heard you two from the back hallway. Who is she? This chick you’re clearly into but for some reason don’t want anyone to know about.”

“There’s no chick,” I said, turning to my computer and hiding behind the monitor as best as I could.

“Other than the parade, you passed on overtime last weekend.” Her feet disappeared from the desk and her face popped above my computer a moment later. “So either you’re sick or there’s some other astronomical reason you’re turning down money.” She reached out and slapped a hand across my forehead. “And you feel fine, pal.”

I hedged, knowing she’d caught me. “Would you believe me if I said I was tired and wanted a weekend to myself?”

“Not one bit.”

“Fine.” I scrubbed my hands over my face and stood, grabbing her by the elbow on my way by. “Come with me.”

I led her out of the patrol room and down the hall, into the break room. In case anyone happened to be lurking in the building at ten o’clock at night, I closed the door and tossed my head to the center of the room.

“Oh, this can’t be good,” she said, folding her arms over her chest and staring up at me.

“There is someone, but… I don’t want anyone knowing about it just yet.”

“Why? Is she married?”

“No! Jesus. You know I’d never do that!”

“I’m just checking!”

“It’s a… guy.” I cringed inwardly, waiting for her reaction, hopeful it wouldn’t be a big deal and also dreading that she’d turn it into a thing. As far as I knew, no one in the PD was anything other than straight and I didn’t feel like being a trailblazer or fodder for the rumor mill. But the more I thought about it, the more overwhelming the whole thing was becoming. Having someone to talk to—other than the guy giving me an identity crisis—would hopefully help sort some shit out.

She blinked, her blonde eyebrows raised. “Oh.”

I blinked back. “‘Oh’? That’s it?”

“What else do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know,” I huffed, yanking my vest carrier down by the top of the stiff fabric and leaning against the kitchen counter. “I thought it would help, but talking about it out loud is kind of freaking me out.”

“I can see that. I didn’t realize you were into guys.”

“I didn’t either.”

“Ok. So what is it about this one that has you all…?” She unfolded her arms and gestured at me.

“I don’t know.” I mean, I did know, but I didn’t want to tell her. It was one thing for a girl to gush to her friends about the guy they liked, it was something entirely different for a guy to do it. I couldn’t tell her that Greyson somehow turned me into a bumbling idiot while also being the most comfortable person to be around. I wouldn’t tell her about our joint peep shows or how kissing him was the best feeling in the whole world.

“Helpful.”

“I know.”

“Did you tell your dad?”

I shook my head. “I don’t think he’d care, but…” I shrugged, not really sure how to answer. He and my mom had been good about not pushing me to get married or have kids, but I knew they were both waiting. And waiting . Then my mom died and now it was just my dad. Even if he was happy in Florida, living out their retirement dreams, I couldn’t help but think how much happier he’d be to have grandkids in his life, like all of his friends. It was the one time I wished I had a sibling, someone to share the burden of parental expectations with.

Stacey nodded in understanding. “But you don’t know for sure and you don’t want him to be mad at you?”

I shrugged again, even though she hit the nail on the head. “And that’s why you’re not telling Luke?”

“I don’t know how he’ll react. How any of the guys here will react. Fuck, I don’t know how Mapleton will react. It’s not like we’re a hub of LGBTQ pride. Look at the shit they’re doing to Greyson and the bookstore.” Her eyes widened and I plowed on, irritated on his behalf that she wasn’t irritated. “What? You know it’s bullshit! All that ‘witch’ shit? And fucking Karen Carlisle trying to run him out of town? Someone needs to put her in her damn place.”

Stacey wasn’t fazed by my sudden grouchiness. Instead, she smiled brightly. “That’s the guy! Isn’t it? It’s the bookstore owner!”

I bit my lip and cursed myself for being a complete idiot. For a moment, I’d forgotten who I was talking to. Stacey wasn’t Luke. She could actually read between the lines when it came to stuff like this.

She laid her hands on my biceps, squeezing gently. “My lips are sealed. And for the record, I think he’s cute. He’s also really nice and you could use someone nice in your life for a change.”

“You don’t think it’s a bad idea?”

“I can’t answer that for you.” She smiled sympathetically. “Do I think your career is over if you publicly date a guy? Hopefully not, but Belmont County is full of good ol’ boys. And you already know that, which is the real reason I think you’re freaking out. Dating him could be hard and you haven’t really struggled before.” I opened my mouth to protest, but she kept going. “Stop. You know you haven’t. Your parents were loved in the community. You were part of a championship football team in high school. People in Mapleton generally like us and our profession. You’ve basically lived the American Dream and you haven’t had to really work for anything. The odds have never been stacked against you.”

“None of that’s my fault, you know,” I muttered glumly.

“I’m not saying it is. And I’m not saying you don’t work hard for what you do have. But if you want Greyson, you’re going to have to work for him too. At the very least, you’re going to have to get comfortable with being un comfortable. Because no one wants to be a secret forever.”

I nodded, taking her words to heart. “Thanks, Stace.”

“Any time.” She punched me in the shoulder patch lightly and strolled out of the break room.

Since sex obviously wasn’t happening until Greyson closed his bookstore for the day, I channeled my pent-up energy into working out.

My conversation with Stacey had gone better than I anticipated, but I still wasn’t going to tell Luke shit. Not until there was something to tell him, anyway. The same went for my dad. There wasn’t any point in outing myself if things with Greyson fizzled.

“Two more,” Luke said above my head, his hands at the ready to catch the weight bar as I pushed it upward with shaking arms.

Pausing my thoughts on Greyson for the time being, I exhaled sharply and pressed the weight bar up. Luke cradled it, waiting to see if I was taking a breather or if we were done.

“You good?” Luke asked.

“Yeah.” I lowered the bar slowly and pushed through the pain in my arms, finishing the set. Dropping the bar into the holder, I sat up slowly and reached for my water bottle. Luke was already there with it, pressing it into my hand. While I chugged half of it in one go, he wiped my forehead with a towel and ran it over my twitching arms for good measure before cleaning up the bench press seat.

“That’s fucking love right there, man,” a booming voice said behind us. “You gonna wash his jock in the shower, too?”

Luke and I turned, spying Jace setting up his stuff at the next machine. The fireman grinned and stepped forward, bumping knuckles with both of us.

“You fucker,” Luke said with a laugh. “I was about ready to beat someone’s ass.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Jace replied, flexing his bare bicep. He’d always been big, but goddamn. His arm was about as thick as my thigh, which was saying something. Luke and I weren’t small by any stretch, but compared to Jace? Everyone was small. It made me grateful he was one of the medics assigned to the Special Operations Team. God forbid we ever needed it, Jace could singlehandedly carry us to safety without even breaking a sweat.

“I’d like to see that too,” I chimed in, elbowing Luke.

“Dude! Where’s the loyalty?” Luke gaped at me while Jace’s laugh rang through the noisy gym.

“The man could crush you like a python. I’m just looking out for you, buddy.”

“Uh-huh. I see how it is.” A loud buzzing cut him off. Luke checked his watch and cringed. “Shit, I gotta go. I’m helping out at the farm today.”

“We’ll catch you later, Jay.”

“Take it easy guys.”

The three of us bumped knuckles again and parted ways. Contrary to what Jace said, Luke and I skipped the gym showers and headed for the exit.

“I parked on the side,” Luke said in the lobby, veering off in that direction.

“Alright. See you Friday.”

“What?” Luke stopped dead in his tracks, brown eyes wide and jaw slack. “No game on Thursday night? You, me, wings at Stanley’s?”

I shrugged, not letting my gaze linger too long on his face. “I might have plans. I’ll let you know.”

“You better not be stepping out on me, Brandt. I’ll cut a bitch. I will!” He stared at me pointedly and pantomimed shanking someone before ducking out the side door with a laugh.

Slinging my gym bag over my shoulder, I shook my head and slipped my sunglasses on, hoping no one in their right mind thought he was actually serious.

I was almost at the front door when a female called out my name.

I came to a screeching halt. It wasn’t any female’s voice. It was Monica’s voice.

Anger chased away all of the zen I’d accomplished during my workout and I kept walking, slamming through the front door.

When it didn’t shut behind me, I knew she was close.

“Can we talk?” Monica asked.

I bit my tongue and unlocked my Blazer from across the parking lot. If I had to run the rest of the way and peel out of there, I would. Anything to avoid her and the fight that was surely coming.

“Please? Chris? Will you stop and just look at me?” She darted in front of me, putting her hands up.

I jerked to a halt, glaring at her behind my dark lenses.

“I’m sorry,” she said, swallowing quickly. “I’m sorry for everything that happened. I’m sorry for—”

“Fucking another guy behind my back?” I offered icily. “Or for doing it in my goddamn house?!”

She winced, her dark eyes already welling with tears. “For all of it. I’m sorry for all of it. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just wanted your attention— Chris! Chris, wait!”

I swerved around her and kept walking. I’d heard that song and dance before and I still wasn’t buying it.

“I fucked up!” she yelled behind me. “I didn’t realize what I had until it was gone and I’m sorry! Can we do dinner some night? Actually sit and talk? Please? I want to make it up to you.”

Shaking my head, I yanked open the car door and threw my bag into the passenger seat. I should have gotten in and driven away, but her last line was like a slap in the face.

Turning slowly, I stared at her. “You want to make it up to me? Are you fucking kidding me? You can’t make it up to me, Monica! There is nothing you can say or do that will ever make me trust you! So you can be as sorry as you want, but you’re going to do it alone.”

“I’m not giving up on us,” she said, her chin lifted.

Scoffing, I got in the car and slammed the door. Even if Greyson wasn’t in the picture, there’s no way in hell I’d ever forgive someone for cheating on me. It wasn’t just the physical act—it was the betrayal. Plain and simple. If I couldn’t trust you, then what was the point of a relationship?