Ghosted

Chapter Twenty-Four

Sometimes Archie used to wonder if his memories of sex with Beau had been colored by nostalgia and inexperience. But the plain truth was, Beau had an instinct for what felt terrific, an astonishing delicacy and playfulness given his Boy Scout attitudes and mindset.

Lying there in his old bedroom, the dreamy past and shadowy present seemed to coalesce for Archie. Or maybe he was just tired. It had been such a peculiar night. It was still peculiar, but in a pleasantly, distantly familiar way.

Beau fingered Archie balls, weighing, teasing, fondling—then just when Archie thought he couldn’t take another second of it—he moved to Archie’s cock, tracing one finger along the cleft, running the circle of finger and thumb up and down Archie’s swollen length. Archie, desperate for more, anything more from Beau, fumbled Beau’s hand on top of his, trying to guide him, moaning in abject relief when Beau’s fingers wrapped around him.

“Right there. Yeah. Yes. Please…”

“Yes, please ,” Beau teased, and pressed a moist soft kiss against Archie’s mouth. Followed by another kiss and another…and another… Beau kissing his way down Archie’s throat and chest and belly and groin. Archie’s penis, thick and arrow-straight, jutted out of the nest of pale curls, and Beau gave it his full attention, taking the head of Archie’s cock into his mouth and beginning to suck. Archie’s head dropped weakly back and he groaned.

Beau took his sweet time, varying the pressure, sucking hard, sucking soft and so satisfyingly, nibbling with tongue tip and the graze of teeth. Now and again, he lightly, delicately scratched his fingernails against Archie’s sensitive inner thighs.

Archie responded with throaty noises and small shudders. Anything more was beyond him. Little sparks drifted across beneath his closed eyelids.

Beau kissed the head of his cock, nuzzled his balls—nibbled lower, nudged a place Archie had never been kissed, never thought to be kissed, but was indeed kissed. Archie gulped and bucked, and Beau raised his head, smiling, and fastened his beautiful mouth around Archie’s shaft again, probing beneath the crown with knowing and naughty precision.

He had an unerring instinct for giving pleasure, that mix of knowledge and creativity—or maybe it was just a whole lot of experience that Archie preferred not to think about.

The wet warm pressure of Beau’s mouth increased. Archie’s hands moved blindly over the bedding and clutching the rough silk of Beau’s hair, the tension in his groin continuing to mount. With his fingers tangled in Beau’s hair, he drew him still closer and Beau seemed to swallow the whole length of him.

It would have been great if it could have lasted forever, but a few more masterly tugs and release rolled through him, shockwaves of sensation, a dizzying delight so intense it almost made him feel a little sick. Archie came in fierce surges, reduced in moments to limp satiation.

“Jesus God in Heaven…” he gulped as Beau finally rolled over onto his back. Beau turned his head and grinned at him.

“I had no idea you were so religious.”

Archie gave a weak laugh. “ Ah have litrally seen the light.”

Beau chuckled. For a moment Archie eyed him, lying there without any self-consciousness, long brown legs splayed, his cock soft and relaxed and definitely damp.

Archie’s eyes widened. He lifted his head. “Did you come ?”

Beau’s laugh was husky. “I was channeling you.”

“No, seriously.”

“Seriously, you have no idea what a turn-on it is to be able to do that to you.” He picked up Archie’s lax hand, kissed his palm.

Archie’s head dropped back in the pillows. “I still can’t…” Believe this is happening .

That was the truth.

“I know. I wish…” Beau also didn’t finish the thought.

They lay there for a couple of minutes, their unspoken thoughts loud in the quiet.

“There isn’t anybody else, right?”

Archie made a sound of inquiry.

Beau said, “The night—the night of the Ghost Walk. You said you lived alone. If there was someone, he’d be here to support you. He’d be making sure you’re okay.”

It was a nice thought, but Archie had never had anyone like that. A lot of it was his own fault. He had looked for sex not intimacy in potential partners.

He scowled. “You think I’d be in bed with you right now if there was someone?”

“No.” Beau’s smile twisted. “But people change.”

“That’s not the kind of thing people change their mind about. It’s not like…losing your taste for Cool Ranch Doritos.”

Beau smiled faintly. “Have you lost your taste for Cool Ranch Doritos?”

“No,” Archie admitted. “And I haven’t changed my mind about cheating on my partner, either.”

“No, of course not. I just wanted to double-check before I—” Beau came to an abrupt stop.

“Before you what?”

Beau said huskily, “Before I get too invested.”

Archie absorbed that in silence.

Beau rolled onto his side, regarded Archie for a moment. His gaze fell, he reached out, gently taking the St. Christopher medal between his fingers. Eyes on the medal, he said, “I’m wondering if there’s still a chance for us.”

Archie’s heart stopped cold. The million-dollar question. He hadn’t thought they’d get here so fast. Hell, he hadn’t been sure they’d get here at all. This reunion still felt very fragile. Very tentative. They’d both invested so much time and emotional energy in incorrect perceptions, getting things so wrong for so long. For years.

He wanted to pretend that he had doubts, uncertainty—he did have doubts and uncertainty. But no use pretending he didn’t want this. He wanted this—whatever it might turn out to be. Wanted it so much so that it terrified him. Better, safer to restrain himself to viewing this as something finite, limited in scope. Sweet while it lasted, but always conscious that it could not last long.

And yet, he heard himself say, “I would like there to be.” That was the truth. But the other truth had to be said as well. “We’re not the same people. We don’t even live in the same state.”

Beau said nothing.

“It’s not like you’re going to move to D.C.”

After a moment, Beau let go of the medal and rolled onto his back. Staring up at the ceiling, he said, “It wouldn’t be easy.”

“No.”

“It’s not that I have to be chief of police,” Beau said thoughtfully, after a time. “I could probably get a job as a homicide detective. I don’t know many departments that aren’t hurting for qualified people.”

“True.”

He would not be happy. They both knew it. They had known it a decade earlier. Twinkleton was Beau’s home. Beau’s family was here, and he was close to his family. Generations of Langhams had lived and died within these five-and-a-half square miles. Some people were okay with pulling up stakes and moving, rinse and repeat, year after year. Archie was okay with it.

Beau? No.

The fact that Beau had reached a point where he would even consider it meant something.

Archie said slowly, “It would be easier for me to try to get a transfer.” The minute the words were said, his heart sped up in something like alarm. He did not want to transfer. He did not want to have to start over. He especially did not want to have to start over in Twinkleton.

There was a long pause before Beau said very quietly, “I’m not going to ask that.”

No. And they both knew why.

“Things are different now.” Archie said.

“Yes. And you worked like hell to get where you are.”

Archie gave a little shrug. Correct. Just as it was correct that he did not want to transfer, did not want to start over, did not want to risk his hard-won emotional equilibrium. But if there was a chance that he and Beau—

Besides, a transfer to another squad or even another division or unit wouldn’t necessarily mean a demotion or a pay cut. The Bureau prioritized agent health and well-being, so if he were to request a lateral move, something easier on him physically and mentally, that right there might create a path for transfer.

All of this was assuming he was eventually cleared for duty. If not...

Well, he wasn’t ready to contemplate that possibility.

Instead, he asked, “What about Alex?”

Beau’s briefly eyes closed in pain. “I don’t know what the judge will decide as far as custody or a visitation schedule. It took weeks to get a ruling last time. Where I live isn’t going to change much in that regard.”

Well, it probably would . Archie opened his mouth, but Beau turned his head, studied him, said, “Unless it changes the situation for you?”

Until that moment, it had not occurred to Archie that Beau’s custody battle might impact him .

He had never expected to be a parent, had never given any thought to it. The closest he had come to feeling remotely parental had been his half-baked idea that he could be a mentor or sponsor or something to Kyle. And that had proved an epic fail.

So, he had no clue how he felt about this idea—was not even clear what the idea was.

He said honestly, “I’m not sure what the situation is or would be. I know I want you to be able to have your son with you as much as you can. I don’t know what that means though.” He was a little worried about what it might mean.

Beau said wearily, “I don’t either at this point.”

It was kind of a relief that Beau did not mention the money. They both knew it was there. In theory. A seeming solution to some obvious stumbling blocks. While possibly creating a host of other problems they couldn’t imagine. Beau would no more be willing to live off Archie’s inheritance than Archie was. And, frankly, that was yet another bond between them.

Into the maelstrom of Archie’s thoughts, Beau said suddenly, “I need to tell you something.”

Archie stared at his profile, said uneasily, “Okay. Tell me.”

Beau closed his eyes, then opened them. “The truth is, your staying, taking a gap year or whatever I imagined you could do, wouldn’t have helped. Not really. I wasn’t ready to confront…anything. I was still telling myself maybe my parents wouldn’t find out.”

“You were hoping people would just forget,” Archie said unemotionally. He’d known. He’d have to hide his eyes and cover his ears not to.

Beau nodded. “As unrealistic as that was, yeah. And that was never going to happen if you stayed. It was never going to happen anyway.”

“No.”

“But also, I was afraid if you went to San Diego, you’d meet someone. Someone who could be what you wanted. Wouldn’t pretend, wouldn’t deny your place in his life. I was afraid you’d meet the kind of guy you deserved to be with. And I…didn’t want to lose you.”

Every word was like a small weight on Archie’s heart. “I didn’t want anyone but you. I wanted us to work it out.”

He would have done anything. Almost anything. Unfortunately, it was the almost anything Beau had wanted.

It had to be asked.

“Since you brought it up. Are you still—?”

“Just waiting for the right girl?” Beau’s smile was odd. “No. I’m not going around discussing my sexual preferences. Any more than you are. But no one thinks I’m looking for another wife.”

“Did Riley know?”

Beau’s smile was a little bitter. “The whole town knew, remember? I told her it was a phase. I told myself it was a phase. I wanted it to be a phase. I tried to tell myself that what I felt was specific to you.”

Archie asked over the lump in his throat, “Did you love her?”

Beau met his eyes. “I loved her as much as I thought I’d be able to love anyone who wasn’t you.”

“What happened? Between you and Riley?”

Beau was still smiling that odd smile. “It turned out the phase I was going through was heterosexual.”

Archie stared at him. Beau said very quietly, “I never felt anything for anyone the way I felt about you. Not before. Not since. If there’s such a thing as true love, you were mine.”

Something about the way he said it, so plain and simple, closed Archie’s throat. He closed his eyes.

Beau nuzzled him, and when Archie opened his eyes, Beau brushed his fingertips across Archie’s cheekbones. “I knew I missed you, but I didn’t realize how much until I saw you that night at John’s.” His smile twisted. “You know that emptiness is there, but you fill it up with other things. You keep moving. You don’t look back. You tell yourself you don’t remember. But I did remember. All of it. Your laugh.” Beau kissed Archie’s eyelids, whispered, “The way your eyelashes go down when you don’t want people to know what you’re thinking.” He brushed Archie’s lips with his own, whispered, “Your mouth. Nobody tastes like you.”

Archie smiled beneath these attentions, but it was a sad smile. Yes. He knew that emptiness. He felt the same. How was it possible after seven years to remember so much? How was it possible that Beau was still so familiar to him?

Beau smiled at him, kissed him. It was a gentle smile and a gentler kiss.

Archie returned the kiss, also gentle because they could take nothing for granted now. That was the problem with being older and wiser.

He happened to glance over Beau’s shoulder and his gaze landed on the large wooden model of John’s yacht, El fantasma blanco, on the tall white bookshelves. His eyes widened.

John had taken him sailing a lot that first summer. Archie had never been sailing before, but he had taken to it right away. The sun and wind and water had soothed his spirit. The sound of the waves and the gulls, the creak of timbers and the wind singing in the sails. No need for conversation. Out there on the water, John and Archie had seemed to perfectly understand each other. In fact, some of Archie’s favorite memories of John were on the yacht.

He broke the kiss and said, “Did you search the yacht?”

“Huh?” Beau seemed to focus on him from a great distance.

“Did you conduct a search of El fantasma blanco? John’s yacht.”

“No. A search for what? There’s no connection between the yacht and John’s death that I’m aware of.”

“No. Right. I think tomorrow I’ll drive up to Winchester Bay. After the funeral.”

Beau frowned. “Why?”

Archie gave a funny laugh. “I think I just figured out where John stashed that letter.”

Archie slept late the next morning.

So late that he nearly missed John’s funeral.

Fortunately, perhaps, he was not required to do more than show up. Judith had not tapped him to be a pallbearer. He was not in physical shape to act as a pallbearer, but Judith hadn’t made her decision out of concern for his wellbeing. Nor had he been invited to read from Scripture nor speak at the service. Archie did not enjoy public speaking, so again, not the end of the world.

He was aware that he was being deliberately slighted. And he wouldn’t have been human if it hadn’t stung. But he had more important things to worry about than Judith’s opinion of him. He was there for John, not to impress the good citizens of Twinkleton.

Because he arrived as the church was filled nearly to capacity, it made sense to find a seat in a pew in the back. He did not recognize anyone around him, and they did not appear to recognize him, and that was fine with Archie. But Desi had apparently been watching for him and tried to wave him to the front where the family was seated. That was nice of her and more than made up for Judith. He almost laughed, imagining Judith’s face if he tried to squeeze in there between her and Desi, but of course he wasn’t going to do that. Not least because he didn’t have the energy for drama. He mimed an apologetic I’m Good Here . Desi rolled her eyes and mouthed, Get Up Here! Archie mimed No, really. Thanks .

Thankfully, the mime show ended as the organist hit a warning note. The congregation rose and the organist began “Be Thou My Vision.”

The pallbearers, who included Leo, Professor Azizi, Arlo, and three other men who looked vaguely familiar to Archie, carried the casket into the church in a formal procession, led by the elderly priest, Mother Angelica.

The casket was carried to the front of the church, lowered to the catafalque in front of the altar, and covered with the white pall symbolizing baptism and hope in resurrection.

The congregation was seated and Mother Angelica began the opening prayers.

Now that everyone was seated, Archie was able to pick several familiar faces from the sea of mourners. Mila Monig was sitting toward the front, but also had not been invited to join the family. He didn’t see Jon anywhere, but was that a surprise? Mrs. Simms sat two rows ahead of Archie, and she was crying soundlessly. Former Police Chief Alexander Langham and Mrs. Langham were toward the front. Scarlett appeared to be with them. Beau was nowhere to be seen, but Detective Swenson stood to the side, scanning the funeral-goers, and no doubt watching for revealing behaviors.

Archie’s relationship with God was polite but increasingly distant. He listened absently to readings from Scripture, the eulogy, various prayers for the deceased and the bereaved, the Apostles’ Creed, and finally the commendation and farewell. He obediently recited the Lord’s Prayer with the rest of the congregation, waited through final hymn, the final blessing, and rose with everyone else as Mother Angelica led the recession of the casket out of the church.

This time Leo was on Archie’s side of the aisle, and Archie was startled at how much Leo seemed to have aged overnight. His eyes looked like black holes in his white face. As he passed, Leo glanced at Archie and smiled. A weird sensation slithered down Archie’s spine. That alarming show of teeth looked like a death’s head smile.

The mourners began to file out of the church.

As Archie went down the front steps, his cell phone buzzed.

“Crane.”

“It’s me,” Beau said. “Are you still at the church?”

“Yes. They’re heading over to the cemetery now.”

“Is Baker there?”

“He’s a pallbearer. Yes.”

“Okay. Were you still intending to head down to Winchester Bay today?”

“I planned on it. In fact, I thought I’d leave now. After the funeral most people will be going over to Judith’s for refreshments.”

“Maybe you should hold off until I can drive you down there.”

Archie frowned. “Why?”

“Jon Monig’s body was just found in the fountain in the garden behind the library. It looks like he was shot to death last night.”