Irish Coffee

Chapter 7

New Year’s Eve had come and gone and every day Travis thought of Ethan and the way he’d left.  His parents had been heartbroken at the news, thinking that maybe Ethan had been the one for their son.  Travis eventually confided that he had thought so too, even though it had all started as a ruse.  Aracely Murphy had not been happy to hear that her son had conspired to fool her, but had cried along with him when he’d admitted his growing feelings for the jerk of a detective. 

These days, as February approached and thoughts of spring began to bloom, he hated himself more for allowing himself to fall more than he hated Ethan for leaving.  Try as he might, he couldn’t forget those green eyes that haunted his dreams.  On the bright side, the heartache had kicked his muse in the ass and he’d finished another entire novel in the days since Ethan had departed.  It was a record he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to repeat. 

Ethan dragged his weary body through the grocery store, knowing that if he didn’t do it now, it’d be at least another week before he had a chance.  As if in response, his stomach growled, reminding him he didn’t have that option.  It was shop or starve and honestly, he liked eating.  So, he shopped. 

Passing by the magazine rack, a splash of color caught his eye.  He backtracked and stopped, eyes landing on the smallish paperback display residing beside the massive amounts of magazines.  The white cover was innocent enough, but the name emblazoned in royal blue across the top had been what caught his attention. 

Travis Murphy.

He reached out for the book, quickly drawing his hand back as if it had been too hot to touch.  Swallowing the lump growing in his throat, Ethan plucked the book off the shelf and held it in his hand.  He ran his thumb across the raised lettering of Travis’ name, a vision of the boy’s brilliant smile forming in his memory.  That annoying lump that had taken up residence in his throat dislodged and landed solidly in his stomach.  Ethan sighed, the emptiness in his chest aching to be filled.  The book was an inch from being returned to its spot when he changed his mind, tossing it into the basket with his Ramen and assorted other bachelor food. 

He might have left Travis, but he’d be damned if Travis had left him.

It took approximately a day and a half for him to finish the paperback.  After he’d thrown it against the wall in frustration – Travis was now fixed firmly in his brain it seemed – he’d retrieved it from the floor, smoothed the cover, and left it sitting on his dresser.  Like an idiot, he’d put it in a place he’d see often and, like the masochist he was, he refused to move it.  Mostly he thought he deserved a reminder of what he’d stupidly left behind.  Other times, he felt he deserved the pain that came hard on the heels of such a reminder. 

He wondered what Travis was doing at that moment.  Had he made his deadline?  He’d never bothered to even ask because he’d been so caught up in his own exciting news.  Ethan smacked a fist against the dresser, inches from the book that had started it all.  Why hadn’t he taken five minutes to actually talk to Travis before assuming he knew what the other would want?

Ethan slipped a hand into his pocket.  His fingers were wrapped around the length of hard plastic encasing it before he realized it.  “Damnit,” he muttered, disgusted with himself.  It wasn’t the first time he’d thought to reach out to Travis, it was closer to the ninetieth.  No matter how many times he tried, he hadn’t yet been able to make that call. 

He needed to.

He needed nothing more than to tell Travis he was sorry because he’d been wrong.  He wasn’t happy here, he was more lonely than he’d been before.  Or maybe he hadn’t noticed before because he hadn’t met Travis yet.  Hadn’t known what it was like to have something other than work to look forward to.