supposed to mean? Dammit, if I didn't want to get back at him, why the hell would you?"
"You kindness would never have allowed it." Kasha tucked into a ball, wishing he could shrink into the stones.
"Got that right. Did I ask you to fight my battles for me?" Willem shoved his feet into his boots, fished his wallet from his pack, and threw on his jacket. He stabbed a finger in Kasha's direction. "We'll talk about this when I get back. He sure as hell better be all right, or you and I are gonna have a problem. Hear me?"
"Yes, m--yes, sir."
He flinched when the door slammed hard behind Willem. So much for keeping it from him. It had been a mistake, the little bit of teasing the previous night. Willem might act the wide-eyed ingénue sometimes, but he was far too sharp to miss such hints.
Patching things up would have to wait until later that day. By then, perhaps the miscreant ex-lover would have realized the solution to his dilemma and then Willem's temper might cool. It shocked him, the hurt his new lord's anger caused. He didn't relish anger aimed at him from most sources, but this desolate feeling was less familiar.
No time for regrets or speculation now, though. He searched the pack until he found the little metal crane, placed it under his hat, and set the hat on his head. Before seeking his Willem's forgiveness, he had much to accomplish that day.
* * * *
Willem waited for an answer to his question, shifting from foot to foot, while Gunther checked gauges on the mash tun.
"Yes, that prick you used to live with," Gun finally said as he straightened. "He called this morning looking for you. Didn't know where you'd gone, and I told him so."
"Did he sound okay?" Willem ignored the gentle accusation. He knew Gun would worry, but how could he tell him he had hunkered down in someone's hunting cabin without permission? Not as if he had a phone up there, either.
Gunther shrugged. "He sounded hysterical, but I can't tell you any more than that."
"What did he say?"
"Will." Gunther ran a hand back through his short-cropped hair. "If you hook up with him again, I'll kick your butt from here to Poughkeepsie."
"Not gonna happen. But I heard something and I'm worried."
Gunther gave him a long, hard look. "Fine. He said if you turned up to ask you to come by the apartment."
"Did he say why?"
"No, and I didn't ask the little creep. After what he did to you? I don't much care if his hair was on fire."
One corner of Willem's mouth tugged up. Before the breakup, he had thought Gunther didn't like Joey because he was so openly gay. It had never occurred to him that the dislike stemmed from how he treated Gunther's little brother. "All right. Thanks, Gun."
He turned to go, but Gunther's hand on his shoulder stopped him. "You plan on telling me where you landed?"
"I will. When I have something permanent." The hand didn't budge. "I'm okay, Gun. Really."
Gunther relinquished his grip with a sigh. "Fine. You check in sometimes. Don't make me come looking for you."
"Hard-ass."
"Slacker."
They shared a little smile at the exchange of boyhood insults, and then Willem strode away, too worried to delay any longer.
The apartment he and Joey had shared was only two blocks away, not that anything in town was more than a few minutes' walk from the brewery. Just three rooms and a bathroom above the old hardware store, now a Goodwill, he had loved the scents of old wood and the creak of ancient radiators. Joey had always carped about finding a better place, but Willem had felt at home there.
I guess that should be ironic. Oh, well.
He walked up the steps at the back of the building and knocked. "Joey? Joey, open the door! It's Will!"
No footsteps came to the door. Willem pressed his ear to the wood. Nothing. Maybe it was all a false alarm and Joey was at work, perfectly fine. Still, he had come this far. He reached up and groped around the top of the doorframe until he found the key that Joey "hid" there. Maybe it was an
"You kindness would never have allowed it." Kasha tucked into a ball, wishing he could shrink into the stones.
"Got that right. Did I ask you to fight my battles for me?" Willem shoved his feet into his boots, fished his wallet from his pack, and threw on his jacket. He stabbed a finger in Kasha's direction. "We'll talk about this when I get back. He sure as hell better be all right, or you and I are gonna have a problem. Hear me?"
"Yes, m--yes, sir."
He flinched when the door slammed hard behind Willem. So much for keeping it from him. It had been a mistake, the little bit of teasing the previous night. Willem might act the wide-eyed ingénue sometimes, but he was far too sharp to miss such hints.
Patching things up would have to wait until later that day. By then, perhaps the miscreant ex-lover would have realized the solution to his dilemma and then Willem's temper might cool. It shocked him, the hurt his new lord's anger caused. He didn't relish anger aimed at him from most sources, but this desolate feeling was less familiar.
No time for regrets or speculation now, though. He searched the pack until he found the little metal crane, placed it under his hat, and set the hat on his head. Before seeking his Willem's forgiveness, he had much to accomplish that day.
* * * *
Willem waited for an answer to his question, shifting from foot to foot, while Gunther checked gauges on the mash tun.
"Yes, that prick you used to live with," Gun finally said as he straightened. "He called this morning looking for you. Didn't know where you'd gone, and I told him so."
"Did he sound okay?" Willem ignored the gentle accusation. He knew Gun would worry, but how could he tell him he had hunkered down in someone's hunting cabin without permission? Not as if he had a phone up there, either.
Gunther shrugged. "He sounded hysterical, but I can't tell you any more than that."
"What did he say?"
"Will." Gunther ran a hand back through his short-cropped hair. "If you hook up with him again, I'll kick your butt from here to Poughkeepsie."
"Not gonna happen. But I heard something and I'm worried."
Gunther gave him a long, hard look. "Fine. He said if you turned up to ask you to come by the apartment."
"Did he say why?"
"No, and I didn't ask the little creep. After what he did to you? I don't much care if his hair was on fire."
One corner of Willem's mouth tugged up. Before the breakup, he had thought Gunther didn't like Joey because he was so openly gay. It had never occurred to him that the dislike stemmed from how he treated Gunther's little brother. "All right. Thanks, Gun."
He turned to go, but Gunther's hand on his shoulder stopped him. "You plan on telling me where you landed?"
"I will. When I have something permanent." The hand didn't budge. "I'm okay, Gun. Really."
Gunther relinquished his grip with a sigh. "Fine. You check in sometimes. Don't make me come looking for you."
"Hard-ass."
"Slacker."
They shared a little smile at the exchange of boyhood insults, and then Willem strode away, too worried to delay any longer.
The apartment he and Joey had shared was only two blocks away, not that anything in town was more than a few minutes' walk from the brewery. Just three rooms and a bathroom above the old hardware store, now a Goodwill, he had loved the scents of old wood and the creak of ancient radiators. Joey had always carped about finding a better place, but Willem had felt at home there.
I guess that should be ironic. Oh, well.
He walked up the steps at the back of the building and knocked. "Joey? Joey, open the door! It's Will!"
No footsteps came to the door. Willem pressed his ear to the wood. Nothing. Maybe it was all a false alarm and Joey was at work, perfectly fine. Still, he had come this far. He reached up and groped around the top of the doorframe until he found the key that Joey "hid" there. Maybe it was an
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