Made to Order by Brigham Vaughn

TWELVE

Donovan seems off tonight. Tyler carried their discarded plates and bottles to the trash, thinking about the conversation they’d just had. Usually one hundred percent focused, Donovan seemed like he was in another world. Tyler didn’t think it was just him being quiet either. Donovan had stared off into the crowd for the longest time, like his mind was a million miles away.

And his questions for Tyler had been a lot more intense than usual. Tyler didn’t have a problem talking about his sexuality, but it wasn’t something they usually discussed and he had no idea why Donovan was so curious now.

Unless …

No, Donovan couldn’t possibly be thinking about them dating or something. Tyler knew he’d been clear from the very beginning. Hadn’t he?

“Tyler?”

Lacey’s voice broke Tyler from his trance and he lifted his head to see her looking at him with a concerned frown. He’d stopped in front of the booth. Now he was the one staring into space.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Ahh yeah, just in a coma now,” he joked. “All that delicious food of Donovan’s.”

He stole a glance at Donovan, who was back behind the tavern’s booth in his white coat, chatting with a couple of good-looking customers. One of the guys was tall and brown-haired, the other broader, with dark hair and glasses. They were laughing at something Donovan had said and Tyler felt a weird little stab of … something.

But whether it was the way Donovan was smiling at them or the fact that the guy in the brown suede jacket and neatly pressed khakis had his arm around the guy with the glasses, Tyler wasn’t sure.

Logically, he knew Donovan was just being friendly. He was good with customers, sociable, charming. It wasn’t as if he flirted any more than Tyler did. And Tyler had no claim on Donovan. He’d never wanted one before.

But something twisted up his insides and made him wonder if he wanted to be the one making Donovan smile, or wanted to be like the couple talking to him. Cozy and loving.

Damn. Why the fuck was his brain suddenly going there?

Because this is the first time you’ve been out in public with Donovan, he reminded himself. The realization sent a jolt through him, and he hustled around the corner of the booth, slipping behind the tables.

It was true though. He reached for his apron with a frown. They had kept their encounters strictly to Donovan’s place in the past few months. And the only time they saw each other outside that was at the tavern.

Which was normal for fuck buddies. But—and this was the part that made Tyler hesitate—this didn’t feel like a normal fuck-buddy situation anymore. They spent the night together at least three times a week. Which, hey, given how fucking late they were hooking up, made a lot of sense.

But Tyler was growing used to the feel of Donovan’s arm slung over his waist, his palm warm against Tyler’s chest. He liked the feel of his back pressed against a firm chest. It felt … peaceful. He wasn’t like Eddie, plagued by nightmares of what had happened in Afghanistan, and he’d never had any trouble falling asleep. But he did sleep longer and more deeply when Donovan was there. It was like his brain could let go and not worry.

Sometimes Tyler felt like military service had made him perpetually wary. Not in the way Eddie was, where a backfiring car would have him ducking for the ground. But it had trained Tyler to be vigilant of his surroundings. To take notice of everything. To be on alert. He’d never quite let go of that. But around Donovan, he could. He could simply let himself be.

And that was pretty damn seductive.

So, if it felt like more than a fuck-buddy situation … well, that made sense.

“You sure you’re okay, Ty?” Lacey asked. “You’ve been so quiet tonight.”

“I know.” He let out a little laugh. “Honestly, my mind has been wandering. I’m sorry. I know I’ve left you and Jake to deal with most of the customers.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” she said. “I just wanted to be sure you were okay.”

“Absolutely,” he assured her. “You need a break? We’ve got a couple of hours left and from the look of it, business will be picking up soon.”

They had entered that weird in-between hour. Too late for dinner, a little too early for partying. It was growing cool outside, and a live band had just begun playing. People were slowly returning to the tent to listen or dance to the cover band on the small dance floor where a few people bobbed to the music.

Soon, those people would come over for a drink and a snack to refuel, and once the dancing really increased, they’d probably grab a few more.

Lacey hesitated. “You sure? I wouldn’t mind taking a few minutes to walk around and text my mom to make sure everything’s okay at home with the kids …”

Tyler nodded. “Of course. Go for it.”

Her husband worked nights as a paramedic, so Lacey’s mom did most of the childcare. It wasn’t usually an issue, but one of the kids had been sick last week. Tyler gave her a reassuring smile. “Check on your family. I’ve got this handled.”

“Thanks.” She stepped back, already pulling off her apron.

Tyler slid into her spot and greeted the next customer. “Good evening. What can I get you?”

It did pick up after that and he worked his way through several dozen customers before a gorgeous blonde sashayed up.

“Well, I’m debating.” She responded to his question about what she wanted to drink with a smile. “Which is better? The apple mojito? Or the apple pie Moscow mule?”

“Well, do you prefer apple vodka or white rum?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” She tapped a manicured nail against her lip. “Which do you think I’d like?

Tyler suppressed a groan. Great. One of those customers. He talked her through it and she finally picked out the Moscow mule.

“Oh my God, this is so good,” she gushed after she took a sip. “Could I, um, get your number too?” She took another sip of the drink through the straw and looked at him through her lashes.

“I’m flattered,” he said sincerely. She was just his type. Pre-Donovan, Tyler would have been seriously tempted, despite his “don’t date the customers” rule. “But I’m seeing someone.”

“Aww. Bummer.”

“Have a good evening?” Tyler said, feeling a bit awkward.

“You too.” She slid a scrap of paper at him. “But, you know, if you change your mind …”

She sauntered off with a flirty smile and a swing of her hips.

Lacey, who had just reappeared, blinked at Tyler. “I didn’t know you were seeing someone!”

Out of the corner of his eye, Tyler saw Donovan falter as he carried a stack of plates to the table nearby. Damn it, he must have heard that.

“Yeah,” Tyer said quietly. “I don’t really talk about my personal life at work but …”

“Excuse me?”

A man approached the makeshift bar and Tyler gratefully returned his attention to their customers. “How can I help you, sir?”

Thankfully, after that, they got too busy for Lacey to question him, and he hoped she’d forget all about it soon.

* * *

“Well, I think that’s it,” Tyler said with a groan several hours later. The band had packed up and the festival was officially shutting down until next year. “Donovan, you ready to pack up?”

He glanced up. “Yes. We’re just about out of food anyway.” He let out a tired little laugh.

“Yeah, I hear you. We ran out of the fresh apple cider half an hour ago. And we’ve got about two shots of rum left.” He turned back to the bar area. “Okay guys, we can pack up now.”

After that, it was a blur of stacking dirty dishes in crates, folding tablecloths, and tearing down their booth setup after. Things were just wrapping up when Tyler’s phone began to buzz impatiently in his pocket.

He slipped his phone out to see several texts from Andrea. The last one sent his heart rate through the roof.

Call me, Ty. Urgent.

“Fuck.” He raked a hand through his hair, heart galloping in his chest.

“What’s wrong?” Donovan strode over and grabbed his elbow.

Tyler grimaced. “Eddie’s wife. I have to get this. Can you …?”

“Go,” Donovan said firmly. “I’ll take care of closing this up.”

“Thanks.” Tyler ripped off his apron with one hand and thrust it in Donovan’s direction. He strode away, already lifting his phone to his ear, too worried to think twice about what his staff would think of him turning everything over to Donovan. Tyler knew he’d handle it.

Eddie had seemed okay the past few months. He’d finally gotten in to see a therapist and just last month they’d done their camping and fishing trip. He’d seemed so much more like his usual self that weekend that Tyler had begun to hope that things were improving. Apparently, he’d been wrong.

“Andrea? What is it?” he asked when the call connected. He slipped out the exit of the tent and into the cool September air.

“He locked himself in the bathroom, Ty.” Andrea let out a hiccupping sob. “I’m scared for him.”

Shit, shit shit. “Can you take a few deep breaths for me?”

He heard a shaky breath or two on the other end.

“What did Eddie say?” Tyler coaxed.

She sniffled, her voice thick with tears. “He’s just ranting. Talking about how he’s letting us down. How he’s always let everyone down. About how we’d be better off without him.”

“Fuck.” Tyler crossed the park, a cool breeze off the bay teasing at his arms—bare in his T-shirt—as he thought fast. “Does he have access to a gun, Andrea?”

She drew in a sharp breath. “No. No, I asked him to get rid of it before Antonio was born. I watched Eddie give it to his father.”

“Do you think there’s any way Mr. Silva would have given it back to him?” He approached the edge of the park, stopping when he reached the metal railing that overlooked the bay. The moon glimmered off the waves, the sight too peaceful for the fears filling his head.

“No. He told me he was going to surrender it to the police. Said the fewer guns out there the better.”

Mr. Silva was a pacifist and had opposed his son’s plan to join the military from the very beginning. Eddie returning home worse for wear hadn’t exactly made his father more supportive of gun ownership or the endless wars in the Middle East.

“Good.” The little knot in Tyler’s chest loosened a fraction. There were other ways Eddie might hurt himself, if he was feeling so inclined. But a gun was easy. And Eddie’s aim had always been deadly accurate. Of course, if he put it to his temple or in his mouth, accuracy wouldn’t matter. “Can do you do something for me, Andrea?”

“Of course.” She gulped. “Whatever will help him.”

“If you can get him out of the house for a little while, check it over. Top to bottom. Basement, garage … make sure he doesn’t have a backup weapon. A lot of guys do.” Tyler did. He kept his two firearms in separate, secure lockboxes and cleaned them regularly because he was a responsible gun owner and he’d never risk his niece and nephew or Eddie and Andrea’s kids accidentally getting into them. But he had them. One in his nightstand, the other in the bedroom closet. Just in case.

She drew in a sharp breath. “You think he’d lie to me?”

“No.” Tyler leaned his elbows on the metal railing, the sharp, cold bite of it anchoring him. “I think he could have convinced himself it was for your own good. That he was protecting you. He’d have it in a lockbox so the kids couldn’t get to it, but he’d keep it because he’d think it would help him keep you safe.”

She let out a frustrated noise.

“I know,” he said soothingly. “And we’re thinking worst-case scenarios. I may be totally wrong about this. He may feel better tomorrow and it won’t be an issue. I just want to be cautious. Can I talk to him now? Can you get him to get on the phone with me?

“No.” She sniffled. “I tried earlier. I told him to call you. I know it’s asking a lot but—”

“Hey, I’ll do whatever it takes to help him,” Tyler said firmly. “You don’t have to apologize for it. He’s my brother. Of course, I’ll do whatever I can.” His voice was rough by the end.

They were both silent a moment.

“Do you need me to come up tonight? I’m working a booth at apple fest but I can ask my boss—”

“No, no, I don’t need you to do that. Maybe tomorrow? I know your schedule is crazy …”

“Yeah, of course.” He did have to work but fuck it, Rachael would understand. He’d beg if he had to. “I’ll make it happen. I promise.”

“Thanks.” Andrea let out a relieved-sounding sigh. “I’m just so scared I’m going to lose him, Ty.”

He swallowed hard. “Me too.”

He said goodbye to Andrea, then promised he’d text to let her know what time he’d be there the next day.

After he hung up, he called Rachael. She picked up immediately.

“Tyler? Is something wrong?”

“Not with the festival,” he assured her. Worry made his voice tight and strained. “But I’ve got a personal emergency.”

“Oh no! Not your parents, I hope.”

“No, they’re fine,” Tyler assured her. “I’ve got a buddy from the service. He’s … he’s in a bad spot, Rach. And he really needs me. I want to go visit him tomorrow. It’s a drive, though. He’s up in Grand Rapids and I—”

“You need the day off?”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “I’m sorry. I know this is short notice, especially for a Sunday shift, but I don’t know what time I’ll be back and frankly I think my head will be kind of a mess once I do and—”

“Don’t even think about it,” Rachael said firmly. “You need the time off; we’ll make it happen. I’ll come in and work myself.”

He grimaced. “Hope you didn’t have plans with the guys.”

“Nope, they’re up north with some friends. I’d planned a quiet night in, so I have no obligations.”

“Sorry to interrupt that.”

“Please don’t apologize,” Rachael said firmly. “Honestly, Tyler, I refuse to run my business like I have robots working for me. You’re a person with a whole life outside of work. I want you to be able to call me and say you need the day off without worrying about it.”

“Thanks.” He rubbed his chest. “That means a lot to me, Rach.”

“Of course. Now, you go have a relaxing night once you’re done there at the festival and take care of your friend tomorrow. I’ll see you Tuesday, okay?”

“Yes,” he said firmly. “Thanks again.”

“Happy to help. I hope your friend will be okay.”

Tyler stood there, leaning against the railing, staring out at the dark bay for a few minutes. He knew he needed to get back. Needed to focus on work, but he was too damn tired to do anything.

He swallowed, a weird little ache forming in the back of his throat as he wished he could just walk into the tent and wrap his arms around Donovan. He wanted that. Needed it. But … but he wasn’t ready for the questions that would follow about who he was. What he was. How the hell could he explain it to everyone else when he didn’t know himself. Ugh. He hated this. Hated even having to think about it. Why couldn’t it just be easy?

But no, everyone had to give it a label. Things would change if he told his friends and family he was involved with a guy. It would become A THING that people felt the need to comment on. And Tyler hated the thought of that. He hated having to wonder what Eddie would say. What the other guys would say. What his mom and dad would say. He didn’t think any one of them would have a major issue with it but what if they did? And he dreaded the questions. People wondering if he had been hiding all along.

He’d have to explain that no, apparently it was just Donovan. Or, at least, he hadn’t really looked twice at other guys since. Well, maybe twice. He’d looked at Rachael’s partners—Reeve and Grant—knowing they were bi. And he thought that yeah, they were attractive. But they didn’t make him hard the way Donovan did. Even if they weren’t with his boss, he wouldn’t want to kiss them. Couldn’t imagine letting himself be vulnerable with them the way he was with Donovan.

Couldn’t imagine falling asleep in a bed next to them, sex-drunk and high on endorphins. He couldn’t imagine waking up and staring at them next to him in the bed and wondering how the fuck he’d ended up in that position but praying fervently that it wouldn’t end.

When Donovan had asked him about his feelings on relationships earlier, he’d given him his knee-jerk response. But the truth was, questions had been nibbling at the edges of his subconscious lately. It was more than the smack of the wooden paddle he liked. More than the feel of a dick in his mouth. It was Donovan and the way they meshed.

It was the way his life made sense with Donovan in it. He felt a sense of purpose that had been missing for years. With Donovan around, the pieces of his life seemed to make more sense.

Tyler swallowed hard. He wished he could just walk up to Donovan now, kiss him, and that would be the end of that. No questions. No coming out. None of that bullshit. But he couldn’t. So, he sighed and tucked his phone in his pocket and trudged back to the tent.