Jason laughed. “Me too. Penitence suits him.”
They stood there for a bit, contemplating Sarah’s grave, but Jason could feel Ben’s restlessness returning. He sensed Ben’s attention shifting away, toward the horizon. After being confined for a century and a half, sometimes it was all he could do to hold still for five minutes.
“Well, which will it be?” Ben said at last. “Barbecue or apples?”
“How about cherries?”
“Cherries?”
“If you don’t like those, I have orange, pineapple, peppermint—”
“I see.” Ben laughed, turning to face him, lacing his arms around Jason’s neck, his soft lips curving into a flirtatious grin. “Is that a roll of Life Savers in your pocket or are you—”
“Yes. On both counts. And I have about three more rolls of them in my bag.”
“I love the way you think.”
And there in the cemetery, only a few feet from his sister’s grave, in the bright, dancing light of a perfect October day, Ben pulled him into an eager kiss, and Jason kissed him back. He didn’t care if there was a photographer present. He didn’t care what any tabloid had to say. Let a thousand lunatic fans tweet about it over dinner. It didn’t matter one bit. He held Ben close, kissing him deeply, silently thanking Dylan and the sheriff and the universe at large for granting him this moment, and each moment since Christmas, and every moment left to come. Days strolling hand in hand in some as-yet undiscovered city, or driving down country roads with the wind in their hair. Nights by riverbanks, trying to count the stars, or alone in their room, worshipping each other in their own perfect way. And best of all, morning after morning after morning of waking to Ben’s gorgeous smile. Every minute was a gift, and Jason opened each one with a thankfulness that bordered on reverence.
No more shadows. No more doubt. After so many years alone—
“Oranges,” Ben said as he pulled Jason toward the car. “I think we should start with oranges.”
It was good to live in the light.
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I’ve taken liberties with the location of the Best Buy in Coeur d’Alene. I hope that will prove to be the worst of my literary sins.
Thanks to Rowan and Rob for listening to me and supporting me through all of my whining and doubt and bellyaching.
Thanks to Lori for helping me solve that last little sticky problem.
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Writing as A.M. Sexton
Release
Return
Marie Sexton is a typical soccer mom. She has a fondness for wine and cheese, an addiction to coffee, and occasionally bleeds orange and blue. She lives in Colorado with her husband, their daughter, her dog, and one very stupid cat.
Marie also writes dark, dystopian erotic fantasy under the name A.M. Sexton.
Website: MarieSexton.net
Facebook: facebook.com/MarieSexton.author
Twitter: twitter.com/MarieSexton
Pinterest: pinterest.com/msextonauthor
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Marie Sexton, Winter Oranges
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