Page 86 of The Darkness Within

“I think I’m going with the prime rib, medium rare, and maybe a loaded baked potato and a Caesar salad. What about you?”

“A well done filet for me, with a sweet potato and French onion soup.” I look up to find him smiling at me. “What?”

“Nothing, I just like seeing you do your thing.”

“My thing? What am I doing?”

“Ordering. Like, you’re just a normal guy, a soldier, you work with your hands, like to get dirty, but then there’s this whole other side of you, this uptight, fancy side, the therapist side. You’re an educated bookworm who likes French onion soup and true crime novels.”

“And?” I fail to see his point.

“And I love both sides. And all the angles in between. You’re multifaceted,” he reveals with a grin, “and I love it. I love you,” he adds in a whisper.

Now I’m grinning as well. “I love you, too,” I whisper back.

The waiter slides our salad and soup bowls in front of us. “You’re really not going to tell me where we’re going today?”

“You really don’t like surprises, do you?”

“I’ve had enough surprises to last a lifetime,” he says without humor.

“This is a good surprise, I promise.”

We’re served our main courses, and when I cut into my steak, I close my eyes and savor the taste. Nash emits a little moan, like he’s in rapture.

“Here, try a bite of mine,” he suggests, offering his fork to me.

I pop the prime rib into my mouth and chew. It feels as soft as butter on my tongue, but the flavor and the smell of the rare meat, way too rare for my liking, kicks my gag reflex into overdrive. Discreetly, I spit it back into my napkin and wash my mouth out with tea. I have to take several studying breaths before my stomach feels solid again.

Nash is doing that smiling thing again, like he finds me funny. “What?”

“I love to see evidence that you’re normal. Well, far from normal, actually, like me. What was that just now?”

“The taste, and the smell, it triggered a memory.”

“You almost threw up, in this fancy restaurant,” he says, looking around at the other diners. “That’s something I would do.” Then he shrugs, focusing on his plate again. “Makes me feel normal, more at ease.”

This is one of those moments where I feel both horrified and enamored at once. Horrified because the meat triggered my worst memory, the taste of my buddy Eric‘s blood in my mouth. And enamored because he’s right. I get him, he gets me, and it’s a bit horrifying that we bond over our darkest memories. With a sigh, I take another sip of my tea and skip my steak, moving on to my potato.

With lunch finished, and our bellies full, we head to our next destination, the luxuriously exclusive Omni Grove Park Inn Spa.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Nash looks like he could be knocked over with a feather as he stands in front of the stone façade with his mouth agape.

“Time for a little pampering and R&R.”

First, we take our time looking around, exploring the hotel and grounds, taking in the magnificent views of the mountains, and there’s even a waterfall. Then we head inside, where beneath the hotel they have an underground mineral pool, decked out like a rock cave. The dim lighting makes the place feel private and intimate, and I would love nothing more than to fuck him in this pool and to swim naked, but this isn’t that kind of hotel, and I’d hate to get kicked out before couples massage.

We do a lot of cuddling. The PG kind, where he swims into my arms and just lets me hold on to him. Then he glides through the water effortlessly with me on his back, my arms around his neck. Wet kisses, beads of water dripping down his chest and torso, the water reflecting in his beautiful blue eyes, and the way his swim trunks cling to the outline of his cock as he climbs from the water—the whole thing is an extended and torturous form of foreplay for me.

Next, we hit the eucalyptus steam room, where the invigorating scent cleans out my sinuses and opens my head and chest.

“You know,” I point out, reclining with my eyes closed, “this is supposed to do wonders for migraines. The next time you get one, we should try a DIY version in our bathroom.”

Nash just grunts in response, probably too relaxed to even speak. When we’re finished steaming, we shower off and wrap ourselves in the plushest robes I’ve ever laid against my skin. It really feels like being hugged by a cloud. As we wait our turn in the massage room, we sit in the lounge and drink a cup of hot herbal tea.

“I’m never leaving. I don’t care what it costs to live here, I’m moving in,” Nash swears. I chuckle because I’m in complete agreement with him. Whatever this place costs is worth every penny.

“I’ve never felt more relaxed in my life,” I add, taking a long slurping sip of my tea.

---