Page 54 of Sugar

Piper didn’t want his heart broken, and Juno still couldn’t promise that wouldn’t happen. He needed to take a step back. He needed to let Piper push him away. And then it had all come crashing down around him as he sat in the cold, impersonal, empty guest room in the rental.

It didn’t smell like them. The bed wasn’t as soft. The light wasn’t as bright. There was no rhythmic sound of Piper’s wheezing snore, no twitching legs, no soft murmurs.

There was no one to absently reach for Juno in their sleep.

There was just space.

He hated it.

He hated himself a little more for giving in, but the way Piper had welcomed him back into his arms was enough to soothe that sting. And it was easy after that to make a promise that he wouldn’t push Piper into anything more than this because that was also what he needed.

But Christ, he missed his kisses. He missed the morning taste of him, the sweet-sourness from his coffee after he’d had two cups. He missed the way Piper would smudge his lips against Juno’s cheeks and the way he’d touch his face and look into his eyes like he didn’t want to look anywhere else.

He had a little of that now, but not enough.

He had touches, but not without hesitation.

He wanted to hold Piper’s hand right then, but he didn’t think he had permission. The lines were as blurry as his shitty left eye, and he didn’t think they were going to get any more clear. They had one more week of travel before they were in California, then another week back with a couple more stops for Juno to see.

It was three weeks, just over seven thousand miles, and it felt like a lifetime.

“Sugar?”

Juno couldn’t express his relief that Piper was calling him that again. It wasn’t ruined. Not entirely. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

Piper reached up like he was going to cup Juno’s cheek, then aborted the gesture and curled his hand into a fist, dropping it by his side. Juno’s chest ached harder. “Just making sure you’re okay.”

“I’m good.” A lie, but he couldn’t tell Piper the truth. Piper would give in. He’d give Juno more than he wanted to, and that wasn’t fair. “Thank you for taking me here. It’s amazing.”

Piper just smiled, then stepped back behind Juno and pulled him close again. They didn’t hold hands. He didn’t stroke Juno’s fingers or play with his hair. But he kept one arm firmly around his waist to keep them steady as the boat rocked, Juno’s back pressed against his chest, and it was something.

And that something, for the moment, would have to be everything.

The next two stops, they stayed in hotel rooms—nicer ones than Juno had ever considered booking. In Detroit, Piper brought him a bunch of brochures, and feeling like they needed some fun, Juno picked a haunted tour.

They were escorted to a red-lit trolley, and the man narrating the tour had a haunting voice. He and Piper sat curled into a bench seat in the very back, giggling like they were teenagers and getting death stares from some of the other patrons who were taking it all very seriously.

“Do you believe in ghosts?” Juno asked as the trolley headed for the parking lot.

Piper pulled a face and shrugged. “Not in the spiritual sense. I mean, I don’t think the human consciousness sticks around.”

Juno’s eyebrows rose. “But you do believe in something.”

“Energy, but that part is fact, not faith. A good part of my career has been studying energy in the universe, and humans create a lot of it. I think if the death was powerful enough—maybe even violent enough, or scared enough, sad enough—it might leave an impression. Like an echo of what came before it.”

“So those guys on the ghost show?—”

“Okay,” Piper said, rolling his eyes. Juno had put on a ghost-hunting show when they got in and forced Piper to watch as they prepared for the tour. “Maybe not like that. I’m not sure there’s any merit to some guy’s theory that ghosts want to sexually harass everyone.”

Juno slapped his hand over his mouth to quell his fit of giggles, and the way Piper’s eyes were shining, he almost lost it. After a breath, he dropped his hand to his thigh, and Piper picked it up almost absently. His soft fingertips traced lines over Juno’s palm.

It was a moment. A profound one.

Juno was afraid to say anything, afraid to shatter the spell.

“I miss you,” Piper finally said.

Juno’s mouth dropped open to reply that he hadn’t gone anywhere, but the trolley came to a halt, and Juno realized they were back at the station. Piper dropped his hand carefully, and Juno wrapped his arms around himself as he followed the line of people outside. The lights in the parking lot were dim, and he yawned, then glanced around for the car.

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