Page 30 of The Senator

Instead of texting him something that could be misconstrued, I decided to call. It barely rang before it was answered.

“Hi, Spence.” Nash’s voice was soft and a bit groggy sounding.

“I didn’t wake you, did I? It’s only… Oh!” I looked at my watch to see it was nearly eleven. I’d been sitting in the kitchen, nursing a double scotch for a lot longer than I thought.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was so late. I can call you tomorrow.” I prayed he didn’t hang up.

There was a rustling through the line and then a quiet sigh. “No, I was having a hard time falling asleep. I thought you’d get my text in the morning. What did you do after you let me out? I didn’t even thank you for the ride. I’m so sorry, Spence. It was nice of you to follow me out to the airport and bring me home. I wanted to ask you up, but I thought, under the circumstances, it was a bad idea. I don’t want someone getting the wrong idea, you know?”

It was my turn to sigh. “At this point, I don’t think there’s a wrong idea to get. Look, I realize things are fucked up right now, but I want to get to know you, Nash. I know you don’t like to talk about your past, but I promise, I won’t judge you. If it’s too painful to tell me, I understand, but I want us to get to know each other.” I hoped my desperation for more contact with him wasn’t obvious in my voice.

If he was worried about being seen with me in public, then we could slow things down and do it the old-fashioned way. I had no problem with taking our time if it meant there might be something at the end of the rainbow.

“Okay, so what’s your favorite way to relax?” Nash sounded more awake.

I chuckled as I stood from the table and turned off the light in the kitchen, untucking my shirt as I walked down the hallway to the den and spread out on the couch. It was cool in the house, so I turned on the gas logs in the fireplace and pulled down the throw from the back of the chair.

“Uh, plop my ass on the couch in the den with the fireplace on and a blanket over me. In the summer, I love to sit outside as the sun goes down. I used to like to read, but it’s been so long since I really got to read for fun, I almost don’t remember how.” My mind spun to think of my own questions to ask.

Thankfully, Nash spoke without me asking anything. “I have dyslexia, so learning to read was a struggle for me, and I still dislike it. I like to listen to podcasts to learn about different things.” Nash’s voice sounded thoughtful and younger than usual. He carried himself with such maturity I often forgot how young he really was—though, I didn’t really know the number for sure.

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-seven. You’re forty-five, right?” I was surprised at his response. I’d thought he was at least thirty. That was something I should have been worried about, but I couldn’t find it in myself to care.

“Yes, I am. Does the age thing bother you?”

I heard that deep chuckle that got my blood running, and I returned it, feeling like a giddy teen talking to his crush. I’d had many of them back in high school, but of course, I never acted on them. I probably wouldn’t be alive if I had.

“Naw. I’m generally attracted to older people anyway. More interesting stories to tell. Guys my age are usually limited to who they fucked, how many times they fucked, and how fast they were able to get away after the last time they fucked.

“Women want commitment and exclusivity on the first date. I can’t operate that way, usually,” Nash explained.

That caught my attention. I didn’t know he was bisexual, and then I wondered if maybe he was interested in Vani, not me. “I, uh, I guess I didn’t know you were bi. Do you prefer dating one gender over the other?” I struggled to get my goddamn libido under control.

If he was more interested in Vani, I’d back off. She was asexual, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t have a relationship. Of course, I’d take my leave to give them a chance. I loved her—not romantically—so I knew firsthand how easy she was to love.

Nash cleared his throat, and I braced myself for his response, which would probably break my heart. “Vani and I have discussed sexuality, but I guess she didn’t tell you. I’m bi, and I don’t really prefer sex with one gender over the other. It’s got more to do with the person than it does with the parts.”

Relief flooded my body at first, but then I realized his answer didn’t give away whether he was attracted to me. “Have you dated a lot since you’ve come to town?”

Nash chuckled. “Not at all. I’ve been working two jobs. Why don’t you ask the question you really want to ask?”

“That guy, Denver? Did you date him?” Apparently, it was bothering me more than I was willing to admit to even myself.

Nash flat-out laughed. “Denver is a great guy, but he’s definitely not my type. He and my best friend were involved. I wasn’t cut out for life in a motorcycle club, but my best friend, Clint, loved it, and he and Denver were attracted to each other at first sight. I never believed falling in love could happen like that until I saw the two of them together. Man, were there sparks when they met. I was happy for Clint because he deserved every good thing coming his way.” The nostalgia in his voice was sweet.

“Did they date for a while?”

Nash snorted. “I went with them on their first date—I didn’t know it was a date at the time—and we were eating barbecue at an outdoor beer garden when an old country song played over the speakers. Denny stood and walked around the picnic table, bowing to Clint. The whole place went silent.

“Clint was extremely shy, and he asked me what the hell Denny was doing. Before I could respond, Denver said, ‘I wanted to ask if you’d be kind enough to give me this dance.’ Later that night, Clint and I were sharing a room at the clubhouse, and he said, ‘Denver told me he loved me. I think that’s just about perfect.’ It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever heard.” I could hear the memory was still important to him. It touched me as well.

“Are they still together?” I asked, caught up in the sweetness of the story. I could relate to that biker guy if my heart and my head could ever come to terms.

I heard a sniffle, which alerted me I wouldn’t like the answer. “No. Clint patched into the club after I moved on. Denny called me one night to let me know he’d been killed in an accident. Driver of a semi fell asleep behind the wheel. Clint was riding the new Harley that Denver had custom made for his birthday. He was killed instantly, from what Denver told me.” Nash sniffled again.

Hell, I had tears in my eyes, and I longed to hold him and let him cry on my shoulder until he was all cried out. After, I’d wrap him in my arms while he slept.

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