Page 8 of Nicks and Cuts

He shrugged and put another block of wood on the table. “I can’t change it, so I don’t see why it matters.”

“Can I ask why you stayed instead of selling up and leaving?” Or was he digging a hole he would never be able to climb out of? They didn’t know each other that well,yet they had both gone straight for the old wounds to see what was festering. Perhaps that was the best way to get to know someone, learn how they handled pain and grief instead of how they behaved at parties when everyone was watching.

He’d fallen into bed with far too many people who presented perfectly to a crowd of strangers and knew exactly what to say to get what they wanted, but were the equivalent of dating a parasite, and digging them out of his life was a fucking nightmare.

Not that he was going to start dating any time soon. He needed to figure out his own shit, so he didn’t keep making the same mistakes.

His gaze landed on Dante, knowing that he would be a very easy mistake to make—again. There was probably a good reason that Dante was single and lived by himself. Maybe he had terrible PTSD and woke up not knowing where he was. Or perhaps he just didn’t want to admit that he was gay. It was one thing to support Pride, but another to come out.

“It was all I had left, and I wasn’t in any kind of state to be making any big decisions. It was an accident that I turned a hobby into a business. And by then I didn’t see any point in leaving.” He examined a piece of wood and put it aside. “Still want to stay here?”

“Were you trying to scare me off?” It took more than a gut-wrenching story with the scars to match. With his back turned, it gave Shannon plenty of time to check out his ass and thick thighs.

“You don’t scare easy?”

“I don’t smell any bullshit.” And he’d waded through enough to have learned that when he got the whiff, he should leave instead of ignoring all the warning signs. There was no prize for collecting the most red flags. “I do have one question in case people do start talking to me, so I don’t mess up…”

Dante turned to look at him. “I’m not out if that’s what you’re edging around.”

“I thought as much from the other night.”

Dante’s eyebrows lowered as though he didn’t want to be reminded about that.

Shannon slid off the stool; now was a good time to leave. “I should get going. I’ll see you tomorrow, around six.”

And studiously avoid him so he didn’t put his foot any further in his mouth or have any more bad ideas. Because if there was one thing worse than dating an artist, it was dating one in the closet. He’d only made that mistake once, and he was never going to be a secret again.

CHAPTER

FIVE

Dante didn’t know if he was dreading or looking forward to Shannon moving in. It wasn’t a smart idea because temptation would be under the same roof, and he wasn’t sure if he should be resisting or giving in. It wasn’t as if anyone would find out, and that was his main concern, even though there were gay couples in town. Hell, he’d been to Pride and for a few heartbeats it had been tempting to stop hiding. Watching everyone else be so free and comfortable with themselves was something that he wanted.

Maybe that’s why he was attracted to Shannon. He was an unrepentant spark who didn’t apologize for existing and taking up space. He’d been like that once…but by the time he was in high school and had realized he found the football players more exciting than the cheerleaders, he’d started withdrawing. Back then, the town had been smaller, and he hadn’t wanted to be the gay kid. He hadn’t wanted to be different and experience the bullying that came with it. In hindsight, he wouldn’t have been the only gay kid at school, and his parents wouldn’t have cared. They had even brought it up once because they were worried that he wasn’t dating like his friends. He also wasn’t knocking up his girlfriend like his friends.

He ate his lunch staring out at the trees, back against the stable-turned-workshop, legs stretched out enjoying the sun. His students sat on the logs that he’d positioned to stop people from accidentally reversing into his workshop or the veranda of the house when they parked—he learned that one the hard way. They talked amongst themselves, giving him a few moments of peace before he took them through the final few steps to finish their knives and chopping boards.

By the time he’d joined the army, he was used to keeping things to himself, and there were plenty like him, which had made life easier. When he first returned to Foggy Basin, it had been to heal and grieve, and he hadn’t needed the extra gossip. Now it was a habit he didn’t know how to break. He didn’t want to tell people, and he didn’t want people knowing his business.

He stood and stretched. “Another five minutes, then we’ll start finishing up.”

His eyes took a moment to adjust as he stepped inside, and then he took a few minutes to check people’s work and make sure that they weren’t going to need any help to finish. Some people dreamed big but lost the enthusiasm to push through when they grasped how much work was involved. Some people were scared of the heat or the power tools. By the time they were done, they’d made something and learned some new things about themselves. That’s what he liked about teaching, seeing people change as they figured it out and created something they were proud of, even if it wouldn’t win any awards.

It was a bit like when he’d joined the army and learned that he wasn’t going to die when pushing himself. He might puke, but that wasn’t going to kill him, though plenty of other things might.

One by one, the people filtered back in and assessed their work as if gearing up for the final push. Or were they judging their work and finding it wanting because they’d expected more from themselves? He had people return months later ready to try again or with a clearer idea about the kind of knife they wanted.

“We’re going to finish smoothing out all the wood, then we’re going to sharpen the blade and give everything an oil.” He held up one of the knives he’d been working on that was almost complete. He always made something during the class.

The final afternoon of the two-day class was either a rush of adrenaline with people racing to finish or chill because they all had their shit together. Today was fortunately the latter as his gut was churning with anxiety about Shannon’s arrival.

It was temporary.

They’d fucked once…it didn’t mean anything.

There was a part of him that wanted it to happen again, while fearing what it would mean. This wasn’t half a world away from his normal life—this was his home.

It might be good for him to be around someone who was out and confident.