Love Is Free

Love Comes Home by Kris T. Bethke

Love Comes Home by Kris T. BethkeThen

I took a deep breath and didn’t look back at my so-called friends. They knew this wasn’t my thing. I never did anything like this. But it was too much money to pass up. I did the mental calculations—excluding Molly because she was the best friend ever and would never bet against me—and came up with at least three hundred dollars. Yeah, that would go nicely in the fund. I was saving for a new, much larger kiln which I just knew would take my pottery business to the next level. As it was, I was barely in the black, because I just couldn’t fire pieces fast enough.

My target was on the other side of the pub. A table with four muscled and attractive men. Wednesdays wasn’t a gay bar, more combination sports bar and chill hang out, but it had plenty of rainbow decorations to show it’s allyship. I’d been there when the bouncers had kicked bigots out and banned them from returning, so I wasn’t worried about approaching a stranger.

Not much, anyway.

The guy had caught my interest the second he walked in with his friends. He was tall and broad shouldered, with a shock of dark hair and big brown eyes. I noticed him instantly, and I couldn’t help but track him as the group found a table in the back. Which had led to the mostly good-natured ribbing from my friends and then the bet that I wouldn’t go talk to him. I took it on the chin and ignored them. At least until they all put in fifty bucks, still convinced I wouldn’t approach him.

But here I was doing exactly that. And if my knees were a little wobbly and my chest felt a little tight, well, all I had to do was talk to him, right? I could handle the few minutes it would take. Embarrassment was nothing in the face of three hundred bucks.

I was almost there when I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. I dug it out, relieved to have a few more seconds to put this off and hoping against hope that my friends were changing the bet. That just me walking over here was enough to satisfy it. It was Lance, one of the chuckleheads at the table, and he was changing the bet.

Double if you get his number.

I read the text three times to make sure I saw what I thought I was seeing. And now I had it in writing. My mind worked fast, trying to come up with a plan. Formulating what I would say to the dark-haired hottie, I sent Lance back one word.

Bet.

It was show time. Another deep breath and I shoved my hands in my pockets, not caring that it would make me look awkward. I just didn’t want him to see them shake. I crossed the last few feet and stepped up to the table.

“Hi. Pardon me for interrupting,” I said, voice wobbling. I cleared my throat and kept my gaze fixed on my target. “My jerk-ass friends bet me quite a lot of money I wouldn’t come over here and talk to you. Get your number. I’ll give you some of it if you play along.”

The table fell silent, but the hottie kept his attention focused on me. Then he stood, slowly and deliberately, and I had to take a step back. Christ, he was even taller than I thought. I only came up to his shoulder. And even though I wasn’t exactly tall by average standards, that had to make him at least six foot four or five. His muscles bunched as he crossed his arms over his chest. He was ripped. Did he spend all his time in the gym?

“Please don’t beat me up,” I whispered, suddenly worried he was some asshole gym-bro who wouldn’t appreciate being hit on by a man. Even if it was a fake come-on.

“I’m not going to…why would you think…never mind.” His voice was a rich and deep tenor that, under other circumstances, would make me shiver with want. “What’s your name?”

“Henry,” I managed to squeak out.

“Hi, Henry. I’m Nate.” He tucked a finger under my chin and raised my face to his. It took a second for me to get my eyes to follow. When I looked at him, he smirked, and my jelly knees got even more unsteady. Damn, but he was pretty. “Why would your friends bet on something like this?”

I had no reason not to tell him the truth. Besides, I wanted him to pretend to give me his number so that I could collect my winnings. I tried for a smile. “Because I don’t do this. I don’t approach strangers. It’s not something I’m comfortable with.

He swept his thumb along my jaw before he dropped his hand. “I’ll tell you what, Henry. You can keep the money, and I’ll give you my number, if you give me your best pickup line.”

My mouth dropped open for a second, then I sputtered out a laugh. “I don’t have any. Like I said, I don’t do this.”

“You should,” he muttered. Nate’s smirk morphed into a smile and he took a tiny step forward into my space. “Okay, fine. How about the worst pickup line you can think of then? Take your time.”

I wracked my brain, thinking that was an easy enough way to win the bet. As long as I could come up with something. I knew I’d heard some pick-up lines before. I had to have. Why was my mind blanking? Then suddenly, I remembered a t****k I’d seen a few weeks ago when I’d been mindlessly scrolling during a slow time and…what was it?

“Oh, okay. Um.” It was ridiculous and dumb and hopefully it qualified. “I really wish you were a bicycle so I could ride you until my butt hurts.”

Nate blinked. And then he burst out laughing. I couldn’t help the grin, inordinately pleased that I’d made him laugh. He actually bent over slightly, wrapping one arm across his stomach. His friends laughed, too, and one even let out a whoop.

“Well, sadly, I’m not a bicycle,” Nate said once he got himself under control. But then he leaned in, so his lips were right at my ear, and added, “But we can make the rest of it happen.”

I gasped. I might have whimpered. Because no, I didn’t approach strangers in bars and no, I didn’t take them home. But it wasn’t like I was opposed to one-night stands. I’d had a few in my life, as long as I was the one who got picked up.

“Gimme your phone,” Nate said, tone still filled with wickedness. I didn’t even hesitate to unlock it and hand it over. He tapped at the screen for a few seconds, then handed it back with the contact screen open. He’d named himself Bicycle. I had to laugh, too. He touched my hand. “Send me a text, Henry.”

I did, which only consisted of the word Hi because I was tongue-tied and flustered. A second later, his phone vibrated. I was a little surprised that he’d given me his actual number. After adding me as a contact, he showed me that he’d named me Cyclist. He was very clever and it made me grin.

“How about we go collect on your bet, and then you join me for a game of pool?”

I shifted on my feet. “I don’t know how to play,” I admitted.

“That’s okay. I’ll teach you. But I’m warning you, I’ll have to get up close and personal. I hope you don’t mind.”

The way he said it, there was no doubting his intention. This time I did shiver, unable to contain it, and his eyes got even darker. He hadn’t missed it.

“I don’t mind at all.”

* * * *

Now

Molly let herself into my apartment. I thought the door had been locked, but it didn’t matter because she had a key. I lifted my head from the couch and took her in. Her curls were down and styled, something I knew she avoided because it took at least an hour and a half to do. She almost always had her hair in a messy bun on top of her head. Then I noticed the sweater dress, the leggings, and the mid-calf boots.

I dropped back down with a sigh. “No.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to say.” I could hear the scowl in her tone, and after nearly twenty-years of friendship, I could picture it, too.

“I don’t have to. You’re dressed for out. I want to be in. So therefore, no.”

She pulled my legs off the couch so that she could sit next to me, and I let them fall to the ground with a thump. Predictably, three seconds later, Mrs. Putnam from downstairs knocked the broom handle on her ceiling. She was a crotchety old woman who needed a hobby. I wasn’t loud, but any noise I made was met with her ire.

“You need to move,” Molly muttered, then waved it away with a flutter of hands. “Get up. Get showered. I’ll pick out an outfit for you. You’re coming with me.”

“I don’t want to.”

She sighed, all exasperation. “Yes, I know. But you’re coming anyway. You need to stop moping.”

I lifted my head to fix her with a glare. “I’m not moping.”

Her snort was inelegant and clearly showed she didn’t believe me. “I know you miss him. I get it. But it’s not like he’s gone forever. He’s just away training.”

I squeezed my eyes shut. She wasn’t wrong. But I was still sad he was gone.

After that fateful night in the bar, and what came after, Nate and I became inseparable. For a year, we spent all our free time together. We fell in love. He introduced me to his CO as his partner. And I knew falling in love with an Army lieutenant had its downsides. Nate made that clear from the start. That he could be deployed or sent away or reassigned to a new base on a whim and without much notice. Six months ago, his unit had been sent on a training mission for an unspecified amount of time.

At first, it had been okay. I missed him like I would miss a limb, but I was coping. And we stayed in contact as much as possible with video chats, emails, and texts. And that hadn’t stopped. Sometimes all I got was a quick text, but I knew he was safe and that he loved me. It was just that, as the months dragged on, it was harder and harder to be apart. I had to get used to it, because this wouldn’t be the last time. He had six more years until he reached his twenty, when he was planning on retiring. And I wasn’t letting him go. I could handle this for six more years until I got him full time. Until then, I had to share him with the Army.

“Come on,” Molly said, her tone more cajoling than before. “You haven’t been to a game night in months. Jessica and Doug are hosting, so you know there’s gonna be good snacks.”

Doug was a chef. He liked to provide hors d’oeuvres that were restaurant worthy. They always tasted amazing. And I guessed, if I was going to let her drag me out of the house, this was the best-case scenario.

“Fine,” I ground out, begrudgingly. She cheered and gave my hip a shove.

“Good. Go shower. You’re covered in clay.”

I scowled. “I’m always covered in clay. No one is going to care.”

Molly pointed down the hall. “Go. Shower. I’ll lay out clothes. Something nicer than sweatpants.”

“Hey! I love these sweats.” They were Nate’s actually. He’d left them at my place long before being sent off. They were too big and much too long, but I wore them every chance I got.

Molly just gestured emphatically. I went.

* * * *

Jess and Doug’s house was lit up cozily. I had to park on the street because there were so many cars, and I was still griping that Molly had insisted I drive. But she’d been adamant and I’d given in. Just like she knew I would. She spent the whole time texting.

And refused to answer every time I asked who had her attention.

We went up the walk together, but she shoved me through the door first. The chatter died down the second I stepped over the threshold and I went still, glancing around warily. The group was staring at me, and some had their phones out. What the hell was going on?

“Henry’s here!” Lance yelled, far too loud for the space. Announcing arrivals was not something we did. My brow crunched together.

“I can leave,” I said, ready to turn around but Molly shoved my shoulder.

“Ignore him. Come in,” Doug swept forward, a platter in his hands. “We’re just glad to see you, is all.”

“You’re all being weird,” I muttered but I toed off my shoes anyway. It had been a while since I’d shown up, and maybe they thought I would refuse once again. That was fair. I held in the sigh and moved out of the entryway and into the living room.

I glanced around, ready to say my hellos. Then I caught sight of the fatigues. And the man wearing them. My heart leapt and my breath caught. I squeezed my eyes closed and then opened them again, not believing what I was seeing. And then I did the most clichéd thing ever and ran and jumped straight into Nate’s arms. He was strong enough to hold me up when I wrapped my legs around him, too.

“Hey, baby,” he rumbled in my ear, holding me so tight I couldn’t breathe. But I didn’t care, because I didn’t need air anyway.

“You’re here,” I sniffled, tears just pouring down my face. I was sure I was soaking the collar of his uniform, but I didn’t care about that either.

“I’m home,” he whispered and kissed my neck. Then he just kept his face tucked there, breathing me in.

My mind whirled with questions. Like why hadn’t he told me and was he okay. How training had been and how long he was staying. But all that could wait. He was home. I had my love in my arms again after months apart and wasn’t about to let go any time soon.

* * * *

ABOUT KRIS T. BETHKE

Kris T. Bethke has been a voracious reader for pretty much her entire life and has been writing stories for nearly as long. An avid and prolific daydreamer, she always has a story in her head. For more information, visit kristbethke.com.