This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and

incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination

or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events,

locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely

coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or

the publisher.

Something Worth Fighting For

Torquere Press Publishers

PO Box 2545

Round Rock, TX 78680

Copyright 2013 by Mara Ismine

Cover illustration by BSClay

Published with permission

ISBN: 978-1-61040-484-6

www.torquerepress.com

All rights reserved, which includes the right to reproduce

this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever except

as provided by the U.S. Copyright Law. For information

address Torquere Press. Inc., PO Box 2545, Round Rock,

TX 78680.

First Torquere Press Printing: June 2013

Printed in the USA

Something Worth Fighting For

By Mara Ismine

I rolled over, the unfamiliar bed waking me further as I

groped across the cold, empty space beside me. My sleep

fogged brain insisted that the space should be filled with

hot, hard man and that woke me completely. I sat up and

scrubbed my hands over my eyes before looking around the

dim room.

The curtains were drawn and the sky was faintly gray

with the approach of day. A familiar figure sat hunched in

front of the window and I relaxed slightly. Charlie was still

here, just not where he should be.

Too many mornings I woke up and Charlie wasn’t there

at all, but on those few mornings when he was real and with

me, then he should be in bed beside me not sitting across

the room staring out the window.

“What time is it?” My voice croaked the words, and I

fell back on the over sprung mattress, bouncing slightly.

I smiled as memories of the night before passed lazily

through my brain. We’d had to make some interesting

adjustments to make up for the mattress.

“Just after six.” Charlie’s voice wasn’t sleep roughened

or happy.

“Breakfast isn’t until seven thirty. Why don’t you come

back to bed?” I snuggled under the covers and rolled to my

side to watch Charlie’s silhouette. I could think of several

ways to pass the time, if only he was here in bed rather than

over there in a chair; although the chair had possibilities.

I tried to remember what sort of chair it was, but I hadn’t

been paying much attention to the room last night when I’d

arrived. I hadn’t seen Charlie for nearly six weeks, which

was the longest time we’d been apart in nearly a year.

Even if the chair wasn’t up to supporting both of us --

and very few chairs could take much more than Charlie’s

weight -- it still had possibilities if I didn’t mind kneeling

on the floor. I was willing to put up with more than a cold

floor for Charlie, but that was something I couldn’t say

aloud.

Our relationship, for want of a better term, was based on

‘no entanglements,’ to use Charlie’s words. That had been

clear from the start; he had even lectured me about it before

he kissed me for the first time. At the time I wasn’t sure if

I was ready for more than casual sex, even if sex had never

been casual for me before Charlie. In fact, sex had been

non-existent in my life for more than three years when I

met him, and I had still been trying to ignore the fact that I

was gay back then.

Charlie had changed a lot of things for me by being a

complete arsehole. He sneered and snarled at me and I did

my best to avoid him; only ignoring someone Charlie’s size

-- six foot five and built like a heavyweight boxer -- when

we were sort of related was a difficult task. His attitude

had been the final spur I needed to get on with sorting out

my life, losing weight, and getting back into some sort of

shape.

“Charlie, are you coming back to bed?” I realized

I’d been thinking for a long time and waiting for him to

answer my question. Charlie usually put a lot of effort into

stopping me thinking because he claimed it was dangerous

to me and everyone around me.

“Just go back to sleep, John.” Charlie’s voice rumbled

from the chair.

Go back to sleep? On one of our few mornings together?

Cold fear settled in my belly. I had kept Charlie’s interest

for nearly a year. Had I become complacent? Had I said

something clingy or demanding last night? Anything to

suggest that I wanted more from him than sex?

I wracked my brain, but couldn’t remember saying

anything that wasn’t to do with sex. I’d told him that I

wanted him, but I’d said that often enough before. Charlie

told me that he wanted my body more often than I said I

wanted his.

He’d been to Canada for three weeks, which was why we

hadn’t got together for so long. Had he met someone new

there? Some lumberjack who could look him in the eye

and match his strength? Had he finally realized that he was

wasting his time with a screwed up, boring man like me?

I had been afraid of something like that since we started

this relationship. Charlie didn’t have relationships, he had

one night stands and brief flings, and probably went to

clubs where he fucked someone without even bothering

to learn their name. Was it a one night stand if it didn’t

involve a bed or more than fifteen minutes?

What did that matter? I suppressed the flare of jealousy

that such thoughts always produced; I was used to ignoring

that particular emotion where Charlie was concerned.

What mattered was that Charlie was here with me now and

should be ‘mine’ for the next day and a half before we went

our separate ways again.

One thing was certain I wasn’t going to go back to sleep

any time soon. I sat up again and groped for the bedside

light. I fumbled for the switch and it seemed to take forever

to find it. Light flooded the room and I scrunched my eyes

shut in the first blinding rush of it.

“Turn that off and go back to sleep,” Charlie growled,

turning his head away from the light.

“Not until you tell me what’s wrong.” I was certain that

there was something wrong now that I could see him. He

was fully dressed and even had his leather jacket on. More

worrying was the full backpack sitting beside the armchair.

Last I remembered that had been open and the contents

spilling out across the floor as Charlie searched for the lube

he’d found in Canada for us to try.

At least the bottle had been new and sealed, I thought as

I climbed out of bed and walked over to him, it hadn’t been

left over from some encounter with a lumberjack. I knelt in

front of him and rested my hands on his knees. He flinched

at the contact, but I didn’t take my hands away.

“Were you just going to sneak out in the middle of the

night?” I demanded, nodding to the packed bag when he

glanced at me.

“I thought about it.” His voice was quiet and he kept his

face turned from the light after that fleeting glance.

“Why?” There were a lot of ‘whys’ but I couldn’t find the

breath to enumerate them all right then. I felt like I’d been

stabbed in the chest and was trying to hide the pain. This

wasn’t unexpected as I knew I couldn’t hold on to him,

but I hadn’t expected it to hurt so much while I was still

touching him. I shivered in the cold room, suddenly aware

of my nakedness as I hadn’t been before.

“Get dressed,” Charlie said and scrubbed both hands

over his face with a rasp of stubble that sounded loud in the

silence. “I couldn’t leave without telling you. I’m not quite

such a coward as that. But there’s no need for you to freeze

while we talk.”

He thought that clothes would warm me after those

words? I knelt in front of him for a few more moments,

staring at my hands resting on his knees. I didn’t want to

stand up and lose that contact. If my last tactile memory

of Charlie was going to be his knees I wanted it firmly

embedded in my brain before I let go.

The silence stretched uncomfortably and still he kept his

face turned away. I took a deep breath and stood up. From

the start I’d known I’d have to let him go one day. I just

didn’t want that day to be today.

I grabbed my jeans and sweatshirt from the floor and

walked into the small bathroom to dress, closing the door

behind me. The bathroom light was even brighter than the

bedside lamp and my reflection looked pale and pathetic

which would never do.

Charlie wanted us to break up. I’d listen to his reasons

and try to smile as he went on his way. I’d like to be able to

kiss him one last time, but I didn’t think I had the strength

to do that and not try to stop him going.

Standing around in the bathroom was only delaying

the inevitable and Charlie might change his mind and just

leave. But I couldn’t go out there until I had some sort

of control over my emotions. If I thought that clinging to

his leg and begging him to stay might work, I’d do it in a

second, but that sort of display would only make him run

faster.

I dropped my clothes on the floor and had a pee before

washing my hands and face. The hot water brought some

color back to my cheeks, not that Charlie would notice if he

refused to look me in the eye and say goodbye.

Armored in my jeans and sweatshirt, I took several deep

breaths and opened the door.

“I made you coffee,” Charlie said, nodding to the bedside

table.

“Thank you.” Had I imagined the earlier scene? No, he

was sitting in the armchair sipping his own coffee and the

packed bag was still beside him. I hadn’t imagined it; he

was going to leave me. Could it be called leaving when we

weren’t really together? I sat on the edge of the bed and

sipped the coffee he’d made me. It should have been cold

and bitter, but was hot and perfect instead.

I wasn’t going to start this conversation, so I sipped

coffee I didn’t really want and hoped it would stay down

at least until Charlie left. The silence hung chill and heavy

between us. I noticed that Charlie had turned off the lamp

at some point while I was in the bathroom, but the gray

light from the window was nearly bright enough to see by

clearly.

Charlie was staring out of the window into the new day,

looking as grim as he had when I first met him the January

before last. I hadn’t known who he was then. He was just

a bad tempered someone who worked for my brother, Joe,

and was doing him a favor so that Joe could spend time

with me.

It was later that I discovered that Charlie was Joe’s

boyfriend’s cousin. Dave was the polar opposite of Charlie

and I’d never have suspected them of being related. Dave

was firmly committed to Joe and Joe was as committed

to Dave. Why mince words? They loved each other and it

showed even to a scared cynic like me.

Their love was so obvious that it made me want to try

again and find a relationship like theirs. I’d even put it at

the top of my list of life changes that I was working on

the Christmas before last. At the time I hadn’t admitted to

myself that I wanted a man rather than a woman for my

relationship, but even if I had, back then Charlie would not

have been a prospect because he was acting like a complete

arsehole.

I was going to have to move a new task to the top of that

list -- Get Over Charlie. That might be the most difficult

thing that I’d ever had to do. I’d known that I was in too

deep by our third get-away time together when we spent

two fantastic days in Brighton. Maybe I should have ended

things then, but I was too greedy. I wanted as much of

Charlie as I could get for as long as I could get him.

“I can’t think what to say,” Charlie’s voice jerked me out

of my thoughts.

“Oh?” I wasn’t going to offer him words to use. This was

his idea so he could find his own words.

“I’ve sat here for hours watching you sleep and trying to

think of the right words.” Charlie stared into his coffee mug

and didn’t look at me at all. “And I still don’t have the right

words.”

He sighed deeply and put the mug aside. He stood up

with his bag in hand and walked to the door. My eyes

followed him and I gripped my own mug so tight I thought

it might shatter.

“I’m sorry, John.” Charlie stopped with his hand on the

doorknob and finally turned to look at me. “I’m sorry; I just

can’t do this anymore.”

He stared at me for a moment, then left. I wanted to

scream, yell, shout or something to make him come back,

but I just sat on the bed, held the coffee mug and didn’t say

a word as the door closed and Charlie’s heavy footsteps

went down the hall away from me.

I listened to him descend the stairs. The front door

opened and closed. Gravel crunched beneath feet. There

was a faint beep and a car door closed. An engine started

and pulled away. Then there was silence.

The silence lasted a long time while it slowly percolated

through my brain that those sounds were Charlie’s footsteps

walking along the hall and down the stairs; Charlie going

out the front door; Charlie walking across the gravel drive;

Charlie getting into his car; and Charlie driving away. They

were the sounds of Charlie leaving me. Charlie was gone.

I looked at my watch and angled my wrist to the growing

light from the window. We’d been too busy for me to take

my watch off last night, but at least it meant I didn’t have

to look for it this morning. The numbers were blurry and

it seemed to have four hands; I blinked until it came into

focus and ignored the cool trails running down my cheeks.

The watch said it was five to seven. That was less than

an hour for things to go so tits up with Charlie. Not just tits

up, I forced myself to admit, but over. The pain in my chest

had lessened and I just felt cold and numb. Charlie’s voice

was repeating “I’m sorry; I can’t do this anymore” over and

over in my head.

Breakfast started in half an hour and it wasn’t as though I

had anything better to do with myself except curl up in the

bed and hope it was all a bad dream. I staggered back into

the bathroom, threw up, and had a shower. I stood under the

hot water and shivered for a few minutes before washing

quickly and shutting it off.

Dried and dressed, I picked up the room key and headed

downstairs to find the breakfast room. It wasn’t a difficult

task, but today it felt almost impossible. The room was

empty apart from the small tables and one man sitting in a

corner, eating toast while reading the newspaper.

I chose the opposite corner and sat at a table for two. I

could look out into the garden and avoid eye contact with

any of the other guests who might show up. I couldn’t

avoid the host when he bustled up to my table.

“Mr. Smith?”

I nodded.

“Welcome to our home. I hope you slept well and there

aren’t any problems with your room?”

I thanked him for the welcome, told him that I’d slept

well, and there were no problems with the room. Then

came the question I’d been dreading.

“Will Mr. Munroe be joining you? Or will he eat later?”

“Mr. Munroe had to leave suddenly so he won’t be

needing breakfast this morning.” The words attempted to

suffocate me as I spoke, swelling in my throat and trying to

refuse to come out.

“I see. I’m sorry he couldn’t stay for breakfast,” the host

twittered at me. “Would you like tea or coffee with your

breakfast?”

I asked for coffee and tried to stifle a sigh of relief

when he left to fetch it. He hadn’t asked what I wanted for

breakfast so there would be more conversation when he

brought my coffee. I was tempted to just walk away, but I

couldn’t find the energy. There was a postcard sized menu

in a holder on the table next to a small flower arrangement,

something that would normally make me smile. But not

today.

The menu was hand written in an elegant flowing script.

I stared at it for a while until the wiggly lines resolved into

words I could understand. I decided to have the scrambled

eggs; maybe some protein would give me the energy to get

through the day.

My coffee arrived in a small carafe with a candle stand

to keep it warm. The milk and sugar were in a matching

stainless steel jug and basin, and my mug was bone china.

Such attention to detail was usually something I enjoyed. I

ordered the eggs and poured myself some coffee. It smelled

good, but I might as well have been drinking hot water for

all I tasted it.

The eggs arrived quickly and looked light and fluffy. A

rack of toast appeared with them and I remembered my first

stay in a guest house when I was looking for Joe. That was

the first time I’d seen a toast rack used and it had charmed

me. It was difficult to swallow the eggs as they seemed to

have turned into cotton wool in my mouth.

“Is everything all right, Mr. Smith?” The host was back

again.

“Yes,” I lied. How could everything be all right when

Charlie had left? “Could I possibly have a glass of water,

please?”

“Of course.” The host whisked away to get the water.

I noticed that the other guest had gone. No one else had

come down to breakfast yet. I was grateful because I didn’t

want to be around people right now. I was struggling to

be polite to the host without having to nod or say good

morning to more strangers.

The host reappeared with my water and set it down next

to my plate on its own little paper mat.

“Are the eggs not to your taste, Mr. Smith? I can get you

something else if you’ve changed your mind,” he offered.

“It’s me, not the eggs. I don’t seem to have much

appetite this morning.”

“Ah! I’d suggest a walk into the hills when you’re

finished. It’s supposed to be a fine day and there is a

Country Park with benches that have fine views. It’s a good

place to sit and think,” the host suggested.

“I’m not sure I want to think,” I said without meaning to.

“I always used to go there when I needed to decide

what I was going to do about romantic problems,” the host

continued as though he hadn’t heard me. “It can be difficult

to work out if he’s worth fighting to keep or if you should

just let him go. I found that the peace and solitude up there

helped me see things more clearly.”

“Maybe I’ll try it,” I said, more to make him stop talking

than with any idea of doing it.

“I hope it helps you the way it always has me.” The

host patted me lightly on the shoulder and left me to my

thoughts.

What was I going to do with the rest of the day? It

was something that I usually discussed with Charlie over

breakfast. I still wanted to crawl back into bed and pull the

covers over my head, but I wasn’t going to be that much of

a wimp. Maybe I could hike up to this Country Park and

run there. I had my backpack, so I could take a change of

clothes and some water.

I ate most of the scrambled eggs, washing them down

with sips of water, but I couldn’t face more than one

triangle of toast. It took too much effort to chew and the

crumbs made me cough. I left the table as soon as the next

guests arrived.

Back up in the room -- I couldn’t think of it as my room

when it should have been our room -- I changed into my

running gear and pulled on my jeans and sweatshirt over

top of them. I emptied my backpack into a drawer and

stuffed a towel and a bottle of water in it. I slipped on my

jacket and left the room again, tucking the key safely into

one of the pockets on the backpack and zipping it up.

“Mr. Smith!”

I took a deep breath and turned to face the host. He held

a brown paper bag in one hand, which he handed me.

“Just a sandwich and some fruit in case you fancied a

snack,” he said, beaming at me. “I think we have a leaflet

here for the Country Park. Yes, here it is.” He pushed the

leaflet into my hand. “It’s not the most accurate map, but

it’ll give you a good idea where to go.”

“Thank you.” I backed away and he zipped around me to

open the front door.

“I hope you enjoy the park,” he called as I walked across

the gravel drive without looking at my car or the space

beside it where Charlie’s car should be. I waved a hand in

acknowledgement of the host’s good wishes and hurried

down the driveway before he could give me any more

advice. I felt brittle enough without getting sympathy from

strangers.

I walked quickly away from the guest house, not

stopping to study the leaflet until I was around a corner

and out of sight. The map was hand drawn and had lots of

scribbled notes around it in fake handwriting font. It looked

straightforward enough to find the Country Park so I set off

to follow the map.

The sun was shining and, as the host had said, it looked

like it was going to be a fine day. My mood insisted that

it should be gray, wet, and miserable. I found the road to

the Country Park where the map said it should be, and that

was confirmed by the brown sign which told me it was two

miles away.

Walking the Dorset hills was more of a challenge than

I was expecting. Nobody had told me that the rounded,

rolling hills had very steep sides. The two miles must have

been as the crow flies because it felt a lot more than that on

foot, but I eventually arrived at the gate.

There was a visitor center with information, trail guides

and knick knacks. I browsed the shelves for quite some

time, finding little gifts for my kids, Andrew and Lynn.

A trail guide and an energy bar completed my shopping.

I felt curiously detached from it all, as though everything

was happening through an invisible fog or maybe invisible

quick sand.

I wandered through the information part of the visitor

centre and stared at the photos, drawings, and potted history

of the area. I didn’t take anything in and couldn’t have said

what I’d looked at two minutes later.

There was a large trail map on a big board outside the

Visitor Centre and a couple of the trails were marked as

suitable for runners. I picked the shorter route and headed

for the start point. I slipped off my jeans and sweatshirt

once I was out of sight of the visitor centre. They went into

the backpack with my sandwich on top.

I stretched and tightened the backpack straps before

jogging down the trail. I was following blue markers and

they seemed easy enough to spot, so I increased my pace to

my normal running speed.

It was totally different to running at home or on the

beach. I couldn’t get into my stride properly because there

was always another hill to go up or down. I was used to

running on fairly level ground with only gradual inclines

where I could zone out and just run. Running and paying

attention to the terrain stopped me getting to that place

where my mind was still and my body active.

Thoughts of Charlie might have had as much to do with

it as the steep hills or the tree roots across the path. Charlie

would have powered through this trail, those massive thighs

of his would’ve coped with the demands that had mine

shaking. But Charlie wasn’t here -- because he was ‘sorry

he couldn’t do this anymore.’

Everything in my life seemed to revolve around Charlie

because that was the way I’d wanted it. Charlie had been

involved with some of the key moments and decisions that

I’d made in the last year and a bit and he’d been my focus

for the last ten and a half months, which had been stupid

when I knew that he didn’t want anything permanent.

I finished the running trail, wheezing and panting like

I didn’t run every day. My legs were shaking and I felt

like shit; I hadn’t felt this bad since I started running. I did

some stretches and forced myself to walk briskly along a

different trail. I had no idea which one it was; I just chose it

for the purple markers.

Walking allowed me to pay more attention to the scenery

than my footing. The trail ran through woodland with the

occasional grassy field, although the fields might not be

part of the park. Small streams cut through the trees and

tumbled down the hillsides when they weren’t burbling

along the foot of the hills.

Despite the now bright sunshine it felt dark and

oppressive to be hemmed in by so many trees and not be

able to see far ahead. I’d felt the same when we went to

Wales and the mountains seemed to loom over us as the

roads cut through them. I had made jokes about Charlie

being out-loomed by the mountains.

My brisk walk slowed as I cooled down. The sweat dried

and I started to feel chilly in the shade of the trees, so I

stopped to struggle back into my jeans and sweatshirt, glad

that there was no one else around to see me hopping about

on the muddy path trying to get my sock clad foot into my

jeans without falling over or accidentally stepping in the

puddles.

Mud collected on the hem of my jeans and smeared

up my calves, but maybe nobody would notice or would

just put it down to the consequences of walking. And did

it matter anyway? It wasn’t anyone else’s business if I

decided to roll in the mud and cover myself with leaves.

Or it wasn’t anyone’s business until I got back to the guest

house when it would concern the hosts.

Thinking of the guest house and the hosts made me

wonder where all these benches, that were supposed to

be here, had gone. I hadn’t seen the great views either.

I stopped to consult the leaflet; the purple trail passed a

picnic area and a scenic viewpoint so I kept walking.

I began to wish I’d eaten more at breakfast. At least I had

the sandwich and fruit in the paper bag that I’d tucked into

my backpack and the energy bar from the visitor center in

my jacket pocket. I decided to wait until I got to the picnic

area as it shouldn’t be too much farther away.

The picnic area was on the brow of a hill and did have

some good views. It also had an unpleasantly brisk breeze.

I spotted a bench under a tree a little way down the far

slope and wandered down to check it out.

It was dry and sheltered from the breeze, yet still in

full sun. The view was nearly as good as from the top of

the hill, looking across woods and farmland to the sea. I

slipped my backpack off and sat down.

The sea glittered in the distance. I could have run on the

beach rather than fight with hills and forest, but it hadn’t

even occurred to me when I left the guest house. Not that

I’d been thinking too clearly at the time. I wasn’t sure that I

was thinking clearly now either.

I ate the sandwich without tasting the moist chicken or

crisp salad and munched through the energy bar without

detecting any flavor. The food stopped my stomach

growling. I decided to save the fruit for later and leaned

back to drink some water. What was I going to do now?

What had I done to make Charlie end it? Everything had

seemed fine last night. I’d told Charlie I’d missed him, but

that should have been okay because it was the first thing

he’d said to me. I hadn’t demanded that he take me with

him the next time he went away for weeks, even though the

thought was there in my head. I hadn’t told him not to go

away for so long again, had I?

We’d kissed and fucked and talked for hours. He’d told

me a bit about his Canadian trip without any reference to

hot lumberjacks. I’d talked about work and the kids, not

that anything unusual had happened with either.

There was nothing out of the ordinary about our reunion

apart from the length of time we’d been apart. It wasn’t

boring or predictable, but it was normal for us. I was sure

Charlie had been glad to see me again, he had seemed

happy -- teasing and laughing, making me blush, and

fucking my brains out so tenderly after I’d tried to pound

him through the mattress earlier.

My body heated with the memories and I shifted on the

bench, trying to get comfortable. Was that it? Was fucking

me for the second time what had decided him to end it?

He had offered himself for me to experiment on last

Easter as a way for me to get past my bad experience with

Glenn in my teens. We had worked on my gay sexual

education diligently since then without him fucking me.

Until New Year.

I’d offered him my arse several times before then, but

he’d always said I wasn’t ready, and he’d been right. I’d

been using various toys when we were apart and I bought

myself a dildo that was even bigger than Charlie for

Christmas.

I stayed with him for a couple of days after New Year

and visited Joe, Dave, and Ed. I couldn’t get to Anwell

before then, so it was a combined celebration with my

newest family. For me the best part of the celebration had

been persuading Charlie to finally fuck me.

He’d offered the usual “you aren’t ready yet”, but I’d

been prepared for that. I waved my Christmas dildo in his

face and told him that if I could take that his cock wasn’t

going to be a problem. I’d enjoyed the look on his face as

he took in the size of the dildo, a mingling of shock and

lust.

“Prove it,” he’d muttered his voice husky.

So I had. First I’d double checked that my new toy really

was bigger than Charlie, getting complaints about cold

plastic against sensitive places.

“One of the reasons I want your cock fucking me rather

than this.” I’d brandished the dildo again. I made a show of

preparing myself, which Charlie seemed to enjoy.

I watched his face as I took the dildo in with slow

thrusts. I could take it faster, but I was enjoying teasing

both of us, so I worked it in an inch at a time. I paused

when I was full and let my body adjust to the invasion.

Despite a lot of practice, there were still those moments

when my body wasn’t sure if it was pleasure or pain I was

feeling.

Once I felt that internal acceptance and relaxation, I

started to fuck myself with the dildo. Charlie’s eyes were

fixed on the long, deep thrusts and he kept licking his lips.

I knew I had him before he growled and dragged on a

condom.

Despite my demonstration, he was gentle in his

penetration and gave me plenty of time to adjust. He kept

asking me if I was sure, if I was all right, if I wanted him

to continue. I wanted to snarl at him to shut up and get on

with it, but I was too breathless to do more than whine.

It was an important moment for me when Charlie

breached my hole. Not just because it wasn’t agonizingly

painful, but because it was Charlie filling me, Charlie

rocking gently against me, Charlie thrusting smoothly,

Charlie pegging my prostate, and Charlie fucking me.

I’d thought it was a great indicator of things to come and

a good luck omen for the year. How wrong could I be? Did

Charlie think the job was done now he’d fucked me? Was

that the cut off point for him? He’d fixed my sexual hang

ups and now he could happily move on?

Why meet me again here, if that was the case? To make

sure there were no hidden traumas and I was still okay with

fucking and being fucked? Had the trip to Canada been a

deliberate distancing ploy? But then why say he’d missed

me?

I had a lot of questions, but no answers. Charlie’s “sorry

I can’t do this anymore” was more frustrating than ever. If

it was just the fucking that signaled the end, wouldn’t he

have said “right, you’re fixed, off you go” or something

like that?

Charlie hadn’t seemed happy about ending things.

Or had he just been pretending? This was Charlie, who

wouldn’t try to spare anyone’s feelings, there was no reason

for him to pretend anything.

So why had he struggled to say that he was leaving?

Why had he said he was sorry that he couldn’t do this

anymore? What this did he mean?

And why hadn’t I said anything to stop him? Why had I

just sat there like a lemon and let him leave?

That left me back at what I should do now. What had the

too helpful host at the guest house said?

“It can be difficult to work out if he’s worth fighting to

keep or if you should just let him go.”

No, that wasn’t difficult at all. Charlie was worth fighting

for, even if it was just for this casual relationship we’d had

for the last months. It was worth fighting for that and worth

fighting for what we could have together.

I blinked at the scenery as that emphatic thought rang

in my brain. I hadn’t fought for Glenn, not that there was

much I could have done when I was married with a child

on the way when he told me he loved me and I realized that

I loved him. I never spoke the words to Glenn, I thought it

would have been too cruel.

I’d certainly never fought for my marriage. When Susan

told me to get out, I walked away without argument. The

only thing I’d insisted on was visiting rights with my kids,

but that was granted without any argument. I probably told

Susan that I loved her when we were teenagers, but I don’t

think I ever truly felt the emotion for her.

Susan was happy now with Jeff and their new baby. My

kids seemed happy enough. Glenn was beyond any happy

ending, but I hoped he had found someone else and some

happiness before his untimely death.

Now I just needed to fight for my happiness and

hopefully Charlie’s too. But how could I do that? How do

you fight for a relationship? How do you argue when the

man you love says he wants to end things?

I knew I loved Charlie, and maybe he knew it and that

was what had made him run. Or maybe he didn’t know. I

hadn’t ever said ‘I love you’ in a romantic way and meant it

in my life. Surely that was something that should be on my

list. I was thirty-three, more than old enough to take a bit of

rejection for speaking the truth.

Charlie had already ended things, so I had nothing to

lose by confronting him and demanding answers to a few of

my questions. He owed me that much, didn’t he? If he had

good reasons for ending it, then I could say those three little

words and walk away knowing that I had at least tried.

The mixture of panic and relief that decision gave me

made me feel light headed. Okay, I knew what I wanted to

do; now how was I going to do it?

I was taking the kids to Anwell-by-Sea in a few weeks

for Easter. I could confront Charlie then, only I didn’t really

want the kids around for the conversation or the aftermath.

There was no guarantee that Charlie would be there at

Easter. He might decide to go somewhere else to avoid me

or go back to his lumberjack in Canada.

I really hoped that lumberjack was a figment of my

imagination.

Easter seemed too far away anyway, I didn’t want to

wait that long to sort this out. It would be more painful if

Charlie had good reasons, or lumberjacks, for ending our

relationship, but clinging to a thread of hope that I could

change his mind wasn’t exactly painless.

If I left it too long, I’d convince myself that Charlie

knew what he was doing and I shouldn’t argue with him.

That would be a lifelong regret. So I needed to do this soon.

Right now would have been good, but there was no Charlie

within shouting distance.

Anwell was several hours from sunny Dorset, but would

he head home or would he go somewhere else? Would he

just stop at a motel along the way if he was tired? He said

he’d watched me sleep for hours and that was one of the

little things that hinted that fighting for the relationship

might work. Who watched someone they didn’t care about

sleep?

Charlie was tired and not exactly calm when he left. I

had no way of knowing where he had gone when he walked

out, which put a severe spanner in the idea of following

him back to Anwell and having it out as soon as possible.

I’d taken three days off work for this trip to Dorset and

was due back at the DIY store bright and early Thursday

morning. It was Tuesday lunchtime now and it would take

me about five or six hours to get to Anwell. If Charlie was

heading for Anwell.

Did I want to arrive and tell Joe, Dave and Dave’s Uncle

Ed about my troubles? I was sure they’d be sympathetic,

but that wouldn’t stop the ‘I told you so’ expressions. Joe

and Dave had been against the idea of me with Charlie

from the first. They’d backed off, but I felt like they were

watching and waiting for it all to fall apart.

Hadn’t I been doing the same? I was so sure that I

couldn’t hold Charlie’s interest. I had been expecting him

to tell me it was over ever since it started. But now I was

going to fight back.

I sat on the bench for a while longer, trying to plan what

I’d say to Charlie when I caught up with him, but it was

basically what I’d asked this morning after he left. Why and

what? Why couldn’t he do this anymore? Why was it over?

What was he sorry for? What was it that he couldn’t do

anymore? And what had I done to drive him away?

The breeze had picked up and was now a strong wind

that reached the sheltered bench and there were clouds

in the sky. I decided it was time to head back to the guest

house.

My body had stiffened as I sat there, so I stretched

and winced at the clicks from my bones. I checked the

crumpled leaflet for the most direct route back, which was

the yellow trail that only ran from the visitor centre to this

picnic area. The backpack smelled of banana, so I fished it

out of the paper bag and ate it.

I shouldered my backpack and walked away from the

bench, dropping my banana skin into one of the bins as I

searched for the yellow trail. It didn’t take long for me to

arrive at the visitor centre and head back down the road to

the town.

The foyer was deserted when I let myself back into the

guest house. I closed the door as quietly as I could and

tried to walk up the stairs without making a sound. I wasn’t

ready to face the host or any other guests. I stank, was

splattered with mud and was half frozen. I needed a shower,

a long hot shower, and maybe a nap.

I was tired from the running and walking, but it was

more emotional exhaustion than physical. I entertained a

momentary fantasy that Charlie had changed his mind and

come back and was waiting for me in the room to tell me

that he’d been wrong.

Charlie wasn’t waiting for me. The bed had been

straightened and the tea and coffee had been replenished,

but that wouldn’t have been Charlie’s work. I sighed and

dropped the backpack on the bed before sitting in the

armchair Charlie had used to take my shoes off.

I stripped off the rest of my clothes and dropped them

on the floor before walking naked across the room into the

bathroom. Something else Charlie had introduced me to

was the pleasure of wandering around naked.

The shower was long and hot and just what I needed.

I felt much better when I emerged to search for clean

underwear, going to the backpack before remembering that

I’d emptied it into one of the drawers.

The bed was calling me with a siren song of rest. I

removed the backpack and burrowed under the duvet.

Charlie’s scent still lingered and I gave in to the childish

need to cuddle his pillow close as I fell asleep.

It was dark again when I woke up and for a moment I

couldn’t remember why I was clinging to a pillow instead

of Charlie. The day crashed back into my mind and I

groaned and buried my face in Charlie’s pillow.

Time to do something. I got out of bed and pulled the

curtains before turning on the main light. Getting dressed

seemed like a good place to start as I should go out and find

something to eat. I didn’t really feel hungry, but looking for

food would give me something to do.

How would I find Charlie? I needed to know where he

was. I suppose the only thing to do was ring Joe and ask if

Charlie was back home. At last I’d found some use for my

brother living in the same house as Charlie. I’d find some

food, then ring Joe, I decided.

Joe rang me before I’d found anything to eat. I ducked

into a sheltered corner out of the wind so that I could hear

what he was saying.

“You and Charlie had an argument?”

“Sort of.” I didn’t want to tell him about the split over

the phone and I didn’t want to mention the argument I

hoped to have with Charlie.

“He came stomping back here a couple of hours ago,

snarling at everyone and locked himself in his flat. Just like

old times.” Joe complained.

“Hm.” I had to stop myself yelling in victory. I knew

where Charlie was now.

“Call him and sort it out, will you?” Joe continued. “I

don’t want the old Charlie back. I almost like the reformed

Charlie.”

“I don’t think it’s something to sort out over the phone.

Let me know if he leaves.”

“You’re coming here? I thought you were in Dorset?”

“I am in Dorset so it’ll take me a while to get there.

Don’t tell him I’m coming, though.”

“Can I tell Dave?”

“If you must.” I knew that there was no way Joe would

keep a secret from Dave. “But he can’t tell anyone else,

especially not Charlie.”

“Okay. See you soon.”

Joe hung up before I had time to say goodbye. I glared

at the phone before turning back to the guest house. It was

time to do some night driving.

I went looking for the hosts as soon as I got back to the

guest house. I needed to settle the bill and say thanks for

the advice. I paid for two nights as that was what I had

booked and it wasn’t their fault it had all gone pear shaped.

But I wasn’t waiting for the morning to head for Anwell.

It didn’t take me long to stuff my belongings back into

my pack. I took the complimentary biscuits and had a cup

of coffee while I double checked that I hadn’t left anything

behind. I found the Canadian lube under the corner of my

pillow and packed that as well, even though I was tempted

to throw it out of the window. I still felt that Canada had

something to do with this mess.

The helpful host was waiting for me in the foyer, so I

handed him the room key and accepted another brown

paper bag care package for the journey. I even let him kiss

me on the cheek and wish me luck.

I was going to need all the luck I could get to deal with

Charlie.

The drive was almost pleasant, there wasn’t a lot

of traffic to start with and most of it disappeared after

midnight. I stopped at some services around one in the

morning for coffee and a sandwich. I lingered for a while

before forcing myself to get on with the journey.

I wasn’t going to let myself wimp out now when I was so

close. I wasn’t going to let Charlie escape either.

It was four a.m. when I reached Anwell -- too early to

go to Ed’s and too late to do anything else. I parked in one

of the public car parks and headed for Fryer’s burger place

which was about the only thing in Anwell-on-Sea open at

that time of day. I wasn’t going to eat, but I needed coffee

and a pee.

I gave in to impulse and ordered breakfast in a bun as

well as coffee. Eating would take up more time. Joe and

Dave got up around five to get the sandwiches done for

Joe’s round and start getting the café ready for the breakfast

crowd.

So any time after five I could go and confront Charlie

without waking them up. I wasn’t sure what time Ed got up

or went to bed; he always seemed to be around so maybe I

wouldn’t disturb him either.

Walking away from Fryer’s I realized I didn’t have a

door key to get into the house. I decided to leave the car

where it was and walk to Ed’s. As soon as I saw lights in

Joe and Dave’s flat I could ring them to let me in.

Somehow I felt that giving Charlie any warning of my

presence would be a bad idea. Maybe it was driving all

night that made me feel that I had to trap him in his den to

make him listen to me. Or maybe it was knowing just how

pig headed Charlie could be.

I walked along the familiar promenade and breathed

in the sea air. I hadn’t even seen the beach in Dorset or

smelled the sea. I wasn’t sure where the random thought

came from and shook it out of my head.

The familiar route to Ed’s was soothing and nerve

wracking at the same time. My feet knew the way without

me having to think about where I was going, which gave

me too much time to think about arguing with Charlie.

There was a light on in Joe and Dave’s flat when I

arrived at the driveway. There was even a glow in Ed’s

ground floor flat as though the television was on. Charlie’s

top floor was still dark.

I rang Joe and asked him to let me in the front door. He

agreed without asking any questions, maybe he’d only just

gotten up. I tried not to crunch the gravel as I walked the

final few feet to the door and waited for Joe to open it.

“About time you showed up.” Ed’s voice made me jump

as I slipped in the front door. “Here, you might find this

useful.” Ed tossed something small at me and disappeared

back into his flat.

I caught the key to Charlie’s flat without thinking and

blinked at Ed’s closed door. Joe finished locking the front

door and pushed me toward the stairs without speaking.

Dave was waiting on the landing and patted my shoulder as

I went past.

The silence was unnerving and I could feel their eyes

on me as I climbed the last flight up to Charlie’s floor. I

wondered why all three of them thought I could fix this

when I wasn’t sure it was me who broke it. It might have

helped if I’d known they wanted the relationship fixed

rather than completely broken.

Charlie’s door loomed in front of me nearly as well as

Charlie could. It was less than twenty four hours since he’d

walked out on me and I was about to walk in on him. I just

hoped he was alone, although I hoped the guardians on the

floors below would have warned me if he wasn’t. Maybe.

I took a deep breath and slipped the key into the lock.

It turned easily with only a faint click and I pushed the

door open. Charlie’s flat lay in complete darkness, only the

landing light painting a swatch of color across the dimness.

I walked in and shut the door quietly behind me, locking

it without thought. The coming conversation was private

and locking the door would slow Charlie down if he

decided to bolt.

The dark pressed around me and I let my eyes adjust

before walking across to the kitchen area guided by the

glow of the appliance displays. I had been here often

enough to know where Charlie kept things. I turned on one

of the under cupboard lights and filled the kettle. I could sit

here and drink coffee until Charlie came out of his bedroom

or I could take him coffee and wake him up.

Or I could do what he had done yesterday morning:

watch him sleep and think about what I wanted to say to

him. There was some sort of poetic justice in that and it

would give me some more memories if this whole fighting

for us plan fell apart on me.

I made myself coffee and got a mug ready for Charlie.

The light from the kitchen lit up Charlie’s bedroom door.

It wasn’t shut, but it was pushed closed as though Charlie

had just shoved it and left it without bothering to check if it

shut. I nudged it and it swung open to let the faint light fall

across Charlie’s bed.

Charlie was in the bed which was a relief; I’d worried

that he might have slipped out of the house and gone

somewhere else in the hours I’d been driving. I couldn’t see

him very clearly; he was just a lump under the duvet.

There was a chair near the window and I skirted the

bed to reach it, patting the seat to make sure it was empty

before sitting down. I sipped coffee and stared at the

indistinct silhouette of Charlie asleep.

Time seemed to run at a strange rate as I stared at

Charlie, it could have been for seconds or hours I just

couldn’t tell. I finished the coffee and put the empty mug

under the chair. It would be getting light soon, so I stood up

to pull the curtains.

The room was still dark, but the light from the kitchen

combined with the gray light from outside let me make out

Charlie’s face on the pillow and the dark eyes staring at me.

“Get dressed,” I said, without a tremor in my voice. “We

need to talk.”

Charlie blinked at me, but I collected my mug and

walked away before he found anything to say. I left the

bedroom door open and kept an eye on it as I made more

coffee and sat at the kitchen table with it. I put Charlie’s

mug in front of the chair opposite.

“What are you doing here?” Charlie asked from the

bedroom doorway.

“We need to talk,” I repeated, not surprised when he

scowled at me and disappeared into the bathroom. At least

he had been dressed and I wouldn’t have to try and talk

while staring at his naked body. The clothes wouldn’t stop

me imagining the body underneath, but they did help.

Charlie emerged from the bathroom, looking more alert

and sat down across from me to drink his coffee. I let the

silence hang between us and remembered my stubborn

determination not to speak the morning before when it was

Charlie who said that we needed to talk.

“Why can’t you do this anymore, Charlie?” I asked.

“I need something more than just ‘sorry’. What did I do

wrong?”

“You haven’t done anything wrong,” Charlie said, his

eyes skittering away from mine. “I just can’t do this casual,

long distance thing anymore.”

“You’ve managed it okay up until now. What changed?

Did you meet someone in Canada?”

“No, I didn’t. And that would be even more ridiculous,

getting involved with someone in another country when I

can’t cope with being involved with someone in the next

county.”

“Are-- were we involved, Charlie? I thought being casual

meant no involvement?” My heart was hammering as I

fought to keep my voice calm and level.

“You know we were-- we are involved even if we aren’t

sneaking off to fuck. Joe and Dave make sure we are

involved.”

“I suppose that’s true enough.” I sipped coffee and tried

to think up the right phrasing for my next words. “You still

haven’t told me why you can’t cope with us anymore.”

“I just can’t.” Charlie shifted uncomfortably in his chair

and shot me a glare. “I can’t explain why.”

“Can’t or won’t?” I asked, noting the tell tale twitch

of Charlie’s shoulder as my barb hit home. I’d meant to

force him to talk to me, but it was too difficult to sit here

like this. Sudden, bone deep weariness hit me. “There was

something else I wanted to say.” I took a deep breath, “I

love you, Charlie Munroe.”

Charlie’s eyes shot up to mine and I stared back calmly

and tried to ignore the sinking sensation in my stomach.

“I’ve never said those words to any adult before and meant

them. I wanted to say them to you before I leave.”

I stared for a few moments more, but Charlie seemed to

have frozen in place. With a sigh I put my mug on the table.

I didn’t need any more coffee; I needed to get out of here

before I puked. I stood up and headed for the door.

Iron clamps descended on my shoulders and I was spun

around to face Charlie. “Do you mean that? Do you really

love me?”

“Yes. I love you.” I thought the words could do with

repeating. They weren’t as difficult to say the second time

around.

Charlie’s eyes closed and his face relaxed before I was

yanked into a bear hug. Charlie was shaking as he held me

close, or maybe it was me. I didn’t really care as long as I

could hang on to him.

My stomach had other ideas and I had to push Charlie

away to make a mad dash for his bathroom. Charlie

followed and flushed the toilet for me between bouts,

handed me a damp face cloth and told me he loved me

while I was throwing up. For once it didn’t even occur to

me that he might just be saying something without meaning

it -- telling me he loved me while I was hurling my guts up

might not be romantic but I couldn’t doubt he meant it.

The spasms eased and I sipped the water that Charlie

handed me. It stayed down which was a bonus. “Have I still

got a toothbrush here?” I asked. Charlie had had several

hours to remove any traces of me from his flat.

“Of course your toothbrush is still here.”

“Good, I really need it right now.” I pulled myself off the

floor and reached for the toothpaste.

“I think you could do with a shower, as well.” Charlie

squeezed my shoulders and dropped a kiss on the back of

my neck.

“You offering to join me?”

“Not this time.” Charlie met my eyes in the mirror. “You

look like shit. Did you get any sleep last night?”

“No, I spent all night driving.” I stuck the toothbrush

in my mouth before I said anything else. Why did I ever

wonder if Charlie said anything just to be polite?

“Is your bag still in the car?”

I nodded and spat minty foam into the sink. “Yes, and the

car’s in the West Street car park.”

“Get in the shower and I’ll find you something clean

to wear. I’ll get your car later.” Charlie sighed loudly and

muttered something about me needing a keeper.

I showered quickly and pulled on the t-shirt and shorts

that Charlie had left for me. The shorts were lycra and

stayed up, but the t-shirt came down to my knees and fell

off one shoulder. I knew that Charlie was a lot larger than

me, but most of the time I could ignore just how big that

difference was. I stared at my reflection and couldn’t help

laughing at the sight of me swamped in Charlie’s clothes.

“What’s so funny?” Charlie asked from the bathroom

door, frowning at me.

“I look like a kid playing dress-up.” I did a pirouette.

“You don’t look that much like a kid.” Charlie pulled me

into a hug. “You don’t feel like a kid either.”

The hug turned into a kiss, then another and another

as we stumbled across the flat to Charlie’s bedroom and

Charlie’s bed. I still didn’t know for sure what Charlie’s

problem was with our relationship as it had been, but it

looked like we were back together for now, at least.

It would be nice to think our clothes vanished by magic

rather than were ripped off in a frantic struggle to get

to bare skin. The taste and scent of Charlie stopped me

thinking coherent thoughts and time went strange again for

a few minutes or hours until I sank into Charlie’s heat, by

which point time was irrelevant.

“I love you,” I repeated as I waited for him to relax

around me. “I love you,” I grunted as I thrust in and out of

his willing body. “I love you,” I all but screamed as I came.

“I love you, John Smith,” Charlie gasped as he reached

his climax seconds later.

That was a bit more romantic than in the bathroom, but

I’d take those words from Charlie wherever I could get

them. I sprawled on his chest with what felt like a very

stupid grin on my face as we recovered.

“So what was your problem?” I asked propping my chin

on his chest to stare at him.

“Loving you,” he said simply. “I missed you so much

when I was in Canada and couldn’t wait to get back and

meet you.”

“So you only realized that you loved me in Dorset?” I

couldn’t raise one eyebrow so I had to make do with both.

He’d missed me so much that he decided to break up with

me?

“That was when I admitted it to myself.” Charlie had the

grace to look embarrassed. “I knew I cared about you a lot,

but I just hadn’t let myself think I loved you.”

“Okay. So why did that make you run?” This explanation

had better be good.

“Because you said you didn’t want anything

complicated. You said you weren’t ready for a real

relationship.” Charlie wouldn’t meet my eyes as he finished

with, “I thought it would hurt less to finish it now than

carry on.”

“Idiot. You lectured me on avoiding entanglements

before you even kissed me,” I grumbled, frowning at him

and remembering all my agonizing about not letting him

know just how much he meant to me. “You expected me

to say anything else than that I wasn’t looking for anything

long term? You’d have run a mile.”

“Maybe. Probably. I’ve not had a real relationship

before, only a fake one and loads of irrelevant ones.”

Charlie thought about that for a moment and let his gaze

meet mine again. “It’s scary.”

“You would have run.” I sniffed and narrowed my eyes

at him. “No more irrelevant relationships and no more

talking about them. Or lumberjacks.”

“Lumberjacks? What the hell are you on about now?

You’re jealous?” Charlie looked like he liked that idea.

“Yes.” I relaxed again. “How are we going to do this

relationship thing? I don’t know any more about it than you

do.”

“You were married, so you must have more idea about it

than I do.”

“Look how well that worked.” I shuddered at

the memories of my marriage. “I’m clueless about

relationships.”

“We have to see more of each other, no more weekday

‘weekends’ once a month. I’ll have to look for somewhere

over your way,” Charlie said after thinking about it for a

while.

“You’d do that?”

“Yes. Unwillingly. I like living here, but you’ve got a job

and kids, so I’ll move.”

“There is another alternative I was going to talk to you

about in Dorset,” I said slowly, wondering if I was rushing

things. “There’s a vacancy at the Hapton store I was

thinking of applying for, but I don’t know if I can afford to

rent anywhere around here if I get it.”

“You could stay here while you check it out.” Charlie’s

arms tightened around me. “What about your kids?”

“I’ll still see them when I can. The job already interferes

with that anyway.”

“I’d like it if you got the job in Hapton.”

“So would I, I like working for the chain, but there are

other jobs around here if that one doesn’t work out. Can we

keep our weekday ‘weekends’ and go away occasionally?”

I drew my finger through the patch of hair on his chest.

“I’ve enjoyed most of them.”

Charlie laughed and kissed me. I needed to call my

manager and ask for another day off to make sure Charlie

wasn’t going to panic again, but things were looking a

whole lot better than they had a few hours ago.

The last twenty-four hours had been a nightmare, maybe

now we could try and make the next twenty-four years a

dream.

End.

If you liked this book you might like: Jobless in January:

Johnny Smith