White Lightning by Adrianna Dane

Author:Adrianna Dane [Dane, Adrianna]
Language: nld
Format: epub, pdf
Tags: erotic MM, Romance MM
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

* * * *

Whit had all day to mull over Linc’s abrupt change in attitude. As well as the

night of heated lovemaking they’d shared. It wasn’t over, not by a long shot. Linc might

think he had the upper hand, but not quite.

Whit had let it go when he first left Kentucky, too young to know better, when

Linc had cut off ties with him. This time that wasn’t going to happen. He wanted

answers. He would have to hear Linc tell him he didn’t love him—and mean it.

When he’d arrived at the cabin, Linc didn’t answer the door, and Whit found it

was unlocked. Something made him go inside when he knew he shouldn’t. In the

dwindling daylight, Whit scanned the room. It looked even worse by the light of day.

He walked around searching for hints to Linc’s past—something that would help him

understand what had happened to Linc during the last ten years. Something—

He spotted the brown book—no, it was an album of some kind sitting on the edge

of the cupboard near the cot. He walked over and picked it up, then sat down on the

side of the bed and opened the book. His heart hammered in his chest when he saw

what was taped to the pages. The clippings were all about Whit—clippings going from

the time of his graduation from Boston University, up through his years of successes,

and failures, in the software market. Social events highlighted in the papers. He

snapped the book closed.

White Lightning

59

Why? Why hadn’t he tried to contact Whit all these years? He sat there for a long

time, even as darkness descended to black out the room. Finally, he set the scrapbook

back on the shelf—oddly it was the only really personal thing in this old shanty. No,

wait. He picked up the dog-eared book lying next to the cot. He hadn’t forgotten.

Herrick’s poetry. Damn you, Linc, why? Carefully, he replaced that book as well.

Everything else made it seem just as though time had stopped inside this room. There

were no other photos, nothing personal other than a few pairs of jeans, old flannel shirts

that could have belonged to anyone. Only the scrapbook and the book of poetry were

personal.

He got up, grabbed one of the fruit jars filled with moonshine from the cupboard,

and stepped outside. He sat down in the old cane rocker, unscrewed the lid of the fruit

jar, and drank deeply. His eyes watered as the liquid slid down his throat. He wasn’t

certain how long he sat there in the cold, numbed by the illicit whiskey, remembering

how it had been, wondering why it was now so complicated, when he finally saw the

lights of Linc’s pickup. As Linc exited the truck, Whit stood and set the empty fruit jar

aside. He shuffled to the edge of the porch, just far enough so Linc could see him. The

look on Linc’s face as he strode closer was not welcoming. But then, Whit hadn’t

expected it to be, had he?

“What are you doing here, Whit? I thought I made it clear.”

“Nothing’s clear. Not one damned thing. And I’m not leaving until I have

answers—that satisfy me.

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