Dreams and Expectations

  Table of Contents

  Blurb

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  More from Susan Laine

  About the Author

  By Susan Laine

  Visit Dreamspinner Press

  Copyright

  Dreams and Expectations

  By Susan Laine

  A Before… and After Story

  At what point are differences irreparable?

  Tom McAllister and Nick Corwin have always had a comfortable friendship, even though Nick is a Native American webcomic artist and Tom’s father is a rigid Christian. But they’re about to discover growing up means more challenges than choosing a college major. It might mean making decisions that change pivotal relationships—or sever them.

  When a bully confronts Tom and Nick and a dark, unsettling aspect of Tom emerges, Nick is shaken enough to end their friendship. As both young men struggle to balance their own dreams with the expectations of their families—both in terms of career and faith—they recognize the emptiness that parting ways has left in their lives. But when reconciliation leads to confessions that might mean something more than friendship between them, will it make their path easier to navigate or more difficult?

  Chapter 1

  DIRT AND loose pebbles dug into Nick’s jeans-covered butt, and the rough bark of the log he leaned against scratched his back through the T-shirt. But he didn’t care. Not as long as he had Tom sitting next to him, his strong arm wound around Nick’s neck, his warmth seeping in.

  Tom was Nick’s best friend, and the love Nick felt for him overwhelmed him sometimes.

  Nick stared out at the blue, clear waters of Lake Pend Oreille where rough autumn winds created foamy wave crests on the open lake. Spruces, pines, and even a couple of maples cast shade as the boys sat, side by side, their backs against a fallen timber perched on the steep, rocky hillside of Sandpoint in northwest Idaho.

  The air was crisp, as befit October weather in the mountains. The dry smell of dust hung around them since it hadn’t rained much. Trees blocked a lot of the floating specks of dirt, but not all of it. The sun shone bright through the foliage, forcing Nick to use his hand to cover his hazel eyes. The breeze flung his long, dark brown hair about.

  “Your hair’s so silky,” Tom drawled next to him.

  Nick felt a soft tug on the back of his neck. Tom had a habit of playing with Nick’s hair on occasion. Perhaps he was envious, his own blond curls cut to ear level. But deep down Nick knew that was a wrong guess; Tom’s mom, Monica, had died five years ago of breast cancer and had lost all her hair during chemo. Nick’s strong hair must have appealed to Tom, a sort of reminder of his deceased mother. She’d been a nice lady. Nick had liked her a lot.

  Nick snickered, hoping his giggle would take Tom’s mind off his mom. “It’s just hair.”

  “Pretty hair.” Tom smiled without looking at Nick, his blue-eyed gaze aimed at the lake too, both of them absentminded and idle since school was out early for the day.

  “Maybe I should cut it,” Nick mused, toying with a strand. He had long dark hair thanks to his Kalispel Native American heritage. His father, Braden Corwin, had equally long hair. Lately Nick had wondered if his appearance would eventually be a hindrance to him finding employment and housing…. Hate seemed to be the word of the day.

  Tom cast a horrified glare at him. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

  Nick chuckled. “Okay, okay, sorry. I won’t do it, I promise.”

  “Good.” Tom pulled Nick closer under his arm till Nick snuggled comfortably in the nook of his armpit, warm and safe and cherished. “What do you want to do today?”

  “Grandma’s making lunch later, but until then we can do, like, whatever.”

  Nick’s fingers itched. He hated being separated from his notebook for too long. Tom took one look at Nick’s fidgeting and chuckled. “Let me guess. You’d like to draw.”

  Nick cringed. Busted. “No, I’m cool.”

  Tom’s eyes twinkled like blue stars. “It’s okay. I love to watch you draw. It’s soothing.”

  “It is?”

  “Yeah. The way you draw, as if you’re in some sort of trance or subspace, reminds me of Buddhist monks who draw those mandalas for, like, balance, serenity, and peace of mind.”

  Nick smiled. Tom had always been interested in spirituality. His mom had been a devout Taoist. “You’ve never told me that.”

  “I thought me spacing out whenever you sketch those Kalispel yaoi manga would clue you in. You’re a true pioneer. Combining manga with Native American mythology? That’s damn impressive.”

  “I’m not some trailblazer,” Nick denied, his cheeks ablaze at the praise. “There’s Shaman King, for one, and Mother’s Spirit—”

  “Stop belittling yourself and what you’re doing.” Tom ruffled his hair, even a bit forcefully, to get his point across, or that was how Nick interpreted the tug. “You’re an artist, and I’m proud of you. Next time bring your tablet with you.”

  At once beaming at the compliment and embarrassed by the attention, Nick coughed to clear his throat and to take a minute. He wanted to veer the conversation in a different direction, as far away from himself as he could.

  So he glanced at his best friend with a devilish smirk. “We could take a dip in the lake?”

  Tom snorted. “It’s October. We’d freeze our nuts off, dumbass.”

  “I’m game if you are,” Nick goaded. He didn’t mind cold himself, but Tom was a born and bred warm-blooded stud. Which was kind of funny since they lived in the shadow of snow-topped mountains. And because Thomas McAllister originally hailed from Scotland, which most days wasn’t a particularly warm environment, or so Nick had heard.

  Tom merely grinned. “Shut up. No fucking way.”

  Nick stared at his best friend. At that moment he loved Tom more than anything or anyone. His heart bloomed with the feeling, and his body buzzed with the energy the emotion created. Tom was a great guy. In Nick’s eyes, Tom was perfect.

  Of course, his love was pure and innocent and perhaps a bit naive. But it blossomed inside him, filling him with joy. He wondered briefly if he’d ever feel this way with anyone else, such as a girl. So far in his life, he never had. But Tom had never made Nick feel different or abnormal because he wasn’t dating. Nick appreciated the heck out of that.

  “Wanna head over to Crestone? We could fly out for the weekend.” Nick knew his suggestion would be well received.

  Tom’s smile turned rueful but grateful too. “Yeah, maybe. Mom would like that.” Then his smile faded. “Dad… he doesn’t want me to go there.”

  Nick took Tom’s hand as it rested over his chest and squeezed gently. “You’re eighteen, so he can’t stop you. You have a plane and a permit. We don’t need his permission.”

  Tom hesitated, a frown marring his smooth forehead. “I… I don’t know. He’s been so mad at everything I do lately. I don’t want to upset him more. Besides, it’s an over four-hour flight.”

  Nick swallowed hard. A couple of times Tom’s father, Charles, had come close to hitting his son. Very close. So far he hadn’t gone through with it. But… anything could set him off.

  “He’s a conservative politician, so everything upsets him,” Nick reminded Tom. “There’s not much you can do about that. He doesn’t talk to you about his work. He doesn’t confide in you. He’s just an angry man. Him working long hours at the mayor�
��s office is just making it worse.”

  Tom grimaced, his mood clearly souring. “Look, I know that, okay? But… he’s my dad.”

  Nick felt bad for trying to act all reasonable about an emotional subject. “Yeah. Sorry.”

  Tom pressed his head against Nick’s. “Don’t be sorry. He’s a jerk sometimes.”

  “Everyone is,” Nick added for levity, pursing his lips theatrically.

  Tom laughed. “Truer words….” He kissed the top of Nick’s head, a fleeting soft touch he never dragged out, much to Nick’s chagrin.

  “Look at the two little lovebirds. Don’t they look awfully cozy?” A mean voice made lewd smooching sounds to finish the insult.

  Nick started and whipped his head toward the noise.

  Three boys walked up the hill and stood about twenty feet away. Two stood back while the third took a step closer. Nick recognized the cruel sneer, beady eyes, lanky form, and slick hair: Bill Little, their neighbor and all-around bully of the worst order.

  “Did we interrupt your screwing session, cocksuckers?” Bill grinned, and his friends behind him snickered.

  Anger boiled inside Nick. Sandpoint was a pretty good town for sexual minorities, but there was always a bad apple in the bunch. Nick had done nothing wrong. But bullies always found a reason to be assholes. Thus far Bill had only used words, but in time Nick had no doubt he would become a physically violent person. It was in his nature.

  Tom jumped up, rushed to stand in front of Bill, and hissed, “I ain’t no fucking fag.”

  Then he slugged Bill on the chin, hard enough to knock the guy to the ground. Even his buddies gasped in shock. Bill blinked hard, mouth wide open, and held on to his face. Nick saw a trickle of red dripping from a busted nose, or maybe a split lip.

  The insane tableau—Nick’s best friend, the chief bully, and his two wingmen—sent shivers up Nick’s spine. This was a side of Tom he’d never seen or even imagined.

  Tom stood astride above Bill, hands fisted, and growled. “Fuck off, motherfucker, before I rip you to shreds. And don’t even think about telling anyone, or I’ll sic my dad’s army of lawyers on you, your family, and everything you own and love. My dad works at the mayor’s office, so believe me when I say I can destroy you. And if you ever call me queer again… I’ll end you.”

  Something inside Nick broke.

  Tom hated his father and had never called on him to defend himself. He’d never resorted to using his father’s name, period. Threatening a powerless person with the authority and wealth of a more dominant individual, such as a vice mayor, went against everything Nick believed in and stood for. He’d thought Tom felt the same. Tom often said his father seemed to be one signature shy of fully corrupt.

  He watched in horror as Bill’s pals abandoned him and scattered downhill.

  Nick followed suit and ran the other way, confused and scared out of his mind, trying to escape a monster he’d believed was his best friend. Had it all been a mere mask of civility and caring? Far behind him, Nick heard Tom hollering his name.

  Hot tears streamed down his cheeks, his chest hurt from panting too hard, and his muscles protested the vigorous, unexpected exercise. But he couldn’t stop. He had to find shelter and a safe place to think. He couldn’t face… that person. So much hate, so much violence, such brutality.

  He no longer had a best friend. How could he—when Nick himself was gay?

  Chapter 2

  “GREAT TIMING, honey. Lunch will be ready in twenty, okay?” Grandma’s soft voice coming from the kitchen, full of compassion and love, made Nick’s heart ache.

  “Awesome.” He hoped the crack in his voice went unnoticed as he dashed past her up the stairs to the second floor of the lodge and locked himself in the bathroom.

  There he huddled into the corner of his bathtub and cried silently.

  It hadn’t been until Tom had uttered that word—fag—spitting it out like some ugly thing, venomous and vile, that Nick had realized his feelings for his best friend, and for guys in general, was in fact stronger than what he felt toward girls.

  Perhaps he was bi, Nick surmised. But… more likely he was gay. He’d not had a girlfriend since he was sixteen. That had been two years ago, and even then there’d only been that single one.

  Nick had thought long and hard about his sexuality for a good while. The way his love for Tom had increased over time, how happy he was in Tom’s company, viewing Tom as the next best thing to bliss—all that finally clicked inside Nick.

  He was gay and in love with his best friend.

  And Tom apparently hated faggots.

  Ipso facto… Tom hated Nick.

  Sobbing, Nick hugged his knees and buried his head between them. Pain wrenched his soul and throbbed in his heart.

  What on earth should he do now? Stick with Tom and accept the ridicule and contempt sure to follow on a daily basis? Or abandon Tom and face the loneliness of a friendless senior year in high school, all the while pining for the wrong, the most definitely unobtainable, man?

  Nick had no answers. At least not until Tom explained his outburst. What would he say to his family if this incident became public knowledge?

  Nick scoffed with righteous indignation. Tom’s father, Charles, wouldn’t reproach his son for beating up a bully, even though he should condemn violence of all sorts. But if Charles learned what Bill had called Tom, that would be all the justification necessary to a conservative man who’d made his feelings about homosexuality and LGBTQ marriage more than clear over the years of his political career.

  A knock sounded. “Nick?” Tom’s soft voice was muffled by the door between them.

  Nick jumped. He didn’t want to see Tom right now. “Go away.”

  Tom’s honeyed voice entreated Nick. “Please, Nicky. Open the door. I’m sorry if I scared you. But you know bullies only respect strength.”

  Nick bristled. “Oh, so it was respect you were after? Well, you lost all of mine. Go away.”

  A loaded silence weighed heavily in the air. Apparently Tom had nothing to say, either in his defense or to contradict Nick’s interpretation. Nick waited on the other side of the locked door to hear how Tom would justify his actions. But he wasn’t about to let the guy in.

  “Look, I was just….” Tom’s voice faded as if he’d drifted farther from the entrance. Nick pressed his ear against the door to hear better. Tom stepped closer again, his boots thudding on the parquet floor. “There were three of them. I thought they’d make trouble for us, so I decided to act first. I didn’t want you to get hurt—”

  “You smashed in that guy’s face for me?” Nick slammed his palm against the door, rage brewing within him. “Screw you! I don’t need you to protect me, especially not with your fists, you fucking asshole. Get out!”

  Nick winced at his own choice of words. He was on the debate team, for fuck’s sake. He should have been able to deliver a persuasive argument without resorting to foul language, not to mention repetition of said needless obscenities. Then again, the situation seemed to call for a harsh statement to contradict Tom’s, well, bullshit.

  “C’mon, Nicky. Be reasonable. He’s fine. It was just a busted lip. Nothing he didn’t deserve.” His cajoling tone only made things worse.

  Nick practically ripped the door off its hinges as he yanked it open. He scowled and raged, “Deserve? Who the hell are you to decide what people deserve? Did you suddenly become a judge or a god when I wasn’t looking? Bill’s a moron, but he’s all talk. You didn’t need to do that.”

  Tom frowned, but he didn’t try to argue. He tried to swipe the tears off Nick’s cheeks with a tender touch, but Nick swatted his hand aside. The contrite look on Tom’s face should have made Nick feel bad, but he refused to be swayed by empathy and hardened his heart.

  “Hey, I’ll apologize to the guy first chance I get, okay?” Tom attempted to placate Nick with a sweet smile, complete with dimples and a twinkle in his eyes. He worried his bottom lip, tucked his hands in his jeans pock
ets, and rocked back and forth on the heels of his boots. The familiar stance was endearing—if Nick hadn’t seen another side of Tom.

  Nick’s heart broke as he witnessed how cavalier and casual Tom seemed to be about the whole thing. Like he hadn’t done anything really wrong. His eyes brimmed with a fresh barrage of tears, but he blinked them away, steeling himself for an inevitable rejection.

  He shook his head. “I… I can’t. I can’t let it go.”

  Tom sighed, pleading with his sky-blue eyes. “Why?”

  Nick dropped his gaze to the floor, as if the answer to the meaning of life lay there. “For one, you just hit a guy for no real reason. Don’t try to deny it. I was there, remember? And… I can’t even begin to comprehend where all that hatred came from.”

  “Oh, Nick, don’t be like that,” Tom beseeched. “I was playing. I pretended to be angry so he’d take me seriously and hide back under whatever rock he crawled out from. That’s all.”

  Nick prayed for patience, which was difficult for numerous reasons. Maybe a touch of logic would do the trick instead? “My parents are scientists.”

  Tom frowned in confusion. “Yes, your dad’s a dendrologist, and your mom’s a limnologist. Trees and fresh water. So what?”

  “So you know my upbringing. I’m only eighteen, but my parents made sure I already have a knowledge of academic principles and strong linguistic skills. They have high hopes for me.”

  Tom smiled. “Yeah, I know. You taught me my favorite word: nescience. It means both ignorance and how nothing is knowable. Weird double meaning. Brilliant.”

  “Right. So we both understand the power of words.” Nick met Tom’s gaze, and he saw the exact moment when Tom figured out the reference. “That word… that awful, hateful word. If that was you, the hidden part of you…. Being with you has always made me so happy. Hanging out with you is the best. I can’t get enough. But now… I can’t. I just can’t. I refuse to.”

  “Wait. Just wait, okay?” Tom moved to grip Nick’s arms, but when Nick stiffened, he took a step back instead, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. “That wasn’t me, I swear. I don’t hate gays or anyone else. Stupid of me to use… that word. I won’t ever say it again. I’m sorry, Nicky.”