Guest Post | When at War with Witches by Holly Day

A couple of days ago, When at War with Witches was released! 🥳 

I have this problem where I write a story, thinking I’m writing a standalone, and then completely messing up by creating a world I don’t want to leave. It happens all the time, and this time, it’s no different. 

I had this idea. I wanted to write evil witches, a story where the MCs came from different sides of a conflict but were forced to work through it. I did that. We have a witch and an alpha werewolf forced into an arranged mating. 

We sprinkle it with cookies, and we have a story, right? (We’re celebrating Lacy Oatmeal Cookie Day.) 

Right! Only…there are so many witches and shifters, and I can’t just leave them, can I? So now I have a problem. When will I find the time to write more stories?? 

If you’re in the mood for an arranged mating, shifters, witches, and cookies, check this out!  

When at War with Witches

Curses, monsters and arranged matings!

Rourke Flint, alpha of the Flint Pack, is sick of being at war with witches, sick of watching his friends die. So sick of it, he’d traded a piece of land for a witch to take as his mate in hopes of building an alliance. But werewolves mate for life, and now he’ll be forever tied to whichever witch they’re handing over. 

Ezra Inaxx Kuxium Enizax is a useless witch and the one the clan decides to sacrifice to the monsters. He’s never met a shifter before, but he’s heard the stories. Deviants. Beasts. Giants. And now he’ll spend the rest of his life with one of them. 

Rourke soon realizes the witches don’t want a treaty, and Ezra was sent to him as an insult. Ezra knows his clan never intended for there to be peace, but Rourke isn’t nearly as cruel as he was led to believe, and wouldn’t peace be a pleasant change? What if he could give Rourke enough information to achieve it?

Buy Links:

Gay Paranormal Romance:  52,872 words

JMS Books :: Amazon

Chapter 1

Rourke Flint looked at the small blue diamond-shaped pill Ulric, his second in command and best friend, handed him.

“To get you through.” Ulric grimaced.

Fuck. Rourke rubbed the hand not holding the pill over his face. Hell. Shit. Motherfucking witches.

“Yo only have to fuck her once.”

Rourke looked at him. “Yeah, and then never touch another living being ever again.”

Ulric winced. “Sorry.”

He’d most likely have to touch her more than once. Mating bonds were strong, and while they didn’t have to have sex, he’d have to smell her. Hold her.

And witches stank of rot.

Rourke blew out a breath and shook his head. It had to be done. They’d been at war for decades, had emptied all their resources—both monetary and relationship-wise—and now they’d finally managed to push the witches back. Again. They had to ensure peace, had to prevent them from instigating a new reign of terror.

He fucking hated witches. Power-hungry vultures. Never satisfied with what they had.

Shifters bonding with witches was an ancient tradition they’d long ago left behind, but Rourke was tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of watching his people die. Tired of investing all their time and means into a war with no end.

They’d won back their territory, which they had many times before, but this time, he’d demanded a mate as a bounty. If he mated one of the witches, it would keep them from attacking. Right? It was how they’d ensured peace in the olden days.

He let out another shaky breath. He wished he could have someone do this in his stead, but it had to be him.

He was the leader. He had to make the sacrifice.

“You only have to get through it once. Fuck her, bite her, and then it’s done. We can lock her up in one of the dungeons, and you can continue with your life as if it never happened.”

Rourke grimaced. It wouldn’t be as if it never had happened. Mates had to be physically close or they’d lose their minds. Or he would. He didn’t know if it affected witches the same way. A mate bond was magically enforced monogamy, a need to keep your other half close, to touch, scent, and protect. He’d never been one to share, but he’d always had a healthy sex drive. Now he suspected he’d be resigned to his right hand for the rest of his, hopefully, long life.

It would be worth it. Had to be worth it.

The one advantage they had over the witches, other than their size and physical strength, was their longevity. Witches had human lifespans, werewolves did not. But by binding himself to a witch, he’d tie her to his life force. She’d live for as long as he did. She’d die when he died.

“You’ve been with a female before, right?” The way Ulric scrunched his face would’ve made him laugh on any other day, now he only nodded. He wasn’t opposed to bedding women, but if he had a choice, which he’d always had up until today, he picked men ninety-five times out of a hundred. Once in a blue moon, he came across a female he wanted to be with, and when it happened, he was. If she was willing.

What kind of woman volunteered to be his till the end of time? Witches were bigots and homophobes, so he was sure it would be a woman. Same-sex couples weren’t allowed in the covens.

What did it say about her wanting to give up her life in the clan and to come and live on pack land? Maybe she wanted a long life. Perhaps it was reward enough.

Whatever her reasons, he had to fuck her. Panic clawed at him. He couldn’t do this. Witches smelled like walking corpses. How would he be able to get it up? He glanced at the pill in his hand again.

Ulric must’ve seen the flare of trepidation because he slid an arm over Rourke’s shoulders. “Hey. It’ll be fine. You asked for a volunteer, and they have one. Whoever she is, she wants this. And who wouldn’t?” He jostled him a little. “You’re a catch, and she gets to move away from all the other witches. It’s a double win for her. You’re the one suffering.”

Sometimes he wondered if Ulric could read his mind.

“Hell, she might know a spell to make you enjoy it.” He grinned in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“Right.” Rourke pulled in a deep breath and tucked the blue pill in his pocket. He’d take it later. He refused to meet the witch congregation with a hard-on.

Witches were ugly fuckers. Or maybe they weren’t. They looked human, but they were often small, fine-limbed, and they always had long hair with braids and feathers and shit. Not to mention the zillion piercings and tattoos. Shifters couldn’t have piercings. They ripped when they shifted. Tattoos healed during shifts too.

He believed the tattoos were connected to magic, but he wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure about the piercings or the stuff they put in their hair either. Maybe they were purely ornamental, maybe they held power somehow. One bonus of having a witch in their home was the knowledge they could gain. He’d be the dominant partner. He could force his mate to submit to him and to answer his questions.

“Ready to go?”

Nope, not ready at all. He sent Ulric a pleading look. He’d never let anyone else see him like this, but Ulric was his oldest friend.

“We’ll get drunk after, okay? As soon as they’re off our land, we’ll drown our sorrows.”

Rourke nodded. He couldn’t reply since there was a lump blocking his throat. Fucking hell.

* * * *

The car lurched to a stop, and the seatbelt cut into Ezra Inaxx Kuxium Enizax’s chest.

“Stop your crying.”

He touched his cheek. He wasn’t crying, was he? He’d learned long ago not to cry. His cheek was dry. He wasn’t crying.

Looking into the front seat, he realized Shixyll—he’d long ago lost the right to call her mom—was glaring at Jiprix. Ezra’s eyebrows moved in surprise as he took in Jiprix’s glassy eyes. He might be the closest thing Ezra had to a friend, but he hadn’t believed he’d ever shed a tear over him. And he hadn’t, they were still pooled in his eyes.

“This way he can be useful.” Shixyll turned her head and glared at Ezra. He didn’t say anything. There was no use. She never allowed him to speak, and he’d been cursed or hit enough times to know it wasn’t worth it to try.

Ezra was a useless witch. He had next to no powers, and he was never allowed to learn anything about their plans or be part of any decisions. They never sent him to battle because he had no combat skills. He couldn’t hurt a fly with his magic—he’d tried. Many, many times.

Jiprix could turn a creature inside out without channeling power from a familiar. He was useful, but Ezra was not.

“We’re still sacrificing one of our own to the beasts.” Whatever had made Jiprix sentimental was gone now. His voice was clipped but firm.

“Spoils of war. They’d have demanded more land if we hadn’t agreed, and losing him doesn’t weaken us. It’s the best use we have of him.”

What would it have been like to have someone in his life who cared for him? What if he’d been hugged instead of shoved away? A caress instead of a slap. He had no illusions being among the monsters would make his life better, the opposite. Witches didn’t have claws or super strength. They weren’t huge, hulking creatures fit for nightmares.

He didn’t know if he’d survive the punishment they’d give him for disobeying or not complying fast enough. He always tried to do what people asked of him, but for some reason, he always failed. He had the scars to prove it. He didn’t think an enraged werewolf would leave scars, they’d simply take his head. And maybe it was for the best.

Maybe his stay with the monsters would be short.

“We’re here.” Shixyll opened the car door without so much as a glance in Ezra’s direction.

Jiprix sighed. “Do what they tell you. It might not be too bad, and… eh… don’t fight him.”

Ice filled Ezra’s veins. Right. Don’t fight. Let the leader degrade and bite him to buy his clan time to gather their forces for a new attack. And should Ezra happen to die during said attack… No one would care.

He swallowed around the lump in his throat and opened the door. Forcing Shixyll to come get him would not be good.

His legs shook as he put his feet on the gravelly ground. In front of him was a wall of beasts in giant human shapes. They all looked to be seven feet tall, the few females were a little shorter but not by much.

He’d once heard they were twenty-five members in the pack, about the same size as the clan, but looking at them now, it felt as if they were a hundred and twenty-five.

Ezra only reached to their chests. He allowed his eyes to slide over them, trying to see which one was the leader, but it was hard to tell who was the most powerful. They didn’t have piercings or braids to signal their strength or status. Without thinking he sucked in the ring he had at the center of his lower lip, the one indicating he was of age and his powers were fully manifested. It also told everyone he hardly had any powers since it was the only lip piercing he had.

His gaze landed on a tall man with harsh eyes and a gaunt body. His clothes hung off him, indicating he’d once been much more powerful. One of the prisoners? They had been forced to give up their prisoners. He didn’t know how many there had been, but he’d heard whispers about it when he’d fed the clan.

Ezra didn’t know what new tactic the shifters had used to win back their land plus some additional areas, but whatever they’d done, it had required Shixyll to trade the prisoners. She’d traded them for the additional piece of land and allowed the monsters to keep their original boundary, but they’d somehow also persuaded her to agree to trade him.

Maybe it hadn’t taken much effort on their part. He didn’t think she’d be willing to make any sacrifices to keep him safe.

“Alpha Flint.” Shixyll didn’t bow her head as she addressed the man in front of her. He was massive, but the man next to him was bigger. Ezra’s throat clicked as he tried to swallow despite his mouth having gone dry. How could they be so enormous and still move as fast as they did? He’d never seen one move, but he’d heard the tales.

“Shixyll.” Flint didn’t say anything else, but his gaze flicked first to Jiprix then to Ezra. It was the right order to acknowledge them. Maybe he sensed their power, or maybe he simply looked at their braids and piercings. He’d always been told shifters were stupid, more animal than human, but maybe they understood magic.

“Where is my wife?”

Wife? Ezra’s eyes widened. Oh fuck. No, no, no. Was he expecting a wife? No one had told him. Without thinking he took a small step back.

“We never agreed to give you a wife.” Shixyll grinned evilly, and for a second Ezra shut his eyes. She was openly disrespecting him. It was insulting to give him a worthless witch, but she’d taken it one step further and given him a male. He should’ve realized, but somewhere he’d heard shifters weren’t picky about the gender of their bed partners. It was the one intriguing thing he’d picked up on.

He should’ve known it wasn’t true.

“You promised me a mate.”

“I did, and I’m giving you Ezra.” She yanked at his arm, making him stumble since he hadn’t been prepared.

“A male?” Amber eyes swept over his face but didn’t linger long enough to meet his gaze. Ezra assumed the shifters knew witch clans were run by women. Of course they did. Flint had negotiated with Shixyll after all.

“You don’t care what you stick your dick into, do you?” Shixyll cackled. “Take it or leave it.”

Ezra flinched, and he did nothing to hide his reaction. Shixyll might punish him, but he doubted it would be worse than what Flint would do to him.

Ezra held his breath as he waited for an explosion. Would the war restart right here? Ezra almost expected it to. Maybe it had been Shixyll’s plan all along—bring Ezra here, disrespect Flint so much he had no choice but to retaliate, and then it would start all over again.

Flint snorted. “Right. Let’s get it over with then. Are you waiting here until it’s done?”

Shixyll raised her chin, and her braid cuffs clinked. “Yes. He’s ours if you don’t fulfill the mating, and we’re not leaving here until we have proof.”

Bile rose in Ezra’s throat. She’d wait to see him properly humiliated, to have the entire pack see him debased. His eyes burned.

A large hand curled around his upper arm. “Right, give us ten minutes.”

For a second, Ezra considered fighting. But fighting never helped, so he shut his eyes and allowed Flint to pull him away from the crowd. Perhaps he should be glad he didn’t claim him in front of everyone.

Guest Post | Season of Hope by Ellie Thomas

The lovely Ellie Thomas is back on the blog! This time, she’ll share a little about her latest release, Season of Hope.

Thanks so much lovely Ofelia for having me as your guest again! I’m Ellie, I write Gay Historical romance and I’m here today to chat about my brand-new release, Season of Hope, the sequel to my Christmas story, Season of Joy.

Season of Hope takes place twenty years after Season of Joy, in the same setting of Cheltenham’s High Street and with the same couple. Walter and Stanley are still very much in a loving relationship despite the tumultuous events of WW2 that disrupted countless numbers of lives.

They weather the necessary adjustments together. Walter manages the red tape of rationing in the grocer’s shop he runs with a bit of help from his semi-retired father and Ginny, Stanley’s now grown up niece Ginny, who appeared as an unruly toddler in the first story, together with her twin brother Jack. Stanley, a mechanic, now works nearby in aircraft part production factory along with other family members.

Like middle-aged people everywhere, they are involved with civic and family responsibilities. And since they are beyond conscription age, Walter and Stanley are very much occupied in the Home Guard.

During the story, outside forces threaten their secure world, as happened for so many millions during wartime. They worry about Stanley’s grown up nephews in the armed forces, especially Stanley’s beloved nephew Jack, serving overseas. Or rather Stanley worries himself sick and Walter is concerned about Stanley.

Season of Hope reflects some of these wider events and their impact on a secure and lasting relationship, bringing a loving couple even closer together.

Blurb:

Sequel to Season of Joy

By the beginning of 1944, Walter Webb and Stanley Gardner have been together for twenty years. They live quietly above the grocer’s shop on Cheltenham’s Lower High Street, outwardly two middle-aged bachelors sharing a home. 

Cheltenham might have escaped the worst of the bombing raids, but the privations and dangers of the second war have put a strain on the whole community. This includes ongoing concern about loved ones on active duty. Stanley’s beloved nephew, Jack, is serving in Italy, while engaged in the fiercely fought Battle for Rome. 

Walter worries about the strain on Stanley’s health, never robust after the Great War, as they both deal with family issues and direct threats from the enemy. 

As St. Valentine’s Day approaches, can Walter and Stanley find solace in the hope of a peaceful shared future after the war?

Excerpt:

When they were back in the kitchen together, washing and drying the dishes after their evening meal, Stanley and Walter were free to discuss the letter at leisure. For once, they didn’t have to dash off promptly for a Home Guard meeting, but were merely joining their pals for a drink at the Plough Hotel.

I know Jack can’t tell us exactly what’s going on. Loose lips sink ships and all that,” Stanley said, as he dunked a plate in the regulation amount of water. “But having been a soldier, I can read between the lines and imagine all too well. The Battle for Monte Casino sounds as grim as anything we faced in France and Flanders. I’m only grateful that Jim and Donald aren’t there too.”

Walter nodded in agreement as he dried the crockery. Both Jack’s older brothers were in the Royal Engineers, patrolling the coastline to keep the country safe from invasion.

Stanley added, “At least Jack’s dad is spared our memories. That’s another blessing.”

It certainly is.”

During the Great War, Stanley’s brother-in-law had been turned down by the military on account of his poor vision.

Not that he hadn’t done his bit on the home front.

Walter recalled sanctimonious individuals handing out white feathers to apparently able-bodied men of conscription age. He’d been appalled by their lack of insight to the recipient’s inner convictions or hidden health issues.

He wouldn’t resent any man spared from the hell of mass conflict. It was a miracle that he and Stanley had emerged relatively unscathed.

If there is a God, please let Jack come through this, he thought for the umpteenth time.

Stanley coughed. His slim frame shuddered as he covered his mouth with his hand.

Walter was reminded amongst the uncertainty of wartime, some things remained worryingly constant. They weren’t through the winter yet. He hasn’t got the strength to cope with another bout of pneumonia.

Walter kept his observations to himself. Stanley would brush off any concerns up to the point where he was struck down by a full-blown chest infection. Tactfully Walter kept to the subject in hand.

I was chatting to Dad today. With Jack and the others away, it’s dawning on me how he must have struggled. At the time, I was too bloody busy trying to stay alive to think about how worried he must have been.” Walter added casually. “If anyone understands what you’re going through, it’s Dad. He said you could call round anytime.”

Stanley’s face brightened.

That’s very kind of him. I certainly appreciate the offer. But I always have you to talk to.”

Of course you do, love.”

Walter tried not to reveal the helplessness he felt at the worry that ate away at Stanley. “Dad thought a chat might help. You’ll probably be sent home with an extra sack of potatoes too.”

He’s a good man, just like his son.”

Stanley smiled. Not the restrained expression of recent times, but a real smile, crinkling the skin around his eyes.

That particular smile never failed to pull at Walter’s heartstrings. It also provoked a reaction below the belt, even after two decades together.

I’m not that good,” he said lightly.

Stanley’s smile widened.

That’s a matter of opinion.”

Walter put his hands on Stanley’s shoulders, turning him around so they were face to face. He bent down and kissed him.

When they’d first met, Stanley had sported a pencil moustache. Walter had loved how it framed his lush lips and the feel of those coarse hairs against sensitive areas of his body had driven him wild.

Stanley had been clean-shaven for some years. This also had its advantages. Walter found the prickle of his five o’clock shadow equally alluring. He pulled Stanley closer, making him laugh, his damp hands either side of Walter’s waist.

Stanley’s body moulded against Walter’s as their kiss deepened.

What a difference a letter from Jack makes.

Walter pulled back slightly, before burying his head in Stanley’s neck. He kissed the bare skin above his shirt collar.

Stanley shivered appreciably.

If we carry on like this, we won’t get to the pub,” he joked. “Only Monty, Sam and Jonesy can make it tonight, so we need to make up the numbers.”

Walter continued to hold Stanley, enjoying their closeness.

If we turn down our homemade entertainment for the sake of a pint with the chaps, I’ll be seething if the landlord has run out of beer again.”

Book links:

JMS Books :: Amazon :: UBL :: Add to Goodreads :: Add to Bookbub

Bio:

Ellie Thomas lives by the sea. She comes from a teaching background and goes for long seaside walks where she daydreams about history. She is a voracious reader especially about anything historical. She mainly writes historical gay romance.


Ellie also writes historical erotic romance as L. E. Thomas.

Website: https://elliethomasromance.wordpress.com/

Facebook reader group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/8308047409266947

Twitter/X: @e_thomas_author

Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/elliethomas.bsky.social

Guest Post | Mistakes Were Made by Holly Day

I’m here as Holly today!!! Yesterday, Mistakes Were Made was released, and I figured I’d share the first chapter with you.  

This is a little different from what I usually write. To begin with, it’s a contemporary story, with no magic or werewolves in sight. Second, there are no neurotic over-the-top characters, which is… unusual.    

We have two men, and I never specify their age, but they have a twenty-four-year-old daughter, so 50-55-ish. Seven years ago, Gael walked out on Ethan, and Ethan’s world crumbled. He believed they had it all, and to learn he not only had been fooling himself but also completely missed that Gael was unhappy shattered how he views himself.  

The story starts with Hazel, their daughter, getting married – we’re celebrating World Marriage Day – and for the first time since Gael left, they’ll stand united as fathers of the bride.  

Gael realized his mistake long ago, but he doesn’t know what to do about it. Seeing Ethan again changes things, though. He can’t live without having Ethan in his life, but how do you get someone to trust you when you’ve already betrayed them once?  

Mistakes Were Made

Seven years ago, Gael Moore, the love of Ethan Moore’s life, walked out on him and their daughter without a second glance. Ethan didn’t see it coming, and it made him question everything about himself. They were happily married, or so he’d thought. He believed they’d achieved their dream. Everything was perfect. Until Gael tore his soul apart in only a few seconds.   

Now their daughter is getting married, and as fathers of the bride, Ethan and Gael will stand united once again. It’s for one day only, and Ethan has worked hard on building walls around his heart and appearing unaffected, but he’s only half a person without Gael. He doesn’t know if he ever can trust him again, and when Gael begs for forgiveness, he’s not sure what to do. Will he ever be able to feel whole without him? 

Buy Links:

Gay Contemporary Romance: 30,338 words

JMS Books :: Amazon

Chapter 1

Gael Moore slowly spun the whiskey tumbler on the bar. The dark mahogany was spotless, the vintage leather bar stools surprisingly comfortable, and the dim yellow light from the crystal chandeliers created an almost magical atmosphere. He sighed.

The bartender, a young man in a black vest and a bow tie, gave him a quick smile. He didn’t think it was a come-on, but there was some warmth in his gaze.

“Dad.” Hazel slid up on the stool next to him. The bartender was there in an instant, but she declined with a head shake.

“Hi, pumpkin. How are you holding up?”

She gave him a baffled look. “Excited but tired. We’re heading to our hotel to sleep as soon as David gets back.”

Gael looked around. The bar was mostly deserted. “Where is he?”

“Getting Daddy from the train station.” There was a surge in the pit of Gael’s stomach at the mention of Ethan, but Hazel kept talking as if a sinkhole hadn’t opened up in his core. Maybe he should’ve prepared for his insides crumbling. He’d known Ethan would be here. The plan was for him to walk Hazel down the aisle after all, but he hadn’t believed he’d have to face him until tomorrow. 

“His car broke down, but he got hold of a last-minute ticket. It’s taken all day though, several changes of train, and there was one part of the trip where he had to go with a replacement bus because there was some trouble with the electricity.” She huffed. “We figured it best one of us were there to pick him up when he arrived, so there would be no more complications.”

“Right.”

“I bet he’s exhausted, poor thing.” She grinned at him. Had she ever said poor thing about him? He didn’t think so. 

“Hey, why didn’t you offer him a ride?”

“What?” Gael hadn’t been alone with Ethan since he’d walked out of the house seven years ago. He could still remember the stunned look on Ethan’s face. Would dream about it and wake up in a cold sweat. He’d hoped for anger, had been prepared for tears, but not utter shock. He should have been. 

“Since Mr. I-always-knew-I’d-marry-a-doctor isn’t here, you could’ve carpooled with Daddy, saved him the trouble of going by train.”

“How was I to know his car would break down?” He didn’t know what kind of car Ethan drove. Ethan had never been one to spend money on things like cars, so maybe he should’ve predicted car troubles.

She rolled her eyes. “No one could, I’m only saying you live in the same town. It’s not hard to pick up the phone and ask if you’re gonna carpool to the wedding. You knew he’d be here.”

“I assumed he’d go with Lisa.” He hadn’t. He hadn’t spared a thought to how Ethan would get there. His entire focus had been on seeing Ethan again, and how he should act when he did.

“No, she came directly from some conference or something.”

“Hey, kiddo, there is still time to get out.”

Her frown was instant, and maybe it hadn’t been the smoothest change of topic. 

“Get out of what?” 

He weighed his words. Maybe she needed to hear there was still an out. “Are you sure you want to get married? You’re still young, and—”

“Unbelievable.” She straightened, and for a moment he was sure she’d slide off the stool and stomp off. He remembered a lot of stomping from when she’d been a teen. She looked straight into his eyes. “Don’t you like David?”

“David is great.” He was. Gael hadn’t spent a lot of time with him, but from what he could tell, he treated Hazel with respect, and he was always polite. “I only meant you don’t have to marry the first man who asks.”

Her dark eyes turned to flint. “I asked him.”

Gael held in a wince. Fuck, he knew that. They’d told the story. She had asked Ethan to bake a cake decorated with things representing special moments from their relationship. He’d seen the photos. On the sides, there had been beautiful images of dates and trips and hearts and most likely a million details he’d missed. On the top, there had been flowers so real-looking Gael had asked about them when she’d shown the pictures on her phone. They hadn’t been real. Ethan had made them. 

Then she’d brought the cake to the beach, where she’d spread a picnic blanket on the sand and served champagne. As the sun set, she gave the cake box to David.

“Right, the cake.”

It was cute. Way more romantic than when he and Ethan had decided to get married. They’d gone to the courthouse as soon as same-sex marriages had been legalized. They’d had a civil union before then. Ethan wanted children. It was his life-long dream, to be a father, so they’d done all the legal shit. 

Gael had signed all papers, had agreed to all unions and whatnot to make it happen. Ethan had dreamed about a large family, and the plan had always been to have more than one child, but when he brought it up a couple of years after they’d adopted Hazel, Gael had been too busy at work. 

He’d kept telling Ethan they would talk about it later, but when one year bled into two, Ethan had stopped asking. Gael had to look away for a moment.

“Yes, the cake.” Her tone was clipped.

“Honey.” He took her hand. “David seems like a great guy, but I don’t want you to make the same mistakes I did.”

He’d like to call the sound coming from her a shriek, but it was low enough not to earn more than a glance from the bartender, so maybe there was a better word for it. 

“Not likely, Dad.” The Dad was dripping with contempt. “I’m not easily manipulated by flattery or distracted by gold-digging sluts.” She pushed away and almost collided with Jamie. She caught herself in time and stared at him, then she scoffed before walking away without another word.

“Nerves?” Jamie closed the distance between them and kissed him. Gael leaned away before it could turn into more than a chaste peck.

“Hi. Did you get here now?”

“Yup.” He dropped a bag on the floor and motioned for the bartender. “An appletini, please.” Then he turned to Gael. “Do we put it on our room or am I paying now?”

Our room? “Eh… we have separate rooms.”

Jamie pouted. “Why? Is it Hazel? I’m sure we can have it changed.”

“No, I… thought it best.” He’d been with Jamie when the wedding invitation had arrived in the mail, so he’d RSVP’d, saying he and Jamie would come, but they’d been broken up for a couple of months now. He’d invited him to come along since they still were friendly toward each other—Jamie more than him—and he didn’t want to have to face tomorrow alone. 

Yes, he was a coward.

Jamie frowned at him. “Why?” This time the why was a bit more exasperated. 

“Jamie, we’re not—”

“Then why did you ask me to come?”

Oops, there was a little more hostility there than he’d been prepared for. “We’re still friends, aren’t we?”

Those green eyes that first had caught his attention widened. “Friends? Have we ever been friends, Gael? I was someone you fucked when you were bored.”

Maybe friends was the wrong word. Jamie was a good deal younger than he was, and they didn’t share many interests, and Gael didn’t have the energy for his buddies. He was pretty sure Jamie had only dated him because he was a doctor—telling Hazel he’d marry a doctor the first and only time he’d met her had clued him in. Shit, maybe this had been a bad idea.

“We get along.”

Jamie groaned and motioned for the bartender again. “Can I have a shot of tequila too, please?”

Gael looked over his shoulder and spotted David walking toward the bar. Behind him, he caught sight of broad shoulders and brown hair that would curl around the ears when damp. Ethan. Self-consciously, Gael ran a hand over his own hair. It had turned significantly grayer over the last few years.

The sound of Jamie’s shot glass hitting the bar had him glance away from Ethan.

“Okay, give me the script. Am I here to piss off the ex or what?”

Gael’s gaze wandered back to the lobby, hoping Ethan wouldn’t see him, but wanting to catch a glance of his face. He was mostly obscured behind a huge Swiss Cheese plant. He was hugging Hazel, wrapping an arm around her shoulders once the hug ended, and walking toward the front desk.

When he disappeared from view, Gael focused on Jamie again. “What?”

“The ex?”

Which ex? He was saved from having to answer by David reaching them. “Evening.” He nodded at them both. “I wasn’t sure you’d make it, Jamie.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” 

He sounded like a belligerent child, and Gael didn’t think it had anything to do with David.

“David.” Gael smiled and clapped his shoulder. “All good?”

“Yeah, poor Ethan was worried he wouldn’t make it. Luckily, the cake is already here.” David grinned and motioned to the bartender who poured him a beer.

“Ethan made the cake?” Of course, he had. No pastry chef would pass on the opportunity of making their only daughter’s wedding cake. It was most likely his wedding gift to them. Ethan didn’t come from money, and getting rich had never been something he’d been interested in. When he’d first told Gael he wanted to be a stay-at-home dad, Gael had believed he was joking. Who’d want to go from two incomes to one? When Gael had pointed out the economic consequences, Ethan had stared at him in confusion. Then he’d asked if Gael had wanted to be the one who stayed at home with Hazel. 

The question had thrown him. He’d figured daycare or maybe a nanny was the answer. But no. And Gael made more than enough to support a family, so it wasn’t a real problem. Even back then when he earned way less than he did now, they hadn’t lacked anything. Not a thing. He shook his head to rid it of unwanted memories.

“Yes. He refuses to tell us what it looks like, and we’re forbidden to peek.” David smiled. “Hazel cried when he said he’d make us one. He came over and asked us how many tiers we wanted.”

It was a two-hour drive to where Hazel and David lived. One way.

“I believe the number of tiers depends on how many guests you have.” Jamie leaned forward to be able to see David on the other side of Gael.

David shrugged. “I don’t think Ethan cares. If Hazel had said seven tiers, he’d have made seven tiers.”

“So how many will there be?” Gael didn’t care. Ethan’s cakes were breathtaking, but the point of the wedding wasn’t the cake, was it?

“No idea. Hazel told him he could do whatever he wanted.”

Jamie looked between them. “Does he bake a lot?”

David grinned. “Yeah.” Then he took a swallow of his beer. “Are you all set? No problems with the rooms?”

“I haven’t grabbed my key yet.” Jamie gave Gael a non-too-subtle glare, which David pretended not to see. 

“I better go check on Hazel.” David drained half the glass.

“Isn’t this the night for a bachelor party, strip clubs, and other escapades?” Jamie waved his empty shot glass at the bartender, indicating he wanted another. 

“No, no bachelor party. I wouldn’t want to be hungover tomorrow, and there is only one woman I want to watch take her clothes—”

“As her father, I beg you not to finish that sentence.”

David chuckled, took one more swallow of the beer, and left the glass on the bar with a couple of inches still left.

“See you tomorrow, gentlemen.”

* * * *

“He’s such an ass!” Hazel threw herself at Ethan. He hardly had time to drop his bag before her arms wound around his neck. He briefly met David’s gaze over her head. 

“Who is, honey?”

“Dad.” She didn’t lift her face from the crook of his neck, and he grimaced at David, who looked around and then veered off toward the bar.

“Don’t say that.” Gael was here? He did his best not to look around. “What happened?”

He rubbed her back, but it only made her cling to him harder. “He said he didn’t want me to make the same mistake he had, and I didn’t have to marry David.” Ethan suppressed a wince. Gael believed their marriage was a mistake?

Hazel lifted her head and looked around. “Where did he go?”

“Damage control.” David was a good man. Ethan couldn’t have wished for a better partner for his princess.

“Ugh.” She studied his face. “You look like shit.”

“It’s been a long day.”

“As long as you look pretty for the photos tomorrow.” She grinned.

“I’ll do my best.”

Her smile slipped. “He brought the slut.”

Ethan’s stomach clenched, but he did his best to hold on to a carefree expression. “Which one?”

She barked a laugh. “Please, tell me you brought a date.”

He tilted his head. “You know I did. Lisa. She should be here already.”

“She’s not your plus one, she got an invitation of her own.”

Ethan shrugged. Lisa was always his date to whatever functions they went to.

“It’s not too late to bring a plus one. There is enough food and I can fix the seating.”

He frowned. “Lisa is always my plus one, you know that. You like Lisa.”

“I love Lisa, but she’s your business partner. No one will believe you’re dating her.”

He scoffed. “No, of course not.” Dating. Nope. He wasn’t dating anyone. All he had to do was to get through tomorrow, and then he could go back to baking cakes and other pastries. He and Lisa had opened a bakery shortly after Gael had left him. After having lived on Gael’s income for seventeen years, he hadn’t known what to do. He’d gone back to working part-time before the marriage ended, getting back into the routine of getting up in the middle of the night to bake after years of following Hazel’s schedule, but he hadn’t worked enough hours to support himself.

“I wish you’d brought a proper date.”

“Why?” He squeezed her hand. “It’s your day. Everyone will be watching you and David. They won’t care who I come or go with.”

“He would.”

“It would surprise me a great deal if he did.” He hadn’t had a proper conversation with Gael in years. It was crazy. He’d believed, truly believed, Gael would be with him till the end of days. Naive perhaps. Marriages ended, but he’d never for the life of him believed his would.

He’d had everything he’d dreamed of, so learning Gael had been unhappy had been like a kick in the gut. And learning he’d been having an affair with one of the nurses was worse. Ethan could understand longing for something different when in a rut, all relationships had their ups and downs, but cheating? He hadn’t believed it. Had been convinced Gael had said it to hurt him until he’d seen them together in the grocery store.

A lean, fashionably dressed man at least a decade younger than Ethan. He’d looked at Gael with adoration in his eyes, and Ethan, who’d never raised a hand to anyone in his entire life, wanted to gore his eyeballs out with a rusty spoon. Preferably dipped in salt.

He’d stood frozen on the spot, unable to breathe as his entire reality crumbled at his feet. Luckily, they hadn’t seen him. He’d practiced not showing any pain since then, but at that moment he couldn’t have hidden the agony if his life had depended on it.

“I know what his mistake was, and so does everyone else.”

He cooed and ushered her toward the front desk. He wanted to get his key, so he could go up to his room and take a long, hot shower. A day of traveling had left him rumpled and grimy. 

“He wanted something else out of life. Haven’t I always told you to follow your dreams? The same goes for him. I want him to be happy, and if this is making him happy, then so be it.”

She huffed. “I haven’t seen a more miserable man, but he’s too stubborn to admit it.”

He pinched her side. “Be nice. He’s your father.” Was he miserable? The few times Ethan had seen him, he’d looked happy. A strange kind of happy he didn’t recognize, but still happy.

“He’s an idiot.” She slipped her arm around his back.

“You know situations like these make him uncomfortable. I believe he meant well. If you’d had any doubts, wouldn’t you appreciate him being there to help you plot an escape?”

She looked at him for several seconds, and he couldn’t interpret her expression. “You never would’ve asked me.”

“It depends. If you had been about to marry someone I wasn’t sure you wanted to marry, I might have.”

“You just made the point. You know I love David. You know David. He said David seems like a nice man. Seems, Daddy. Seems!” 

“Well, he is.”

“Yes, but Dad doesn’t know because he hasn’t bothered to spend any time with him.”

“He has a demanding job, sweetie. You know that.”

She shook her head. “You’re up in the middle of the night. When the rest of us are sleeping, you and Lisa are in the bakery creating magic to make people’s day better. You drag yourself home at the end of your workday, when the rest of us are recovering from lunch, and you still make time to see us.”

“Of course. I never want to miss out on seeing you. You’re my greatest gift.” The lump in his throat was because he was tired, nothing else. She was his miracle, and there was nothing he wouldn’t do for her. Nothing.

Her eyes turned teary as if she could sense the emotional turmoil inside of him. “That’s the difference between the two of you.”

Ethan squeezed her. “He loves you, honey.”

She grimaced and blinked the tears away. “I know.” She let go of him and looked toward the bar where David had gone. Ethan didn’t look, instead, he walked up to the reception desk. 

Once he got the key to his room, he said goodnight to Hazel and rode the elevator to his floor. He unlocked his door, dumped his bag on the bed, and immediately stripped to have a shower.

After he was done, it was tempting to crawl into bed. Despite knowing it would be a long day tomorrow, he put on a pair of threadbare jeans he’d packed for the single purpose of having something to relax in, and a T-shirt. Then he took the elevator to the first floor.

He smiled at the woman at the front desk and headed toward the restaurant. It was mostly empty, and he gave one of the couples sitting there nursing a glass of wine a nod as he passed them. 

The reception would be in a different room. Ethan had seen it. Hazel had wanted him to come along when they looked at it before booking, and it was beautiful. Light colors, one of the walls was whitewashed bricks, and the hardwood floor was also done in a light, almost gray color. 

Since it was a winter wedding with decorations in white and gray jade, the reception hall was perfect.

He pushed the swing door to the kitchen open and looked around.

“No guests allowed.” A young black-haired man glared at him.

“I’m here to check on the wedding cake for tomorrow’s—”

“No guests allowed.”

Ethan held on to his smile. “I’m only gonna check so it arrived okay and everything is in place.” There wasn’t much he could do if something had happened to it, but if it had, he’d damn well try.

“No guests—”

“Ethan Jish?” 

Ethan turned in the direction of the new voice.

“Oh my God, you’re Ethan Jish.” A woman in her early forties looked ready to squeal.

Legally, he was still named Moore, but Lisa and he had named their bakery Jish Baker since Jish had been his last name until he’d married Gael, and Lisa, funnily enough, was named Lisa Baker. Now, most people in the baking and restaurant business in their area believed his last name was Jish. Maybe he’d switch back after tomorrow when Hazel no longer would be named Moore. There was no reason to be a Moore when she wasn’t.

“I only wanted to check on the cake.”

“Of course, this way.”

* * * *

Gael ordered one more whiskey after Jamie had left. It was mostly to have a reason to stay until he was sure Jamie was tucked in his room, so he wouldn’t risk running into him in the hallway. It had been a bad idea to bring him.

The bartender kept glancing at him and after a while he grew tired of it and stared right back at him. The bartender winced. “Sorry.”

“Anything on your mind?”

He grinned. “Nah, I’m only appreciating the drama.”

“The drama?” Fuck, had he turned into one of those people?

He shrugged and wiped the counter behind the bar. “You have a daughter who’s getting married tomorrow—”

“How do you know?”

“She’s talked to most of us on staff, and she called you Dad.”

Right. He nodded and took another sip.

“And at first, she’s happy to see you. Hurried over here when she spotted you—” She had? “—but a few sentences into the conversation, she’s hurt and angry, and right as I suspect she’s gonna snarl at you for real, the other man shows up and kisses you. So now I’m wondering if you’re one of those men who didn’t realize they were gay until they already had a wife and children or if you’re fucking her ex.”

Had Gael been drinking right then, he’d most likely swallowed it wrong. “He’s not her ex. She has better taste.”

“Ha!” The bartender laughed. “I suspected as much.”

What was that supposed to mean?

“So she’s not angry because you stole her boyfriend or someone in her friend group.” He tapped a finger against his lip. “You must’ve fucked her mother over then.”

“My husband and I adopted her when she was a wee baby.”

For a second, the bartender didn’t move. “Not the guy who was here, right? He’s not old enough to be her father. Her brother, yes. But then he wouldn’t have kissed you the way he did.”

He wouldn’t call the emotion welling up inside shame, he wasn’t ashamed of having dated Jamie, but… He hadn’t turned into one of those pitiful men who left their partner for a person half their age without realizing how pathetic they were, had he? Fuck, had he? No. He’d left Ethan because they’d wanted different things.

Ethan wanted a family, and Hazel was growing up. She’d been about to move away for school when Gael had walked out. Ethan would no longer be a dad. Or he’d always be a dad, but his dream of a house full of kids would be no more. Hazel would have moved away, and Ethan would have been all alone in the house since Gael worked all the time. He’d be miserable, and Gael never wanted to see him miserable.

Ethan was warmth and happiness. Or he had been.

“Is he still your husband, and the guy you brought your sidepiece?” There was a sparkle in the bartender’s eyes.

“No, we divorced some years ago.”

The bartender waited.

“What?”

“This is where you tell me how he screwed you over and stole all your money.”

“Ethan? No, he didn’t want a dime. He got half of the house, of course, but…” He should’ve gotten half of Gael’s money as well, but he’d signed the divorce papers without a word, and Gael’s attorney had said it meant he didn’t have to give him anything. The house they owned together, so they’d split the money they got from the sale fifty-fifty.

Tilting his head to the side, the bartender smiled. “Why so gloomy then? Your ex didn’t fuck you over, your daughter is happy, and your boyfriend is waiting for you upstairs.”

“Who said I was gloomy?”

A head shake was all the reply he got. Was he gloomy? A little melancholic perhaps. He drained the whiskey.

“Thanks for the chat.”

“Anytime, man. I’ll be working tomorrow too.”

Gael headed for the elevator, more tired than he’d been in ages. He stepped in and pushed the button to the third floor where he had his room while the doors slowly closed. Before they were fully shut, a hand pushed in between them and halted their process. 

Then Ethan stepped inside.

He ground to a stop, his entire body stiffening for a second, then he dropped his shoulders and smiled. “Oh, hi.”

The smile wasn’t Ethan’s normal smile. He’d always smiled without reservation, but this was hesitant, almost a little shy.

“Hi.” Gael nodded as the doors slid into place, closing them in. Ethan glanced at the button panel. “I’m on the fifth.” He pushed the button. Gael didn’t say he was on the third, the circle with a three on was glowing, so it was pretty obvious. Or maybe Ethan believed someone on the third floor was waiting for the elevator to arrive.

It moved in slow motion. Gael tried not to look at Ethan, but his gaze kept sliding over to him. The jeans looked soft and worn, the T-shirt hugged his torso, and damn if he didn’t look better now than he had before. He was a big man. Tall and had broad shoulders, and while there were no chiseled abs, he was fit. Strong. Safe. Warm.

Gael yanked his gaze away. “I heard you had car troubles.”

Ethan made a sound that could’ve been a snort or maybe a laugh. “Dead battery, which is crazy since I switched it for a new one only two weeks ago. I’ll have to see what the mechanic has to say about it.”

Gael could fix a human heart, but he was lost when it came to cars. Which was why he bought relatively new ones and switched them out before the troubles started.

“Did you drive here?” Ethan sought his eyes. Maybe the laugh lines were a little deeper than when they’d been together. Did Ethan laugh a lot? Gael missed his laugh. Which was a crazy thing to miss, but Ethan’s laugh could create goosebumps. No one laughed like he did.

When silence stretched, he realized Ethan had asked him something. “Sorry, what?”

“Did you drive here?”

“Yes.” Was he looking for a ride home? Should he offer? He should, right?

The door slid open on the third floor, but Gael didn’t move. Ethan raised his eyebrows, but Gael shook his head, pretending he didn’t stay on this floor. When the elevator moved again, Ethan tilted his head to the side and watched him without a word. They passed the fourth floor, and his gaze was still on him. Gael could hardly breathe. 

The elevator slowed, then stopped, and Ethan stepped out. “Right, sleep well.” Then he walked off, and Gael was left standing there to watch him walk away. Something close to panic tore free in his chest. Ethan was walking away from him.