Where There's a Will Deanes, page 1
Table of Contents
Blurb
Dedication
Prologue
From the ReachOut, January 18, 2018
Part One
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
From the ReachOut, March 15, 2018
Texts between Will Deanes and his friends:
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Part Two
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
From the ReachOut, August 18, 2018
Epilogue
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Copyright
Where There’s a Will Deanes
By Sean Kennedy
Get Out: Book Four
As the story of Micah Johnson and his friends reaches its end, a new romance is about to begin….
Will Deanes’s relationship with Micah Johnson has run the gamut from enemies to friends, always with the possibility of more just beneath the surface—a possibility everyone but Micah can sense. But since a terrible injury ended Will’s football career while Micah’s star is still rising, all Will can do is try to get over Micah and get on with his life.
Which is easier said than done now that Micah’s back in Melbourne to stay, and everything they’ve never put a name to hangs between them. Rekindling a friendship means facing challenges together and getting to know each other again—and it might finally mean admitting that the feelings between them go far beyond friendly.
For Mel. Love, Hoke.
Prologue
Micah Johnson’s Coming Home
Details page 3
THE HEADLINE for that day’s Herald Sun caught Will Deanes’s eye, and he automatically stopped dead on the street and peered at the newspaper holder outside the milk bar.
It had been finalised already? Micah had told him he would let him know as soon as he knew anything—so was this just idle gossip on behalf of the newspapers, or had it all happened so fast Micah hadn’t gotten around to telling anybody yet?
He pushed open the doors and walked into the dim interior of the store.
“Hey, Will,” called out the girl from behind the counter. Her dark hair was plied into pigtails, which made her look even younger than her twenty-odd years.
“Hey, Soong, how are you?”
She laughed. “Can’t complain. How about you?”
“Oh, I could, but I won’t.”
She sized him up. He had been coming to her family’s milk bar for over three years now, and she had gotten to know a disconcerting amount of information about Will and his life. “Leg?”
“No, the leg’s been okay lately. It’s my back.”
“Was it starting to get jealous because the leg was getting all the attention?” There wasn’t any snark to her tone, but there was an infectious cheeky grin.
Will laughed. “Something like that.”
“You have to get that checked out.”
“Is that a professional opinion?”
She rolled her eyes. “Still four years away from that graduation certificate, nuff nuff. Until then, I wouldn’t even want or trust me checking on your cold.”
“Yeah, but I trust you.” It was lucky she knew he was gay, or this whole scenario could be considered flirting.
“Yeah?” Soong leaned in and prodded his chest. “Then go to the doctor.”
He pushed the Herald over to her. “Just the paper, thanks.”
She tapped her finger against the headline that had him so psyched. “Your friend, huh?”
One time when Micah was over from Perth, he had accompanied Will to get some milk, and Soong had almost passed out behind the counter. Even if Micah was some dude from an interstate team, he was still a proper AFL player, and that counted for everything in a true Melburnian’s heart.
“Yes.” As if she didn’t know.
“Going to be a Tiger, according to today’s paper. Dad’s pissed. He wanted him for the Pies.”
“Yeah, well, I have another friend who is ecstatic that he might be a Tiger.” All of Micah’s former transgressions against Simon Murray—and his partner Declan Tyler—would be forgiven if Micah signed up with Richmond.
“So you don’t have any inside information?”
He shook his head and handed her the exact change. “I’m afraid not. See ya, Soong.”
“Bye, Will. Go to the doctor!”
He closed the door on her final command and shook open the paper. There was Micah, in his Docker colours. His long, hairy legs were stretched out like a dancer’s as he was gracefully setting himself up for a kick, the football in his hand ready to drop for a perfect punt. Some copy editor wag had drawn a circle with a line through it over his guernsey, but both the picture and the article denied knowing who Micah was leaving the Dockers for at the end of his contract.
However, Melbourne was a footy town, and footy news spread, even if the papers played coy about it sometimes. Micah would like to know where Soong got her information.
Dec had said, when the Tigers rumours started, Simon had looked the happiest he ever had in his life, including the day their twins were born. Will thought it may have been close, but he’d seen Simon with the kids. He thought the Tigers came a definite second. On even days, at least.
As he walked home, he checked his phone just in case he’d missed a text from Micah, or even a phone call. He was dying to know if there was any news.
Was Micah Johnson truly coming home?
Will hoped so.
IT WASN’T like he was sitting around pining for Micah. He was probably his best friend, sure, but Will most definitely had a life of his own. It hadn’t seemed like that a while back, when his time revolved around physio sessions and medical tests and learning to walk without the aid of a chair or stick again. (Not that he was fully free—his leg still acted up enough some days that he had to rely upon the stick to get him through it. Will hated those days.) Plus, GetOut was now a fully fledged charity—with paid staff and everything—and Dec had given him a job at a time when Will most needed it. The job wasn’t much at first, just general dogsbody and office assistant. As he had grown stronger, he started doing the public speaking route—going to schools and businesses with Declan, both of them sharing their stories and experiences of being gay in an industry that still struggled at times with its acceptance.
Dec had also encouraged him to take TAFE classes in administration and business management, and slowly but surely Will had obtained some relevant certificates that allowed him to rise up the meagre ranks of GetOut a little more, increase his hours, and even move up the pay scale.
At first Will had felt he was yet another one of Dec’s charity cases, but he really started to enjoy the work, and the way he had slipped into the unofficial role of Dec’s assistant had created a real friendship between the two of them. Will was no longer the starstruck teen who had looked up to Dec as a mentor, he was now a work colleague, and although Dec was his boss, he was also a friend. Of course, he had also been that when Micah, Emma, and Will were going through GetOut themselves, but it was even more so now.
And when Simon had gotten sick and the twins were born, Will had to take up a lot more of the slack to ensure GetOut continued to run in its shambolic splendour. It had been an unnerving time, especially as Dec had decided to step back a little bit and continue looking after his family after the crisis had passed.
That didn’t mean Dec was absent from GetOut, however. His presence was still felt in every way, and he always made visits. A Dec on hiatus was still a very visible Dec. Will assumed, however, that the upcoming fifth anniversary of GetOut’s beginning would bring Dec back into the fold a little more.
When he let himself into his house, he forgot to try and cover up the slight limp he was now displaying, and his uncle Henry stared at him from the kitchen.
“Is your leg acting up?”
Will sighed. “No.”
“It looks like it is.”
“It’s my back, actually. It’s just causing me to walk funny because of how I’m holding it.”
“Your back?” There was a waft of air behind him as Henry’s partner, Scotty, came up close, and his fingers slid underneath Will’s shirt to run across his back. Will stood rigid, too hyperaware of Scotty’s closeness and his warm breath against his neck to allow himself to relax into his touch. “I’ll give you a massage if you want. I don’t have a class until ten.”
“It’s okay, really,” Will said.
“Oh my God, take advantage of a trained masseuse when there’s one in the house,” Tom said, finishing off his coffee in one long swallow.
Scotty waggled his hands in the air, in the style of spirit fingers. “These are magic.”
“I can vouch for that,” Henry said, reaching across and giving his boyfriend a long smooch. “Gotta go. See you guys tonight.”
Scotty watched him go like a besotted teenager. “That man.”
When Will had first gotten injured, his uncle hadn’t been with Scotty. He had seemed destined to become a clichéd neighbourhood bachelor, loved by all the ladies and sniggered abou
But then Scotty had been outsourced by the hospital to do some rehabilitation work with Will, and the rest was history. His eyes had met Henry’s while they were at opposite sides of the pool Will had to exercise in, and all they could think was that the other guy had to stay in place long enough for one to cross the water and let Cupid work his magic.
By the time Will left hospital, Scotty was practically a permanent fixture at Henry’s house, and it seemed like the two of them had always lived there together. There was a slight weirdness about his name being the same as Will’s dad, but thankfully Scotty had always been Scotty. And Scotty suited him far more than the slightly staid “Scott.”
Will was happy for his uncle. He had been alone for a long time, and as odd a couple as he and Scotty appeared, they truly complemented each other.
Which made it so difficult that Will had a raging, hormonal crush on Scotty.
Anybody would have been hard pressed not to. He was a tall, lanky blond, but with muscle definition in all the right places. His chin always had a permanent stubble, even after he shaved, and his furry chest was toned but not too toned. He also liked wearing as little clothing as possible, which proved distracting even at the best of times. Henry had seemed mildly bemused by how much skin his partner displayed when he first moved in, but he didn’t even bat an eyelid at it now unless company was coming over. Then Scotty had to at least put on a singlet and a pair of shorts. Even in a Melbourne winter he was woefully underdressed, upgrading to maybe a long-sleeved shirt with his shorts if they went out, but more often than not he was still in his Jesus boots—sandals that had long ago seen better days.
“My feet need to breathe,” he complained when Henry tried to get him to wear closed shoes to dinner one night.
“You won’t be suffocating them with one dinner,” Henry said.
Scotty grumbled but complied. Will knew Scotty loved his uncle more than anything and would make any sacrifice for him—including wearing dress shoes occasionally.
But he wore his long shorts. They clung to him in the best way, and any gay who’d seen him that night would have overlooked his other sartorial choices when an arse like that was on display.
And yet Scotty sailed through it all, oblivious. That was why you could actually stand him, because there was no ego attached. He was just your genuine feral hippy who looked like an escapee from Nimbin but was so effortlessly charming that he had no idea the effect he had on both men and women.
And on his new “nephew.”
Because Will’s hormones were in overdrive at the moment, and they were all focused upon Scotty as the nearest gay guy he knew (that he wasn’t related to).
It had been quite a long time since Will had been with another guy… since his accident in fact. It wasn’t that opportunity hadn’t presented itself in the meantime—especially when he went to the gym and the pools for therapy. But Will had been scared. He wasn’t fully in touch with his body yet as it recovered, and he felt he couldn’t rely upon it. He had visions of a guy grabbing his leg and repositioning it, only to have Will screaming in pain. Of course, he could be upfront about his situation, but who really wanted to get into that before hooking up?
There had been a guy in one of his hydrotherapy classes: Otto. He was Nordic and looked like Thor’s younger brother. He had gravitated towards Will as he was the closest in age to him, even though Otto was five years older. Will hadn’t even known if Otto was gay until one day in the change room Otto had leaned in and sucked gently on Will’s lower lip. Will had immediately begun kissing him, but they were interrupted by the sound of the drink machine outside the door getting refilled. This seemed to panic Otto, and he pulled away. Will felt his absence before their lips had even parted. They had swapped numbers but seemed to get cold feet—maybe Otto had the same fears as Will. A couple of weeks later, and only a few stolen kisses between them, Otto left the class. Will wondered whether he should call him, but he decided Otto was just as capable of doing the same but clearly didn’t want to.
So, there was Scotty.
Who was currently still waggling his fingers. Dressed in nothing but his boxers. Scotty had a number of tight-fitting boxers and trunks, which were all in varying stages of quality. One time Will had dropped his fork at the table and when bending to pick it up saw that the head of Scotty’s cock was innocently peeking out beneath the hem of the leg. His instant hard-on was bordering on pain by the time he managed to get to the shower and take care of it.
He would probably have to do the same thing after his massage.
Hating himself, Will nodded an assent to Scotty’s offer. It was the closest thing he had to anybody touching him right now.
And it excited him more than it should.
“TAKE YOUR shirt off,” Scotty commanded as he started going through his bottles of massage oil. “Do you like coconut?”
“I love Bounty bars,” Will said, still keeping his shirt on.
“Alrighty, then, I’ll do a combo of coconut and chocolate. Then you’ll smell like a Bounty, and everybody will want to eat you.”
If anybody else had said that, it would probably be laden with innuendo. But Scotty seriously was only thinking of Bounty bars and how good they smelled. Will could just imagine what Micah’s reaction would have been.
Even though it was early morning, the sun was hot. Scotty’s chest was starting to glisten. He absentmindedly fanned himself with a brochure and said, “Do you mind if I put the aircon on?”
Will shook his head. It would probably be better to be as cold as possible.
Scotty noticed he was still dressed. “Come on, off with the shirt!” As he turned to switch on the aircon, he said, “And take off the shorts too. We’ll do your legs and all.”
“My shorts?” Will asked.
“You are wearing undies, aren’t you?” Scotty sighed as the cool air hit him, and he stayed under the flow for a few moments more.
“Of course I am!”
“Then don’t be such a fuddy-duddy. I can’t do your legs with your shorts getting in the way. If you don’t want to wear your undies, you can just wear a towel.”
No, that would be much worse. That would mean nothing would hide his shame.
Scotty lit some incense, and the woody smoke made Will’s nose wrinkle.
“Do you want some music?” Scotty asked.
Will pulled off his shirt and threw it on the nearby chair. “Yeah, anything but—”
The smooth sounds of Enya filled the air.
“I love her,” Scotty beamed. “So relaxing. You feel like you’re in another world.”
A world of pain, Will thought but dropped his shorts. Standing in his undies, he felt very exposed and thought he probably looked like more of a boy than a man, considering the specimen that stood before him.
“On the table. On your tummy,” Scotty sang, “Let the Orinoco flow!”
Will had to smile at the sing-along with the adapted lyrics. As he rolled over, his dick ground into the padded table surface.
“Your muscle tone’s really coming along on your legs.” Scotty slapped his hands together, and they squelched due to the massage oil. “You’ve never shirked your exercises, which a lot of people do. And then they wonder why they’re taking so long to get results.”
“I want results,” Will said.
“I know you do,” Scotty said, laying his hands on the back of Will’s thigh. “And you’ll get there.”
Will closed his eyes as Scotty began rubbing his thumbs along Will’s muscle. It hurt a little, but Will knew it was the good kind of pain. Not the pain he’d been used to for so long.
He still couldn’t remember the accident properly. His footy team had been singing, he remembered that. He didn’t know what song, though. It wouldn’t have been the team song; by that stage they probably would have tired of it. Will had dropped the ball he was holding, and it had flown down the aisle. The other guys had cheered, a tease but a friendly one, and Will had stood to go after it—
And that was it. He somersaulted to a loud crashing sound, and he felt pain flood through him as he continued cartwheeling along the aisle of the bus.
And then merciful darkness until he woke up three operations later.
He didn’t know why he was dwelling upon it all of a sudden, until he heard Scotty sigh and felt the ball of his thumb against one of his biggest scars. It ran from the side of his thigh, over his left buttock, and along the base of his back until it reached the operation scars along his spine.
