Path Not Taken

By Andrew Grey

On the train from Lancaster to Philadelphia, Trent runs into Brit, his first love and the first man to break his heart. They’ve both been through a lot in the years since they parted ways, and as they talk, the old connection tenuously strengthens. Trent finally works up the nerve to call Brit, and their rekindled friendship slowly grows into the possibility for more. But both men are shadowed by their pasts as they explore the path they didn’t take the first time. If they can move beyond loss and painful memories, they might find their road leads to a second chance at happiness.

A story from the Dreamspinner Press 2015 Daily Dose package "Never Too Late."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
• Release date: Jun 1, 2015
• ISBN: 9781634764124

Andrew Grey

Andrew Grey is the author of more than one hundred works of Contemporary Gay Romantic fiction. After twenty-seven years in corporate America, he has now settled down in Central Pennsylvania with his husband of more than twenty-five years, Dominic, and his laptop. An interesting ménage. Andrew grew up in western Michigan with a father who loved to tell stories and a mother who loved to read them. Since then he has lived throughout the country and traveled throughout the world. He is a recipient of the RWA Centennial Award, has a master’s degree from the University of Wisconsin–Milwaukee, and now writes full-time. Andrew’s hobbies include collecting antiques, gardening, and leaving his dirty dishes anywhere but in the sink (particularly when writing). He considers himself blessed with an accepting family, fantastic friends, and the world’s most supportive and loving partner. Andrew currently lives in beautiful, historic Carlisle, Pennsylvania. Email: [e-mail] Website: www.andrewgreybooks.com

Book preview

Chapter 1

A LONE whistle echoed in the darkness as Trenton settled back in his seat on the train from Lancaster to Philadelphia. He made this trip once a week and usually slept on the way. It wasn’t even light yet, and why his mind wouldn’t quit working was beyond him. The entire train car was dark. Everyone else was smarter than him and using this time to sleep; Trenton should have been doing the same. There was nothing to see that he hadn’t seen before, but he peered around the car anyway.

A light appeared in the pair of seats just across the aisle, illuminating a face from his past. He would never forget those cobalt-blue eyes, the slight curve of full lips with that tiny scar—how could he? That face belonged to the first man he’d ever loved, the one who’d broken his heart, the one guy he’d never been able to forget. Even across the years, he could feel heat rising from deep inside.

It had been a long time—years, decades. Trenton tried to remember, but these memories seemed to stay young, even if he hadn’t. Brit, he said softly. Maybe his eyes were playing tricks on him. Over the years, he’d thought about him many times, wondering what happened.

The man turned toward him, and Trenton knew he was right. The last doubts slipped away. No one else had those eyes, but the intensity, fire, and passion he remembered were gone. They were just as blue and beautiful, but now they looked worn down.

I’m sorry, do I know you?

You might if you thought about it, Trenton said. You’d have to think back quite a few years. He wanted him to remember. It was the perverse pleasure in what had happened. We were twenty and home between our junior and senior years in college. He shifted in his seat so Brit could see him better.

Trenton? Brit said, and his lips curled upward and those incredible eyes came to life. Oh my God. He smiled more brightly. It’s been such a long time. The seat next to him was empty, so Brit shifted to the aisle seat. Trenton did the same, so they were closer. My God, what have you been doing all these years?

I’m a lawyer—bankruptcy and divorce, Trenton said. I used to think that was a good decision. I figured I’d never be out of work, but I’m finding it depressing. He swallowed. What about you?

Brit nodded. I did my stint in the Navy the way my father always wanted. Became an officer, which made the old man proud, and then got out as soon as I possibly could. It wasn’t for me, not like it was for my dad.

Trenton remembered sitting on the porch with Brit and his dad, listening as the old man told his war stories. At the time Trenton had thought they were exciting, but he knew better now. It had been a man trying to relive what he considered his glory days. Trenton now wished he had stories like that. How is your dad?

He died a few years ago of cancer.

I’m sorry. He really was. Brit’s dad had been the only father figure he’d ever had.

Well, the Navy he loved so much got him in the end. He was exposed to asbestos, and it had gotten into his lungs. The cancer was bad, but at least he didn’t suffer too long.

I wish I’d kept in touch with him. I think I saw him three or four years ago in the grocery store. We talked a little. Trenton didn’t say he wished that they had stayed in touch. Brit had been the one to leave and turn his back on him. He seemed to be doing well then.

It must have been soon after that he started feeling bad and went to the doctor. By the time they figured out what was wrong, it was too late. Brit swallowed and turned toward the front of the train car. How is your mother?

Still as feisty as ever. His mother was something else. She did the traditional motherly things—baked, cooked, sewed—and she had a mouth on her that could stop a stampede.

Brit nodded. Remember how we used to think my dad and your mom should get married? That way we could be brothers.

The way Trenton had come to feel, that would have been problematic. He hadn’t been interested in Brit like a brother. Actually, his feelings had been as far from it as possible. Well, sometimes things we want don’t work out. My mom never remarried, and your dad didn’t either. That was one of the things that had drawn them together when they’d met in the third grade. They had both lost a parent.

Nope. Brit turned away and settled back in his seat.

The slight rock