Desert Botanic

By Nathan Grant

Dumped. Brett is stunned by his ex walking out, but not surprised as the relationship has been languishing for years. When his phone rings with his livid cousin Bobby on the line, he tells Bret that his ex texted him to let him know the score. He insists that now it is time for a huge change, and to come back home. Bobby sternly informs his younger cousin that his new life is at the Arizona ranch where he grew up, and he needs to get his act together going in a new direction. Bobby even hints at a big surprise to lure him in if he listens to him. Arriving at the ranch, the surprise blows Brett’s mind when his private dreams and wishes all threaten to come true.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nathan Grant
• Release date: Aug 26, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005376598

Nathan Grant

Hi, I’m Nathan Grant and I write Gay Romantic and Mystery novels.I am a Gay man living in the United States Southwest.I have published multiple erotic M/M Romances and Mysteries. Much of my inspiration for my books comes from personal experience and places I have visited. Thanks for taking the time to read this, and I enjoy hearing from my readers.Nathan

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Desert Botanic

By

Nathan Grant

*****

PUBLISHED BY:

Nathan Grant

Copyright © 2020 Nathan Grant

Photograph by Curaphotograhy

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

*****

Desert Botanic

Chapter 1

Brett and the Beginning

Soaking wet, I closed my car door and slumped in my seat and shivering with the blast of cold air when I started the engine. I prayed that the car’s heater would warm me up quickly after the long walk in the rain to the parking garage.

It had been yet another very dreary and painfully boring day at the office, and I am feeling almost too tired to drive home.

It is a gloomy dark winter evening in the Santa Barbara, California area, and of course it is freezing cold (at least to me). It is still pouring damn cold rain, thank you El Nino and the parking lot was half flooded. I knew I would not have to contend with accidents and traffic jams up the ass to clog my north 101 commute back home, making it much more time consuming than it had to be.

I could only hope that Peter pulled something together for dinner for a change and had a large glass of red wine waiting for me after a hot shower. Realistically I knew there was a fat chance of that since he seemed remote and in a snit about something when I left for work this morning.

When I said goodbye before I left this morning, but he was pissed at me for interrupting him. He already was entrenched in his workout room doing his mandatory Yoga routine, the same one I do religiously at night and has never liked to be disturbed.

So, it has taken me an hour and twenty minutes to drive the twelve miles to my house due to accidents on northbound 101 from Carpentaria. When I arrived, the house was completely dark.

Fuck.

I was surprised because Peter always left the lights on for our, really his dog Amy, and hadn’t said a word about going out, or texted anything about that. I pulled into the garage and saw that his car was missing, but I just figured he had probably gone to the store and became stuck in the same traffic that held me up, explaining the dark house.

When I unlocked the garage door to the house, still shivering, the alarm wasn’t on and that was really strange because Peter tended to always be paranoid about people trying to break into the house.

I starting to feel more chills and not from my still very wet shirt and put my work laptop and briefcase on the laundry room counter, flipping on some lights as I walked into the empty kitchen.

I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw a sheet of paper sitting near the sink along with a set of keys. I could feel myself start to shake, and my blood run cold.

It then dawned on me; Amy wasn’t in the house, and I was alone.

With trembling hands, I picked up the sheet of paper and instantly recognized Peter’s distinctive script.

‘Brett,

Look man, I am sorry to do this by a note, but I am fed up and just can’t stay with this with you anymore. There is no blame here, but after six years of neither of us feeling good, our relationship whatever it has been has to end for me and for you.

I’m sad about taking Amy from you, as she will really miss you and you were always so good to her. I know right about now you must think I’m a fucking asshole, but she came to your house with me, and I can’t leave her behind.

I don’t want anything from you Brett other than my own stuff, and I’ve left the thoughtful jewelry you have given to me over the years in the bedroom nightstand. This was always your house and yours alone, and since the house was from your parents, I fully respect that, and the reason I never contributed to it.

I left this way because I want it to be a clean break and for it to be over. I don’t want to talk about it with you, and deal with any endless drama. There is no point to rehash this for as you know in your heart, we are finished and have been for a very long time.

We both know our relationship has been dead for the last several years, friends yes lovers no, but neither of us could face up it, so I finally got the courage and made my firm decision to leave.

I need you to know that in no way do I consider this your fault Brett. We both are to blame for continuing to beat a dead horse. You should also need to know I do not hate you or have bad feelings for you as you were always, and I mean always good to Amy and me but in the end, I felt we were just guests in your home and nothing more.

In many ways, I still care for you Brett, but I just can’t go on living with you and pretending we are happy together anymore. For now, I don’t want to communicate with you in any way.

We both need to break cleanly from this and try to start over in new directions and try to fulfill our personal dreams. Someday I am sure at some point in the future we will talk again but not now.

I know the elephant in the room is that you are wondering if I have found someone else and I won’t lie about that either. The answer is yes, I been communicating with a man that makes me feel alive again and gets where I am coming from.

I know that makes me a total cheating shit in your book. However, out of respect for you, even if you don’t believe me, I have not taken things with him beyond the close friend stage, and we have not been sexual.

Now however, we can move forward together since I am no longer in a relationship and disrespecting you. I am sorry for the pain this probably causes you but we both need to live again.

I am moving to the Bay Area today to be with him, and he has been very patient while I worked through this very hard and yes, I know, hurtful decision for both of us.

I repeat to make it very clear; this was not a casual sexual fling but a well thought through choice. I do not mean to rehash and hurt you more by telling you this, even though knowing you, it will. I felt however that you deserved the candid truth that I still care, even if you think I’m a total liar and fuckup.

You are a good man, Brett. Please never doubt that. I know you will be better without me being the millstone around your neck. I am the one who is making you unhappy and holding you back from your real dreams with the right man for you.

Find someone who will care for you and will love you like you deserve Brett, please don’t waste precious time on making this happen by dwelling on the past. I know in my heart that the man to complete you is out there somewhere, and he will make it all come together in the way you have always deserved and as I never could.

So, for now, I say goodbye to you and only wish you well and happiness. I feel deeply for you and will think of you often for the good person that you are and have always been to me. Please try not to hate me for this, as I know someday you will see that I am right and will be thankful for this break.

Be safe and take care,

Peter’

Chapter 2

Brett

Fuck.

The perfect end to a perfectly fucked up day.

Okay, to say the least I am numb, and to tell the complete truth? I miss Amy more than I miss Peter, sad but true. In addition, I know he was right.

After reading his note again, I only felt empty but then again, this was nothing new as I’d felt empty for a very long time.

I walked through the rooms in my house, and it was as if Peter had never been there, and all traces of him were gone. He had even cleaned the house, a first for him, before he left and had taken the only framed picture that we had of us together.

The jewelry was where he said it would be but no surprise there, I already knew he was at least truthful and now honest.

Peter had never been one to care much about possessions and did not contribute to much around the house. About the only thing we really had in common was gardening, and at that he excelled and was his passion.

I personally have a BA degree in Botany and a graduate degree in Xeriscapes, but the call of the golden handcuffs pulled me into the corporate world as a programmer due to my minor in computer science. I had met Peter at a local nursery and our love of plants made us click, at least for a short while before it all became a routine and began to fail.

Peter had never been one to hold a steady job and basically supplied our groceries as his part of the deal here. Sex between us was never memorable and faded away soon after he moved in. Sadly, I cannot even say that I remember the last time we were intimate; it had been many years ago.

I do not think either of us was impressed and my hand certainly did a better job of it sadly enough. All this circular reminiscing sounded very sad, even to me and I needed to find a way to break free of all my negative thoughts.

I finally finished the tour of my large house and confirmed the fact that he was indeed gone from my life. I now understood the only thing I missed about Peter was having someone to talk to when I came home, and of course, his wonderful dog Amy.

On a sudden whim I checked out where I kept the emergency cash fund and the household money, about five thousand dollars and it was all there, untouched, and I suppressed a pang of guilt for even having to check.

With a deep sigh, I walked into the now sterile kitchen, opened the fridge to pull out a bottle of wine, and discovered that while he didn’t want any of the items in the house, he’d just about cleaned out the case of wine I had purchased the previous week, the prick.

At least he left a couple of full bottles, however the food was also scarce. I started to get upset about this but then I realized that I just needed to take some time to appreciate how easily I got off materially at least.

Thank God we never were legally bound.

I grabbed one of the two remained wine bottles, opened it, and then after getting a large glass from the cabinet, poured myself a heathy amount, and made a silent toast to my empty and now very quiet house.

As I glanced around the now unusually clean kitchen, I saw it; a single purple squeaky ball that was one of Amy’s favorites. I set my glass down on the counter, stooped down to pick it up, and pinched it until it made its usual cheerful squeak.

Feeling a deep pang of sadness, I sat back down on the barstool, put the ball next to my wine glass, folded my arms on the counter to lean over, and have a good cry.

I must have sobbed for a good ten minutes or so when my cell phone rang startling me. I thought it might be Peter, so I grabbed it and said hello, attempting unsuccessfully not to sound like I’d been crying.

Brett, hi it’s Bobby. What’s the matter, why are you crying? he asked, as suddenly all the light humor drained out of my cousin’s deep voice.

Guilty about crying I have to admit, but what prompted you to call? You never call me just to talk, so is something wrong or do you want to give me a lecture about something I should or shouldn’t be doing?

Nothing is wrong here, but it sounds like something is wrong there. I had a cryptic text from Peter the loser just now, and he asked me to call you immediately. He said that by now you probably needed someone to talk to you but didn’t say why. What the hell is that all about Brett? Why doesn’t he just talk to you himself or is he on another type of Zender bender, the damn fuckface?

Peter and Amy are gone Bobby, they left today while I was at work. He explained why in a note, and he didn’t want a thing except for the booze, the food obviously, and his dog Amy. He took Amy with him because she was his to begin with, and I’m devastated about that.

There were a few moments of deadly silence as Bobby built up steam for the expected explosion.

Fucking worthless jerk. Did he say why? Bobby raged at me, and I could just about imagine the outrage on his handsome face.

I could certainly hear the anger and frustration in his voice adding to my mental picture of him. Even though we don’t live close to each other right now, I grew up with my older cousin after my parents were killed in an accident. He has always been much more than a cousin to me and watched out for me like an older brother. Their premature death was also the reason I own an inherited house overlooking the ocean in Santa Barbara.

Following their deaths, I went to live with my Mom’s older sister Jo and her family that included my cousin Bobby and his elder sister Lana. He is seven years older than I am forty-two to be exact, completely outspoken, opinionated, and fiercely protective of me even though I haven’t lived with them for ages.

Upon meeting him, he did not like Peter one bit. Bobby lives in Arizona on a lot of acres that has been in his family for generations, and is very out, very Gay, and now is royally pissed that someone hurt me.

I held up my hand even though no one could see me.

Don’t get going Bobby, he left me a note telling me why and even though I hate to admit it, he is right. He was a nice guy, but we didn’t have the spark in our relationship for years now, and what was left of that has been fading away. To tell you the truth, I miss Amy much more than I miss him, at least right now, I told him.

I could hear a heavy sigh on his end, and I knew he was holding back saying ‘good riddance’.

Well that sure tears it and confirms what I always thought; the guy has no balls. If he wanted out, he should have faced you like a man, and not act like some simpering little wussy, he began his rant, but I cut him off.

Enough Bobby I feel bad enough as it is so drop it. He was about your age as you know, and I think he might have been having some kind of middle age crisis and wanted a change, I told him.

Probably too much pot, he shot back.

"Probably it is that as