Layne, River & Damion

  Table of Contents

  STORMING LOVE: BLIZZARD

  Blurb

  Copyright Acknowledgement

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  About the Author

  Trademarks Acknowledgment

  MLR PRESS AUTHORS

  GLBT RESOURCES

  STORMING LOVE: BLIZZARD

  Layne, River & Damion

  VICKTOR ALEXANDER

  mlrpress

  www.mlrpress.com

  It has taken Damion Martin six months to finally start to get over the startling breakup from his partner Layne Haylse. They’d been high school sweethearts and blissfully in love. Then the man suddenly wanted nothing to do with him. Having to work with him at Yale University almost every day made the separation that much harder. Meeting the young marketing major, River Cunningham, may just be the ticket to helping Damion heal.

  But they say that to every story there’s two sides, and the truth lies somewhere in the middle. When a harrowing blizzard crashes through Connecticut, trapping all three men inside the campus library, they will soon find that sometimes things aren’t as black and white as they seem. When the truth is revealed, it may change their lives forever.

  Copyright Acknowledgement

  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 events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright 2015 by Vicktor Alexander

  All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

  Published by

  MLR Press, LLC

  3052 Gaines Waterport Rd.

  Albion, NY 14411

  Visit ManLoveRomance Press, LLC on the Internet:

  www.mlrpress.com

  Cover Art by Kris Jacen

  Editing by Kris Jacen

  ebook format

  Issued 2015

  This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines and/or imprisonment. This eBook cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this eBook can be shared or reproduced without the express permission of the publisher.

  DEDICATION

  Usually I write a long thank you, for my readers, my daughters, and friends, but this story, this book, and the novel following: Real Love Divine is for Christopher, my fiancé who passed away and upon whom Layne is based. It’s been 8.5 years and when I started writing this story and got to Layne and he told me all about himself it was like it was yesterday. I miss you and I love you. Thank you for telling me to move on and find love again.

  CHAPTER ONE

  The distant sound of the janitor’s radio penetrated the study haze surrounding him and River Cunningham was sorely tempted to see if he possessed the powers of Carrie and send the object sailing through the nearest window. With a loud sigh, he turned another page of the Marketing Strategies tome in front of him. Why in the world had he waited until the last minute to start working on this project? He was more than aware of the fact that everyone else in his class had begun their research projects and subsequent papers as soon as Professor Dobson had assigned them, but River had procrastinated.

  As always.

  His mother called him the “Master of Procrastination.” She had been more than a little surprised that he had even gotten accepted into Yale University. “I was certain you would forget the due date of the admission application and would end up attending a community college.” Her laugh, full and boisterous, just like his father’s, had filled the living room where they’d been sitting. Her thick, dark red curls had bounced on her shoulders, catching the light and shining like a ruby, and River hadn’t been able to do anything but smile. He really couldn’t tell her that he’d pretty much psyched himself out. He had put the due date of the admission application and materials an entire month before they were actually due, which meant they had been turned in, two weeks early.

  Go him.

  Realizing he was daydreaming, River shook his head and tugged his finger out of his hair. He’d worn the thick, dark red hair, something he’d inherited from his mother, down this morning, and he completely regretted it. While he loved his hair, and his boyfriend—ex-boyfriend—had loved it too, always tugging on the strands and burying his face in it; River often got distracted by it. He shoved the locks back and pulled it into a ponytail at the base of his neck before returning his attention to his notes. He needed to get back to work. For the first time, the library was suspiciously devoid of other students, only the librarian, the janitor, and him were inside right now, and River wanted to take advantage of having carte blanche of the research materials.

  “Reports are coming in from a reporter in Philadelphia who states that the snowstorm appears to be growing in intensity and hitting from three separate areas. Much like the blizzard in ’93. I think we may be facing a very serious blizzard over the next few days, Marva. So if you are living within the path of the storm, it is best that you are prepared to spend a lot of time in front of the fireplace or the heater, with no place to go. This is Andrew Zax of XKLT 1830 AM Connecticut News.”

  River shook his head. Meteorologists were a bunch of alarmists. He turned his head to look out one of the windows of the library, the smattering of snowflakes that drifted past the glass plane making a liar of Andrew Zax. River scoffed. He didn’t know why everyone was freaking out over a little bit of frozen rain. That’s all snow was. The people in Connecticut were behaving as if they had never experienced winter before. The three inches of snow River had tromped through to get to the library was nothing compared to his family’s vacation to Nova Scotia, Canada a few years previous. Now that was a snowstorm. River was pretty sure a person had never experienced a true blizzard until they’d experienced one in the Great White North.

  River grit his teeth as the janitor’s cart approached, the wheel squeaking as it got closer. He narrowed his eyes, raising his finger, prepared to shush the campus employee, but his reprimand got lodged in his lungs as he stared at the broad shouldered, dark-brown-skinned, black man, walking behind the maintenance cart.

  Holy. Fucking. Shit.

  The man looked exactly like Morris Chestnut and, trying to be as discreet as possible, River grabbed his cellphone out of the back of his jeans pocket and lifted it in front of his face as if he were texting in order to snap a picture. He took three or four rapid pictures, especially one of the stranger bending over, because… yum… and lowered the phone back to the table and sent the photos to his best friend Michelle.

  The warm breath on the side of his neck startled him and he let out a loud squeak.

  “I hope you got some good pictures there, jailbait. Though you really didn’t get my best side. I look much better with my clothes off.”

  River’s mouth dropped open and he stared as the janitor winked at him before turning to walk off.

  River fell back against his chair, his eyes sliding closed. He covered his face, his cheeks burning hotly in embarrassment. He couldn’t believe that he’d been caught! More than that, the janitor had seemed amused… no, almost flirtatious with him about it. In what universe did that happen to him?

  Before River could dwell on it any further, his phone vibrated on the table in front of him. Reaching out, he snatched up his cell to check Michel
le’s response before the librarian had a chance to chastise him. The guy was hot, just as hot as the janitor, but he was a stick-in-the mud. Way too strict.

  Sliding his finger across the screen, River read the message and covered his mouth to stop the laugh that tried to burst free.

  If you need tips on how to have sex with Morris Chestnut, I think the campus library has the Kama Sutra in the Reference Section under Gender and Sexuality Studies.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Damion Martin tried to adjust himself discreetly as he walked away from the gorgeous redhead studying at the table. He was glad that no one had overheard their conversation. He wasn’t entirely sure of the university’s policy on members of the maintenance staff getting involved with the students, but he didn’t want to chance that he would lose his job if someone had indeed eavesdropped. Glancing back, he smiled when he saw the young man’s wide eyes still focused on him, a stunned expression frozen on his face, and Damion bit back a chuckle. It had been quite a while since he’d garnered such a reaction in someone so deliciously attractive.

  Thoughts of his ex, Layne Haylse, who even now was probably somewhere in the library cataloguing and re-shelving books, caused a stab of pain to his heart. Damion shook his head and continued to push the maintenance cart forward, his attention moving away from their heartbreaking breakup six months previous. He had to move on. Layne had, and Damion would too and who better with than with a gorgeous coed?

  Stepping into the poetry aisle, Damion adjusted the knob on his radio and leaned forward to listen for any more news on the blizzard. His older brother, Antwaun, had called him in a panic earlier that morning, worried about the snowstorm and Damion had assured him he would keep him in the loop. Damion wasn’t especially concerned about a few feet of snow on the ground. He’d lived in Connecticut for over six years now, having moved to the area with Layne so his man could finish his degree. However, Damion knew Antwaun wouldn’t be satisfied until winter was over and he was assured Damion was no longer in harm’s way.

  It would probably annoy Damion if he didn’t know Antwaun only hovered because of their strange relationship. While Antwaun was “technically” Damion’s brother, he was really more Damion’s father. Having gained custody of Damion after their father’s death when Damion was only four and Antwaun twenty. They had different mothers which was very apparent when people looked at them. Antwaun, whose skin was a gorgeous light olive color, had a thin nose, high cheekbones, no facial hair, and tight, curly, silky black hair that he’d gained from his Puerto Rican mother. Whereas, Damion had the dark brown skin, wide nostrils, high cheekbones, and kinky black hair, a direct result of having two African American parents.

  Damion’s childhood hadn’t been too horrible being raised by his brother in Memphis. It hadn’t been ideal, but it wasn’t horrific either. Antwaun had been supportive of him when he’d come out to him at the age of twelve. Gathering Damion into a fierce hug, whispering out on a choked sob that there was nothing Damion could do, say, or be that would make him stop loving or supporting him. Damion knew he was blessed. Especially when he met Layne, someone whose past was entirely different from his own.

  He muttered a curse beneath his breath. Why did it always come back to him? It had been six months. For fuck’s sake! It was getting ridiculous at this point. So what, he and Layne had been together for over ten years. Meeting in high school, falling in love, and vowing to stay together forever.

  Even if he had technically followed Layne to Yale to live with him and support him, going to South Connecticut State University during the day and working at Yale University at night in order to spend time with his boyfriend who was enrolled in the work-study program. And when Damion had finally gotten his Master’s teaching degree, he’d spend his days looking for teaching positions and his evenings at the library with Layne. Until six months ago when Layne had looked across the dining room table and shattered his heart.

  § § §

  “I think it’s time for us to end things, don’t you, Dee?”

  Damion looked around the table; they had just sat down to eat. While he didn’t usually turn down sex, especially not from his sexy boyfriend, he was starving. He’d barely had anything to eat all day. Glancing up at Layne he saw the resolute expression on the man’s face and felt his heart fall to his knees. Layne wasn’t talking about the rosemary chicken. He was talking about something else.

  “W-what are you talking about, Lay?”

  Layne sighed, rubbing his forehead with his large hand. Damion found himself staring at Layne’s wide, blunt-tipped fingers. He’d always been intrigued by them. Ever since the first time he’d met Layne in high school. Layne played football and Damion had been a basketball player. They were both jocks. Both of them revered by the rest of the student body. Lusted over by the female body. Envied by the males. But deep inside, there resided a kinship. They were both gay. Something that hadn’t come out until they’d been in the locker room showers after school one day and caught each other stealing a peek. Damion, at Layne’s large fingers pulling off his football uniform. Layne, at Damion as he bent over to pull off his Nikes. They’d been together ever since.

  At least they had been, until that moment.

  “I mean, I think, and I’m sure you’ll agree, it’s time for the two of us to go our separate ways.”

  Damion’s eyes burned and he stared down at his plate, his appetite suddenly gone. The garlic, sour cream, mashed red potatoes he’d made from scratch because he’d known how much Layne loved them suddenly made him nauseous. Shoving away from the table Damion rose from the table. He clenched his fists and placed them on the table on either side of his dish.

  “Who the fuck is he?”

  Layne’s eyebrows lowered. “What?”

  “Who. The. Fuck. Is he? Who are you sleeping with, cheating on me with? What fucking whore did you get pregnant that you’ve suddenly realized that you have to break up with me?”

  It had been Damion’s biggest fear. Layne telling him that he wasn’t sure he was “completely” gay. That because Layne was actually bisexual, Layne would cheat on him with a woman, get her pregnant and then choose her and the baby over him, because Damion couldn’t give him a child. Not unless they adopted.

  And Damion wasn’t exactly sure he wanted to have kids.

  Yes, he wanted to work with them. But he also wanted to have the luxury of returning them to their parents at the end of the day when he tired of them. He couldn’t return his own child. Who could he give that child back to? Himself? Layne? The child would still be in the house!

  He’d confessed that fear to Layne once before and though Layne had explained bisexuality didn’t work that way. It wasn’t a free pass for him to cheat. It just meant that he was attracted to both genders and that he, as a person, was completely faithful. And though Damion had accepted the explanation, it had still been a fear and now…

  Now it was happening.

  “There is no one else, Dee. There’s just…” Layne sighed and rubbed his forehead again. He dropped it to the table. “It’s just change.” He shrugged. “You’ve changed. I’ve changed. We aren’t the same people we were in high school. Layne and Damion in high school were hopelessly in love. Layne and Damion in college were in love, but Layne and Damion preparing for the rest of their lives after college? They aren’t. And they haven’t been for a very long time.”

  Damion’s body trembled, and he wrapped his arms around himself. He shook his head. Icy heat flooded his system, freezing the blood in his veins, building a glass cage around his heart and tearing apart every memory, every kiss, every embrace over the past few years. He took a step back, shaking his head, his eyes surprisingly dry, throat dry as the Sahara.

  “That’s really funny,” he said, his throat raw and hoarse. He felt detached as if he were watching the scene play out on a screen in a movie theater. “Because I thought we were more in love now than we ever were in high school.”

  Turning on his heel, he walked out
of the room, ignoring Layne calling his name. He’d slept in the guest bedroom with the door locked, for the first time in years afraid of Layne as he heard the much bigger man pounding on the door calling out to him for hours before walking away. The next morning, Damion packed and called Antwaun who, after raving and ranting about what an asshole Layne was, wired Damion enough money to get his own place. Damion called friends of his from the university and was completely moved out before Layne returned.

  “I am sure the university is not paying you to stand around and daydream, Damion.” That deep voice came from behind him, and Damion bit his lip, straightening as he turned to face his ex-boyfriend.

  “Hello, Layne.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Layne tightened his fingers on the handles of the mobile book cart at the sound of Damion’s smooth as silk voice. Damn. That voice always turned him on. Between Damion’s voice, his full lips and high, round ass, Layne had been a goner from the moment he’d seen the other man when they were just teens in high school. Layne swallowed back the harsh sob that rose unbidden to his throat, squaring his shoulders. He missed Damion something fierce. Wanted his lover back desperately, but he’d done what he’d thought was best. He knew Damion wouldn’t understand, and when Damion finally found out why Layne had broken up with him, he’d be angry… no, he’d be livid, but hopefully in time, he would forgive Layne.

  Layne could only hope Damion would. It was his final wish and the only thing he prayed for every night.

  He inclined his head, swallowing back the nausea that rose at the action.

  “How are you, Damion?” he asked.

  Damion crossed his arms across his chest and quirked his eyebrow. “I’m doing wonderful, all things considered. How are you?”