The Hardest Fall (Roadmap to Your Heart Book 3) Read online

  The Hardest Fall

  Roadmap to Your Heart, Book #3

  Christina Lee

  Contents

  Copyright

  Blurb

  Other Titles by Christina Lee

  Dedication

  1. Tate

  2. Sebastian

  3. Tate

  4. Sebastian

  5. Sebastian

  6. Tate

  7. Tate

  8. Sebastian

  9. Tate

  10. Sebastian

  11. Sebastian

  12. Sebastian

  13. Tate

  14. Tate

  15. Sebastian

  16. Sebastian

  17. Tate

  18. Tate

  19. Sebastian

  20. Tate

  21. Sebastian

  22. Sebastian

  23. Tate

  24. Sebastian

  25. Tate

  26. Sebastian

  27. Tate

  28. Sebastian

  29. Tate

  30. Sebastian

  31. Sebastian

  32. Tate

  33. Sebastian

  34. Tate

  35. Sebastian

  36. Tate

  37. Sebastian

  38. Tate

  39. Sebastian

  40. Tate

  41. Tate

  THANK YOU for reading THE HARDEST FALL!

  About the Author

  Where to Find Christina Lee

  Acknowledgements

  An excerpt from TOUCH THE SKY

  Copyright © 2016 by Christina Lee. All rights reserved.

  Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without prior written permission by the author(s), except where permitted by law.

  THE HARDEST FALL is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All products and/or brand names mentioned are registered trademarks of their respective holders/companies.

  Published by Christina Lee

  Cover design by Kanaxa

  Editing and proofing provided by M.Ute Editing and Flat Earth Editing

  Lee trades country ballads for show tunes in the next standalone book of her M/M series, Roadmap to Your Heart.

  After licking his wounds from a painful relationship, Tate Sullivan is ready to move back home. He picks up where he left off as drag queen extraordinaire Frieda Love in a West Village bar in New York City. He doesn’t expect to be drawn to the mysterious man with the dark eyes who shows up to every single performance—flirtatiously eyeing Tate one second and disappearing on him the next. Why mess around with a guy who is clearly giving him mixed signals?

  Sebastian Clark is on a mission the first night he shows up at Ruby Redd’s. He doesn’t anticipate his plan being flipped on its head by the charismatic drag queen and even more so by the mesmerizing man beneath the makeup. But the more he learns about the vibrant and brash Tate Sullivan the more intrigued he becomes. So he pushes aside his guilt about why he sought out the bar in the first place in order to get to know the guy behind the stilettos.

  They’re opposites on many levels, but as Tate spends time volunteering with Sebastian at the shelter, he begins to feel good about himself in ways he hadn’t before. For Sebastian, Tate represents a sense of fun and freedom that is completely fresh and invigorating. Before they know it, their easy companionship catches fire, and Sebastian is kissing a man for the first time, while Tate is opening his heart to new possibilities. But Sebastian is still keeping a secret, and Tate will have to decide if he can trust again, or if the betrayal he feels from Sebastian’s confession is too much to overcome.

  Other Titles by Christina Lee

  Male/Male Romance

  There You Stand

  The Darkest Flame

  The Deepest Blue

  Touch the Sky (co-written with Nyrae Dawn)

  Between Breaths Series (New Adult Romance)

  All of You

  Before You Break

  Whisper to Me

  Promise Me This

  There You Stand (m/m)

  Adult Contemporary Romance

  Two of Hearts

  Three Sacred Words

  To Russ. Thank you for desperately loving him until the very end. I don’t know where you are all these years later, but I hope your life is filled with magic.

  1

  Tate

  My arm shot up and I pointed at the ceiling as I belted out the last note of a Gaga song. If I had her voice, I’d be rolling in the millions instead of lip-synching her pop tunes, wearing heavy purple eye shadow, and silver stilettos that pinched my freaking toes.

  But I had a blast performing as Frieda Love, I was damn good at it, and the stage adored me. As did the crowd, if a couple dozen gay men wolf whistling had anything to say about it. Or that sexy man in the corner whose dark eyes tracked me two nights a week.

  Dark Eyes looked straight as they come with his perfectly tailored button-front shirt that opened at the throat, exposing a patch of smooth tan skin and a fine silver chain. But plenty of het men and women came into Ruby Redd’s Bar and Grille. Some stayed for the food, others for the entertainment.

  As I exited the stage down the three steps to the dance floor, I spotted Dean and Callum near the bar. Making my way through a sea of bodies, fingers groped and voices carried as the audience congratulated me on a great performance. Frieda Love might screw around with one of her regulars tonight, but first I wanted to hang out with my friends.

  “Girl,” Jessica, one of the other queens who had already performed tonight, drawled in my ear. “You looked ridiculously fab up there.”

  Hazel Nuts, as she was known on stage, was in transition, drop dead gorgeous, and had a huge following in this crowd as well. Fuck the prejudice she encountered in her everyday life from the asshats that couldn’t see how radiant she was in her own skin.

  Here at Ruby Redd’s we were strictly against the use of such language as tranny and shemale, which were not only derogatory but also encouraged the idea that transsexuals were men dressed as women. Any hecklers were immediately thrown out on their asses because the owner, Maurice, ran a tight ship.

  I kissed her cheek as I walked by. “Thanks, sexy. My friends are waiting at the bar.”

  I hadn’t seen Dean since he graduated from NC State last fall. He looked good, especially with Callum standing behind him with his burly arms wrapped around his waist and his face nuzzled in his neck. Dean and Callum were really good together and I couldn’t be happier for them.

  They were only in town so Callum could finally meet Dean’s parents in Jersey. While here they had also planned to visit me and to see a Yankee game, since Callum was a huge fan.

  I was back in the city because I didn’t have many other options. This was my hometown, my mother lived on the Upper East Side with her new husband, and I was having trouble finding full-time employment.

  It took me two additional years to graduate from NC State with a communications degree because some of the credits wouldn’t transfer from NYU. Broadcasting jobs were hard to come by and though I had interned at an online publication there were no openings available at the time. I stayed as long as I could before finally coming home.

  Now I did what I knew best—performed as drag queen extraordinaire at a bar on Christopher Street two nights a week. That, along with my gr
aphic T-shirt business helped me contribute to the rent in the small West Village apartment I shared with my best friend, Tori.

  “I always knew you could rock the stage,” Callum said in his southern drawl as soon as I reached them. He looked so much more comfortable in his own skin then he had six months ago, which was really cool to witness.

  “Of course I can.” I spun around and shook my booty in my white beaded dress while they cracked up. I made sure not to bend too low and rip the seam because the cost of dressing in drag was not for the faint of heart. I went for demure Gaga tonight because her elaborate costumes broke the bank, probably even for her. Besides, I wasn’t a fan of wearing meat, only packing it.

  A man from a nearby table whistled at me and I recognized the dude after he slipped me a twenty at the end of my performance. The way he eyed me now told me he was hoping for some Frieda loving tonight, but I wasn’t someone who could be bought. Still, I could flirt shamelessly with the best of them.

  I hugged Dean and then turned toward the tall and hulking Callum to wind my arms around his shoulders. I couldn’t help sniffing his cologne extra deep since he was plain gorgeous and just the kind of guy I got a boner for.

  “That’s long enough,” Dean hissed in my direction. “Stop mauling my man.”

  “You mean I can’t sneak in an ass grab?” I quipped before backing away. Seeing that possessive look in my friend’s eye was humorous, but also gave me an ache in my chest that I couldn’t quite explain. I didn’t want to explore what that meant, so I brushed it aside.

  When I glanced over Callum’s shoulder the same man with the dark eyes and inky black hair was watching me and once he was caught staring, his gaze flitted away.

  Maybe he appreciated the make-up, the blonde wig. I’d been told I had a nice jawline and could pull off my female counterpart pretty convincingly. Dark Eyes was probably a straight guy who enjoyed the female anatomy, even though my boobs were falsies, same as my eyelashes. Maybe he’d even been with a couple of queens who were asked to stay in full costume while he pounded them from behind so he could maintain his het status in his own deluded mind.

  My gut tightened painfully remembering being in just such a precarious position.

  I wondered how he’d react if I approached him without the getup, with a fresh face, clean of makeup. My bet was that he’d run in the other direction. Fucker.

  He wasn’t exactly my type so what the hell did I care? He might’ve been a bit taller and thicker than me but he matched me in build, with his solid shoulders and lean waist. He had a beautifully masculine face, not boyish in the least, with a strong brow and full lips. Compared to my blond hair and fair skin, we’d be quite the contrast.

  But his eyes were the draw for me, especially when I was on stage. How they tracked me, made me wonder what he was thinking. They were soulful, a cross between forlorn and world-weary, and though I really had no patience for emo guys, for some reason the more I saw him the more curious I became.

  “So what’s new?” I asked the gorgeous couple standing in front of me, breaking my gaze from the mysterious man who did not deserve so much of my attention.

  “Mom and Dad are warming up to Callum,” Dean said, grasping for his guy’s hand. “They’re glad I brought home a friend.”

  “Friend?” I scoffed. “Seriously?”

  “They’re slowly coming around,” Dean said. “Especially after our argument on Thanksgiving when I told them they’d be losing another son if they didn’t accept me for who I am.”

  “His mom kind of lost it,” Callum supplied, after sipping from his glass. “Got herself together right quick. Called him and told him she wanted to be part of his life.”

  “Damn straight.” I clapped Dean on the shoulder.

  “And how’s business?” I asked Callum because his family owned a hunting preserve in small town hick-country Florida.

  “Doing great,” he said, taking another pull of his beer. I realized how parched I was from performing as I watched him swallow. It had nothing to do with that enticing Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.

  “He’s been making all kinds of furniture and his family is selling sugar cane syrup,” Dean said, looking at his boy with pride.

  “Cassie and Billie?” I knew his sister Cassie from NC State and heard his brother had a therapy dog that assisted him with his seizure disorder. But that he was also wicked smart, loved to bake, and hadn’t yet officially come out to his family.

  “Cassie is engaged to Dermot,” he said. “And Billie begged to come to the city with us. I told him next time for sure because he’s still in school.”

  “That kid has wanderlust.” I grinned. “Maybe he’ll decide to leave that town.”

  Something gloomy passed through Callum’s gaze. I knew how protective he was of his brother.

  “He could study abroad or attend culinary school,” I suggested. “Have him come to the city. I’ll look out for him.”

  Dean’s eyes bugged out and Callum burst out laughing.

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I huffed out, crossing my arms over my boobs, which felt like they’d shifted a bit during my performance. “I wouldn’t let him get into any trouble. I’d slowly introduce him to the scene.”

  Just because I would never settle down didn’t mean I couldn’t be a good friend to somebody who needed support. I certainly would never want anybody to get burned the way I did. Gay dudes who pretended to be super straight to the detriment of everybody around them could go suck it.

  That includes you, Dark Eyes. I could feel his heated gaze on me again. Bet his thumb was fingering the condensation on the glass. Gin and tonic with lime every single visit. I could ask the bartender who was scheduled most nights I was on stage. Phil always had a tall glass of water with lemon waiting at the bar for me after my performances. He would tell me if Dark Eyes was batting for the same team or if he seemed to swing both ways. But then I’d appear desperate, and queens were never desperate. We always had plenty of men to hold court.

  “Let me get changed,” I said, reaching for the cold liquid on the bar but refusing to look in Dark Eyes’ direction again. “My feet are killing me, but I want to watch Candy Cane perform.”

  Dean pulled Callum toward the dance floor and then locked him in a kiss that made my toes curl. Well, fuck. I threw Dark Eyes one final glance as I sipped at the water and bit down on an ice cube. I would definitely find somebody to hook up with tonight. Somebody who was eager for a piece of this fine ass.

  Just as I had the thought, one of my regulars crowded my personal space and made the motion to kiss my cheek before I had the sense to back away. How dare he think he could touch this queen without her consent?

  “You were spectacular tonight,” he mumbled with glazed eyes. He was already half-crocked, so I let him off the hook this time. Nothing worse than a sloppy fuck.

  “Frieda Love always brings her A game,” I cooed to him over my shoulder. “Better get yourself a cab ride home.”

  2

  Sebastian

  What the hell was I doing at Ruby Redd’s? Again.

  I pushed away the half-eaten plate of food. It wasn’t like their burgers were out of this world, though I did enjoy their beer-battered fries. I certainly had plenty to keep me busy at the shop and tons of amazing restaurants to choose from on the Lower West Side. Ever since Janice broke it off a few weeks ago, I had way more time on my hands to do the things I enjoyed. I could count those things on one hand, but that was probably better than most.

  As usual the bar had erupted in applause for Frieda Love’s impressive performance. I didn’t know what it was, but I couldn’t stop staring at the mesmerizing drag queen, watching her every move. I had never been to a place like this before, not that I didn’t feel welcome or comfortable as a straight man. I just had never considered watching a live show in this sort of venue.

  Who the fuck did I think I was kidding? I had gotten myself into this mess and now I needed to do something about it.r />
  I downed more of my drink as my mind flashed back to that terrible week last year.

  “Need you to do something for me, Sebastian,” Alan wheezed from his hospital bed, the noise of the machines keeping tempo in the room. “You’re the only one I can trust with this.”

  I leaned forward in my chair beside the railing. “Anything.”

  “Large envelope. Private.” His watery gaze stole behind my shoulder to the doorway as if making sure we were still alone. “They can’t see it; they would never understand…the family name would be dragged through the mud…scandal…”

  “Save your breath, just tell me where it is…”

  “The boathouse,” he said, referring to the rented slip he kept on the Hudson. “In a drawer beside the bed.”

  “I’ll go,” I said, my heart pumping crazily. What the hell could be in that envelope?

  “Thank you,” he whispered, his eyes looking lighter, as if I’d just lifted a great burden. “You’re my oldest friend. Please, just…get rid of it.”

  “I will,” I said, already thinking of when I could get there to retrieve it.

  Losing my adoptive father—the only father I’d ever known—last year was agonizing enough, and now Alan. Fuck.

  “Always wished he could see how much I’ve thought about him…” Alan’s voice sounded choked and his gaze trailed away as if he was lost in a memory. “He deserved better…so pretty…”

  I stared at Alan, wondering if he was delirious.

  “Wish I could tell him…” he continued, his voice ragged. “Show him the things I kept to remind me…that it was real between us… Denise didn’t care about me, not like that…”

  All of my limbs went numb. Alan was speaking of some man and comparing him to his wife. The way his voice had broken left me with only one conclusion. “Who, Alan?”