Dante grumbled from behind his desk. He hated being constricted in the office. Having to sit in the blandness of his cubicle didn’t enthuse him. Plus, he was bored out of his mind.

When he worked at home, he could listen to music or a video online. Now he wasn’t supposed to have earbuds in. Back home he could wander around when he needed to stretch. He could work as he pleased. He could get his background checks done on his timetable, not by an arbitrary deadline. That flexibility made him more productive.

Now he had to stick to those strict office hours and please someone else. It sucked.

“Hey, are you going to work late tonight?” Bruce, his cubicle neighbor, leaned on the top of the cubicle and folded his arms. He rested his chin on his hands. “We’re going to stay tonight and get caught up.”

“Why?” He flicked his gaze at Bruce. “It’s not my idea of fun to stay late.”

Bruce shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s not terrible.”

“How?” He was so full of questions.

“Because it’s fun to get the work done.” Bruce grinned and waggled his head. “I mean, we’re all working for the same team and it’s kind of cool to know we’ve accomplished something today. This is a big project and we’ve worked hard. We should celebrate that it’s done.”

He eyed Bruce. The man wasn’t awful, but he had an odd sense of fun. “Yeah, no.”

“Come on.” Bruce rounded the edge of the cubicle. “You’re not much of a team player.”

“Not when I’m more content at my house, in my comfy pants, and able to get this stuff done at my pace. I can and will run rings around you people, but I hate doing it from the cage, AKA this cubicle. I was much happier at home.”

“Oh, you’re one of those guys who wants to work from the house. Got it. So, don’t invite you to the team party tonight?” Bruce asked. “We thought we’d have a small gathering tonight after work to celebrate getting done.”

“Count me out.”

“You’re grumpy.”

“Maybe.” He focused on his screen and tried to ignore his annoyance. This was why he worked from home. Less annoyance. Plus, no one mentioned other things.

“You know, you’d be so much… I don’t know. Better? If you weren’t so cranky. No one wants to be around you. I was chosen as a tribute to ask you to hang out with us tonight,” Bruce said. “You need to loosen up and stop taking yourself so seriously.”

He stopped typing and exhaled. Bruce had a point. He really did need to breathe. He’d become way too wound up and angry. “Maybe you’re right.” He should keep trying to move forward. It’d been over five years since Doug’s and Luke’s deaths. He hated sympathy, but he had to stop living in the past.

“Are you serious?” Bruce bumped into the wall of the cubicle. “You’re going to lighten up?”

“I am.” He stared at Bruce. “I hate parties, but I’ll be there.” Even if it was just to prove them all wrong.

“You will?” Bruce’s eyes widened. “For real?”

“For real.” He folded his hands on his lap. Wouldn’t the support group love to see this right now? They’d be nudging him to attend the party. They’d push him to stop closing himself off. They’d also make fun of him for becoming a curmudgeon.

“Holy moly. Guys?” Bruce walked away. “He’s seriously going to join in. Kinda don’t know what to do with that.”

“Not seem so shocked?” he muttered. He returned to his info searching and shifted in his seat. He had little to complain about, if he were being plain. Sure, he had to go to the office to do his work, but he had a good job. He’d always be in demand doing these background checks because he was damn talented at his work. He was always thorough and correct. He prided himself on not missing details and rarely got anything wrong. He could’ve been made redundant or moved to the tech team to handle customer service. Instead, he was the best defender.

He was skilled at his job. That kind of pride wasn’t hard to come by, it seemed.

Then again, having that much faith in himself wasn’t so great. He could be rather pushy and, as Bruce pointed out, crabby. He liked things his way. Liked to have control.

Why was that so bad?

There were a lot of decent things about him. He had a good paycheck, few bills, money saved up and had even paid off his student loans himself. He’d proved he could do his job, balance his life and take care of himself.

Except he lived alone.

Most of the guys he knew wanted to be paired up. The support group had all found someone. He should want to find a boyfriend, too.

But he didn’t.

Having control over his life made him happy—at least, it satisfied him for now.

His phone beeped and he checked the notification.

Time for lunch.

Good. He needed a walkabout. Time to get the hell away from his desk. No one else around him seemed to be leaving their cubicles. No, they were typing away and focused on whatever was on their screen.

Not him.

He’d had enough.

He pushed away from his desk, gathered his phone and turned the privacy screen feature on his laptop. No one needed to see the information he’d unearthed. He left the confinement of his cubicle, then made his way to the cafeteria. He only stopped when he reached the community refrigerators.

“Did you find your lunch?” a man asked. “Someone moved mine.”

“What?” He spied his lunch bag and grabbed it from the middle shelf. When he closed the door, he stood upright. “Sorry?” He came face to face with a sparkling set of green eyes. His breath hitched for a moment. He’d never seen anyone this devastatingly handsome before. Green eyes, thick lashes, dirty blond hair with just enough shag to be attractive without looking unkempt or like he’d just crawled out of bed. He really should’ve done less working from home. If he had, he might have met this guy sooner. Then again, he hadn’t wanted to deal with the mentions of sympathy and the pitying looks from his coworkers, which was why he’d hidden himself away so long.

“Are you okay?” The man nudged him aside. “I’m trying to find my lunch.”

“Oh.” He had to be cool. “What was it? Your lunch?” That didn’t sound smooth at all, but whatever.

“It’s a silly blue and green soft-sided bag. My sister thought it was funny because it’s got fish on it and I hate fish.”

He paused to make sense of what he’d been told. “Okay?”

“She thought it was a riot because fish gross me out. I won’t eat something that’s actively looking back at me.”

“So you don’t eat meat, or just not fish?”

“Not much of it.” The man shrugged. “My sister bought me the lunch bag as a joke. To show her up, I use it every day. It’s ugly and no one usually wants to get into it.”

“Until today?”

“Yes.” The man laughed. “Or until I forget which fridge I put it in.”

Dante opened the door again and searched the shelves. He moved a paper bag aside. “I found it. Yours got buried.”

“I should’ve guessed.” The man plucked his bag from the fridge.

“It’s not that terrible.” The bag wasn’t pretty, but he’d never seen a really cool lunch bag. They all sort of looked utilitarian. They had a job to do and did them well—usually. But if the bag that contained his lunch was meant to be fashionable, then he didn’t want to know.

“No?” The guy snorted. “You’re being kind.”

“Nah.” He held onto his own bag. “It’s just an item.”

“You’re the first person who hasn’t made a big deal about it.” He held out his hand. “I’m Gunnar O’Brien.”

The name suited him. Dante shook hands with Gunnar and sparks shot from his hand to his heart, then to his brain. He had to shut off this crazy, impulsive feeling. Love wasn’t in his cards. “I’m Dante Collins.”

“As in from the Inferno?”

“My parents loved to read.” He’d never been a fan of his name. He’d rather have been something a little plainer, but at the same time he liked knowing he was somewhat unique. Well, he had been when he’d been younger. “They were big into the classics and named my brother after another author.”

“Which one?” Gunnar gestured to one of the empty tables. “Join me?”

“Sure.” He fell in step with Gunnar and sat across from him at the table. “Dad loved the Iliad, so my brother is Homer.”

“I bet it was magic at your house.”

“I don’t know.” He opened his bag. “They read a lot and actually liked each other. They’d quote something from literature and used to dance in the living room. I’m sure it was odd to everyone else, but at least they enjoyed the other’s company. Most of my friends’ parents didn’t.” He really should stop talking so much about his mother and father.

“Well, all right,” Gunnar said. “My sisters were named after bands.”

“Oh yeah?” He popped the lid on his pasta.

“Molly Hatchet O’Brien. That’s her legit name. My other sister’s name is Marquee Moon O’Brien. I got lucky with being named Gunnar. Dad liked the name and said their one son—I’m the only one—should be original.”

He frowned as he twirled his fork in the pasta. “Everyone in your family has an original name.”

“Gunnar O’Brien was my grandfather.”

“At least it sounds poetic.”

Gunnar narrowed his eyes. “And Dante doesn’t?”

“It’s meh.” He shrugged. “But yours is cool.” He wasn’t good at compliments. Then again, he wasn’t great at public interactions. “I didn’t realize you worked here.”

Was that a decent change of subject? He hoped so.

“I’ve been at the firm for ten years,” Gunnar said. “You? First week here?”

“I’ve been here for fifteen years.” He picked at the pasta and debated moving back to his cubicle to eat. No, he’d come out of his shell this far and didn’t need to retreat so fast. “Why haven’t I run into you before now?”

Gunnar shrugged. “There were a lot of freaks who worked from home—not me. I don’t like coming into the office, but it’s a necessary evil. Gotta work if you want to pay the bills.”

That stung. He wasn’t a freak. “I prefer to work where I have snacks close, can use the bathroom when I want to, and take breaks. We’re too monitored here.” He refused to apologize for that thought. “I can do background searches at home. Email me, or I use the company intranet if I’m given the passcode. Do that and we’re good.”

“I guess.” Gunnar frowned, then laughed. “You need to chill out, though. You’re wound tight.”

“I know.” He wasn’t going to lie. “I’ve been at this for too long.”

“You have.”

“But I’m not a freak. I like setting my own hours and working at my own pace. I get the stuff done, and even faster when I’m not being pushed.” He could be prickly and particular when needed.

“You’re an odd duck.” Gunnar stabbed at his ravioli. “And kinda closed off.”

“Nah.” Gunnar had a point. “I’m open.”

“Your ass whistles because it’s so tight.” Gunnar laughed. “But seriously, you do need to relax. You’re kind of legendary here at the firm. Everyone knows you get the job done, you’re fast and you’re accurate.”

At least his reputation preceded him. “Wait, I thought you didn’t know me.”

Gunnar snorted and ate a piece of ravioli. “We know you, but you’re an enigma. You’re known, but no one really knows you.”

“Story of my life.” He toyed with his own pasta, then pushed the container away. “I should get going. My time’s almost up. Gotta get back to the grind.” He fumbled away from the table. Things were too heavy and getting too close to the truth. Too close to being hard to deal with and he hated that.

“I thought you didn’t want to get back to your desk?”

“I lied.” He tripped over his own feet as he stood, then closed the container. “See you.”

“Tomorrow? Lunch?” Gunnar stood. “I mean, if you’re interested in sharing lunch with me. You’re odd, but you’re intriguing. I like your company.”

“You do?”

“You’re too hard on yourself.” Gunnar smoothed a wrinkle in Dante’s shirt. “This is the best lunch I’ve had in a while. You’re not easy to get along with, but you’re fun to talk to. You’re original. That’s what I kind of like. You’re good company, like I said, so I’d like to share lunch again. It’s better than sitting alone…or with Reg from accounting.”

“He’s not that bad.”

“He always talks about his sports car. I don’t care about his car or how much money he makes. Entertain me, or at least be fun to talk with, and I’m sold. If you’ve got to brag about yourself that much, then you’re working too hard. I don’t want to have a conversation with someone who sees me as competition.”

That made sense.

“Come out of that cubicle more, and out among the living. You just might like it.” Gunnar grinned before leaving him standing alone at the table.

He stared at the vacated seat where Gunnar had been. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a conversation like this when it wasn’t with the support group. What a surprise.

He gathered up his things before heading back to his cubicle. He couldn’t wait to tell the guys about this lunch. There wasn’t much remarkable about it, but he had to spill his guts to the group. Gunnar had given him things to think about. His world was pretty small and really did need to open up.

It was time to start letting someone else in.

He’d allowed himself to hide away. If he didn’t bring anyone into his circle, then he couldn’t get hurt. No one would leave him. Take everything away from him that mattered. Destroy his world, only to never come back.

He leaned hard on his desk and the weight of his thoughts overwhelmed him. There were so many things he missed. So many things he could’ve gone through, but they’d been taken from him. The past was a burden he wasn’t sure he could handle any longer.

Doug. Luke… He missed them so much.

And they’d never be back.

Fuck. He’d pushed those memories aside for too long. He’d ignored his life for just as long. Hoping life and the past would leave him alone.

Hadn’t worked out. Not in the least.

Life and everything else worked its way in when he least expected.

Maybe it was time to start living again. Open up and stop being such a grump. There was a whole lot more out there in the wide world than the pain he’d been through, and people—outside of the support group—who could be willing to help him find the good.

He tucked his lunch bag down with his satchel and nodded as he sat before his computer.

It was time to allow himself to move forward.