Season of Gifts (Neighborly Affection #8)

26. Jay

Chapter twenty-six

Jay

H enry’s warm promises faded into silence. Jay rubbed his fingers on his napkin and tapped the button to replay the voice message.

My dear boy.

He spooned up another bite of scrambled eggs and oatmeal dinner, the metal clinking against the bowl.

I’m so very sorry to have missed speaking with you and Alice last night, hearing your voices and seeing your faces.

No point in takeout without Alice to share it with, and she’d texted almost an hour ago that she was safe in South Dakota. He’d sent victory ribbons instead of asking if that was weird, being in the same state as her parents. It was one of those western states anyway, probably enormous, and she’d be like six hours from them, so maybe it didn’t feel strange at all.

I regrettably dozed off before our call and came to wake much too late to disturb you. I imagine you slept nestled around each other in our bed, soft and warm, your breath quiet and even.

They had, mostly. Tonight would be the real test. The last time he’d slept alone had been…

He stirred more cheese shreds into the oatmeal. Getting down to the bottom. Maybe another bowl. Some seasoning this time? Henry probably put seasoning in it. More than salt and pepper.

Well, he shouldn’t count September, because he couldn’t say he slept all that well by himself that night on the farm. Not after turning his back on Henry and Alice. Serves you right, then, doesn’t it?

“Shut up.” The voices in his head didn’t actually listen, but growling at them felt better than accepting their words as fact. Danny would tell him to interrogate why he felt that way, to get to the bottom of the thought and see if he could untie it, let it float away. But sometimes thoughts were more like stones dragging behind him than balloons that could just lift off if he let them.

So not September, and not last Christmas, either, because he’d had all the noises of the family around him then. More like… The hotel. Last year and then some. Henry had gotten him the room and assigned him homework and given him their sheets to wrap around himself, because Alice had needed one-on-one attention. One night, and he’d been focused on Henry’s tasks for him the whole time, and then the next day—his dick twitched. Yeah, that had been a good day. No chance of that tonight.

… talk about that later. I love you, Jay.

And now he’d missed the whole middle of Henry’s message. Not that he hadn’t heard it a half-dozen times already.

“No phones at the table, I know.” Henry’s empty seat waited on the far side of the Christmas calendar basket. “But this one’s a stand-in for you, so I think you would make an exception.”

He hit the end of the oatmeal and sagged back in his chair, pooching out his stomach. “Sooo full.”

Alice wasn’t there to laugh, or Henry to order him to stand and display himself, or either of them to stroke him or straddle him or listen about his day.

But he did have an assignment. Scooching up straight, he plucked the card from the table. First clue in tonight’s scavenger hunt. He wouldn’t have Alice’s help, but Henry never made the game tough, just fun. Card in hand, he pushed back the chair.

His dirty dishes might’ve maybe said ahem if they’d had mouths. Good thing they didn’t, because then the dishes would eat food, and how would they hold food, and would having dinner in them starve them if they weren’t allowed to eat—

He shook his head to knock the static out, set the card down, and picked up his glass and bowl. Cleanup first, the same way Henry would have them do it any other night. With everything rinsed and in the dishwasher, he edged toward the table again.

Henry usually had outfits for them to wear, and he’d been roaming the house naked since his post-work shower. Nobody would see the outfit, nobody would appreciate it or praise him for it or anything. But if he didn’t cobble something together, he would still know. His heart would know he hadn’t tried to follow the orders that Henry would have given.

“You and me”—he flicked the card so it toppled to its back—“five minutes. It’s a date. I have to get my date clothes on first.”

His Henry-green boxer-briefs were snug without being a hot-dog-and-buns display like the elf shorts. He added the Santa hat for the season. His bare chest wanted the harness, but he hadn’t asked permission. Maybe they could talk about that after Christmas. Could he choose to wear it without needing Henry or Alice to put it on? Or could he only wear it when they wanted his specific service?

Detouring into the playroom, he started a new page for the week in his wish book. Expanded rules for the harness would be great. Not like wearing it in public the way Alice sometimes wore rope under her shirt. But around the house. Days when he needed the reminder on his skin.

For the first of his three proud-of-myself moments for the week, he jotted: Following the rules when no one’s watching, because they’re important to me .

Besides, he had his wedding ring, and that stayed on all the time. He didn’t need the harness to know he’d been claimed. Closing his eyes, he imagined the soft weight of it landing on his shoulders. The slight tickle of Henry and Alice’s fingers as they closed the side buckles. The way Alice smoothed every strap with a caress.

“Okay,” he whispered, opening his eyes. “Let’s go hunting.”

He not-quite-galloped down to the kitchen and retrieved the card, taking it and his phone in case Henry or Alice called while he was searching. Silver screen would be the TV room in the basement. Everything looked as they’d left it after movie night, the blankets folded over the cozy new couch, the pillows hugging the corners. Ancient artifact…

The VHS player.

Poking open the front showed nothing inside where the tapes went. He tipped up the front edge. Jackpot—another envelope underneath. Like the ones he and Alice had found so far, this one had the number for the day on the front and a note on the back in Henry’s neat script: If you’ve come across this before its appointed day, bring it directly to me unopened, please, so I may make alterations.

Fingers tingling, he peeled open the envelope and tugged out the card.

Your quarry rests beneath an offering for guests, as neither of you would savor the flavor.

Guests could be third floor, the extra bedrooms, but flavor would be a kitchen thing. Mouthing the words, he trotted back up and stood in the entry. Something he and Alice disliked but visitors would expect them to offer…

“Coffee!” He dashed the teeny-tiny bit to the pantry, flipped on the light, and scanned the shelves. Somewhere, Henry had a tray for things like that. “Gotcha!”

Tucked under a bag of dark-roasted nastiness, the next envelope waited. If it had been under his sugar stash on the opposite shelf, he would’ve seen it ages ago. “Sneaky, Henry. Very sneaky.”

The card fell into his hand, a steaming mug of coffee drawn on the front. He would save these, too, and add them to the collection upstairs. Alice would want to see them all. Maybe he could tuck them back into their envelopes and show them to her one at a time so she could still play the game by guessing where he’d gone to find the next.

Seek the heights and toast your good fortune as we all once did.

Heights would be up, as up as up could get. Circling up the stairs, he turned on lights as he went, the garlands and bows swagged below the railings glittering. He’d been sweeping up a few needles every day, but so far the greens kept giving off their comforting scent. “Nice job, everyone. I know it’s a lot to ask, but if you could keep that up a while longer”—like until Henry and Alice were both back home—“I’d sure appreciate it.”

One more flick, and the attic lights came up over the kitchenette. They’d had hot chocolate up here, but that had been outside on the deck, and they hadn’t been toasting anything but marshmallows.

His feet carried him to the other side of the room. Henry wouldn’t have hidden clues in his studio space. Ghostly sheets draped two easels. The air smelled of him, faint like aftershave when the wearer had already moved on. Jay sucked in a lungful of lemony citrus.

The first time he’d been up here—

“Thank you, Henry.” He rushed back to the kitchenette side and checked the cabinets for skinny champagne glasses. Nothing. Maybe the bottles. The wine fridge glowed blue when he opened it—and in the top rack, attached to a bottle, lay another note. He pulled both out and set them on the counter.

Emma had brought the bubbly that first time, to celebrate Henry’s decision to buy the house. Probably Henry meant for him and Alice and Jay to drink this one tonight. The sketch on the card showed three of the skinny glasses with bubbles floating in them.

“Not gonna drink a whole bottle myself.” His fingers left prints on the neck from freeing the card. Maybe he could take the bottle to Maine with him, and they could share it on Christmas. He slid it back into the fridge and closed the door.

Clutching the card in both hands, he thumbed it open and read the message.

This game ends where games begin. Go there and find what I’ve unlocked for you. On your knees, my dear ones.

“On my knees.” His dick liked it better when Henry said the words. On your knees. Mm-hmm, letting Henry’s voice in his head talk got a much bigger reaction.

Games began in the playroom. He scooped up the cards and his phone and jetted down the stairs, shutting off the lights as he went.

His wish book sat on the dresser. He’d been within five feet of the prize before he even started and hadn’t known it. Henry would’ve loved that. His sly smile would’ve come out, and he’d have made some teasing remark, and he would’ve grabbed Jay by the back of the neck and kissed him until he saw stars. His mouth tingled with memories.

The dresser had a bunch of drawers, but only the bottom row locked. Kneeling, he tried the one on the right. It didn’t budge. Center.

The wood glided with a gentle rasp.

Inside the drawer lay two bags, soft flannel in Christmas plaid. Tags dangled from the drawstrings. The one on the left read Alice . He hauled out the one on the right and held it across his lap. The tag read Jay . It was absolutely his to open.

The package wasn’t heavy. Lighter than he’d figured from the size. The bag draped around a rectangle, and the rectangle was solid, not squishy. Not sharp or pokey or cold either, though. He ran his hands over the flannel, mapping the edges, the gentle slopes. The tag with his name flipped over. The other side had more writing.

Please remove the outer bag and wait for permission.

He thrust his fingers in the top and dragged his hands apart. The drawstrings whooshed open. Into his hands slid the kind of jewelry box that came covered in fuzzy fabric. Big, though. Maybe a foot wide and half that deep and a good three inches tall. A little lift of the lid would rock back that hinge.

But that wouldn’t be following the rules.

Easing the drawer shut, he left Alice’s gift for another day.

If Henry were here, he’d give permission. Simple as that. But Henry wasn’t here.

The box was proof Henry loved him, though. He’d set up this game for them. He’d set up the whole calendar, and all the games and activities on it, and he’d done it to give them a family holiday. He’d spent so much time—and he’d be disappointed too. Henry was missing all of the wonderful stuff he’d planned.

Fuck that .

If Henry couldn’t be here to play the game, he should at least know Jay was following the rules.

He carried the box over to Henry’s chair and centered it on the seat. Grabbed a floor pillow from the pile in the corner and positioned it in front of the chair. Kneeling on the pillow, he slipped back into waiting pose, settling his ass between his upturned feet.

Waiting for permission didn’t scare him. It was one of the best paths to orgasm. All that aching and wanting.

The photo didn’t have to be artsy. The chair, the box, the front edge of the pillow. The tops of his thighs, below the boxer-briefs. He added text to the message.

May I open your gift, Master Henry?

Sent.

Bowing his head, he waited for a reply.