Chapter 7
I had no trouble finding Morgan’s house despite not knowing it existed before tonight. It wasn’t in the neighborhood section of town, but rather down a dead-end road on the northeast side. I’d known there were houses over here, though they were more spread out. I’d never really wandered the town, other than the main drag, and some of the twisty side roads just didn’t exist in my brain. Maybe I should have, back when I was a kid, but I couldn’t be bothered to explore. I’d been waiting to escape, so resentful of being there in the first place, that I hadn’t cared enough.
The best way to describe Morgan’s house was cozy cottage. It was a tiny thing, right at the end of Creek Rd. Beyond Morgan’s yard was Bowfin Creek, a tributary of the much larger St. Lawrence River. It ran alongside parts of town but was fairly shallow and slow moving around Hickory Hollow. It was deeper in other places, but here a toddler could wade in and not be in danger.
The lights were on, casting a warm glow over the frosted front yard, when I pulled in behind Morgan’s tiny car. He opened the door the second I shut off the engine, and I hustled up the steps and onto the small porch so that he didn’t let out all the heat. His smile was bright, and the way his hair was backlit made him look like an angel. Morgan stepped back quickly, gesturing me inside.
“Welcome. Come in.”
“Thanks.” I glanced around as I toed off my sneakers and tucked them against the wall, so they’d be out of the way. The house smelled like soup and Christmas spice—I noticed a couple of burning candles that explained the latter, and it was nothing more than one large room. The ceilings were twelve feet high, if they were a foot, and the living room flowed seamlessly into a kitchen and dining area. A glance to the right revealed a short hallway, where I guessed his bedroom and a bathroom were.
Open red and green tote bins littered the living room and Christmas music played softly in the background. The tree was already up and the lights were on, all white. It took a second but I realized it was a pre-lighted artificial tree. I chuckled as I shrugged out of my down vest. “I’d have assumed you’d have a real tree, were I to hazard a guess.”
Morgan scrunched his nose as he took my vest, opening a skinny door that turned out to be a coat closet. “They’re a fire risk. And there’s no need to cut down perfectly good trees, just for them to die and end up in a landfill. Or a bonfire, as is more likely around here. This Douglas fir might have cost me a pretty penny when I bought it because it’s a ten-footer, but I’ve used it for five years now. And it looks just as good as the day I bought it. Plus I don’t have to worry about watering it or cleaning up dropped needles.”
“Very sound logic,” I agreed.
He winked. “I thought you’d appreciate that. Are you hungry?”
“I could eat. What’d you make?”
“French onion soup and fresh baguette. Of course, if you’re not a fan of the soup, I have some meatloaf from last night I can heat up. It’s really good.”
I shook my head. I didn’t want him to go to any extra trouble and I liked the soup. “Soup’s good.”
Morgan led the way to the dining area and gestured for me to sit down at the small bistro-style table. He busied himself, turning on the oven then pulling a couple of large ramekins out of the cupboard. “I made it in the Instant Pot, because I didn’t have a lot of time. But I promise, it’s just as good.”
“I believe you.” I leaned back in my chair, watching him work. The smell of onion intensified as he ladled it into the bowls, and he wielded the bread knife like an expert, cutting pieces to exactly the right size to fit on top. The cheese was already grated, and he held up the bowl.
“Gruyère okay? I can shred some regular Swiss if you prefer.”
He was so accommodating, ready to make changes if I wanted him to. It was really nice, but entirely unnecessary. “What you’ve got is fine. I’s sure it’ll be great. It smells fantastic.”
Morgan’s grin widened and he started humming. I recognized the Christmas song and found my lips curling as well. He was so dang cute. Happily working, putting together our dinner. After he topped the soup generously will cheese, he slid the ramekins into the oven.
“It’ll be just a minute under the broiler. What can I get you to drink? I have water, soda, or wine. A Pinot Gris I really like.”
The way he said it, I knew he wanted to have the wine. And because I didn’t want him to feel awkward, that’s what I chose too, even though wine, particularly white wine, wasn’t my favorite. A couple of minutes later, he joined me at the table, soup, wine, and the rest of the sliced baguette presented perfectly.
“This looks awesome. Thank you for cooking.”
“It wasn’t really a big deal…” He trailed off when he caught sight of the look on my face. His laugh was short and a little self-deprecating, and I didn’t miss the flush on his cheeks though he tried to hide it by looking down. He cleared his throat and course corrected. “You’re welcome.”
We ate for a few minutes in silence, though I made sure to tell him just how great the soup was. I wasn’t lying. It was delicious, the best I’d had outside of a restaurant. With how close we were—his knee kept bumping into mine—and the delicious food, if the lights had been dimmed, the whole scene would have been rather romantic. I couldn’t decide if I would have preferred that atmosphere or not.
“We touched on this the other day, but, um.” He took a breath, glanced at me, then refocused on his food. Not that he was eating at the moment. More like digging around in his bowl. “If you don’t mind me asking, what’s the real reason you left and never looked back?”
Where to start? How much to say? I didn’t think Morgan would judge me or anything like that, but I wasn’t sure how vulnerable I wanted to be. Even after twenty-eight years, it was still a touchy subject. And he loved this town in a way I never had. Never could.
“What has Arlo told you?”
Morgan looked at me then, really looked at me, and his expression showed nothing but kindness. I’d been afraid I would see pity. He adjusted his position, but when his foot touched mine, he didn’t move it.
“Just that he took you in as a kid.”
I nodded. Arlo wasn’t a gossip, so I wasn’t surprised he hadn’t shared much. Folks who’d been around then, and were still around, knew more of the story. But not the whole thing.
“My dad died when I was ten. Freak accident. He was working under a car, and a careless newbie accidentally bumped into the jack. He was crushed and passed a few days later.”
Morgan dropped his spoon and grabbed my hand. “I’m very sorry to hear that.”
I didn’t bother to acknowledge that. It was a long time ago, yes, but it still stung, and I didn’t have it in me to offer platitudes back. “I kicked around foster care for a couple of months until Arlo came to get me. To bring me back here. And I was…” I sighed, then kind of grimaced. “I was a pain the ass, honestly. I didn’t know Arlo. I was pissed my dad died. I was pissed I had to leave Chicago and all my friends. Everything changed in the blink of an eye. I was sullen and surly. I don’t think I said more than three words for months.” The last bit was an exaggeration, but not by much.
“Understandable,” he murmured, squeezing my hand. Then he stroked fingers along mine, and my brain shorted out for a second. I forgot what we were talking about and I had to fight to get my head back online.
“Yeah, well. Eventually, I got over it. The Arlo part, anyway. He’s solid and he loves me. He took care of me even when I wouldn’t give him the time of day. I got older and understood why we couldn’t stay in Chicago. But I still resented the shit out of this town and all it represented.”
“Which is why you’re not staying once the holidays are over,” he concluded and he sounded sad about that. I wasn’t sure why.
“Partly, yeah. I guess.” I shrugged, but my gaze was fixed on the patterns Morgan was drawing on my skin. I was mesmerized for a moment before I completed the thought. “The other part is the fact that I don’t have a purpose here. I’m a retired Marine, my skills are specialized. Hickory Hollow doesn’t have a place for me.”
For some reason, that had Morgan pulling away. Or maybe it was just because we were done eating. He pushed his seat back, but when he smiled, it wasn’t his usual one. I didn’t get a chance to comment on or question it, because he pointed to my dish.
“Do you want more?”
I shook my head, still trying to figure out what was going on. Morgan patted my shoulder and stood, then stacked the dishes and carried them to the sink. I wanted to get us back to where we’d been before I ruined the mood with my sad-sack story.
“What about your family?” I asked. Maybe it was that particular topic that had him down.
Morgan set the dishes down and half turned toward me. “Familiar story. My parents got divorced when I was six and my sister was four. Dad ended up in New Zealand, working as a nurse there. We talk a couple of times a year. Mom got remarried when I was in college. Kurt’s a good guy. Cruise ship captain. Mom spends half the year sailing the Caribbean as a wife on board, and the other half in London with my sister, who married a British professor. We’re not super close, but we talk often and send gifts.”
So not sad, but not exactly happy either. Morgan’s tone indicated he was perfectly fine the way things were so it probably wasn’t that. I studied him, but he started humming again and turned back to the sink. He ran the water and raised his voice to speak over the sound.
“Well, we better get on with what we’re here to do. I don’t want to keep you late. Would you mind hanging the lights outside? The hooks are already in place on the roof line and I have a headlamp you can use to see. But of course, if you don’t want to do it in the dark, I can always do it one morning this week.”
And have him climb a ladder, on his own, where anything could happen and there’d be no one around to help if he fell? Fuck no. I wouldn’t allow it. I stood quickly, agreeing to hang the lights. Morgan’s smile was more genuine now, and I smiled back. Once I had my sneakers and vest back on, and the headlamp properly settled, he plopped a Santa had on my head to “keep you warm.”
It was only when I was outside, alone with my thoughts, that I realized he’d successfully distracted me from whatever was bothering him. I didn’t like that he’d been upset and I wanted to fix it. Even though I had the distinct impression that it had something to do with me. I wasn’t sure how, but clearly I was the problem. Which meant it was up to me to fix it.
I was a little bit frozen, and still had no bright ideas, by the time I made it back inside. Morgan had made a ton of progress on the tree, the decorations sparkling merrily in the lights, and he was standing on a step stool to reach the higher branches. It seemed a hell of a lot sturdier than the ladder the other day, so I didn’t feel the need to rush over there.
“All done. Wanna come look?”
Morgan glanced over his shoulder. “I will when this is done. Thank you. But you must be freezing. I made hot chocolate. It’s keeping warm on the stove. Go get yourself some please.”
Since I was a sucker for hot chocolate, especially the homemade kind that didn’t come out of an instant packet, I removed my shoes, hung my vest back up, and took the headlamp off. I left the hat in place because it made Morgan smile.
He’d left a mug next to the stove, so I filled it with hot chocolate. Then I looked over. Morgan was watching me. “Do you want some?”
“I will in a minute.” He cocked his head, considering something, then went back to work on the tree. “Interrogative.”
I chuckled, wondering if he’d been looking up military protocol. “Go ahead.”
“Are you good at problems solving and logistics because of your job in the Marines? Or was that your job in the Marines because you’re good at it?”
“Both,” I answered and he made an ‘eep’ sound and wobbled. He hadn’t expected me to be so close, not noticing that I crossed the room while he was asking. I was glad I was there, though, because I could steady him with a hand on his hip. He was taller than me, standing on the bottom step, and he looked down into my eyes. I had to clear my throat. “I was good at it, which is how I became operations chief. But doing the job made me better.”
“Yeah,” he whispered.
I stepped closer, I couldn’t help it. Staring into those shining blue depths, I was hooked. I didn’t let go of his hip either, and he turned a little more, trusting me to keep him steady, not even bothering to put down the ornament he was holding. Time stood still around me. I could barely breathe.
“Do you like boys, Gunnery Sergeant McKinnon?” He asked, voice soft and a little hopeful.
“I like people, Mr. Hawley. Labels have never been that important to me,” I answered in the same tone.
He nodded. Leaned closer. His lips were less than an inch away. All I would have to do was tilt my chin a little more, and we’d be kissing.
“Good answer,” he murmured. And then he kissed me.
I opened my mouth the instant our lips touched, and he let out a tiny moan, giving me a little more of his weight. It wasn’t a chaste kiss, all hard pressure and dueling tongues. He tasted like the soup and mint, like he’d maybe eaten one of the peppermints from the bowl on his coffee table. I wanted more, and I pushed back, taking over and controlling the kiss. Morgan went with it and offered me another whimpery, moan.
When he tried to get closer, he wobbled, and I gripped him hard to keep him stable. But I eased back, slowly, reluctantly. Morgan’s eyes fluttered open, and then his red lips curled up in a smile that was equal parts wonder and sex. I really liked that look on his face.
But I had to be practical.
“We shouldn’t do this,” I said, tone quiet and apologetic.
His expression didn’t change. “Why’s that?”
“Because I don’t plan to stay. We just talked about that.”
Morgan reached with one hand and managed to get the ornament haphazardly onto a branch. Then he turned to face me fully and somehow my fingers found their own way under the edge of his sweater to touch bare skin. They clearly had a mind of their own but for the life of me, I couldn’t get myself to let go.
He cupped my face tenderly, and looked down at me, his gaze bouncing from one of my eyes to the other. Back and forth, until they settled. His grin grew, both in size and filthiness and he slid his fingers along my jaw, under my ears, until he could rub the back of my head, where my hair was still short enough to be considered fuzz.
“So we both know where we stand then. No miscommunication or confusion.” He dropped a kiss on the corner of my mouth, then my nose, then my eye, which closed of their own volition. He nosed his way across my cheek until he could whisper in my ear. “What’s wrong with just enjoying this for what it is, Barrett? Do you want to take me to bed?”
I gave him the only word I could, all previous reservations flying out the window. “Yes.”
“Good.” He nudged me so I had to step back and I opened my eyes as he jumped to the floor. Then he took my hand and started leading me away from the tree. “You can leave the hat on.”