Chapter 32
jack
Jack had been leaning against the wall near the stove, warming himself up as he prepared what he wanted to say.
He wanted Morgan to offer the money he’d promised. Then Jack could refuse. Then he could say goodbye. Then he could leave. Put all of this behind him and forget he’d ever imagined there’d be a place for him in this town. In Morgan’s heart.
He’d been mentally rehearsing how he would leave in the morning. How he’d hitch a ride to Billings, because there was sure to be more than one train stopping in a town like that.
He didn’t want to stick around for more of what Morgan had been dishing out, as though Jack’s only purpose was to be useful.
Morgan would let him stay until morning. Which meant Jack would have one more night with a roof over his head, listening for the wail of the train whistle as it went over the crossing. After that, the future was a blank space stretching out in front of him.
Suddenly the parlor seemed overly warm, a cave full of too much heat as Morgan attempted to explain himself
Jack let his mind wander, only half listening as the conversation turned to stray dogs and what they needed, which evidently was, at least in Morgan’s mind, charity and a whole lot of guidance that Jack didn’t need or want.
What he wanted from Morgan was the truth about how he felt about Jack. He wanted to hear that what they had shared meant something to Morgan. That if Jack’s heart was in his hands, and Jack rather felt it was, Morgan would care for him more than he did anything else in the whole wide world.
Except then, Morgan mentioned something about a plane reservation and some fancy hotel, as though Morgan thought a hotel was the solution to what was going on between them.
Jack would take himself downstairs to sleep on the bags of grain in the storage room before he accepted that kind of handout.
Then Morgan had said, “I want you to stay,” and Jack had stood very still. Wanting to hear the rest. Wanting to trust Morgan’s words.
And then he’d said it again: “I want you to stay.” His voice had shaken, but he’d sounded like he meant it.
Jack moved closer, standing on the edge of the futon, which made him taller than Morgan, as Morgan confessed the truth: that he had treated Jack badly.
Which hurt, because after Morgan had taken him in, after Jack had shaken off the cold and looked into Morgan’s eyes, he’d thought he’d found someone like himself. Someone who was lost and looking for a forever home.
It felt good to get the words out. You treated me shitty. But despite Jack’s trembling fear of Morgan’s reaction, Morgan had grown gentler, more open. As though the truth was what he’d been wanting all along.
Morgan curled his fingers around Jack’s wrist.
Jack could have gotten loose, but his heart was thumping, and he didn’t pull away.
“I don’t need your money,” Jack said, hoping he was making himself clear. “Or your charity.”
Morgan was close enough for Jack to see the sweat at his temples, the glisten in his eyes.
“I’m bad at this.” Morgan paused to swallow hard. “So bad at this. Which is probably why Bradley left when he did.”
Jack didn’t care about that. He brought Morgan closer, Morgan’s scent filling his lungs.
The air from the landing leading to the stairs was cool, which wasn’t good. Morgan was still healing, and if he caught a cold, it could set back his recovery.
“And?” Jack asked.
“I want you to stay, like I said,” Morgan spoke slowly, as though he feared he might run out of breath. “I can do this without you, but I don’t want to be without you.” Morgan grabbed hold of Jack, drew himself upright, and looked Jack straight in the eye.
“The day you arrived,” he said, “everything changed. I hated this town. Hated being here, though at that point I probably would have hated my life, myself, no matter where I was. And then you appeared.”
“You were fine,” Jack said. “Getting along fine.”
“I wasn’t.” Morgan’s jaw tightened, and darkness filled his eyes so quickly a shiver ran up Jack’s spine. “It was—” Morgan shook his head, looking away for only a second before his focus returned to Jack. “Bad. But it’s better now.”
Those blue eyes brightened with warmth that soaked into Jack, even as he questioned what Morgan meant. Maybe Jack should ask.
But before he could draw breath for the words, Morgan said, “I think I fell in love with you.”
Jack blinked. “Because I’m useful,” he said after a moment. That had to be the reason. Why else would Morgan say something like that?
“No.” Morgan’s response was instant. “Because you saw me,” he said. “Not as the person I was supposed to be or should have been, but who I was. That’s rare.”
“I’m rare?” Jack asked. The conversation had galloped to a place that made his head spin, his heart lurching to a wild, hopeful beat. “What d’you mean, rare?” He scoffed, forcing a low laugh to stave off the pain that would surely follow such a weird compliment. “I’m not a steak, you know.”
Humor filled Morgan’s eyes in a way Jack had seen before, a fleeting spray of light and happiness that had always been quick to vanish, and Morgan raised his hands as though he wanted to hug Jack close but didn’t feel like he could.
“After my accident,” Morgan said, “everything was a struggle. Though maybe it had always been that way, and Bradley had gotten tired of it. Of me.” He sighed.
“You make everything easy. Like it all could be good, better than good, if I only just let it, instead of struggling all the time to make it what it isn’t. ”
“What do you want it to be?” Jack asked, breathless.
“You and me,” Morgan said. “Get this old feed and grain straightened out so maybe we can sell it in the spring. In the meantime, we can get the three old geezers on a regular coffee-and-donut schedule so they’ll leave me the hell alone, and get Mabel to tell me what kind of trap I should use for that damn raccoon. Except there’s no raccoon—”
“You said you and me,” Jack interrupted. “Can we get back to that part?”
“You and me,” Morgan confirmed with a hopeful smile.
“Huddled in front of this cast-iron stove, waiting for spring. Waiting for Plowy McPlowface to clear the roads so we can swing by the coffee shop before doing our shopping at the only grocery store in town. Our lives slowing way down to the point where we don’t ever have to be apart. So we can just be together always.”
“Me in your arms,” Jack said, as though that was his stipulation in a long-running discussion about what he was willing to compromise. “You in my bed. And all the windows replaced.”
He crossed his arms over his chest, as if that last was the most important part.
“Yes, yes, of course.” Morgan was smiling, but his mouth quivered like he was afraid to say the wrong thing and break some kind of spell. “So you’ll stay? And be with me.”
“If you’ll be with me,” Jack said, just to be stubborn. “And if you say that thing again.”
“About loving you?” Morgan asked, and when Jack nodded, Morgan moved close. Took Jack’s face in his hands and kissed him gently. Morgan’s eyes were right there, happy lights in them, surrounded by smile crinkles. Jack leaned in and kissed Morgan right back.
“I’ll say it all the time if you want,” Morgan said, his breath whispering across Jack’s mouth.
Jack’s heart was jumping, painful slams against the inside of his breastbone. Their foreheads came together, warmth building between them.
“What if your knee hurts,” he whispered. “What if you get mad and push me away again.”
They weren’t questions; they were statements, wanting to be answered and soothed.
“I was scared.” Morgan pulled away, taking a bit of warmth with him, though his eyes never left Jack’s.
“And a fool. I didn’t want to stay—this stupid town—but it caught me and held me down until I gave in.
Same with you. You pulled and pulled, probably didn’t even know you were doing it.
And now all I want—” He paused to kiss Jack quickly.
“—is you. If you’ll put up with me while I get better. ”
“Yeah.” Jack breathed the word and moved into Morgan’s arms. “As long as you do those damn exercises every day instead of only one time and calling it good. Take your meds when you should.”
“Stop being my nursemaid.”
“Then stop being a jackass.”
Morgan flushed and shook his head. “Yes,” he said, “that is on me. I’m a grown man, and I should know better.”
“And for now,” Jack said, “you can shut up and kiss me.”
“Okay.”
Morgan’s smile deepened, and his arms tightened around Jack. As the room grew still around them, the cold air soaking through the thin windows, Jack felt warm inside.
Jack gently tumbled Morgan onto the futon, Morgan landing with a loud oof and a furrow between his brows, looking up at Jack as though Jack had just jumped him in a back alley somewhere. A second later and Jack was on him, straddling his hips, mock-pinning his wrists to the mattress.
“You—” Morgan began, then stopped, and whether he was pretending to try and get away or whether he really was, the friction against the insides of Jack’s thighs, his groin, was delicious.
“I what?” Jack asked, giving Morgan a warning look.
“You scalawag,” Morgan said, and now he was laughing, attempting to free himself to clutch at Jack. “Reprobate.” Then he bared his teeth and hissed, “Delinquent!”
“Wrong, wrong, wrong.” Jack bent forward to kiss him hard and fast with each word. “I’m yours. I’m your Jack. Now be quiet.”
To make his point, Jack let go of Morgan’s wrists and spread himself on top of Morgan’s body, covering him.
Holding him still. In the glow of the small fire in the stove, he kissed Morgan’s forehead and the tip of his nose.
Each of his cheeks, then his mouth. Slowly.
Their breaths warm. Morgan’s chest rising and falling beneath him.
“I can’t, um—” Morgan tilted his head in a way that somehow indicated his knee.
Jack nodded. “We’ll take it slow and easy.” He licked along Morgan’s mouth, dipping in when Morgan’s lips parted, and sighed as Morgan’s arms tightened around his waist. “And when you’re ready, we’ll flip a coin to see who fucks who.”
“Who fucks whom,” Morgan corrected with a grin.
Jack snorted and buried his face in Morgan’s neck to tug at the collar of his T-shirt with his teeth, inhaling Morgan’s warm scent. Then he reached between them, sliding his fingers beneath the waistband of Morgan’s briefs and down to his cock.
“Got you,” Jack breathed into Morgan’s ear. Morgan was hard and ready and utterly still beneath him. “Got you forever.”
“Yes, you do,” Morgan said, as solemnly as though he were making a vow.