Chapter 18 #2
Jake emerged long enough to launch a perfect shot that caught Ru square in the chest. “All’s fair,” he called back, a grin ripping across his face.
Snowball after snowball flew through the freezing air, along with shouted accusations of sneaky, underhand tactics. Ru was hopelessly outmatched in accuracy and strategy, but he made up for it with enthusiasm and unpredictability.
At one point, he feinted left, then charged directly at Jake, catching him off-guard enough to stuff a handful of snow down the back of his collar, earning a yelp of surprise.
“Dirty fighting,” Jake accused, shaking snow from his clothes.
“I fight to win.” Ru laughed in triumph as he danced backward out of reach.
Jake’s eyes narrowed, a predatory glint replacing surprise. “You’ll regret that.”
A delicious shiver raced down Ru’s spine. He turned to flee, squealing when a snowball caught him square between the shoulder blades. Another followed immediately, clipping his arm.
“How are you so fast?” Ru demanded, spinning to face his attacker, only to find Jake much closer than expected.
“Training.” Jake grinned as he advanced with clear intent, another snowball at the ready.
Ru backed up, hands raised in surrender. “Mercy for a civilian?”
“Terms?”
“I acknowledge your superior snowball skills and tactical genius?”
Jake tilted his head as he considered the truce, his expression serious though his eyes danced with something that made Ru’s stomach flip. “Not good enough.”
“What do you want, then?” The question came out breathier than Ru intended, laden with possibilities neither of them had acknowledged since last night.
Jake’s eyes darkened, and Ru thought, hoped, he might close the distance between them completely. Instead, Jake smirked and said, “Hot chocolate. You make it.”
Relief and disappointment warred in Ru’s chest. “That’s it?”
“No. I also demand mince pies. Accept my terms or meet the consequences.” Jake tossed the snowball he was still holding from hand to hand.
Ru laughed, the tension breaking. “You drive a hard bargain, but fine. I surrender.” He turned towards the house, making his way through the snow. “Though I warn you, my hot chocolate making skills are suspect at be—”
His foot caught on something hidden beneath the snow and he pitched forward, his body twisting as he tried to catch himself. As he hit the ground, his forehead connected with something solid and a sharp pain exploded across the bridge of his nose.
For a moment he lay stunned, before he rolled onto his back, blinking up at a sky that was suddenly too bright and hard. A warm wetness trickled down his face, metallic and familiar.
Blood.
“Ru!” Jake’s voice cut through the confusion, sharp with alarm. Suddenly Jake was there, kneeling beside Ru, his face tight with concern. “Don’t move.” The command brooked no argument, as his hands cradled Ru’s head.
“I’m okay,” Ru managed, though the words came out thick and nasal. He tried to sit up, but Jake’s palm against his chest kept him in place.
“I said don’t move.” All Jake’s playfulness had disappeared, replaced by a calm authority that made Ru instantly compliant. “Just take a moment. You’ve hit your head, and you’re bleeding,” he said, his expression darkening. He produced a tissue from his pocket and pressed it carefully to Ru’s nose.
“It’s just a nosebleed from the knock, that’s all.”
Jake ignored him, his focus absolute as he helped Ru sit up and tilted Ru’s head forward.
“Keep the tissue in place and pinch the soft part of your nose, just above the nostrils,” he instructed, “but not too hard.” Jake ripped off his gloves, and rested a hand at the nape of Ru’s neck, warm, reassuring, and steady.
“Follow my finger.” He moved the index finger of his other hand, slowly, from side to side.
Ru obeyed. This was a man completely in his element, commanding and competent in a crisis. Ru’s pulse quickened, despite the pain.
“Pupils equal, tracking normally,” Jake murmured, his gaze so intense Ru was sure he could feel the heat of it. “Any dizziness? Nausea? Double vision?”
“No, no, and no,” Ru assured him. “Really, Jake, it was just a tumble.”
Jake’s jaw tightened. “You hit your head. That’s not just anything.
” His hand moved from Ru’s neck to his face, fingers tilting his chin to better examine the injury to both his nose and forehead.
“You’re going to have a bump the size of an egg on your brow.
Your nose has taken a bashing, but it’s not broken.
” Jake’s face was so close Ru could breathe in Jake’s warmth, and see the gold glints in his green eyes.
“Think you can stand? Slowly,” Jake said, when Ru nodded. His arm slipped around Ru’s waist for support.
Ru’s legs wobbled for a second, but he didn’t fall. The bleeding had already slowed, though his nose throbbed in time with his heartbeat. “See? All functional.” He attempted a smile that turned into a wince as it pulled at his tender nose.
Jake didn’t return the smile, his expression remaining grave. “What hurts?”
“My nose and forehead. But neither as much as my pride. Honestly, I’m fine.”
Jake studied him for another long moment, eyes narrowed. “I need to get you back inside.”
Ru leant against Jake. There was something undeniably reassuring and comforting about being the focus of such fierce protection, no matter that he’d tried to laugh it off, and about the solid, warm strength in the arm that wound itself around him and took his weight.
“I can walk, you know. I won’t fall down.” Although Ru wasn’t sure if that was strictly true
“Humour me.” Jake’s voice was tight with concern.
Back inside, Jake directed Ru to a chair before he filled a bowl with warm water before producing a first aid kit.
“Hold still.” Jake dampened a cloth and cleaned the dried blood from Ru’s face.
His touch was gentle, his movements unhurried.
He stood close enough that Ru could smell him, even through his swollen, battered nose.
That woodsmoke aroma again, along with something uniquely Jake that made Ru want to drench his senses in him.
“The bleeding’s stopped. As I suspected, your nose isn’t broken, but you’ll have bruising.” His fingers lingered on Ru’s face, no longer strictly medical in their attention. “I’ll get you some painkillers, because you’re going to have a bastard of a headache.”
Ru nodded, his throat too thick to speak, though in truth he barely registered the pain, too distracted by Jake’s proximity and the intensity of his focus.
Jake’s hand fell to his side, but he made no move to step away. “You should rest. Take it easy for the rest of the day.”
“It’s barely even midday,” Ru said, finding his voice which was rough and scratchy. “I’m not an invalid.”
“Head injuries aren’t something to mess with. Even minor ones. So you’ll do as I say.”
Ru looked up, their gazes snagging.
A silence stretched between them, charged with things unsaid.
Jake was still standing close, one hand resting on the table beside Ru, the other at his side before he pushed it into the pocket of his joggers.
Jake’s gaze fell to Ru’s lips before returning to his eyes, the moment so brief Ru might have imagined it.
“Thank you,” Ru said, suddenly needing to break the tension. “For taking care of me.”
Jake gave a sharp nod. “I’ll get those tablets. And you should lie down. Sofa or bed?”
“I’m really not tired—”
“Sofa or bed?” Jake repeated, not a question but a command.
Ru conceded defeat. “Sofa.”
The living room looked different in daylight, still homely but lacking the magical quality of last night’s lamplight. Ru lowered himself to the sofa under Jake’s watchful eye, suppressing a smile at the unnecessary hovering.
“Blanket?” Jake asked, already reaching for the throw folded over the armchair. “I’ll get the hot chocolate. Stay there and don’t move.”
As Jake disappeared into the kitchen, Ru lent back against the cushions, gingerly touching his nose and wincing. Now he was settled in the warm, every bone in his body began to ache.
A few minutes later, Jake returned with the hot chocolate and two painkillers, which he set down on the coffee table. “The weather’s turning again,” he said, nodding at the window. “It was just a lull in the storm, not the end of it.”
“At least we got time to build the snowman.”
Jake smiled, his features lightening. “We did. And the snowball fight, even if you don’t play fair.”
“Don’t know what you mean,” Ru said, feigning innocence.
Jake settled into the other sofa. Everything about him was alert as if ready to spring into action at the first sign of distress. His eyes kept returning to Ru’s face, checking and assessing.
“I’m not going to collapse, you know. You can relax.”
“I am relaxed.”
Ru smiled, wincing slightly as it pulled at his sore nose. “Of course you are. The very picture of relaxation.”
“Just drink your hot chocolate.”
The sweet, warm liquid was rich and soothing, and Ru sighed as he settled into the easy quiet. A hard gust of wind hit the house. Ru glanced towards the window. The storm was coming back with a vengeance.
“Will the power go again?”
“Unlikely.” Jake took a sip of his drink, eyes still on Ru over the rim of his mug.
“Well, that’s good. I suppose.”
Jake’s eyebrows rose slightly. “You don’t sound pleased.”
Ru hesitated. “Well, I rather liked the lamplight,” he admitted. “It was atmospheric.”
Something shifted in Jake’s expression, a brief softening that made Ru’s breath catch.
“It was,” he agreed quietly.
A fresh gust rattled the windows, drawing both their attention.
Jake set his mug aside. “I should bring in more firewood before it hits.”
“I can lend a hand—”
“You can, by staying exactly where you are,” he said, glaring down at him. “I won’t be long.”
Ru settled deeper into the sofa. His limbs were starting to feel loose. Maybe the painkillers contained a mild sedative. His nose still throbbed, but the pain felt distant compared to the warmth spreading through his chest.
There was something undeniably appealing about being so thoroughly looked after.
He wasn’t used to it, but he liked it. Nobody had cared for him like Jake had.
Well, his parents had, when he’d been unwell as a kid, but that didn’t count.
Cooper certainly hadn’t. He’d never cared, not really.
The comparison rose unbidden, and Ru pushed it away.
Jake wasn’t Cooper. The differences between them were as vast as the snow covered landscape outside.
No, he didn’t want to think about Cooper ever again.
Outside the living room window, the snowman stood watch as the first new snowflakes began to fall, its crooked smile and jaunty hat a reminder of the morning’s brief, perfect playfulness.
Inside, Ru touched his tender nose and smiled despite the ache, already looking forward to Jake’s return, as his eyes closed and sleep claimed him.