Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The axe came down in a clean arc that sent two halves tumbling to either side of the chopping block.
Here he was again, the barn some kind of refuge.
Christ, but he didn’t need any more fucking logs.
But, the physical exertion was welcome, helping to dull and dampen down Jake’s twisting, turning thoughts.
The problem was, as soon as he stopped, they all came rushing back.
The blackout, when he’d kissed Ru. Or Ru had kissed him.
It hardly mattered who had initiated it; what mattered was that Jake had wanted it, had welcomed it, only to then pull back like a scared kid.
Because scared was exactly what he’d been.
He’d talked of doing the right thing because Ru was vulnerable, although in truth Ru hadn’t seemed so; Ru had been very clear, very direct about what he’d wanted.
So he’d taken refuge in being honourable, when honourable had been the last thing he’d wanted to be.
Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the cold.
Jake wiped it away with his sleeve, breathing hard from the exertion.
He’d been at this for nearly an hour, the pile of split wood growing far beyond what they needed.
But stopping meant going back inside, where Ru would be with his easy smile and soft grey eyes that saw too much, and his bruised and battered nose that had triggered something fierce and protective within Jake.
Yesterday’s bump on the head, and a nosebleed.
It’d been nothing more than a minor injury thank god.
But Jake’s response had been anything but minor.
The sight of Ru on the ground, with blood on his face, had shaken Jake out of all proportion to the mishap.
It had been like being back in the field, triaging a wounded comrade, except the comrade was Ru and the stakes had been so much higher.
He set up another log, raising the axe again.
The truth he’d been avoiding slammed into him with the force of the blade hitting wood: he wanted Ru.
It wasn’t only physical, and Christ, but the frustration was nearly killing him.
It was so much more than that. It was the connections they were forging, the tug of the heart, all the feelings he’d sworn he wouldn’t allow himself again after—
Jake cut off the thought, focusing on the hard, physical task at hand.
No use dwelling on the past. What mattered was the present, and the present included a man whose smile made butterflies take to the wing deep in his stomach, whose bright, sunny nature lifted the gloom, and who was temporarily stranded in Jake’s home by a winter storm that showed no signs of abating.
After the brief lull, the snow had started again, light at first but steadily intensifying overnight. Their snowman stood half-buried, hat askew, looking like it was sinking into quicksand.
Jake gathered an armful of split logs, balancing them against his chest as he made his way back to the house, where he stacked them in the utility room, adding them to the existing huge pile before peeling off his heavy coat, hat, and scarf.
Ru appeared in the doorway with a steaming mug in his hand.
“I thought you might want coffee,” he said, holding it out. “You’ve been out there for ages.”
Jake took the mug, careful not to let their fingers brush. Even this small consideration threatened to unravel his resolve.
Ru’s nose was spectacularly bruised, a purple-blue shadow across the bridge and beneath his eyes. It looked like he’d gone ten rounds in the ring.
“How is it?” Jake asked, nodding towards the injury.
“Tender.” Ru touched it gingerly. “But better than yesterday. I think a good night’s sleep helped. Along with expert medical care and the painkillers.”
“It was basic first aid.”
“Well, it didn’t feel like it. I might not have shown it, but I appreciated it nonetheless. Coming in? It’s freezing out here.”
Jake nodded, following Ru into the warm living room.
Logs were stacked up either side of the wood burner, with no room for any of what felt like the thousands he’d chopped.
Dropping down onto the sofa, he stretched out his aching muscles.
His skin prickled. Turning his head, he found Ru watching him.
“What?” Jake asked, aware of the scant inches between them, of the unruly lock of dark hair falling across Ru’s eyes, of the flames warming his pale skin. Jake coughed and shifted, and pretended he wasn’t squirming.
“Nothing,” Ru said quickly, then seemed to reconsider.
He laughed, the sound low, and tingling its way along Jake’s spine.
“Actually, not nothing. I was just thinking that you’re the most physically capable person I’ve ever met.
Splitting wood, fixing generators, building snowmen, first aid…
You’re like a superhero. Is there anything you can’t do? ”
The question was light, teasing, but Jake felt himself tense anyway. “Those who believe they’re heroes, super or otherwise, are the ones who cock up. There’s plenty I can’t do.” He concentrated on drinking his too hot coffee, anything to avoid elaborating.
“Like what?”
Like protecting the people who matter. Like stopping wanting things I shouldn’t have. Like forgetting the taste of your lips.
“Pointless, banal small talk.” It was the first thing that came to mind, but Jesus, if it didn’t make him sound like the most miserable bastard who’d ever walked the earth.
Ru laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “Fair enough, because banal is, I suppose, what most of it is.”
Neither said anything more, each concentrating on their drinks. The moment stretched out, growing thin, ready to snap.
“It’s only three, or is it four days, to Christmas? I’ve kind of lost track of time,” Ru said, breaking the silence.
Three, maybe four days, of this delicious, torturous proximity, of wanting what he’d decided he shouldn’t take. How the fuck was he going to cope? Just three or four days to Christmas… which meant…
“It’s the winter solstice. Shortest day of the year, and longest night.” How the hell could he have forgotten? But he knew, because the reason was smiling at him.
“And the astronomical start of winter, though it feels like it’s been winter forever.”
Something turned and twisted in Jake’s chest. Like Ru, he too had lost track of time, too caught up in the storm, in Ru’s presence, and in his own tangled thoughts. “The solstice,” he repeated, more to himself than to Ru. “The darkest day before the return of the light.”
Ru tilted his head. “It means something to you, doesn’t it? Something important.”
Jake hesitated. This was personal, private, a piece of himself he rarely shared.
“If you don’t want to—”
“No, it’s okay.” And it was. Perhaps it should have surprised him, but sharing this most private aspect of himself with Ru felt so much more than okay.
“My nan, she kept what she called the old ways. So did my parents, but to a lesser extent. Nan was scrupulous in acknowledging the turning of the year, marking every solstice, equinox, and more besides. She taught me some of it, that’s all. ”
But it wasn’t that’s all. It was a fundamental plank of who he was and as he glanced at Ru, he knew in his core that Ru understood in a way nobody else ever had. His stomach tightened and he looked away, no longer able to meet those wide, grey eyes.
“The tutor at art school I mentioned, he was into what he called earth magic but with him I always thought it was just part of his image. You know, the unconventional and free thinking artist, tapping into ancient, primal energy. I think he used it to con some of the more attractive students into bed.”
Jake huffed. “There are plenty of those characters around. Frauds, in other words.”
“So it isn’t sex magic, then?
Jake’s whole body jerked. “What the… Oh, very funny.”
Ru was grinning at him, gotcha! written clean across his face. Jake couldn’t stop himself from smiling in return.
“Seriously, though, are there rituals or traditions you follow? Somehow, I don’t think all the greenery we collected has that much to do with Christmas.”
Jake sucked in his lower lip before answering. Shouldn’t he be feeling awkward or self-conscious, talking about something he hugged tight to himself? But with Ru, he felt none of that.
“Some of it is, but not much,” Jake admitted. “As for rituals, I don’t declare I’m a Druid, put on a long frock and wave a stick around if that’s what you think.”
Ru snorted. “I should hope not, because a frock is so not you.”
Jake chuckled. Talking about this stuff, which he never did, should have been ten out of ten weird, but with Ru it just wasn’t.
“There are rituals,” he said slowly, “but nothing dramatic, or not for me because it wasn’t how I was taught. Bringing in certain types of greenery, keeping the Yule log burning, and I don’t mean the sponge and chocolate frosting variety, even if here a wood burner has to be a substitute.
“It’s about acknowledging the changing of seasons and preparing for them.
It’s the turning of the wheel of the year.
The winter solstice is recognising and marking the retreat of darkness as it gives way to light and warmth and rebirth.
” He hesitated, then added, “My nan, she believed the solstices were powerful. Times when the veil between the human world and that of the spirits and the ancestors was thin.”
“Do you believe that?” Ru asked, no trace of skepticism in his voice.
Jake tilted his head to the side as he thought how to answer.
He didn’t want to sound like some gullible, New Age hippy.
“I believe there are a lot of things we don’t understand, and that there are forces older than our comprehension.
I also think people have forgotten how to connect to the natural world and its cycles. ”
Ru nodded, as if this made perfect sense. “So how do you mark it?”
“With simple things. Cleaning the house before the day, although I’ve failed on that score this year. Bringing in fresh greenery. Setting intentions for the coming light which I suppose are kind of like resolutions.”
“And?” Ru prompted when Jake fell silent.
“Staying awake through the longest night. Keeping watch until dawn, then greeting the returning sun.”
“A vigil?”
Jake nodded, feeling oddly exposed. “When I can. I haven’t always been in a position to do it, but it is important to me.”
“Will you do it tonight?”
“Yes.” The answer came without hesitation. Whatever confusion clouded the rest of his life, this at least was clear; the connection to something older than himself, a ritual passed down through blood and bone.
“Could I… Would it be all right if I joined you? Tonight?” Ru rushed on before Jake could answer. “I mean, if it’s not private or solitary by nature. If that’s the case, I understand.”
The request caught Jake off-guard. He’d never shared this with anyone, not as an adult.
For years, it had been a solitary observance, a quiet communion with forces larger than himself.
But the thought of Ru beside him, watching the longest night give way to dawn…
It felt right, when for so long his life, his inner, private life, had felt wrong.
“Yes,” he said, his voice catching. “You can, if you really want to.”
Ru’s smile was like a solstice sunrise itself, bright and warming, and full of promise. “I’d like that. Thank you.”
Jake nodded, something loosening within him even as another kind of tension built. The thought of spending the long night with Ru, sharing this piece of himself, was another boundary crossed, another way in which this man was becoming more than a temporary guest in his home.
“It’s not exciting,” he warned. “It’s mostly just waiting. Keeping the fire going, and staying present.”
“Sounds perfect,” Ru said, his enthusiasm undimmed. “What do we need to do to prepare?”
The we settled deep inside Jake, warm and weighted. “Nothing complicated. Food for the night. Something to drink that’s not alcoholic because staying alert is part of it.” He paused, then added, “Keeping a clear and open mind.” Opening yourself up to whatever the night brings.
Ru nodded. “I may need to borrow another jumper. If that’s okay?”
“Have whatever you need.”
Ru swathed in his clothes, it felt like territory marking, like claiming him. Warmth spread low in Jake’s belly. Christ, but he had to stop thinking like that, because Ru wasn’t his to own, and he needed to remember that.
Jake cleared his throat. “I’m going to bring in the rest of the wood from the barn.” Although where he was going to stack it, god alone knew.
“And I’ll take care of the food. I may not be able to split logs but I can make a mean midnight feast.”
Jake nodded, grateful for the chance to escape back into the cold, to clear his head before the intimacy of the night ahead.
As he tugged on his coat and boots and stepped outside, the winter air sharp in his lungs, he wondered if he’d made a mistake in agreeing to share this with Ru.
The solstice vigil had always been a time of reflection, of setting intentions.
What intentions could he possibly set when everything within him was in conflict?
Stay strong. Honour boundaries. Remember why he’d pulled away.
But beneath these thoughts ran a deeper current, one he was less willing to acknowledge: it wasn’t only the pull of sex, it was the pull of Ru himself. The man who made him smile, the man whose company he was liking more and more with every passing minute.
The man who was awakening emotions Jake had thought dead and buried.
And that, Jake knew, was the most dangerous thing of all.