Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Ru’s eyes flickered open. He was disoriented, his mind still fuzzy with sleep, his body both sore and bone deep relaxed. He blinked and looked around.
Jake’s bedroom. Jake’s bed.
He stretched, letting the memories flood back. Keeping watch all night, as they awaited the solstice sunrise. The kiss that had finally broken through Jake’s restraint, and everything that had followed in this very bed.
The place beside him was empty, the sheets cool to the touch.
Ru ran his hand over the depression where Jake’s body had been, a sharp twinge of disappointment that he was alone cutting through his contentment.
They’d fallen asleep wrapped in each other’s arms, their bodies fitting together perfectly, Jake’s breath warm on his skin. He’d hoped to wake the same way.
The light filtering through the windows was different to earlier. Ru glanced at the bedside clock. Just gone 3.30pm, the bright morning sun had been replaced by the darkening shadows of mid-afternoon. Day was already fading into night.
He sat up, wincing slightly at the pull of muscles unused to the kind of exertion they’d experienced that morning. The ache was satisfying, a physical reminder of what had happened. His fingers trailed across his neck; his aching muscles weren’t the only evidence of how Jake had marked him.
Smiling, Ru flopped back down into the bed.
He was still tired, yet as the seconds ticked past, lying alone in Jake’s bed felt…
lonely. Slipping out, he darted to the bathroom and let the shower pummel his sore and aching body, letting his mind wander to when Jake could make him sore all over again.
The house was quiet as he descended the stairs, no sound of movement or activity.
In the living room, the fire had been recently built up, the flames dancing behind the glass of the wood burner, yet there was no sign of Jake.
Ru turned around at the tap of claws on the floor. Monty, tail wagging, looked up at him.
“Hello, boy.” Ru rubbed the dog behind his ears. “Where is he, eh?” With no treats in the offing, Monty dropped down in front of the fire.
“Jake?” Ru called, but no answer came.
Ru moved to the window. Rain, not snow, fell from the sky, eroding the pristine white blanket covering everything beyond the walls of the farmhouse.
Their snowman was a sad, diminished figure, half its original height, his old woollen hat slumped over what remained of his face.
Ru pressed his brow to the window, watching the world dissolve.
A movement caught his eye and he peered into what was left of the gloomy afternoon.
Jake was trudging back to the house, his head bent against the rain.
Even at a distance, even through the gloom, Ru could see the tension in his muscles.
It’s just because he’s out in the rain, battling the foul weather…
Yet, Ru’s stomach tightened with a knot of apprehension.
He’d expected… what, exactly? A little morning-after type awkwardness, perhaps, but not this solitary, determined figure who looked exactly as he had the day Jake had hauled him up in the barn, closed-off and self-contained.
He moved away from the window before Jake could catch him watching, not wanting to appear as though he’d been anxiously awaiting his return.
Instead, he busied himself in the kitchen, filling the kettle, setting out mugs for tea.
Normal, casual actions that belied the sudden nervousness fluttering in his stomach.
The utility room door opened and closed, followed by the sounds of boots being removed, and a coat being hung. Ru kept his focus on the kettle, giving Jake space to approach in his own time. The footsteps that eventually entered the kitchen came to a sudden stop.
“You’re up,” Jake said, his tone neutral.
Ru turned, smile at the ready, determined to act normally despite the disquiet bubbling in his stomach.
“Sorry I slept for so long, but I’ve got to say it was the best night’s, or perhaps I should say day’s, sleep I’ve had in a long time.” He kept his gaze on Jake waiting for something, anything, the smallest of signs to acknowledge what lay beneath the words.
Jake nodded once, a short, sharp movement that revealed nothing. “The rain started a couple of hours ago. The temperature’s rising, at least for now.”
Something cold settled in Ru’s stomach at the words. “That’s good, I suppose,” he managed, the kettle momentarily forgotten. “Roads should clear soon, then.”
“In a day or two, most likely, if the rain keeps up. But that’ll probably lead to flooding.
Be all right here, though.” Jake moved to the sink to wash his hands.
His back was to Ru, shoulders stiff beneath his shirt.
A day or two. Ru bit down on his lip. Perhaps he’d get to Bobblecombe for Christmas after all.
The thought left a sour taste in his mouth.
Ru stood, stiff and heavy limbed, watching as Jake poured all his attention into scrubbing his hands clean.
This wasn’t the Jake who’d held him that morning, who’d whispered praise and endearments against his skin, who’d looked at him with both naked hunger and tenderness.
This version was all closed doors and right angles.
“Are you okay?” Ru asked, casting aside the pretence of casual conversation.
Jake’s hands stilled under the running water. For a second or two he was frozen in place, before he turned off the tap and reached for the towel, slowly drying his hands.
“Fine,” he said, turning to face Ru at last. “Just thinking about practicalities, that’s all. Heavy snow followed by a sudden thaw’s not good news. It can cause a lot of problems.”
“Practicalities. Right. Like floods that aren’t likely to be a problem here, you mean?”
Jake winced. “Ru…” He took a step forward, then stopped, as though unsure of what to do.
The kettle clicked off, the sound loud in the tense silence.
Ru turned to deal with it, grateful for the distraction, for something to do with hands that had started to shake.
At the back of his mind, he’d known something like this might happen, had half expected some form of awkwardness, but to be with Jake had been a risk he’d been willing to take.
But the complete withdrawal, the coolness, the distance between them was a million times worse than he’d anticipated.
Without asking if he wanted it, Ru handed him a mug. Their fingers didn’t touch, the careful avoidance of contact like a kick in the gut.
They stood in silence, the rain a persistent soundtrack to the tension filling the kitchen. Ru’s hands clamped around his mug, its heat doing nothing to thaw the chill that gripped him.
“I should check the attic, make sure everything’s okay,” Jake said abruptly, setting down his barely touched tea. “There’s a spot that sometimes leaks when heavy rain follows snow.”
Ru nodded, not trusting his voice to remain steady if he spoke.
Jake hesitated, a frown puckering his brow, his eyes uncertain.
Ru’s heart skipped a beat. Was Jake going to talk to him, was he going to open up, was he going to tell him what the fuck was happening?
Ru opened his mouth, ready to break through the ice, just as Jake turned and left, his footsteps receding up the stairs.
Ru sank into a chair at the kitchen table, his legs no longer strong enough to keep him upright.
Had he pushed too hard? Assumed too much?
Jake had been clear from the beginning about his preference for solitude, his reluctance to engage.
The kiss in the blackout, followed by the step back. Should that have been a warning?
But then there had been the gathering of the greenery, building the snowman together, and the snowball fight.
And there was no way he’d misread Jake’s fierce protectiveness when he’d fallen.
The shared vigil of the solstice night that led to morning…
This morning had felt real, had been more than just sex, a convenient release for them both. It had been way, way more.
Ru dragged his hand across his cheek, wiping away the lonely, single tear.
He refused to believe that was all it had been, just a combination of circumstances, opportunity, and a need to let go.
The way Jake had looked at him, touched him, held him afterwards.
Ru hadn’t imagined how it’d been between them.
Had he?
The sound of movement overhead brought him back to the present.
Jake, seeking refuge in the attic. Ru pressed his lips together in a thin line.
It made a change from sodding well chopping wood, at least. Straightening up, he flexed his shoulders, shaking off the descent into self-doubt. No, he hadn’t imagined any of it.
Something had caused Jake to retreat behind his walls.
Ru stared down into his cooling tea, knowing he had two choices.
He could accept Jake’s withdrawal, pretend nothing had happened, allow them to revert to the cautious strangers they’d been just a tiny handful of days before.
Or, he could confront Jake, and try to understand what had caused his retreat.
Both courses of action made the knots in his stomach tighten and pull.
He felt slightly sick, but the second option came with a large side order of fear.
Because what if Jake refused to talk to him?
What if he said Ru was imagining what wasn’t there?
What if he said they’d had the hottest, most incredible sex ever, but sex was all it was, something to enjoy in the moment but nothing more?
Ru rubbed his stomach, willing it to settle.
The sounds of movement above continued, Jake methodically checking for leaks, or whatever it was he was pretending to do. Ru’s lips twisted. Whatever had happened this morning had created its own kind of leak, a crack in the walls Jake had built around himself.