Chapter 41 Ivan
Friday drags on forever. We're behind schedule on the office building. Something about a shipment of conduit that didn't arrive on time, which means we're scrambling to make up lost hours before the next inspection.
Frank asks if anyone can stay late, and I raise my hand. The overtime pay is good. Time and a half after five. We need the money now more than ever, especially after the lawyer's retainer.
But by seven, I'm watching the clock like I can make time move faster through sheer force of will.
My whole body aches. My shoulders are tight from pulling cable all day.
My hands are sore from gripping tools, blisters forming despite my work gloves.
I'm filthy, covered in drywall dust and sweat.
But none of that matters. All I can think about is getting in my truck and getting to Jay.
"Collins." Frank appears at my elbow, making me jump. "You can head out. Thanks for staying late. We made good progress."
"Thanks for the hours." I'm already packing up my tools before he's finished speaking. I wave over my shoulder and head for my truck, too impatient to even take off my tool belt.
It'll take me at least two hours to Macon, probably longer with Friday evening traffic.
As expected, the fucking traffic going through Atlanta does not cooperate.
There's construction on I-75 about forty miles in, two lanes narrowed down to one, orange cones everywhere. Brake lights stretch out ahead of me like a red river. I sit in the crawl, fingers drumming anxiously on the steering wheel, watching the minutes tick by.
I text Jay at a dead stop. "Stuck in traffic. Construction zone. Might be late. Sorry."
His reply comes a minute later. "How late?"
"Don't know yet. We're moving again now."
"Ok. See you when you get here. Drive safe."
The traffic clears, finally opening up, and I push the speed limit the rest of the way. I know I shouldn't. I know a speeding ticket would eat up all the overtime I just earned. But every minute feels stolen from us.
By the time I pull into the Vista Inn parking lot, my hands are cramped from gripping the steering wheel. My eyes feel gritty. The exhaustion has settled deep into my bones.
It's ten, according to my dashboard clock.
Jay probably hasn't gotten off work yet at Betty's. I park the truck and kill the engine, leaning my head back against the seat. I close my eyes. Just for a second, I tell myself.
I wake to a tapping on the window, sharp and insistent.
Jay is standing outside the truck, still in his work clothes, worn jeans and a t-shirt that says Betty's Diner, grease stains on the front. There's a worried look on his face, his eyebrows drawn together.
I blink, disoriented, and check the clock. I was out cold for ten minutes.
I open the door and stumble out, my legs stiff. "Sorry. I just closed my eyes for a second. Didn't mean to fall asleep."
"You scared me. I saw your truck pull in from the window, but then you didn't come up and you weren't moving." He reaches up and touches my face, his palm cool against my hot skin. "Jesus, Ivan. You're completely exhausted. You look like you're about to fall over."
"Long day. Ten hours of work, then a long drive." I lean into his hand, turning my face to kiss his palm. "Traffic was a nightmare."
"Come on. Let's get you inside before you collapse out here." His arm wraps around my waist, taking some of my weight.
We climb the stairs together, and I'm embarrassed by how much I'm leaning on him. My legs feel like jelly. He's half-supporting me, basically keeping me upright.
Jay unlocks the door and we stumble inside together. He kicks it closed behind us and turns to look at me, his dark eyes scanning my face with concern.
"You're here," he says, like he still can't quite believe it.
"I'm here. Barely. Told you I would be."
He crosses the distance between us and wraps his arms around my neck, pulling me down into a hug. I pull him close, one hand on the back of his head, the other pressed flat against his spine. He smells like dish soap and kitchen grease, and I don't care even a little bit.
"I missed you," I say into his hair.
"It's only been five days since you left."
"The longest five days of my life."
He pulls back just enough to look at my face, then wrinkles his nose. "We both need a shower. You smell like a construction site. Like drywall dust and copper wire."
"Well, you smell like a deep fryer and old coffee."
He grins, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "You first though. You're exhausted."
"I might fall over in the shower. Might just sit down and let the water run over me."
"Then make it quick. Five minutes max."
I strip off my filthy clothes right there, leaving them in a pile on the floor. My work boots, my dust-covered jeans, my soaked shirt. Everything smells like sweat and work. So much for being a sexy boyfriend. I stumble into the tiny bathroom naked.
The water pressure is terrible and the temperature fluctuates wildly between lukewarm and cold, but I don't care.
I stand under the spray and scrub off the day as fast as I can, watching the grime and dust swirl down the drain, turning the water gray.
I wash my hair, scrub my body, rinse off. Three minutes flat.
When I step out, Jay is waiting right outside the door.
"My turn," he says, brushing past me, his hand trailing across my bare chest as he goes.
I sit on the edge of the bed and try desperately to stay awake, but my eyelids feel like they have weights attached. The room spins a little when I close my eyes, so I force them open.
The shower runs for a few minutes. Then it stops, and Jay emerges in a cloud of steam, wet hair dripping water down his neck, towel wrapped around his narrow waist. Water droplets roll down his shoulders, catch the light from the bedside lamp.
I reach out and trace one with my finger, following its path down his chest, over his ribs, watching it disappear into the towel.
"I missed you," I say again, because it's the only thought in my head.
"You already said that."
"Worth saying twice."
He leans his forehead against mine, and I close my eyes, breathing in the clean smell of him.
"I know," he says. "I counted every hour."
We sit like that for a long moment, just breathing each other in. My hand finds his, our fingers intertwining, fitting together perfectly. His skin is warm and damp from the shower.
"I'm so tired," he admits quietly. "I want to do things to you. I want to touch you everywhere. But I can barely keep my damn eyes open. I worked a double shift today. Mick's and then Betty's with no break in between."
"Same. I want you so badly but I can barely string two thoughts together." I laugh softly, the sound exhausted. "We're pathetic. We finally get to be together and we're too tired to do anything."
"We're working adults with jobs. This is what real life looks like."
"I hate what it looks like. I hate that we're this tired."
"Me too." He squeezes my hand. "But you're here. You drove hours after working ten. That's what matters. You're here and I can touch you."
He stands and drops the towel unselfconsciously, pulling on a pair of clean boxers from his dresser. I watch him, too tired to do anything but appreciate the view, the long lines of his body, the way his muscles shift under his skin.
"Come to bed," he says softly. "We can sleep and cuddle. That's enough."
I slide under the covers beside him, and the mattress dips in the middle, sagging under our combined weight. I don't care. Jay is here. He's warm and solid beside me. That's all that matters in the entire world.
He curls into me immediately, seeking warmth and contact. His head rests on my chest, right over my heart. His arm drapes across my stomach. His leg hooks over mine. I wrap both arms around him and hold on tight, like he might disappear if I let go.
"How was the lawyer?" I ask. "I didn't get all the details when we talked on the phone. What did she say?"
"She's good. Really professional. Straightforward, doesn't waste words.
" He yawns against my chest, his breath warm on my skin.
"She told me she thinks she can probably get the charges reduced to disorderly conduct, or maybe even dismissed entirely if we're lucky.
She's going to talk to the prosecutor, see what they're willing to deal on. "
"Are you nervous about the court date?"
"Absolutely terrified." His hand traces absent patterns on my stomach.
"But I'm less terrified than I was before I met with her.
Before it felt like I was going in blind.
Now I feel like I have someone who knows what they're doing.
Thank you again for finding her. For paying for it.
For doing all of that." He lifts his head to look at me, his dark eyes serious.
"I know I gave you a hard time about it. I shouldn't have."
"You had every right to be angry. I went behind your back. I made a decision without consulting you first."
"No, you took care of something I was too scared to handle. That's everything."
I kiss his forehead, my lips lingering on his skin. "We're partners. That's what partners do. They take care of each other when one of them can't."
"Partners." He settles back against my chest, his body relaxing. "I love hearing that word."
"Me too. Get used to it."
Silence falls between us, comfortable and safe. I can feel Jay's breathing slowing, deepening, his body growing heavier against mine. He's falling asleep, sinking into it.
"I'm glad you're here," he whispers. "I'm so glad you came."
"Me too."
His breathing evens out completely. His hand goes still on my stomach. Within minutes, he's completely asleep, his full weight resting against me.
I lie there in the dark, holding him, listening to him breathe, feeling his heartbeat against my side. The exhaustion is pulling at me too, dragging me down toward sleep with heavy hands. But I fight it for a few more minutes, just to have this. Just to feel him in my arms again.
We have two days together.
It's not enough. It'll never be enough.
I want every day, every night, every moment.
But it's what we have right now, and I'm going to hold onto every second of it.