Sheltered

Chapter 22

Austin

Heavy soot is clinging to my skin. It doesn’t seem to matter that I was in full gear.

I think it’s the idea of it more than anything.

The scent of charred wood and melting plastic and burning electrical wires is clinging to the inside of my nose, reminding me of the horrors we fought—and lost to—with each inhale.

As soon as we pull into the station, I jump out of the rig and damn near collapse. That was one of the worst fires I’ve fought in my entire career. Jasper seems just as run-down as I am, his steps heavy as he follows me.

It’s always hard on us when we can’t get it under control. Watching someone’s home burn to the ground while they scream and cry is gut-wrenching.

Years of memories burned to ash. The doorjamb they marked the height of the children on. Gone. The family photos hanging up and down the hallway. Gone. Priceless family heirlooms and children’s clothing. Gone, gone, gone.

Jasper and I strip out of our turnout gear in silence. There’s not much to say after witnessing a sight like that. After not being able to do anything.

One of the first things I learned when I became a firefighter was how loud it is.

The fire, that is. People talk about tornadoes sounding like freight trains and the eerie sounds they make, but fires are just as bad.

And now, without the creaking of the structure and popping of wood, and the massive roar—louder than any tornado I’ve ever heard—the silence seems oppressive.

There’s a ringing in my ears and a weight around my neck. The heavy weight of failure. I know logically that we did all we could, but that doesn’t make it easier. Not even a little.

I drop onto the bench beside Jasper, both of us staring straight ahead. I clear my throat. “I need to let Luca know I’m gonna be running behind.”

Even though I say the words, I do nothing to make it happen. Just the thought of pulling my phone out is almost too much.

“You better do that,” Jasper says, voice dull. “He’ll worry.”

He’s right. Luca will definitely worry. I can practically see him now, pacing the floors, eyes frantic and head on a swivel. Panic is the last thing I want to cause him, so I force my arm to work—even though it feels like lead—and text him.

Me

I’m gonna be late coming home, Luc. I’m back at the station now, and I’ll let you know when I’m on my way.

His response comes in damn near instantly.

Luca

Just be careful. See you soon.

I couldn’t tell you how much time passes before I finally push to my feet, but I know I don’t want to keep Luca waiting any longer.

He’s still… fragile after the last couple of days.

Our relationship feels fragile. Not that I think it will fail.

Not really. All I know is that I can’t wait to spend the next forty-eight hours with him.

After everything that happened the other day, Ma gave him the rest of the week off. I know he didn’t want to leave her in a bind, but Arlo assured him he could use the extra money, and Ma threatened to tan his hide if he didn’t stay home and rest.

There’s something calming about knowing that Luca will be there when I get home. Days like this are always rough, and most times, I just go home and sit in silence, reflecting on the day.

The worst days are the ones where we’ve lost someone in a fire or a car accident. The real tragic days suck. Losing an entire house is tragic in itself, but losing a life? Infinitely worse.

Jasper follows me to the door and gives me a nod before climbing into his truck. If I know his routine—and by now, I do—he’ll be going to the bar. He’ll drink a few, find some pretty woman to take home with him, and let himself forget.

I, on the other hand, like to sit in silence. Tonight, though? Tonight, I’ll have Luca. Relief pours over me, washing away some of the stress and guilt. Even just the thought of having Luca waiting on me is enough to bring me out of my funk.

When I pull into the driveway, I’m surprised to find Luca sitting in the gazebo. It’s cold tonight, and he’s got a blanket wrapped tightly around his shoulders. In the light of my headlights, I see him lift his head, a smile stretching his lips that has my heart beating double time.

He stands up before I’ve fully parked, making his way across the yard, the blanket still tucked around his shoulders.

I step out of the truck just as he makes it to me. “Hi.” His smile is shy and sweet, and suddenly my bad day doesn’t seem so bad.

“Hi,” I say back, glancing down at the notebook in his hands. “Whatcha got there?”

His cheeks flush pink. “Well, I was plotting some. I thought maybe I’d try writing again.”

“Oh?” I want so badly to ask how it’s going, but I don’t want to stress him out if it’s not going well.

“Yeah. I have a lot of ideas for this. I’m really excited, but enough about me. You look like you had the worst day ever.”

I did. I really fucking did. “It wasn’t great.” I touch his cold cheek, warming it with my fingers. “It’s better already,” I say, letting my hand fall away. The flush deepens, making me smile. “God, I really want to kiss you.”

His earnest gray eyes widen as he blinks up at me. “Yes please.”

The flutter in my heart as I reach for him is strange. It’s not something I’m used to feeling, but I love it. His eyes close right before my lips meet his, and the sigh he lets out against my mouth has even more weight falling from my shoulders.

I know he doesn’t want a relationship, and I’m fine with that. I do want a relationship with him. Of course I do, but it’s not so important to me that I won’t take this. Luca’s comfort is paramount, and making sure he has what he needs is my number one priority.

He shivers, so I break the kiss. “Come on, baby. Let’s get inside. You’re freezing, and I need to wash this day off me.”

With a nod, Luca turns, leading the way into the house.

He’s got a fire built, and he must have stoked it before he went outside because it’s cozy and warm. He’s straightened up some too. He tries to work my jacket free from my shoulders, but I stop him by gently grabbing his wrist. “I can take my jacket off, Luc. You don’t have to do that for me.”

“I know that.”

“Good.” I slip my jacket off and hang it on the hook by the front door, then kick off my shoes. “I’m gonna take a shower, and when I get out, I’ll figure out something for dinner.”

Luca’s quiet, so I glance at him to find him nervously biting his lip. Shit. Is my mood making him think of Damien? I don’t even know how Damien would act on a bad day. But it can’t have been good.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

He blinks out of his daze, then smiles at me. “Yeah. I thought I’d make some chicken-n-dumplings for dinner. Does that sound good?”

My stomach growls loudly, answering the question for me, but something niggles at the back of my mind, so I shake my head. “I can make my own dinner, Luc. You don’t have to.”

“I know that,” Luca says slowly, dragging out each word like he’s confused. “I want to, though. You’ve had a bad day. You go shower, and I’ll start on dinner.”

“I’m not going to hurt you,” I blurt out. “I never would. I had a bad day, but I would never hurt you.”

A million emotions flash across his face in a split second—panic, horror, anger, and sadness. Each one quicker than the last, there and gone so fast I can barely make them out. “I know you wouldn’t hurt me.”

“You don’t have to take care of me,” I insist.

There’s a beat of silence. Luca stares me down, cocking his head.

“Austin. You have black smudges on your face, and you smell like a bonfire. I am more than capable of making dinner. I don’t need you to worry on my behalf, and I don’t need you to freak out thinking I’m doing this for the wrong reasons.

I trust you. So get your ass in the shower now while I start on dinner. ”

The words hang between us, and for some reason my brain just doesn’t want to let it go. “But, I—”

“Shower, now,” Luca says, fire blazing in his gray eyes. “I want to take care of you, goddammit. You’re my best friend, and you’ve had a bad day.” When all I do is stare at him in shocked silence, he snaps at me. “Go.”

Jesus. I can’t help but smile at the outrage on his face. “Yes, sir.” I give him a little salute as I turn on my heel and disappear into the bathroom to wash the day off me.

The hot water beating down on me feels like a balm. I’m not surprised when it takes a second for the water to run clear instead of in murky, dark rivulets. I scrub at my scalp, even going so far as to wash my hair three times to get rid of the smell of ash and smoke.

By the time I step out of the shower and dry off, I’m feeling like a new man.

The shower warmed me up, and I know the living room is even warmer with the fire going, so I don’t even bother getting dressed. I just step into a pair of boxers and head back into the living room.

Luca has soft music playing. Old country music—my favorite—and he’s rolling out dough on the counter. “Smells delicious.”

He looks up at me with a smile, and my breath gets caught in my throat at the spot of flour clinging to his nose. “You look a lot better.”

I step closer to him. “Are you saying I looked bad before?”

He shakes his head with a grin, looking back at the dough. “Not at all. You just look more refreshed.”

I am. I feel more refreshed. It’s not even the shower, I don’t think.

It’s him. I step up behind him and wrap my arms around his waist, pulling his body back against mine.

He laughs—a light, carefree sound—but doesn’t stop rolling the dough out.

“Thank you.” I press a kiss to his temple.

“Can’t believe you’re making them homemade.

I always just drop biscuits in the broth. ”

Luca gasps, all adorable outrage. “That’s blasphemy. Homemade or nothing.”

I hum, nuzzling the side of his face. “Quit,” he mumbles halfheartedly, but he presses his face closer to me, leaning into my touch. “You’re distracting me.”

“Am I?” I drop my face, letting my lips linger over his pulse point.

“Yeah.” The word is nearly whispered and breathless.

I pause. “Should I stop?”

“No.”

Well, that’s all the permission I need. I spin Luca in my arms, then grip his hips and lift him up, planting him on the counter, carefully avoiding his dough and the flour. He giggles. Full-on giggles, and I’m not sure that I’ve ever heard a more beautiful sound in the world.

Luca spreads his thighs, and I step between them as flour-covered hands grip my shoulders and pull me closer. I’m not sure if I leaned in or if Luca dragged me down, but between one breath and the next, we’re kissing, and I’m lost.

The taste of his happiness on my tongue is a drug in itself, the warmth of his body my new favorite thing to feel. The inferno that builds inside me could rival even the fire from today, and just like today’s fire, I have no chance of putting it out.

The whiny noise that vibrates in his throat has my cock swelling, pressing against his. With a sharp gasp, he places a hand on my chest and firmly pushes me away. “Dinner. If I overcook the chicken, I’m gonna be mad. There’s a system to the timing, and you’re throwing me way off.”

That makes me smile. “Oh, I’m so very sorry.”

Luca rolls his eyes. “You will be if you make me ruin the chicken.”

I’m pretty sure I’d eat burned cardboard if Luca made it. I’m convinced I’d do anything to make him happy. I help him down from the counter, but I stay close by, watching as he takes his time slicing the dumplings into small pieces. “Why are you doing it like that?”

He smiles, using a spatula to scoop them off the counter and onto a plate. “I like them thin. If they’re too thick, it’ll take them too long to cook, and you’ll end up with dry chicken and doughy dumplings.”

“Interesting,” I muse, leaning over his shoulder to watch as he drops them one by one into the pot, stirring as he goes. “You’re good at this.”

He shrugs. “I like it. I’ve always loved cooking, you know? It’s fun and relaxing. Or at least it used to be. It’s nice doing something because I want to, not because I have to.”

“I’ll never make you do something you don’t want,” I say, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“I know.” He finishes up putting the rest of the dumplings in the pot, then covers it. “Just needs to cook. Should be good in about ten to fifteen minutes.” He steps away from the stove, then leans against the counter and studies me. “Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it?”

“We couldn’t stop the fire. Total loss. Thankfully, no loss of life.”

Luca makes a sad noise. “And that’s why I want to take care of you tonight. I know how hard these days are on you.”

And he does. We didn’t talk much when he was with Damien, but when we did, it was like nothing had changed. Like he was still just my best friend, my Luca. It feels like everything has changed now, though, but not in a bad way. I swallow past the lump in my throat. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” He flashes me a smile. “Go sit down, and I’ll finish up and bring you a bowl.” His eyes dart down, then he smirks. “Maybe clean the flour off yourself first.”

I shake my head with a laugh, gripping his waist and pulling him snug against my body.

He tilts his head back, pupils dilating as he stares up at me.

God, he’s so beautiful. I love seeing the flash of desire in his eyes.

Dropping my hand, I let it coast over his ass and down to his upper thigh, then I lean in and steal a quick kiss.

“You should probably change, baby. I’m not the only one covered in flour. ”

His breath hitches, and he surges forward, colliding with me as he seals his lips over mine. A moan breaks free of my throat, and I hold him tighter, closer, but at this point, I’m convinced close will never be close enough.

When I break the kiss, he’s panting. Smug, I turn and head for the bedroom to wipe the flour off myself, and when I come back into the room, Luca has stripped down to his briefs.

I nearly swallow my tongue, liquid heat swimming through my veins as my cock fills.

His eyes find me instantly, then drop to where my cock is tenting my boxers. “Happy to see me?”

I groan. “That’s such a bad line.”

The giggle he lets out has me laughing too. “I know. Come on, time to eat.”

He carries two steaming bowls into the living room and sits down, and I join him. When I’m settled, he hands my bowl to me, then leans back against the cushion and props his feet in my lap.

It all feels very… comfortable. Familiar, almost, and yet not at all.

Everything has definitely changed. And I’m not sure I can go back.