Chapter 6
Dane
I pulled off another shirt with a frown. My little brother, Devon, on a video call, picked up on it immediately.
“Bruh, that is literally the fourth shirt you’ve tried on in the past ten minutes. Are you getting ready for a date?”
I paused, discarded the cardigan in hand, and stared at the face of my sibling. His blue eyes, so much like Dad’s and mine, looked back at me in expectation.
“No,” I said firmly because God damn it, I had to be firm. No dating Chip. No. The handholding had been crazy enough to engage in. Why I’d invited him was beyond me. I was so freaking confused. Was I dating this man or wasn’t I? I had said I was, but now I was back to waffling. My head was a mess.
“Okay, shit, don’t take my head off,” Devon replied curtly.
“Sorry, I’m just… scattered today. Tell me about Albany. How goes your investigator’s training? Are you enjoying the capital?”
“Okay, so the training is hard as hell but fascinating, especially the forensics capsules. Albany is as cold as my ex’s heart, and there’s one female officer here taking the training as well. She’s married with two kids and a dog named Pinto Bean. So, other than studying… ”
“Gotcha. You could wade through the snow to find a singles bar somewhere.”
“You could do the same.”
“I do. On occasion.”
“Aside from the yearly Pride venture you make to Fauna, I mean.”
I pulled on a pricey polo shirt Mom had bought me for Christmas two years ago that I’d yet to wear.
Much like my phone, my car, or my vacuum cleaner, clothes served a purpose: keeping my ass covered and warm.
That was it. But this shirt, according to Mom, brought out the blue in my eyes.
She’d like to see me in it, and it fits well.
Also, it wasn’t a washed-out Yankees or RFD tee or my duty uniform.
Turning side to side in the mirror over my dresser, I had to admit it looked good.
Showed off my body. Not that I wanted to show off my physique to anyone.
No way. I just wanted to make my mother happy.
That’s our story, and we’re sticking to it, to quote Collin Raye.
Right. Ignore inner Dane. This is what happens when you grow up listening to classic country. Thinking about those summer days in the backyard tossing a baseball with my father popped up as frequently as Willie Nelson or Travis Tritt rolled out of the radio in the garage.
“Speaking of Pride, are you planning on working the RPD booth again this year? I’ve signed myself up for a shift as well as Tim.”
Devon nearly choked to death on the sip of energy drink he was guzzling. “Evil bastard,” he snickered after his eyes stopped watering.
“It’s all part of his sensitivity training.”
“Brutal. I love it. Not sure the captain has even discussed it yet. I mean Pride is in June, and it’s January, so it’s not exactly front and center yet, but yeah, I’m happy to work the table.”
“Great. I like to see family turning out. Mom is already starting to make little crocheted whales in the colors of the LGBTQIA+ flags.”
“Mom’s amazing. So, no date? What are you worried about your clothes for if not for a new guy?”
“Just dinner with Eli and Mom. Thought I’d wear this polo she got me for Christmas.”
Why was I hiding Chip from Devon? Maybe because he knew the risks of this kind of thing blossoming to life.
Maybe Chip and I would fizzle out before any harm to my career was done.
Maybe I was ashamed of myself for being so damn weak.
Maybe I was a walking contradiction with a massive crush on a hockey player. FFS.
“Ahh, right. Well, I hope Mom and Eli appreciate all the gel you’ve worked into your hair to make it look as if you attend My Hero Academia.”
Shit. I almost reached up to do something to calm my anime hair when Devon snorted in an annoying little brother way.
“You can fuck off.” He broke up. I flipped him off to just sweeten the moment. “I have to go. You know Eli dislikes tardiness.”
“Do not make Eli mad, or we’ll never get any more chocolate babka.”
“For that last crack about my hair, you may never get any ever again. I’ll keep it and eat it all.”
“Liar. You love me.”
“I do. You’re still an asshole, though. Study hard. See you soon.”
“Later, bro.”
We ended the call just in time for me to dart around my narrow home, check the thermostat, and jog out my front door. I nearly ran down Chip and Sable on my front stoop. Random snowflakes coated his hair and Sable’s back.
“Whoa, hey, I uhm… have you been out here long?” I asked with my front door still open behind me. Dad’s voice about heating the outside echoed in my head, so I hurried to close it.
“Two minutes fourteen seconds.” He held up his arm to show me a sharp wristwatch with a stalled timer showing. “I was going to wait for another minute forty-six seconds before knocking. Being on time is crucial for establishing good relations with new friends.”
“True.” God, this guy did it for me. He was so earnest. “But this is my house. Eli lives next door.”
Chip glanced at the bright white door with the narrow brass mezuzah affixed to the post. The shiny tube held a small prayer, which fulfills a commandment to write God’s words on doorposts.
A declaration of faith as well as a reminder to love and serve God.
A man learned a lot living next to a rabbi.
“Oh. Well, then we should move to that stoop before we’re late.
Statistically, people attending small dinner parties are prone to being at least twenty-nine minutes late, while larger groups of twenty-five or more see attendees show up seventy minutes late.
Ideally, showing up on time is polite. But five to ten minutes after the stated arrival time is acceptable as being fashionably late.
We’re now,” he glanced at his watch, “two minutes late. So, it will make us fashionable.”
“You’re pretty amazing,” I said, which earned me a twitch at the corner of his mouth. Right where a soft kiss could be pressed.
Or not. Not. So not. This was just friendship in the making.
No kissing. Friends do not kiss. Firefighters who save victims do not kiss the person they recently saved.
Handshakes, yes. Kissing, no. Handholding was probably a dark gray space Sully would overlook as a display of comfort.
Yes. That was it. I’d been… oh, fuck it.
This was a ticking time bomb, and I had zero training in explosive ordnance disposal.
Things were going to go BOOM if I didn’t get my head clear and my dick under control.
I should stop this now. I should kiss him. Christ. What the hell did I want here?!
He seemed flustered. Sable whined softly. I shook off the lust and the light snow from my head and waved at Eli’s door just as my mother pulled up in her bright red Equinox.
“There’s my mom,” I said, easing around Chip and his dog, inhaling the scent of his body wash as I brushed his shoulder. He smelled of pine wood. Very crisp. Very appealing.
Very off limits.
Coward that I am, I jogged down the few steps to greet my mother exiting her car. We hugged briefly.
“You look good. The shirt fits well.” She patted my shoulders. “Do you not own a coat?”
“Mom, I was walking ten feet. I don’t think hypothermia will set in from my door to Eli’s.” She smiled up at me then glanced around me. I turned to face Chip, still on my stoop. “This is Chip Cornish. A new friend. And his dog, Sable.”
“Nice to meet you, Chip, and Sable as well. Can you get the crockpot of macaroni and cheese out of the back seat?”
“Sure. Chip, come on down. We’ll be going to Eli’s now,” I called and watched as my mother—possessing maternal drives akin to a mother bear—smiled widely and waved Chip to her side to lead him to Eli’s front step.
Not that he needed her help even with a crutch, but she was always a little overprotective.
I was toting a milk crate with a hot crockpot wrapped in a beach towel up the short walk when the white door opened wide.
“Baruch haba! Welcome! Come in, come in out of the cold. You bring blessing to my humble home,” Eli announced with joy.
Sable’s tail started wagging as her master studied the host intently for a moment, then, slowly, ever so slowly, gifted the rabbi a wide smile.
I nearly fell up the steps upon seeing a brilliant flash of white teeth.
Thankfully, only Eli noticed.
We entered his home, a warm, slim two-story exactly like mine, but everything was in reverse. A cramped foyer held a coat closet, a tray for wet shoes, and an umbrella stand shaped like a big white duck.
“So nice to see you again, Danielle. You look chipper as always,” Eli said as he took our coats to hang them in the closet while we toed off our snowy shoes.
“I have the kippah basket if you gents would like one?” He turned to face us with a wicker basket piled full of yarmulkes.
“You don’t have to wear one just because I have one on, so don’t feel pressured.
I just like to offer them to my guests.”
“I’ll take the rainbow one,” Chip piped up, eagerly placing the small cap on his dark, curly hair. “Thank you, Rabbi.”
“You’re welcome. Dane, here, let me take that so you can dig out the Yankees kippah. I gave them all a nice wash the other day, so they might be a little wrinkled.”
Eli took the crockpot in a crate from my hands. I dug around, found the white and blue head cap, and with a nod flashed a grin at Chip.
“This smells amazing, Danielle!" Eli said with a warm smile, leaning in to enjoy the aroma from the crockpot, which had shifted slightly during the handoff.
“It sounded like a good side dish,” Mom replied as we made our way to his kitchen, a warm, if slightly outdated, room that showed signs of love and use in every corner. “Your brisket smells so good! What did you rub it with this time?”
Chip stalled at the kitchen doorway. I looked back at him. “Something wrong?” I asked and got a short shake of his head. His emerald eyes were taking in the kitchen as if plotting it out on a mental grid.