by Elle Keaton
They arrived at one of two open doors. Travis maneuvered him so he could see inside the room. Against the opposite wall, underneath a nice-size window, there was a king bed taking up most of the room, a bedside table on each side. The bed was made up with deep blue sheets with a comforter of the same color thrown over them and several pillows. To the left of the bed was a closet with boxes stacked in it, but what Travis was really showing him was the huge TV and entertainment center he’d mounted on the wall across from the bed.
On each bedside table there were game controllers. His and his, Rod snorted to himself.
“Just while you’re healing up. Then we can move the system out to the living room—or not. Here, let’s get you in bed.”
The couch had been perfectly comfortable, and it was only eight in the evening, but Rod grudgingly admitted that lying down sounded great. Amazing, even. Moving from the hospital to the house and everything else had tired him out. Travis helped him lie back and then elevated his bad leg on a top of a bunch of throw pillows Rod was sure he’d never seen before.
Rod’s stomach rumbled loudly enough that Travis heard it.
“Damn, one of us is going to have to learn how to cook. There’s some kind of fancy grocery store a couple blocks away with premade stuff. I’ll go grab us some dinner.” Before he left the room, Travis turned on the TV. Twister was playing. “This okay?”
Of course it was okay. Travis knew Rod loved disaster movies, the more terrible the better. The front door shut behind Trav, and the house was quiet except for the impending doom playing on the fifty-two-inch screen.
When Travis returned, Rod’s favorite scene was on. Travis plopped the grocery bag on the bed and sat on the edge to watch with him.
“Oh, the drive-in is about to get wiped off the planet!” They watched together as Jack Torrance’s face shattered and disappeared under the force of the tornado.
“Did you know they used the sound of a camel moaning as a sound effect?” Travis asked him.
“Dude, I told you that.”
“Still my favorite scene.”
“In this movie or favorite ever?”
This was an ongoing argument between them. Until Sharknado, Twister had been Rod’s favorite bad disaster movie. Travis favored Volcano. Rod thought he just had the hots for a younger Tommy Lee Jones, something Rod didn’t really have a case against.
“Quit trying to start an argument with me. I brought food.”
Rod devoured the roast beef sandwich and potato salad. The sandwich was just how he liked it, with extra mustard and cheddar. Travis sat next to him wolfing down his own meal while they watched the end of the movie.
“It’s totally ridiculous that they get back together, just saying,” Trav grumbled.
“Yeah.”
Rod’s eyelids were too heavy to keep open any longer. Now that his belly was full, there was nothing to keep him from going to sleep.
Except Travis leaned over and kissed him again. His eyes flew open. Travis’s guileless blue eyes stared into his own. Rod felt like he could be drowning and Trav’s lips pressed against his were breathing hope into the depth of his soul, a delicate frisson that Rod was helpless against and didn’t want to fight.
Trav pulled back and Rod groaned, missing the touch already.
“Yeah, I’m sleeping on the couch,” Travis said. “I don’t trust myself not to crush your leg in my sleep.”
“What?” Rod whined.
Trav stood, adjusting himself. Rod was spitefully glad Travis was as aroused as he was; now they would both have a hard time going to sleep.
“Sweet dreams.” Travis kissed him quickly on the forehead before he left the room.
14
Travis pulled into the parking lot of the upscale grocery store. It was packed with cars and trucks, and he had to hunt around for a spot before finally finding one at the very back. It was a good thing Rod was at physical therapy; Travis would feel guilty making him walk this far.
Rod was healing on pace, but he was bored. Travis was trying to help him stay busy but, well, it was hard enough staying out of their bed. Or it would be their bed, once Rod got the cast off, but Travis wasn’t doing anything to set him back.
He locked his truck and headed across the parking lot to the store. There were a few small white tents set up outside. One had a vendor with all sorts of early spring veggies, some cut up for customers to sample. There were also jars containing sauces he assumed were either made from the veggies or for the veggies. And there were several cookbooks.
He picked up the cookbook and flipped through it. The pictures were beautiful, but it was like reading a foreign language. He put it back down.
The older lady behind the counter smiled at him. “Not a foodie?”
“A foodie?”
She waved a hand. “A person who likes to experiment with different kinds of ingredients, that sort of thing.”
He laughed. “I can barely cook the ingredients I know about. I’m not sure I’m ready for anything more than sandwiches.” Although, to be honest, he was getting tired of sandwiches. Rod hadn’t complained, but Travis thought he’d probably appreciate something different.
“Cooking isn’t that hard. It’s much easier than baking. It’s harder to experiment when the ingredients need to be precisely measured.”
Maybe it was her nonjudgmental tone or her use of the word experiment that had Travis picking up the cookbook again.
“Are these your recipes?”
“Not all of them. Several of us who sell at the farmers market on a regular basis got together and collaborated, and this book is the result. Our main goal was to promote local ingredients. Things that a regular person could find at the market or grocery store in season. A small attempt to lessen our reliance on iceberg lettuce from California and things like that.”
He bought the book. Then he went to check out the other tent where a vendor had several different kinds of fresh-caught fish and shellfish displayed on ice. There was also fish jerky (which sounded gross to him) and a stand of recipe cards. He chatted with that vendor too, although cooking fish was something he didn’t feel quite ready for.
Inside the store, Travis wandered around the fresh and local sections, taking stock of what they carried. He picked a recipe out of his new book and found all the ingredients for it. Once he studied the recipes, he realized she was right. They weren’t that difficult. If he approached it like an experiment, like those he’d done while in college, the process wouldn’t be as daunting.
On the way to pick up Rod at the mall, Travis took the long way around Skagit. Originally Skagit had been a timber town, and then the farmers had come in. Most of the big farms seemed to be root vegetables, but he also saw fields of cabbage and broccoli, as well as tulips and daffodils. There was a vibrant farming community in the area. Different from wheat, but not that different.
As he waited for Rod, he called and left a message for his dad. Then he called a local real estate agent and set up a time to talk about what he was looking for.
An indistinct figure pushed out of the doorway. Even though he couldn’t see his features, Travis knew it was Rod. Emotion Travis wasn’t used to yet welled, and he had to take a few deep breaths. Every time he circled back to the thought that he could have lost Rod forever, either in the car accident or because he was too clueless to know what he had, it felt like he’d barely missed falling off a ledge.
Rod was smiling, which Travis loved; a half-hitched, mischievous smile. Travis wondered what he was thinking. He hopped out of the truck and went around to open the door. Rod still needed assistance getting into the cab, something he bitched about every single time. And every time Rod bitched, Travis was thankful that he was able to. That he’d woken up from the accident, that he hadn’t lost his leg—although they would have dealt with that too.
“What’re you smiling about?” Rod grumbled as Travis helped him up.
“I’m smiling because you were smiling. What were you smiling
about?” Travis tossed Rod’s crutches in the back seat.
“I’ve made a friend. Her name is Gloria, and she is hilarious. Don’t worry, she has to be in her eighties, and even if she was younger, I don’t swing that way.”
“Ha, ha, ha. Very funny.” Travis would never admit he felt jealous for a millisecond.
“Anyway, she says hi and that she’d love to meet you. I think she’s kind of bored. She lives in an assisted living facility, and it sounds like she is a lot more active than most of the residents.”
“What’s this?” Rod looked at the dish Travis had plunked down on the table.
Travis, who been solely focused on following the directions so the recipe would come out somewhat like it was supposed to, felt suddenly shy. “Ratatouille?”
Rod grinned, catching his wrist before he could slink back into the kitchen. “It looks delish. You made it yourself?”
“Yeah. Let me grab the bread from the oven.”
Rod didn’t let go. “Kiss me.”
Such a simple request made Travis’s heart sing.
“Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around?” He remembered his dad having a goofy apron he wore when he grilled that had “Kiss the Cook” screen-printed on it.
“If the cook would bring his ass over here so I could kiss him…” Rod raised an eyebrow.
Travis bent to meet Rod’s upturned lips. As with most things they did, the kiss started out sweet but quickly turned hot. Travis had to step away. He adjusted himself through his jeans.
“You are dangerous.”
“I do my best.”
15
“Mall walking?” Rod had asked. After three weeks of physical therapy, the physical therapist suggested he go mall walking.
“Yes, mall walking,” Dana repeated with a great deal of patience. “The floor is level, and there are lots of benches to sit on when you get tired. You can work up your endurance with the seniors who do the same.”
There was only one mall in Skagit. Rod had managed to avoid it at all costs, and now his physical therapist wanted him to go there on purpose.
“You’re making great progress. If you want to continue in a safe environment, the mall is the perfect place to do it. You can slowly increase your distance and weight on your leg as the doc allows—and stay out of the rain.”
Spring may have come to Skagit, but somebody in management hadn’t gotten the memo. It had been raining almost nonstop since Rod came home. He was housebound anyway, but the rain made it worse and made him even crankier.
The first week or so he’d been perfectly happy to lie in bed watching movies and catching up on the sleep he didn’t get in the hospital. Travis kept busy organizing the house, watching TV with Rod, and teaching himself how to cook via YouTube videos. He was in and out of the house all day. He was wherever Rod needed him to be, except in bed.
So add horny as fuck to the list of things that were making Rod irritable. Since the first day home when Travis had… declared himself to Rod, everything had been hands-off. Travis was still sleeping on the formerly brand-new couch. Rod was starting to hate that couch. He remembered, during sleepovers as kids, often waking up to find Travis completely trapped by his blanket. He’d fought the blanket and the blanket won. Now Rod didn’t care if Travis was a blanket hog: he belonged in bed next to Rod.
They’d exchanged kisses, too chaste for Rod’s liking, Travis brushing his lips across Rod’s cheek when he brought him coffee or dinner. Then there was Travis’s warm palm at Rod’s back, supporting him as he made his way to the kitchen or bathroom. Rod’s pessimistic side was starting to give way to hope, and horniness. Giving way was an understatement. It was more like a landslide.
“When can I have sex?”
Dana laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“Oh I always have a little bet with myself over how long until the sex question comes up. Of course it depends on the patient. You’ve lasted way past my estimate. I lost to myself.”
Rod glowered at her. She just laughed again and smirked at him. Over the past few weeks of therapy they had become friends of a sort. While Rod wasn’t going to miss PT, he would miss Dana.
“As far as your leg goes, still no direct weight on it. Keep it elevated when you are at home; you can lie on your side or back.” She flipped through his chart, thick with papers. It was a good thing he had medical insurance through work. Anything not covered by the other driver’s insurance was mostly taken care of. Still, he didn’t look forward to the final bill.
“Your lung has healed very well. As with anything, start out slow and see how you feel. I don’t recommend any acrobatics, but you should be okay. And maybe a little less grouchy.” She snickered.
“Anybody ever complain about your bedside manner?”
“Nope!” Dana said cheerfully.
The first time, Travis went with him to the mall, “just to make sure nothing happens, all right?” He hung around like a mother hen, constantly asking him how he felt, if he was tired. Rod was, but if he didn’t keep up the physical therapy his leg would take longer to recover. And if he hadn’t needed his crutches for balance he would’ve seriously considered using them as a weapon.
The second time he went, Rod made Travis promise to leave after helping him out of the truck and inside. Rod felt like he’d been moody the past few days. He blamed it on being hopelessly horny. Travis was still being his normal cheerful self, which only made Rod grumpier. Dana had said they could have sex, so why hadn’t he told Travis? He was irritating himself. A nice sweaty drag up and down the mall would serve him right.
Today Rod was clumping his way from the far end of the mall to the food court, trying to beat an octogenarian just ahead of him. Gloria was fifty feet ahead, and there was no way he was catching up with her. Dana had told him that the best time to come was in the morning before all the stores opened up. It seemed like many seniors in Skagit came to walk the mall in the mornings. He slowly passed a T-shirt shop, heading for the coffee shop at the very end of the food court. One more circuit and he would be done. He had forty minutes before Travis would check in on him.
The food court was a standard design: a large open space with kiosks around the edges and tables for patrons to sit at in the middle. Rod wanted a coffee; it was his reward for already doing two laps and planning on a third. The kid behind the counter watched him approach.
“Hey Rod, how ya doing today? Did you beat the mayor yet?”
“No, she must have boosters on her walker.”
From the other side of the food court he heard, “Young man, I am faster than you. Get used to it.”
Rod grinned. Gloria Browning and he had hit it off when they met at the mall. She’d been his walking companion since the first day he limped out onto the polished mall floor. Well into her eighties, she’d lived in Skagit her entire life and had hilarious stories to tell. She had been the first female mayor of Skagit in the 1970s, proudly serving for twelve years. The first time he’d been at the mall, pissed off and sweating from exertion like it was ninety degrees instead of a nicely controlled seventy-two, Gloria had challenged him to “get cracking,” chuckling as she passed him with her colorfully decorated walker.
The barista finished Rod’s coffee and was kind enough to venture from behind the counter and deliver it to the table where Gloria was already waiting for him, damn her. Rod clomped after him with his stupid crutches.
“I see you’re in a fine humor this morning, young man.”
“I’m really not.”
“Poor boy. Are you taking your temper out on your gentleman friend?” She patted the seat next to her. Rod eased himself down. The soft cast allowed for some movement, but not enough for quick sitting or standing. And he got to enjoy it for another eight weeks. Less than initially predicted, but longer than he’d hoped.
Somehow Gloria had managed to weasel who Travis was out of Rod. The woman would have made a great spy. She was bound and determined to make sure the two of t
hem got their happy ending. Rod was still wondering how he’d ended up telling her the long story of their friendship and now more-than-friendship.
Instead of drinking his coffee right away and getting back to walking, the two of them started swapping stories. Rod’s were about firefighting and growing up in a small farming town; Gloria’s about what it was like in the sixties and seventies in Skagit and how the city had changed. Rod watched the early birds come in and out of the food court. Some walked with purpose; some were just trying to stay out of the rain.
He wasn’t sure what it was that caught his eye, but his attention focused on a small figure sitting at one of the tables. The kid had been walking around aimlessly, dragging one hand along tables, wandering up to kiosk storefronts and back to the tables again, before they finally sat down and put their head on their arms.
Mall security had been watching and began to make their way toward the table. The facility had a strict “No loitering unless you pay for something” policy, and it was obvious that this kid was in violation. Every day Rod had been mall walking, the security force had been out and about ensuring the safety and happiness of the paying customers.
Gloria followed his gaze as the guard arrived at the table. The kid raised his head, and in that instant Rod realized he knew that coat and the little person who was wearing it. What was Jasper doing at the mall on a school day?
“I know that kid, his name is Jasper. Jasper Ransom, he rides my bus.”
“Do you know him well enough to help him? He looks like he could use a friend.”
“Yeah, but god dammit, Gloria, you’re faster than I am.”
“Ha, I knew it!”
Gloria stood, grabbed her walker, and burned some serious rubber toward the other table. She was halfway there before Rod was up and had his crutches properly positioned. He made his way over slowly and carefully.
Gloria sat herself down next to a panicked and forlorn Jasper. He looked like he’d been living on the streets. Maybe he had. His clothing was dirty, and his face was grubby in a way that seemed like more than that he just forgot to wash it. His hair was tangled; one side was sticking out, and the other possibly had gum or tree sap in it. He was wearing his coat, but it was smeared with dirt too; his sneakers had holes in the toes.