Warm Heart

by Amy Lane

  He tilted his head back and closed his eyes, remembering the look on Tevyn’s face that morning, after their last kiss, when his eyes were still closed and he was smiling.

  “Mal?”

  Mallory opened his eyes and smiled gently. “Hi, Preston.”

  “Is the girl gone?”

  “Yeah.” Preston didn’t like strangers—and someone like Charlie, assertive and brash, would terrify him. “She’s gone. Come sit for a while.”

  “Thanks.”

  Preston really was beautiful—but he wasn’t great on eye contact. It wasn’t until he’d sat down, spine rigid against the overstuffed seat, that Mallory really felt he’d stay.

  “Hospitals stink like piss,” he said loudly, then winced. “Sorry, Mallory. I try not to do that. Blurt shit out.”

  “It’s okay. I don’t think Damien would mind.”

  “That was a bad seven days,” he said, seemingly out of left field. “I hated being afraid.”

  “He missed you.” So much.

  Preston actually risked a look at him. “Missed me how?”

  “Missed you a lot. Like you were someone special to him.” This was thin territory for Preston. Mallory had once asked him why he liked handling dogs so much, and he’d gone on for an hour about his favorite dog—Preacher—and had never answered the question.

  “Damien is special,” he said miserably. “I wanted Preach and Scarlet to find him so bad.”

  “Well, we found you, and that was okay too.”

  Preston made a near miss with Mallory’s eyes and let out a small smile with a little tic in his cheek. “Yes, you did. You were lucky you didn’t swerve into the road. Tevyn must be very good on a snowboard.”

  “He’s a genius,” Mallory said. “Like you are with dogs.” He remembered his and Tevyn’s plans then and thought that he might have a topic Preston wouldn’t mind discussing. “That reminds me, we want to get a dog.”

  “What kind?”

  “Well, any kind, really—a mixed breed is probably best. Something big that likes snow and doesn’t mind traveling. Something calm in crowds that likes to run.”

  Preston smiled slowly. “I have a friend whose bitch is whelping—she’s real sweet. She had Scarlet, and she and Preacher are my favorites, but Preacher’s getting old.” His head drooped. “Preacher’s getting old. I might need one of those dogs to train myself. Do you want me to train it?” He perked up again, like this was the thing he’d been waiting for.

  “Simple stuff?” Mallory said, because it would be great if the poor creature could not poop in a helicopter. “Potty training, get the stick, crate training I guess.”

  Preston nodded, such complete contentment on his face Mallory wished he’d asked for a dog three years ago, when Damien and Glen had first brought him the proposition for Gecko Inc.

  “I can do something for you,” he said. “I felt bad—you gave us our dream, and I couldn’t do anything for you. And then I wanted to find Damien, but you gave us Damien back instead. And now I can do something for you. That’s great.”

  “You don’t have to do anything for us,” Mallory told him. “It’s great that you want to help people—but sometimes, just being you is enough.”

  Preston shook his head. “Just being me helps nobody. I need the dogs to be any use at all.”

  Mallory let out a big sigh. “That’s not true,” he mumbled. “But I’m too tired to argue right now. Later. I’ll argue with you later.”

  “You can sleep now, until they get back,” Preston said. “I’ll stay here and watch Damien. I don’t mind.”

  Mallory had no doubt Preston would sit, ramrod straight, watching Damien sleep, until Glen got back. He had no problem with that, really. He kicked off his loafers, curled his legs up on the couch, and let the chill quiet of the ICU take over.

  DAMIEN made it out of his surgery that afternoon with flying colors. By the morning they were willing to move him out of ICU and into the High Dependency Unit. They estimated he’d be in the hospital for another three or four weeks, and part of that would be learning to walk again. They’d saved the leg, but some seriously infected muscle and bone had to be removed or Damien would have gone into sepsis. He’d need to build up his muscle and learn to compensate for what he’d lost before he could be moved out. And his susceptibility to infection would be incredibly high until the wound made by the broken bones had healed, inside and out.

  And of course, the leg was still broken.

  Mallory—who had spent the night back in the hotel room, alone, restoring all his electronics and texting Tevyn when he could—promised he’d come back to visit.

  “You’d better,” Damien had mumbled. “You and Tevyn both. He’s not competing again for another two weeks. I expect to have some sort of disgusting visit where you’re drooling over each other and weeping. I’ll be really disappointed if that doesn’t happen.”

  “Why would they drool?” Preston asked. “They’re not dogs, Damie.”

  “No, but they’re bonkers over each other, like dogs are bonkers over bacon. It makes them stupid.”

  Preston laughed—that was his kind of joke.

  Mallory gave Damien a dry look. “That stupidity got you down the damned mountain. Never forget it.”

  Damien sobered. “I never will. Take care of him, Mallory. He needs you more than I do.”

  Mallory looked directly at Preston. “And you need him more than you ever needed me,” he said.

  “Me and the dogs will look after Damien really good when he’s better,” Preston agreed.

  And that was Mallory’s cue to leave.

  Goodbyes and Hellos

  MISSY hadn’t been a big woman in her prime. Maybe—when she’d been married—she’d topped out at five foot, six inches. But now, in her seventies, after being sick for almost two weeks, she was tiny. Tiny and frail—but still feisty as hell.

  Tevyn had walked into the hospital expecting to find her sleepy and quiescent, and had, instead, found her to be the terror of the hospice ward.

  “If that woman throws food at my orderlies one more time, I’m going to find a way to slide it in there with a pulley,” the head nurse had threatened when she found out whom Tevyn was there to visit.

  Tevyn grimaced. Missy had grown up in the mountains—she never had much truck with authority or modern medicine.

  “Knock on the door when I’m there,” he told the nurse. “I’ll bring the food in, and maybe she’ll eat a little.”

  The nurse nodded. “I’ll be honest—with her attitude and energy, we were hoping she’d turn things around and walk out of here and prove us all wrong. But she sleeps nearly twenty hours a day, and when we gave her tests for heart disease, we realized it had deteriorated a lot since her last visit. It would be great if her last hours on this earth weren’t so troubled, though.”

  Tevyn nodded emphatically. “It’s what I’m here for, ma’am. Sorry about the delay.”

  The nurse—a stunning, statuesque woman in her fifties with skin the color of dark burnished oak and hair pulled back into a tight bun—gave a slight smile. “You survived a helicopter crash in a blizzard to get here, Mr. Moore. I suspect God saved you from death only so you could provide this woman some comfort as she passed. You’re not her only visitor. We understand she’s quite a character.”

  “She’s made a baby blanket for every newborn in our church since before I was born,” he said proudly. Quilted, knitted, crocheted, or woven—Missy had welcomed every baby into the world with handmade love. “Not one family went hungry on her watch. I don’t know who they’ll get to watch over the food bank next holiday season. She’s the reason it existed.”

  Nurse Jeffries’s smile grew bright. “Then she definitely deserves to see you again. Now if you can convince her to give our orderlies a break, that would be a miracle indeed.”

  She’d been sleeping when he’d first arrived, tired and a little disoriented from traveling. He sat by her bed and played fitfully with his phone, wishing Mallo
ry would get his so they could communicate.

  He’d been dozing for about an hour when he heard her humming, and for a few minutes he lay there, his head on her bed, with his eyes closed, and let the sound wash over him. For a few minutes, he got to pretend he was a kid again, and it was snowing outside, and after she made him hot chocolate and he did his chores, he could go up on the mountain and snowboard down.

  He’d started working for the ski resort before he was old enough for a work permit, so he could ride the lifts for free.

  Her hand in his hair was comforting—but it let him know it was time to wake up.

  “Getting long,” she chided, and he yawned and sat up.

  “Missed my trim this week,” he said, and she laughed. He’d worn it long even in grade school.

  “You look scrawny,” she said critically. “They not feeding you enough?”

  He wasn’t sure what the staff had told her while he’d been gone. “Got stranded on a mountain in a blizzard, Grandma. I mean, the snow was great, but the cuisine was for shit.”

  She cackled and then sobered. “Is that where you were? People kept telling me you’d had mechanical problems, but you were trying to get here. What sort of mechanical problems?”

  “Our helicopter crashed in a blizzard and fell off a cliff,” he said, not afraid of upsetting her. He was here—she’d want to know why he hadn’t been.

  “That’s a problem!”

  “I thought so! So did Mal and Damien.”

  “Mal was there?” she asked sharply. She always did have a soft spot for Mal. “And who?”

  “Damien was our pilot. He was injured in the crash. Mal and I had to bring him down the mountain. It was a thing.” He grinned. “There were reporters and everything. You can see Mallory’s ass on the internet.”

  She hissed through her teeth. “That’s no way to treat a good man of dignity,” she admonished, and he grimaced.

  “Yeah. I feel bad about that. He was protecting me.” Without any consciousness of himself. Tevyn’s heart hurt, leaving him behind.

  “He does that.” She closed her eyes and settled back into the bed. “Why I had them call him when they knew I wasn’t getting up.”

  Tevyn sighed and slouched in his chair. “It’s why we were in the helicopter together,” he said. “He didn’t want me to do this alone.”

  “Where is he now?” she asked. Her words were slowing down, more and more breath between them.

  “Making sure Damien’s okay. He was in a bad way by the time we got down the mountain.”

  “That must have been rough,” she breathed. “Leaving him.”

  How long would he have to tell her this? “I’m in love with him, Grandma.”

  She closed her eyes and smiled. “Of course you are. And he loves you back.”

  That’s what he needed to hear. “You okay with that?” They’d never really discussed his sexuality—but he was pretty sure she knew he’d kissed a lot of people in his time.

  “He’ll treat my baby right,” she sighed, and then she was asleep again.

  He let out a breath and curled his legs underneath him. Unlike when they were on the mountain, planning to get down, there was nothing to do here during the wait but think about all the things he’d been avoiding in a big way.

  MISSY woke up again for a little while that night, but she didn’t recognize him. She kept asking for his mother, like she was still in school, and he told her a neighbor had her and she’d be fine. Her breathing was more congested than ever—she didn’t throw food at the orderlies, but she didn’t eat either.

  His phone buzzed after that.

  Leaving tomorrow at ten. How you doing?

  Tevyn didn’t recognize the number, but there was only one person it could be.

  Tired. Missing you. Missy’s in and out. She knew me for a little while.

  I’m glad. Missing you too. Damien just got out of another surgery. He’s a handful.

  Gah! I hate hospitals! How’s Charlie?

  In San Mateo, watering my plants.

  Good. She still hate me?

  No.

  Tevyn actually relaxed a little and realized how much that mattered to him.

  I been thinking.

  Bout?

  Everything. Think I’ll qualify for the Olympics next year?

  Yes.

  He laughed. Of course Mallory would think that.

  Maybe after that I should cut down on competition. I was going to teach snowboarding, but maybe I want to do more.

  Like?

  Now that was the question, wasn’t it? I’ve got no idea. It’s just, we almost died.

  I was there.

  And I saw then that you were the thing I wanted most. Not my next competition. I still want to compete, but if I can have you too, think of all the things we can do.

  I’m all for surfing. Someplace WARM.

  Tevyn laughed out loud—belly laughed. I’ll take that under consideration.

  They texted some more, Mallory’s drollness coming across in text as much as it did in person. Finally Tevyn shooed him off the phone so they could both get some sleep.

  Missy woke up again shortly after that, calling for him.

  “Tev? Tev, son—where’d you go?”

  “Right here, Grandma. What’s wrong?”

  “Had a dream,” she said, yawning to get more air. “Dreamt you were lost and all alone.”

  Tevyn thought of the last five years, the cheering in his ears, the lack of solid earth under his feet. “Weren’t far off,” he said.

  “And a man was calling for you. And all you had to do was answer. You’re gonna answer him, right?”

  “Just did, Grandma.”

  “Good. I can sleep if you answer him. Night, Tevyn.”

  “Night, Grandma.”

  She fell back asleep, and he kissed her cheek.

  It was the last time she woke up.

  MALLORY got there at one in the afternoon, looking rumpled and harried and dear. Tevyn was sitting next to her bed, watching as her chest lifted gently and fell, a little less each time. A hospice nurse worked silent monitors behind them that measured her draining life in smaller and smaller increments of oxygen. He’d worked hard to be invisible, and Tevyn was grateful.

  But not nearly as grateful as he was to see Mallory.

  He stood as Mallory came in, then hugged him, hard.

  “Tev? Is, uh—”

  “Soon,” he whispered. “Come sit.” Mallory sat and pulled him into his lap, which was sort of a dick move from most guys taller than Tevyn, but with Mallory it was a bid to be closer.

  And that’s all he did. Hold Tevyn close as they sat for the next half hour.

  “She told me you were calling for me,” Tevyn whispered sometime in there. “Said I should answer.”

  “Yeah? What’s your answer?”

  “Yes.”

  “To what?”

  “Anything you want. I’ll give you anything. Just hold me. Hold me until….”

  Mallory did exactly that, and Tevyn laid his head on Mal’s shoulder and cried softly, until the last of the monitors went still, and she was gone.

  And then—oh Mal—he did the most wonderful thing.

  He sang a hymn, one Tevyn remembered from childhood, something so sweet and so simple the words came flowing back again.

  Their voices stilled and the quiet in the room took over.

  “Thanks, Mal.”

  “For what?”

  “For staying.”

  How long was it? Two weeks? Was it really only two weeks ago? When he’d asked Mallory to stay?

  And he had. He’d stayed through everything. Through a blizzard, through a reckless trip down a mountain.

  For the most painful moment of Tevyn’s life, this here, right now.

  Tevyn would trust him to stay for everything else. It’s how Mal was made.

  A WEEK later they entered Missy’s cabin practically limp with exhaustion.

  Mal had been wonderful, help
ing to plan everything—funeral, flowers, donations to Missy’s church. He’d contracted builders to come in and fix the cabin up come spring, and contracted someone to keep an eye on it in the winter while Tevyn finished up his itinerary. The service for Missy had been that morning, and Tevyn had stood up for his grandmother, thanking her friends, the people she’d spent most of her life with on this mountain, for coming to say goodbye.

  Everybody had cried—but everybody had laughed too.

  Melissa Moore, no middle name, had lived a good and full life. Tevyn had been fortunate to grow up in her home, with the support of her small mountain community, and he was well aware.

  At the end of the service, during the reception, a woman older than Missy had approached him, nibbling on a chocolate chip cookie.

  “Tevyn?” she said, smiling. “You look surprisingly good for a dead man.”

  Tevyn had smiled at her. “Mrs. Thompson. You look beautiful as always.”

  She waved him off, laughing at his flattery. She was eighty-five if she was a day, and her face showed a life well lived in the elements. “I’m going to miss her. But I’m sort of irritated too. All that gumption, and she couldn’t have waited for me to go first?”

  “Well, a gas heater, internet—you know Missy had to go first with everything,” he said, because it was true. His grandmother’s cabin might be sorely outdated, but she was a pioneer among her small township, and everybody knew it.

  “Unfair of her,” Mrs. Thompson told him gravely. Her eyes sought Mallory out as he stood by the refreshments, thanking the ladies of the church for providing. “That young man, did he come with you?”

  There was no judgment in her face, merely simple curiosity.

  “He’s mine,” Tevyn said with pride. Mallory in a dark suit, hair combed, lean cheeks finally filling out a little, was still a fine figure to behold. Tevyn couldn’t believe it had taken him five years to ask that man to dance.