by J. V. Speyer
Ross did a double take. “Most?” What the hell was that supposed to mean, most?
“I might have left a kidney behind. But what the hell, I had one to spare, right? Gotta love that built in redundancy.” He shifted a little bit, and Porthos nudged him.
“So Porthos is a service dog.” Ross surmised.
“Porthos was a stray I found in Syria. He was just a puppy, and we’ve been together ever since.” Ash gave his dog a scratch. “It’s not a big deal, Ross. This stuff, it happens all the time. The kind of work I do—did—it’s dangerous. And we all know it when we take that contract. I lost seven colleagues over there. I made it back and I even got to bring the dog home too.” He stretched his legs out. “What’ve you been up to over the past few years?”
Ross huffed out a little laugh. “Well, nothing involving bombs or anything like that.” Christ, who’d have thought Ash would be out risking his life like that? He’d always been a bit of an adrenaline junkie, but he’d taken it to an extreme after college. “I went to the academy. Became a cop. I don’t care about moving out of patrol. I like the job I’m doing. It’s not out saving the world or anything, but it helps people around here, you know?”
Ash huffed out a little laugh. “Hey, you help people who get their car stuck in snowbanks.”
“That’s true. You’re not even the first person I’ve found like that, for the record. Um, I got to deliver a baby by the side of the Expressway last year, that was exciting.” Ross toyed with his hat.
Ash smiled. It was a genuine smile, not the guarded one he’d been giving, and seeing it gave Ross life. “Are you for real right now? I can’t even imagine helping to deliver a baby, much less stuck by the side of the road and trying to do that. How awful was it?”
Ross ducked his head and blushed. “You don’t even want to know. I mean it was kind of horrifying, and kind of a miracle at the same time. I mean, I’ve never paid much attention to the ‘babies’ thing, right? It’s just never going to be part of my world, so I never gave it much thought. Well, apparently, they don’t show up when you tell them to, especially after the first one. No, they kind of decide when and where they want to show up, and if they decide rush hour is the right time for them, then rush hour is when they put in their appearance. And, you know, there was a bad wreck further up, over by Columbia Road. Traffic was at a complete standstill, so they pulled over to the side of the road. And that was all she wrote.”
Ash held out his hand. “Well, congratulations. You said it wasn’t world-saving, but I bet the mother would say something else. And the baby, for that matter, once it’s old enough to have an opinion.”
Ross laughed. “Yeah, maybe. They did name the kid after me.” He could still remember the little baby, all red-faced and waving his little fist in the air. “Little Ross. I stop in to visit once in a while. It’s funny how that kind of thing affects you.”
“Well, in your job you don’t usually see people on their better days.” Ash looked away. “No one ever calls the police to say ‘Hey, my name’s Bob and I’m having an awesome day, I’d love for the boys in blue to just come on down and have a couple of beers to celebrate.’ Delivering a baby is—well, it’s probably about as good as you’re going to get, in terms of happy occasions.”
“Right?” Ross leaned against the wall. “It was absolutely something special.” He inched a little closer to Ash. “You’ve never covered anything like that?”
Ash considered, head tilted to the side. “Well, there was the time when we rescued Porthos here.” Porthos picked his head up. “Settle down, buddy. You’re not getting any treats right now.” Porthos put his head back down. “Such a chowhound. Seriously, though, for the most part you’re covering war, you know? People tuning in to see war coverage don’t want to see coverage of happy stories, and to be honest, there isn’t a lot of happiness to be found when you’re there. You might get to cover a soldier’s recovery from an injury, or there was that one time we helped a bunch of girls escape ISIS. I got to cover that.”
“That must have been pretty amazing.” Ross leaned a little closer.
“They’ve all got a lot of trauma to process and everything, but yes. When they realized they were freed, and safe, it was a beautiful sight to see.” Porthos rolled over, and Ash rubbed his belly as he spoke. “I’m glad I could be part of it, actually.”
“I am too.” Ross licked his lips. “And I’m glad you’re home.”
Ash snorted, but the little grin stayed on his face. “Yeah, okay. If I hadn’t wound up in that snow bank you’d never have known.”
Ross blushed again. “You’re probably right. But I do know now, and since I do—well, I’m happy.”
Ash turned his head away. “Ross….” He broke off.
Ross took a chance. He leaned in and touched his lips to Ash’s. Ash flinched, but he grabbed on and opened himself to the kiss, accepting Ross and everything they’d once been to each other.
It wasn’t the best kiss ever. The angle was all wrong, and Ross at least didn’t have the means to brush his teeth. Porthos shoved his nose between them after a moment, playing chaperone with his wagging tail. It wasn’t a kiss for the record books or that anyone would brag about, except for one thing.
Ross had kissed Ash, and Ash had let him. That was the only thing that mattered.
* * * *
Ash had no idea how to respond after Ross kissed him. The part of him that still resented getting dumped for not having the leeway to come out when Ross wanted him to, had a few ideas of what to do. They involved shouting, maybe a good hard shove. Ash didn’t listen to that part of him, because Porthos would probably get defensive of him and dogs that bit cops didn’t have happy endings.
There was another side of him, too. That side wanted to grab Ross, latch on, and make him finish what he’d started. Ross had always known how to heat Ash up, how to take him from zero to a hundred with the shortest time in between. That much hadn’t changed. If Ash were shipping out again when all of this was over, he might follow that instinct. He might well run his hands through Ross’ dark hair, lick into that talented mouth, and let nature take its course. He might even rub their bodies together, and show Ross just how hard he’d made him.
Ash wasn’t going back out on the road. When they were freed from this abandoned house, he and Ross would be stuck in the same city. They’d be in the same general metro area, anyway. When Ross didn’t call and didn’t reach out, Ash would be devastated. Ash didn’t need to leave himself open to that kind of misery. He needed to keep his head on his shoulders and not do anything stupid.
Ross didn’t reach out for him, either. He looked away, cheeks red. “Er. Sorry. That was kind of forward of me. Inappropriate.”
It wasn’t inappropriate junior year. Ash bit down on his tongue to keep the bitter words inside. Their story was over, and had been for a long time. Lashing out like that would just make their captivity worse. “It’s okay. We’re bound to get a little stir crazy in here, I guess.” He inched away from Ross, and Porthos sat very deliberately between them with his head on Ash’s lap.
Ross looked down at Porthos, a weird look on his face. “Is he always this defensive of you?”
Ash moistened his lips and scratched between his dog’s ears. “More or less, yeah. He definitely likes to be on the receiving end of any affection.” He swallowed hard. He could still taste Ross on his tongue, bad morning breath and all.
He lurched to his feet. “I’m going to see what I can do about excavating some space for Porthos to do his business. He’s going to have to sooner or later, and I don’t want to wreck the joint.” Ash had to get up and do something. He had to get away from Ross or his brain might explode.
“Good point.” Ross grimaced and stood up too. “Can you shovel, with your arm like that? Do you want me to do it?”
Ash forced a little smile. Ross’ words cemented his worst fears. Ross hadn’t kissed him out of affection or even nostalgia. He’d kissed Ash out of pity. It turned A
sh’s stomach. “No, thanks. I’ll be sore, but I really want to move around a bit.” He ran for the back door as fast as he could.
Was this really what life was going to be from now on? Pity kisses from guys who occasionally wanted to throw him a bone, and who didn’t have any better options? A sedate anchor job covering sedate local news from the safety of a swanky downtown newsroom, instead of being out in the field like he’d been born to do?
He struggled into his coat and pushed the intrusive thoughts out of his head. The doctors had warned him about this after his injury, both in Turkey and in Germany. Intrusive thoughts were normal. Bouts of depression were normal. He’d survived a major explosion, and he’d had to make some major lifestyle changes as a result. It was okay to be upset, and it was okay to be frustrated. Ash should be patient with himself, they said. And they also acknowledged it would be a challenge for him to find that patience. He knew exactly what to expect.
He attacked the snow with vigor. He’d made it out alive when plenty of others had not. He was not going to squander his second chance on self-pity and pining for a guy who’d dumped him almost a decade ago. He was here, breathing free air. He might be in pain, and he might not have full use of all of his limbs, but he could use most of his parts and that was enough. He was a lucky man. He just needed to remind himself sometimes.
He hacked into the snow, using his anger and his grief to power through the pain. Okay, sure, this sucked, and he’d need more surgery on his shoulder eventually. He’d get it. In the meantime, chances were that he’d find himself in a position to need to shovel. He needed to get used to it. He needed to toughen up, and get used to doing things for himself.
Two hours later, he’d carved out enough space to function as a doggy outhouse. It would be foul soon enough, but it had become almost like a little snow cave. Ash had worked up a good sweat, and he’d accomplished something to take care of Porthos. He hadn’t had to depend on Ross, or anyone else. He’d done it himself. He could be proud of it.
Porthos gave him a grateful look, did his business, and trotted back into the house. Then they rushed back into the main room. Ash needed his ibuprofen. Now that he’d burned his anger away, he could feel exactly why he should have reconsidered that shoveling project. Of course, Porthos would have been out of luck, so he’d have been in the same place anyway.
He dug through his bag, but his right hand shook too badly to be useful. Porthos took one side of the bag into his mouth, which helped. Ash grabbed the bottle in his good hand and struggled to get the cap off, only to have Ross step in. “Let me give you a hand with that. Your hands are all red. Did you not wear gloves?”
Ash looked away. “I don’t actually have any.”
Ross gaped at him. “I know you know better. Why would you move back to Boston and not have gloves?”
Ash gave up and sat back down. “No time. I mean, sure, I could have bought them at the airport, but honestly, I didn’t want to spend three times as much money on gloves there, you know? I got a ride to the hotel, where someone had dropped off the car I had in storage. But all my winter gear? I gave it all away after I graduated. I didn’t need it, and I didn’t have any place to store it.” He let his head fall back against the wall with a thump. “I was going to pick some up at the ski area, when I got there.”
“Okay…” Ross trailed off and handed Ash the open bottle. Ash took as many capsules as he safely could, and Ross took the bottle back again. For a second, just one, Ash let himself dream about what it would be like to have someone around like this all the time. “But what if you wound up, say, stuck in a ditch?”
“No one plans for everything that could go wrong, okay?” Ash closed his eyes. “You don’t plan to wind up in a ditch. Just like when you’re leaving your rehab facility, you don’t go on a shopping trip. You go to the airport.”
Ross worked his jaw. “So, you just got out of…”
“Can we not?” Ash fumbled for his phone with his good hand. “I just…can we not? I don’t want pity. Or need it. I’m moving forward, my life is on track, and it’s going to be okay.”
Ross looked down again. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. Sorry. It’s just—it’s kind of amazing. You’re up and around and everything and you just flew back here, started a new job. Just like that.” He managed to give a little laugh. “I’m pretty sure I’d be a gibbering wreck in the corner or something.”
Ash considered screaming and yelling. He’d just asked, a few seconds ago, not to talk about this. Ross had saved his life, though, so he couldn’t just sit here and shout. “You never know what you’re capable of until you’re the one sitting there doing it.” He shrugged with the one shoulder he could move right now, an awkward gesture that still sent jolts of pain through his body. “I didn’t really think about it. It was just kind of—where was I supposed to go, you know?”
He forced himself back to his feet. Thinking about this maudlin crap wasn’t going to get him out of his negative mindset. “I can shoot a little piece about the little doggie cave I just made for the show. It’ll be good to have something else to send in, you know?”
He rushed back out to the back door, even though it hurt to move so fast. Once he got there, he started recording. He was used to masking pain on camera. He’d kept a straight face and a firm voice on camera while taking two bullets to the leg once, back in Guatemala, covering a recent spate of unrest. That got him an award.
He held his phone up and started recording. “Hi. This is Ash Machado with WILL News Boston, Boston’s best news source. I’m still out here someplace that’s probably in Maynard, holed up in an abandoned house with my dog and the state trooper who saved our lives. This is my dog, Porthos.” He showed Porthos on camera, and then brought the phone back up to focus on his own face. “You’ve probably got questions. You’ve probably got a lot of questions about being snowed in with a dog and not being able to get out to get help, get food, or let the dog out.
“Well, I can’t help you with getting out to find help or food. Hopefully you’re safe in your own home and you’ve got lots of canned beans or something, or plenty of ingredients for French toast. But I can show you how we solved the problem for poor Porthos, and for the poor people whose house we had to commandeer.” He opened the back door to show his little cave.
“You want to be very careful here, obviously, and watch your dog while he’s in there. I’m a journalist, I didn’t study structural engineering. I didn’t even study math. I know just enough from my time in the Boy Scouts to know how to build a domed snow cave like this for structure. It gets air when you open the door, like so. Don’t spend a lot of time in there, and make sure it’s big enough for your dog. But this way, at least your dog can get out and do what he needs to do while the winds are howling and the snow is still coming down the way it is. I’ll keep you updated if anything changes here on our end. In the meantime, keep sending your storm pictures in to our Storm Center, and stay off the roads until the governor lifts the state of emergency. Stay safe out there! This is Ash Machado for WILL Boston.”
He stopped recording and closed the door again. Now he swayed a little on his feet. Between the pain and the exertion, he just couldn’t hold up anymore. Ross caught him before he could stagger to the wall, and helped him back into the main room. Porthos followed, whining, and nudged the water bottle Ash had left behind.
“The dog is right. It’s uncanny, but he’s right.” Ross chuckled. “I have no idea how he knows this stuff. Anyway, you should drink something. I still don’t know when we’re going to get help, but without food you’ve got to keep your strength up.”
Ash’s fingers brushed against Ross’ as he took the bottle from his hands. He tried to ignore the spark that passed between them. Was he really so pathetic? “Thanks,” he murmured, looking down at his phone. Even his good hand trembled as he tried to type in John’s email address.
“Don’t mention it.” Ross retreated to his side of the room. Ash pretended it didn’t disappoint him.
/> Chapter 4
Ross returned to his side of the room. After a little while, Ash offered him his tablet. “I’ve got a few books on there,” he said. “I don’t know if they’re at all interesting to you, but they’re there and we’re here for the duration.” He turned back to his computer, not looking at Ross.
Ross took the tablet, because it was easier than trying to bridge the gap between himself and Ash. The house shook again as another gust of wind blew against it, and the lights flickered for a second. The electricity held, though, and he settled in to read.
Ash had a pretty eclectic mix of reading material. He had books Ross couldn’t read at all—books in Arabic and in Spanish, for example. He had books about the countries where he’d worked, where he’d been. He had some books about war, about politics. Evidently, he’d written some books about politics too, which Ross hadn’t known.
“Holy crap. You’re famous and stuff.” He huffed out a little laugh and opened one of Ash’s books.
“Hardly. There isn’t a huge market in the US for books about the war in Yemen, or about the long-term repercussions of the civil wars in El Salvador or Guatemala.” Ash yawned. “There’s a market, don’t get me wrong, but it’s not huge. I’ve contributed to a few panel discussions on national shows, which was interesting, but it’s not huge.”
“Do you think that’ll be a stepping stone for you?” Ross bit his lip. “I mean do you see yourself moving on to a national anchor position eventually?”
Ash considered. “I wouldn’t say no, I don’t think. I don’t know. We’ll see how I do with this job. It’s a huge shift. Imagine moving from your job now to, say, the guy who sits at the front desk and smiles at people all day. It’s an important job, yeah, but it’s completely different from the job you’ve been doing and it might not be a job you’re well suited for, you know?”