"You don't have to know,” he offered in a whisper. “Sometimes it's okay not to know."
Brendan nodded and dipped his head. They kissed again. Jamie could feel Brendan's heart beating hard and fast against him. He slipped his hands beneath the layers of Brendan's clothing until he touched the smooth, warm skin of his back.
If he could have one wish right then, it would be that their clothing disappear. He longed to feel skin on skin. He hungered to taste a hard, hot cock. He ached to bury his nose in another man's armpit, to lick his nipples, to tongue his ass, to feel the thick invasion of a shaft penetrating him...
Brendan shared at least one of his thoughts, because he lifted himself from Jamie to sit beside him. He unbuttoned and tossed his flannel outer shirt to the floor. In one swift movement, he pulled his thermal undershirt off, revealing a thickly muscled bare chest with a smattering of dark blond curls in a V at the sternum.
Jamie eyed him greedily as he sat and pulled off his own shirt. Everyone on the project was in good shape—it was one of the criteria for working in such a taxing environment at high altitudes—but Brendan was seriously built, his shoulders broad, his pecs pronounced, his abs like a wooden washboard.
What was happening? What the hell did Brendan want or expect? How far did Jamie dare go? His cock was nearly bursting from his jeans, pressing so hard against his fly it hurt. Yet he didn't dare open his pants. Not unless or until Brendan made another move.
Brendan stiffened suddenly, his cheeks suffusing with blood like someone had slapped him. Startled, Jamie followed Brendan's gaze to the sleeping Tuck. Only Tuck wasn't sleeping. He was raised on one elbow, a sardonic grin on his face.
"So, was I going to get an invitation, or is this just a party for two?"
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Chapter Eight
"Tuck, you're awake.” Brendan stood, his mind clicking back on as the blood rushed from his cock to his face. Jesus, what the hell had been going on? First Jamie was crying, sobbing against his chest like a child, then they were kissing. Kissing?
He looked from Tuck to Jamie, who, like himself, was shirtless, a thin gold chain flat against his smooth chest. Though his eyes were still red from crying, Jamie smiled and shrugged, as if to say, What now?
Brendan grabbed his outer shirt and pulled it on, hastily buttoning it. When he got to the bottom he realized he'd mismatched the buttons with their holes. He felt like an idiot with both Tuck and Jamie now regarding him with bemused expressions.
What was he supposed to say? What was the protocol between three guys? Whatever he'd shared with Tuck the night before, did that make them lovers? Had he breached some unstated but understood agreement with Tuck by kissing Jamie?
Most important, beneath all these questions was the main one. What the hell was happening to him? The world felt as if it were tilting on its axis. He no longer knew who, or what, he was.
Jamie reached for his undershirt, which he pulled over his head. He shook his light brown hair from his eyes, though it promptly fell forward again. Tuck sat up and swung his legs over the side of his cot. He swayed slightly and lay back down, passing his hand over his face.
Brendan moved toward him, forgetting his own tortured confusion. “Dizzy? You probably just sat up too fast.” He knelt by the cot. “Listen.” He spoke in an undertone. “There was nothing really going on just now. Or if there was, it doesn't mean ... That is...” He faltered, embarrassed. “I don't even know what the fuck I'm trying to say."
Tuck reached for him, pulling his head down to the mattress. “You don't owe me any explanation.” He stroked Brendan's hair, his touch soothing. Brendan closed his eyes, for once just giving in without resisting either himself or what was happening. He felt suddenly drained.
"Jamie.” Tuck's voice floated over Brendan's head. “Come here."
Jamie. Brendan was struck with remorse. As soon as Tuck woke, Brendan had all but forgotten the younger man. Was he going to spend the rest of their time together feeling guilty and responsible for everyone?
He hadn't meant to kiss Jamie. It had just happened. He couldn't deny how hot it had made him. But when Tuck had spoken, it was as if Jamie had disappeared. He only had ears and eyes for Tuck. Was he in love? Or just lust, a lust ignited by their fevered groping the night before?
Tuck continued to stroke Brendan's hair. His touch was soothing and Brendan relaxed some. Tuck said, “I still feel a little woozy. Why don't you push another cot over here and we can all three lie down? I think we've got some things to talk through, don't you?"
His eyes still closed, he heard rather than saw Jamie beside him. “Good idea,” Jamie agreed.
Brendan lifted his head and pushed himself to his feet. Why not? Usually the one in charge, no matter the situation, for once he felt completely out of his ken. He'd let the other two run the show for a while.
He helped Jamie to push the nearby cot toward Tuck's. They spread their quilts over the adjoining wooden frames. Tuck scooted toward the middle and patted the side by the wall. “Jamie, you lie here."
Brendan lay on Tuck's other side. He was silently grateful Tuck had positioned himself between them. He didn't want to be in the middle, not on any level, or so he told himself.
Once the three of them were reasonably well settled, Tuck asked, “So were you able to reestablish communication?"
Brendan told him about the phone call. Tuck nodded soberly without reply. They lay quietly for a while, listening to the wind, which had resumed hurling snow against the walls of the building, making siege.
"We've still got plenty of water, right?” Tuck asked.
"Yeah.” Brendan nodded, forcing away his sudden desire for a cold glass of Coke. “Enough water and energy bars to last a month."
"And enough booze too,” Jamie volunteered with a laugh.
"Excellent point.” Tuck grinned. “So it seems to me we should look at this as an opportunity. We were all set to hightail it out of here two days ago. Odds are we each would have gone our separate ways. Now we're, well, for want of a better term, stuck here together.
"We have no new research to do, nothing and no one to distract us. We've all spent the last six weeks working really hard. Maybe we can look at these few days as a bonus vacation for all our hard work."
A fleeting smile gave way to a sober expression. “I've been lying here thinking about it. I could have died back there in the generator shed. Another twenty or thirty minutes breathing that carbon monoxide and I would have been history. And you guys—you could have been literally blown away out there, covered in drifts of snow, suffocated and frozen to death before I could find you—if I could find you."
Brendan shuddered at this macabre scenario, though he knew Tuck was right. Tuck continued. “There's a slim chance they won't be able to get through before winter. There's a chance we'll have to spend the next four or five months here, subsisting on whatever they can airdrop down to us."
Jamie made a small gasping sound. Tuck turned to him and put his hand on Jamie's arm. “I don't think it'll come to that. I really don't. In a day or two, three at the most, we'll be out of here. They're going to do whatever they can. They'll be watching the weather patterns like hawks and send in their best pilots, you can count on it.
"But my point is, this is it. For right now, this is all we have. We are truly being forced to live in the moment. It makes you think.” He paused, staring up at the ceiling so intently Brendan thought there might actually be something up there. He looked too, but saw only the dark blue insulated fabric surrounding fluorescent light fixtures.
"Really, we're just a microcosm of the human condition. Whether we're here a day, a month, a year, fifty years—our time on this earth is finite.” This time he turned to Brendan. “Life isn't a dress rehearsal, as they say. This is our chance to discover things we might have only dreamed of before.” His voice dropped to a caress, his dark eyes locked on Brendan.
"So, forgive me for being so blunt, but where do I
fit in all this?” Jamie leaned up on one elbow, facing the others. “I mean, I saw you two last night going at it.” Now it was Brendan's turn to gasp. He looked away, wishing he could disappear.
"Oh, you did, huh? Why didn't you join in?” Tuck's voice was light, but Brendan noticed the slight flush on his cheeks.
"Didn't think I was invited,” Jamie quipped. He, too, kept his voice light, but Brendan could hear the hurt in his tone. It occurred to him Jamie might have strong feelings for Tuck. Something had definitely been going on between them when he'd walked in on them, and while Tuck might have claimed, and even believed, they'd just been fondling—his word—to Jamie it might have meant a great deal more.
"Seriously.” Tuck's voice was gentle. “That's why I want to talk now. Bring everything out into the open between us. Don't forget, I just now woke up to see you two with no shirts on, and those weren't pistols in your pants. I kind of doubt you were thinking about doing laundry."
Jamie started to say something but Tuck stopped him. “No, hear me out. I'm not accusing. It's not my place and not my intention. I'm just saying, right now things are tense enough for us without adding to it by keeping secrets from each other. Okay?"
Jamie nodded. “Okay. We'll do a real truth or dare. Except no dare, just the truth."
"Exactly.” Tuck sat up, touched the bandage on his forehead and lay back down.
"Take it easy.” Brendan was glad to have something to focus on. All this talk about truth was making him decidedly nervous. “Before we do anything else, we should have a look at that wound. Make sure it's not still bleeding. I've never done stitches on a real live person before."
"You haven't?” Jamie sounded surprised. “You sure seemed to know what you were doing."
Brendan shrugged. “It's not rocket science. Or even geophysics.” Jamie and Tuck laughed. Brendan arose and returned a moment later with the first-aid kit. Tuck moved toward the edge of the cot and Jamie brought a chair over from the card table.
Carefully Brendan peeled back the surgical tape that held the gauze in place. An inch of dark brown stitches crisscrossed Tuck's forehead above his right eye like a centipede. The site was swollen and red but there was no seepage Brendan could see and the wound looked clean. He squirted some antibiotic ointment over the stitches and applied some fresh gauze and tape.
Jamie, meanwhile, brought over several energy bars, a jug of water and a bottle of Southern Comfort. “We missed lunch. We can have a picnic right here so Tuck doesn't have to sit up too much. I've got mocha, chocolate, oatmeal and peanut butter. Any takers?"
"I'm not sure Tuck should have any alcohol.” Brendan watched as Jamie twisted the cap on the one-hundred-proof liquor and poured a few jiggers’ worth into each glass.
"It's okay, doc.” Tuck grinned. “I promise not to drive."
He wasn't acting like someone with a concussion, so Brendan decided not to make it an issue. It was strange to feel so protective of someone. He wasn't used to it. Deciding he was thinking too much, he drank the strong, sweet liquor in one burning gulp and held out his glass to Jamie for a refill.
"Hey, slow down. We've got all night.” Tuck accepted the glass from Jamie and sipped at his, his eyes playing over Brendan.
Jamie, too, threw back his first shot and poured himself another. Tuck was leaning against a mound of pillows. Jamie and Brendan sat cross-legged on either side of him.
They munched on the dense, chewy energy bars, drank water and sipped at their drinks, no one saying much for a while. Tuck ate two bars. Brendan was pleased to see he had an appetite. He himself didn't seem to have much of one, but he forced himself to finish a bar and drink plenty of water.
Tuck pulled two pillows from behind his head and placed them on either side of him. He patted the pillows, indicating Jamie and Brendan should again lie down beside him. “Now, where were we?"
"We were talking about secrets,” Jamie offered. Brendan felt a twinge of anxiety but said nothing. Maybe if he were very quiet they wouldn't notice him. He grinned to himself, feeling like the youngest one there.
"Yeah.” Tuck turned to Brendan. “Secrets.” He turned to meet Tuck's steady gaze. “Brendan, I don't think it's a secret anymore how I feel about you. Being stranded here, getting hurt.” He touched his forehead. “It's really made me face up to the fact that this is it. I don't want to spend another year pining for you and wondering what if ... I need to know. This time I'm not letting you go without finding out."
Brendan shook his head, puzzled on one level, aware on another, for hadn't he done the same thing? But he wanted to hear Tuck say it aloud, and so he prompted, “Another year?"
"Since last summer. I told you already. I can't believe it was entirely coincidence we ended up on another assignment. It's fate. We were meant to be together, if not for a lifetime, at least to discover what there was or is between us."
The Southern Comfort was doing its job. Brendan's normal reticence was decidedly easing. If they wanted secrets, he would spill one of his own. “If you want to know the truth—no secrets—it wasn't entirely a coincidence."
"What do you mean?"
"Think back. How did you first find out about the project?"
"I got a letter asking if I was interested."
"From?"
"From Dr. Winston, at NSF."
Brendan took another fortifying gulp of the Southern Comfort. “Take a guess who my thesis advisor at Stanford was.” He watched the dawning realization on Tuck's face and he nodded, unable to suppress a chuckle. “That's right. Dr. Theodore Winston, Science Chair at Stanford and Director for Geosciences at the National Science Foundation. He also happens to be on the board of the Kramer Institute."
Tuck leaned back heavily against the pillows, a dazed look on his face. “So you mean ... you wanted to see me as much as I..."
Brendan felt his face heat, but he held his ground, for once not looking away. He nodded.
Tuck tilted his head. “But the few emails we exchanged—you were so reserved. I figured you were just drunk that night and, once sober, ashamed of whatever you thought had gone on between us."
Brendan didn't deny this. He had pulled away, scared not of Tuck, but of his own reactions. “Not ashamed. Confused. And ... scared. It's scary to realize you're attracted to a guy. At least for me it was—is."
"Hey, guys.” They both looked at Jamie. “Is this just about the two of you, or is there room for me?” Jamie's tone was teasing but Brendan's heart lurched toward him, connecting with the loneliness beneath his words. He understood that loneliness, probably better than Tuck, who always seemed to be the center of things, easygoing and everybody's friend, at home with both men and women, comfortable in his own skin.
Tuck turned toward Jamie and stroked his face. The simple gesture of intimacy made Brendan catch his breath. Without realizing it, he found he was touching his own cheek.
"There is room for you, Jamie. Lots of room. This is our chance, the three of us. After what happened between you and me yesterday, we can't deny our mutual attraction. And then there's you and Brendan. Since we're not keeping secrets, you guys have to admit there was definitely something afoot between you when I woke up from my nap."
Jamie turned from Tuck to Brendan, who somehow managed to hold the gaze. “Is that right, Brendan?” Jamie's voice held challenge, but also yearning. “Is there something between us? Are we all three in this together?"
Tuck turned to him as well. Brendan looked from dark eyes to blue and swallowed, nearly overwhelmed with emotion. “Yes,” he managed to whisper.
The storm had begun again in earnest, raging and rattling around them, highlighting both the desperateness of their situation and the warmth and coziness of their shelter. He wasn't going to hide from his feelings—not anymore. Tuck was right. This was all they had—all anybody had. It was time to start living—honestly and without fear of rejection or loss. For the first time in his life, there was literally no place left to hide. For the first time, he realized he
didn't want to.
* * * *
Tuck listened to the sound of running water, marveling at the turn of events. If he hadn't fallen and hit his head, would this even be happening? He touched his bandage. The wound throbbed dully beneath it, the numbness of the Novocain having mostly worn off.
Oddly, he didn't mind the pain. Or, more accurately, he felt so keenly alive and so grateful for that life, the pain was simply a testament to it. Having brushed death, however briefly, he felt this life was all the sweeter, even if they were stranded on the edge of the world.
He thought about the two very sexy men now showering, each no doubt in a separate stall. Jamie was definitely ready to play. Though by far the youngest of the three, Jamie was surely the most sexually experienced, at least where guys were concerned. He imagined Jamie would teach the two of them a thing or two. His cock tingled at the thought and he slipped his hand into his jeans, idly stroking it.
Brendan's reaction was uncertain, but based on their brief but very hot tryst of the night before, he was also ready and willing to learn. The thing was to keep Brendan feeling comfortable. Not to rush the action and make him retreat back to the safety of his definition of himself as straight.
How did a person get to his mid-thirties without ever connecting to a side of himself that was obviously there? Brendan didn't suddenly turn bi when Tuck kissed him. The feelings were there. They were there the year before, and no doubt had always been there, dormant and ignored.
He guessed he shouldn't really be surprised. Most guys ignored their feelings, and not just their sexual ones. Society certainly didn't encourage men to connect, especially with homosexual desires. In fact, they were soundly discouraged. Maybe the real wonder was how many guys did actually find the courage and honesty to explore their true natures, even in the face of discrimination and rejection.
Jamie was the first to emerge from the bathroom, toweling his wet hair. “Did you conserve water by showering together?"
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