Rising From the Dust

by Adrianna M Scovill

  “Officer…Windsor,” Gabriel answered, pulling the name from his memory; he must’ve taken note of Jack’s nametag.

  “You can call me Jack,” the cop answered, gesturing toward his t-shirt. “I’m off the clock.”

  Gabriel nodded once, still unsure. “Gabriel,” he returned. “Or Gabe, or…” He flipped his hand in the air, shrugged a shoulder, and suddenly offered a nervous little laugh that Jack found unbearably endearing. “I guess whatever,” he finished, and his smile was one of embarrassment. He glanced around. “This place is about to close,” he said.

  “Yeah,” Jack agreed.

  “Are you checking up on me?” Gabriel asked.

  “Checking…on you,” Jack answered, and he knew that the other man recognized the distinction. Jack hadn’t gotten up from his seat, because he didn’t want to scare Gabriel away. “Forgive me for being…presumptuous, but you seemed like you might be having a bad night.”

  Gabriel chewed his lip and, after a hesitation, nodded once.

  “Would you like to talk about it?”

  The older man tipped his head, regarding him curiously. “Is this part of the job description?” he asked softly, with the faintest curve of his lips.

  Jack leaned forward and put his elbows on the table. “Not exactly,” he answered. “But it’s certainly not my intention to make you uncomfortable.”

  “I make myself uncomfortable,” Gabriel answered, glancing away. He forced his gaze back to Jack’s and exhaled. “I buried my mother today,” he said. “Well. Yesterday,” he amended.

  “I’m sorry,” Jack said with a grimace.

  “I’m fifty years old. My wife wants a divorce. No, she doesn’t want it, but she thinks it’s for the best, and I know deep down that she’s right.” He smiled sadly. “She’s always right.”

  “Maybe you can work it out,” Jack suggested. “If you tell her how you feel…”

  Gabriel sighed. “She knows how I feel. That’s the problem,” he admitted softly. His green eyes shone in the dim lights as he held Jack’s gaze.

  “Do you want a divorce?”

  “I want to be happy,” Gabriel said, barely audible. He seemed unaware of anyone else in the bar, focused only on Jack. “And I want her to be happy. If I could change myself for her, I would.”

  “You don’t seem so bad from where I’m sitting,” Jack said, and he saw some of the tension leave the other man’s shoulders.

  After a moment, Gabriel offered a smile—sweet and shy and, Jack thought, hopeful. The older man fidgeted nervously and glanced around. He cleared his throat. Jack waited, watching Gabriel work up his courage to, finally, ask, “Do you, uh…want to go for a walk or…something?”

  Jack pushed to his feet slowly.

  Gabriel rubbed a hand on his hip and ran his tongue quickly over his lip, anxious gestures, but he maintained eye contact. Jack smiled. “I do,” he said. “But how about I give you a ride home?”

  “I’m not drunk.”

  Jack nodded.

  Gabriel regarded him. Fidgeting. Unsure. But his gaze wasn’t darting around the room looking for witnesses. “Okay,” Gabriel answered. After another moment’s hesitation, he started toward the door, his sweater over his arm like a shield. He looked sideways at Jack when the cop fell into step beside him. He didn’t pull away when their arms brushed. He didn’t fill the silence with awkward jokes.

  He was nervous, but he was surprisingly open and honest, and his sincerity was disarming. Jack found that he wanted to know more about him, everything about him.

  He also wanted him. His own desire surprised him. Gabriel was a few inches shorter than Jack, with graying hair and a jaw rough with graying stubble. While not unfit, he was a little soft around the middle. His green eyes were filled with a watchful, observant sort of intelligence. His smile was crooked, and brought with it the faintest peek of a dimple.

  Jack was doing his very best not to compare him to Jeff.

  Jeff, who’d been an inch taller than Jack and broader across the shoulders, who’d jogged nearly every morning of his adult life and had smiled with his entire face, always. Jack longed to see that smile again with an ache that was bone-deep.

  But for the first time since Jeff’s death, Jack felt something for another man. It was more than just a spark of interest, now.

  They walked outside in silence, and toward Jack’s cruiser. Gabriel tipped his head, peering through the windows at the grill that divided the backseat from the front. “Do I ride in the back?” he asked.

  Jack laughed. He pulled open the front passenger door and held it, leaning a hip against the edge. He looked at Gabriel. “Not unless you feel safer that way,” he said quietly.

  A quick flick of the tongue over his lip; this was one nervous gesture of which Jack had already grown quite fond. “I feel pretty safe.”

  “Good,” Jack answered, still smiling. “I promise I won’t bite.” He paused, gauging the other man’s reaction. “At least not without permission,” he added.

  You’re pushing him too far, Jeff’s voice warned. He’s not ready.

  He’s more ready than he realizes, Jack thought. You’ll see.

  After a few seconds, Gabriel reached toward Jack’s left hand, hanging near his leg, and lightly brushed a finger over the wedding ring shining there. He met Jack’s eyes in the orange glow of the parking lot’s lights. Jack felt a thrill of contact that sent a tingle all the way up his wrist, but he also felt an unpleasant tightening in his stomach. Even after a year, he could rarely bring himself to say it aloud.

  He swallowed, trying to pull up the words.

  Gabriel read his face, and his own expression tightened in sympathy. He ran his fingers over Jack’s wrist, offering his touch as a brief show of comfort; it meant more to Jack than he could explain, even to himself. He watched as Gabriel turned and bent himself into the front seat of the car.

  Jack pushed the door closed.

  ***

  “Turn here,” Gabriel said quietly, peering out into the night. “It’s just a couple of blocks.” The feeling of unreality had added an extra blur to the streetlights and a sort of numbness to his limbs. Gabriel felt a burn of desire simmering inside of him, and a thrill of excitement that he hadn’t felt in a very long time. At the same time, he felt somehow detached from himself and the situation, like he was watching the scene unfold without playing any real role in its course.

  When Jack pulled up in front of the lightless house that Gabriel indicated, they sat wordlessly for a few seconds, listening to the purr of the engine.

  “Would you like to come in for a drink?” Gabriel asked. He didn’t know why he was inviting the other man in—here, of all places. He knew the behavior was not just reckless but self-destructive, but he also wanted to take Jack inside, push him against a wall, and kiss him until the flames of desire consumed all else.

  Jack regarded him in the dimness.

  “No one’s inside,” Gabriel said. He thought the other man might have questions but, after a pause, Jack reached out and turned the key, plunging the car into silence. Gabriel could hear only the roar of blood in his ears. I’m too old to act like some scared teenager, he thought, and too young to feel like I missed my chance at life.

  Emboldened by his own thoughts, and filled with that sense of reckless abandon that had become foreign to him with age, Gabriel unfastened his seatbelt and turned toward Jack. The cop’s eyes looked dark in the low light, but Gabriel knew they were a pale and beautiful blue.

  Gabriel’s heart was thudding as he leaned forward. Part of him expected Jack to pull away, but the other man met his tentative kiss; the moment their lips touched, Gabriel felt something inside of himself shift, and he knew that nothing would ever be the same. His life, the life he’d built, was crumbling around him, falling into dust at his feet.

  He felt Jack’s hand against his cheek and Gabriel leaned closer, straining toward the contact as he deepened the kiss. Jack’s mouth opened for him, giving him control, and
Gabriel felt the world spinning around them. Jack tasted like coffee and something unidentifiable, something unique; Gabriel supposed he must taste like scotch, even though he’d only nursed one glass.

  He didn’t want to think about anything else. He took hold of Jack’s shirt and tried to pull him closer, realizing belatedly—when Jack broke away from his kiss with a small grunt—that the cop was still wearing his seatbelt.

  “Sorry,” Gabriel breathed as Jack fumbled to unfasten the belt. And then Jack’s mouth was covering his, and all tentativeness and hesitation were gone. His tongue pushed its way into Gabriel’s mouth, meeting no resistance, and Gabriel made an involuntary sound in his throat. His whole body felt like it was on fire, and he shifted awkwardly, surprised—and a little alarmed—by how hard he’d grown inside his jeans.

  He wanted to get Jack inside the house—they couldn’t do this here, on the street, in a cop car, for Christ’s sake—before they could be interrupted by passersby or a return to reality.

  As though reading his mind, Jack suddenly drew back and turned his head to look through the windshield. He cursed softly beneath his breath as he scanned the street and sidewalks. His hand was resting high on Gabriel’s thigh, and Gabriel wanted it higher. He wanted to shift until Jack’s hand was settled over the bulge of his crotch, wanted to push himself into the other man’s palm—

  “Come on,” Gabriel said. His voice was hoarse, rough. He reached for the door handle and climbed out into the night. Behind him, he heard Jack’s door open, and then shut. He heard the grit of Jack’s shoes on the pavement. Gabriel started up the walk to the dark house, fishing his keys out of his too-tight jeans, grimacing at the friction against his erection. He fumbled with trembling fingers to unlock the door.

  As soon as he stepped inside, reality threatened to crush him. He stopped, momentarily struck motionless by the enormity of how bad an idea this was.

  What was this, anyway? Some final fuck you to his mother, now, when she was no longer able to defend herself? He shook his head, swallowing against the sting of bile in his throat.

  He heard the soft click of the door, and then Jack was turning him, pushing him against the wall, kissing him. Gabriel grabbed at the other man’s hips automatically, pulling him closer, until their bodies were flush. He could feel Jack’s arousal, not as obvious as his own, yet, but undeniable.

  Jack’s hands tugged Gabriel’s shirt from his jeans and slid beneath it, his palms warm and rough against Gabriel’s stomach. Jack had taken control, and Gabriel didn’t mind. He stood with the comforting support of the wall behind his back and let himself be taken over by the sensation of mutual desire. He slipped his own fingers beneath Jack’s shirt, feeling along the indentations of his hip bones. Jack made a sound of approval, pressing closer, his erection growing against Gabriel’s leg.

  This is your mother’s house.

  Gabriel shoved the thought away. Jack was sucking lightly at his lower lip, and that was all that mattered. Gabriel pushed his fingers into Jack’s waistband, and then Jack’s hands were at Gabriel’s fly, unbuttoning, unzipping, and Gabriel’s hips bucked involuntarily toward the graze of contact over his erection.

  Jack’s mouth was gone from Gabriel’s, and he blinked in surprise, staring at the wall on the opposite side of the hallway as Jack sank to his knees. Gabriel felt him pulling open the flaps of his jeans, and he found himself threading his fingers into Jack’s hair.

  You’re married, Gabriel thought.

  We’re getting divorced.

  Will that help you look her in the face tomorrow at breakfast?

  “Stop,” he heard himself say, and his hoarse voice was like a crack of electricity. He released Jack’s hair—he didn’t need to pull him away, because Jack had already frozen, looking up in the dimness. Gabriel’s erection was still tucked safely inside his underwear, but it was throbbing painfully, insistently, and Gabriel struggled to draw a breath. His desire and guilt and rising panic swirled within him, suffocating him, making the room spin.

  Jack pushed himself to his feet to look at Gabriel’s face. “I’m sorry,” he said, and that was too much for Gabriel.

  Shaking his head, he said, his voice cracking, “No, no, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I can’t—I can’t do this.”

  “Hey, it’s alright, take a breath,” Jack said. His voice was soothing in spite of the gravel of desire in his throat.

  Gabriel put a hand against Jack’s chest and pushed him back, not ungently. Jack stepped away without resistance, but Gabriel needed more space; he couldn’t breathe. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, but the words had no air behind them. He had no air. You’re going to cheat on your wife with some guy you just met, in your DEAD MOTHER’S HOUSE, he thought, and his own voice was like the blare of a siren—accusing, piercing—in his head. He took a stumbling step. Jack reached out a hand toward his arm but didn’t touch him. “I’m sorry,” Gabriel repeated.

  “Stop apologizing—Jesus, Gabe, take a breath. It’s okay.”

  Gabriel shook his head. It wasn’t okay. He could feel himself reeling—not physically; his feet were planted on the floor—but mentally, emotionally.

  “I went too fast, I didn’t mean—”

  “No,” Gabriel said, holding up a hand. “This isn’t your—I want you, I want this, I do, but I can’t, not here, not now, not like…like…”

  “Okay,” Jack said.

  “I need you to—go, please. Please, I’m sorry.”

  “I need to know you’re okay,” Jack answered, and Gabriel knew that the cop was remembering the way his car had drifted over the broken center line.

  “I’m fine,” Gabriel said, but then, as the words found his own ears, he had to struggle against a hysterical laugh bubbling up in his throat. Jack took a step toward him and Gabriel shoved him back without thinking. “Shit,” he exhaled.

  “Promise me that if I leave, you won’t do anything—That you’ll be okay in the morning. Promise me and I’ll go.”

  Gabriel had just enough presence of mind to realize that he owed it to Jack, and even more to Natalie and Ben, to give this demand the consideration it deserved. He had to think about it, because in that moment, he was nowhere near being sure that he would be alright if he was left alone. He was spiraling, he was panicking, and he could feel the darkness inside of himself, waiting to pounce. He could see the overpass embankment rising up before him.

  He pulled in a deep breath and held it until he was lightheaded. He let it out slowly, stepping backward to lean against the wall. His arms and legs felt weak and tingly. But he had to focus, he had to get a grip on himself.

  “I’m okay,” he said. “I’ll be okay.”

  Jack seemed unsure, and he studied Gabriel’s face in the dark hallway.

  “I promise,” Gabriel said, leaning against the wall. He realized that his pants were still undone, and he fumbled to pull up his zipper. He winced at the grating sensation over his painfully-throbbing erection. His own arousal was unimportant, but he couldn’t forgive himself for Jack’s unrequited state. It only added to his guilt that Jack was being so entirely kind and understanding.

  He probably thinks you’re too old to be freaking out like this, Gabriel thought. But, no, he could see no judgement in Jack’s shadowy face, only concern.

  Gabriel wanted to reach for him. He wanted to kiss him. He wanted to recapture the reckless abandon that had been lost.

  “Jack,” he said, with a small shake of his head. “Jesus, I’m…” so, so sorry about this. He squared his shoulders and straightened away from the wall, drawing another bracing breath. “I promise you don’t need to worry about me,” he said.

  Jack nodded and backed away toward the door. Gabriel bit his lip to keep from begging him to stay. Jack fished a card from his pocket and set it on the small table beside the door. “If you want to talk,” he said, tapping the card with a finger. “I’m sorry if I pushed too far, too fast,” he added. Gabriel opened his mouth to object, but before he could find the wor
ds, Jack was gone, vanishing out into the night and pulling the door closed with a soft click.

  Gabriel sank back against the wall. His knees bent, and he slid to the floor, wincing at the pain when his jeans pinched at his erection. He sat, in spite of the pain, with his knees bent up. He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, concentrating on pulling air through his nose and releasing it through his mouth.

  ***

  “Fuck,” Jack said, hitting the steering wheel with a fist. He caught sight of Gabriel’s sweater on the dash and closed his eyes, dropping his head back against the seat. He briefly debated taking the sweater up to the house, even if only to leave it on the doorstep, but dismissed the idea. Gabriel wanted him to leave.

  You were right, I pushed too much, Jack thought.

  He waited, but Jeff’s voice didn’t answer. Jack felt a surge of panic and opened his eyes. He knew it was ridiculous, he knew that the voice was just a part of his own mind, but he needed it now more than ever.

  I wanted him so badly that I wasn’t thinking of anything else. I didn’t notice that he’d started to panic. What did I do? He was already having a bad night and I made it worse.

  He got no reassurance from the voice in his head. I still want him, he thought, even though most of his arousal had been curbed by Gabriel’s distress.

  And he wants you. Jack couldn’t tell if that was Jeff’s voice, or his own, but he knew it was true. Gabriel’s desire had been as undeniable as his emotion. Give him time. He might surprise you. But even if he doesn’t, at least you know now that it’s possible. There was a pause, and then: Possible to be with someone without thinking of me.

  Jack couldn’t deny that truth. For a brief moment in time, he hadn’t been thinking about Jeff or how much he missed him. There had been no one in that hallway except Jack and Gabriel, and Jack had enough presence of mind to recognize the fact that, in spite of his guilt, tonight had been an important (and ultimately good) step for him.

  Let’s hope it turns out to be a good step for him, too, he thought as he started his car.