“This is...nice.” Quill’s voice was muffled by Owen’s hair.
“You sound surprised.” Owen laughed before kissing the arm Quill had wrapped around his chest and shoulders. “I mean bed sharing isn’t for all couples, and you certainly do seem to have high personal space needs, but if you ask me, sleepy cuddles are the best.”
“They’re not bad.” Quill kissed the top of his head. “Can’t say as I’ve ever had this before, so not really any comparison, but I like it with you.”
“Never?” Owen resisted the urge to preen. He liked being the first to give Quill this sort of closeness and ease.
“Not really a spend-the-night kind of guy. And JP, he was one of those high-space-needs people, way more so than me. But I was young and he was the first, so I didn’t know any different, but he wasn’t big on touch.”
“How’d you guys meet anyway? You hardly seem like the type to show up at an LGBTQ campus event.”
Quill snorted, but for once, he didn’t try to sidestep questions about his past. “I wasn’t. He was more into that sort of scene and other extracurriculars. We were in the same first-year seminar together. Our group went on a camping trip prior to the start of school, and we were assigned to share a tent. He hated every damn thing about being outdoors, but somehow he decided he liked me.”
“You’re easy to like.”
“You’re being nice because you want another round to make you fall asleep.” Quill’s laugh was light, nothing like the seriousness he all too often carried around with him. “Anyway, it’s ancient history now. I can see now that what we had wasn’t exactly healthy. I’m not over here pining for him if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“I’m not,” Owen said quickly, even though he kind of had been. He didn’t want to have to compete with a memory for a slice of Quill’s tightly guarded heart. And hearing Quill admit that the relationship had been flawed had his pulse surging, hope turning out to be more potent than adrenaline.
“Liar.” Ducking his head, Quill pressed an openmouthed kiss on the back of Owen’s neck. One of his big hands snaked under Owen’s waistband. “And how is it that you’re still so awake? My alarm’s gonna piss you off if you don’t sleep soon.”
“You should do something about that.” Owen stretched into Quill’s explorations.
“Guess I could.” Quill faked disinterest, but Owen could feel him hard against his ass.
“You are a public servant.” Owen laughed as the need to kiss Quill triumphed over how good he felt against his back, and he spun in his arms so that they were front-to-front. And when their mouths met, he found not just hope waiting for him in the kiss, but faith as well. Faith that this wasn’t some passing fling, sureness permeating his every cell. He might not know much, might not have a clue as to what came next, but he had faith in his feelings. Their feelings, because he had to have faith that Quill felt the same way. And maybe Quill wasn’t ever going to say it, but his kiss spoke volumes. The way he clung to Owen, the tenderness of his lips, the reverence in his touch. All of it said that this thing they’d found together was real. Bigger than either of them alone. And Owen was going to do whatever it took to keep it, wasn’t going to let this go without a fight.
Chapter Twenty-One
Quill had never been as grateful for the short daylight hours as he was in the days leading up to the new year. Short days meant long nights, meant more time with Owen. More laughing. More cooking. More sex. More sleeping. Hell, had he ever loved sleeping this much? Twice now he’d actually hit the snooze button to get a little more time with Owen in his arms. Working alone in the dark predawn hours had never held less appeal for him. No, his greatest pleasure right now was working side by side with Owen, being able to glance in his direction and get a smile that kept him warmer in the frigid temperatures than even his favorite gloves.
Like right then, Owen’s smile and delight were almost blinding as they used their cross-country skis to do a check of all the buildings and some trails that couldn’t be done easily on the snowmachines. In a short time, the sun would set by four again, making for an early New Year’s Eve for those energetic souls out on the trails. At least, Quill hoped it would be an early night. He had a surprise for Owen, and a callout wasn’t part of his plans. However if the weather held, by midmorning tomorrow the area would be clogged again with people looking to make the most of the first day of the year. Which was why he and Owen needed to check both the safety and functionality of some of the more popular trails.
Technically, he could have left the work to Owen, but his paperwork was caught up, patrol done, and the impulse to spend more time with Owen undeniable. So here he was laughing right along with Owen as he pointed out a particularly gorgeous snow-covered vista. The baby blue sky showed no traces of the storm that had hit after Christmas, simply another clear, cold day that perfectly showcased the snowcapped mountains, craggy tips reaching toward the sun. But that same sun worried Quill. Avalanche concerns this time of year never disappeared, especially the ever-present risk of human-triggered ones. Changing temperatures contributed to increased risks. The higher elevations were the most concern, with forecasters warning of both slab and loose avalanches, especially along steeper slopes.
Coming from the other direction, a young family headed toward them—two adults on skis, trailed by two elementary-aged kids with a smaller one riding in some sort of back carrier, so bundled that Quill could barely make out a face. They were all in blue and red parkas, and it took him a moment to realize that it wasn’t a dad and a mom, but two men, laughing and joking with the kids. Quill supposed it could be two uncles, same as the women with the flat tire had been sisters-in-law, but something about their ease with each other said they were likely a couple.
“Afternoon!” Owen waved at the group. “How’s the trail looking back there?”
“Oh, we didn’t make it very far.” The smaller of the two men laughed. “Short legs, short attention spans, you know? But that’s what a vacation’s for, right? Making our own agenda. You guys with the park service?”
“Yup.” Owen continued to beam at the family. “We’re just out checking a few of the trails. Where are you guys from? First time to the area?”
“Portland!” The younger of the two kids piped up. “Our dads like snow for Christmas.”
“Awesome.” Owen gave the kid a high five. “Me too. And we’ve got plenty of it here.”
Owen made a little more small talk with the family, doing that thing of his where he got their whole story in only a few minutes—college friends turned husbands who’d adopted the older two kids a year prior and the youngest a few months back. Eventually the kids got restless and the family continued on, leaving Quill and Owen to go forward down the trail.
Smile dimming, Owen gave the group a last look over his shoulder before following Quill. And when he stayed quiet, Quill didn’t need a degree in mind reading to know that like with the tour guide and his boyfriend a few weeks earlier, the two-dad family had given Owen envy issues. Or more accurately, he’d probably compared Quill to what the other couples had and found Quill lacking. Which wasn’t surprising, even if it did sting. The surprise he had planned seemed silly now. Whatever he had to offer Owen wasn’t going to be enough, wasn’t going to compare to what other established couples had, wasn’t ever going to be the gift of openness that Owen deserved.
“Nice family.” This time, Quill wasn’t going to let him stew in silence. Not that he wanted a confrontation or disagreement, but Owen had shown him that sometimes uncomfortable conversation beat foreboding silence.
“Yeah. They were.” Owen offered Quill a half smile.
“Kids on your bucket list?” Quill kept his voice casual, gaze ahead on the trail, not on Owen’s face.
“For myself?” Short on breath from the skiing, Owen’s words came in little huffs. “I’m honestly not sure. I’ve got nieces and nephews,
and I love seeing kids and interacting with them, but I also like sending them home with their parents. I like my freedom—breakfast in my underwear, sex in the living room, last-minute vacations. Parenthood seems like a lot of work. And I’m not saying never, but it’s not high on the bucket list, no.”
Quill wasn’t sure he entirely believed him—he could all too easily visualize Owen with a pack of kids crawling all over him, him laughing up a storm, freedom and workload be damned. But if Owen could pretend, so could Quill. “Ah. Never really thought about it for me.”
“Yeah, I know. Married to the job and all. You don’t have room for anything else.” Owen’s tone managed to be both affectionate and resigned.
Quill wanted to correct him, wanted to say that that wasn’t accurate, especially not recently when he’d proved to himself that he did have a need for human contact. Friendship. A relationship. And sure, some might quibble and say that it wasn’t a relationship if no one knew and it already had an end date, but Quill knew in his soul that this was the most significant interaction he’d had as an adult.
“Got room for you,” he said at last, then feeling rather raw and exposed like he’d whipped off his gloves in negative twenty windchill, added quickly, “And Hattie. Friends. That sort of thing.”
“Yeah.” Owen’s eyes were compassionate, but there was a sadness there too that Quill would give a lot to remove.
As they finished the rounds, he tried for distraction, falling back on old habits of pointing out places that looked ripe for avalanches or other dangers. Oh, he tried to find pretty views too, but some of the shine was gone from the day. And when they made it back to their quarters, he’d almost forgotten again that it was New Year’s Eve.
“What’s this?” Owen made a delighted sound as he finished stripping off his outer layer at the top of the stairs. He finished pulling off his heavy pants and padded over to the table. When Owen had been on trash duty earlier in the day, Quill had crept back upstairs to lay out his surprise—a nicely set table with a bottle of nonalcoholic champagne and two flutes in the center of the table. It was nothing really, and after the heaviness of their earlier conversation, embarrassment heated his face.
“You like holidays,” he said lamely.
“I do.” Owen’s smile was wide and easy, earlier storm clouds in his eyes replaced by his inner sunshine again.
“We can’t exactly leave to go out to a fancy restaurant with the amount of tourist traffic we’re expecting this weekend, but I thought...” Quill licked his suddenly dry lips. “Thought I’d bring the nice dinner to you. I put salmon out to defrost, and I’ll do the rest of dinner while you shower.”
“I love it.” Owen gave him a fast hug, brushing his lips across Quill’s cheek. “Let me duck back downstairs to put some snow in a bucket to chill the champagne.”
“It’s not the real stuff. New Year’s Eve is notorious for late-night emergencies. Sorry.”
“It’s perfect.” Owen gave him another kiss, this one lingering. “And I’m crossing everything that there’s no callout because I’ve got big plans for you at midnight.”
“I have to wait until midnight?” Quill mock pouted simply to hear Owen laugh again.
“Dessert then. And midnight later.” Owen grinned like a kid proposing ice cream for breakfast. “We’ll start a new tradition of toasting in bed.”
Tradition. The word left a scuff mark across Quill’s brain. Tradition meant doing something year after year. And as someone who liked things a certain way, Quill had a million little traditions—same restaurant most trips to Anchorage, same laundry detergent, same seasoning for the fish, same first-of-the-season hike after the thaw. But almost all his traditions were solo ones. What Owen was referring to in his casual offhand manner were shared traditions. Something unique to them. Something they’d start now and come back to.
Except they wouldn’t. Next New Year’s wouldn’t have a single damn tradition. Quill wouldn’t let it, would lose himself in work, same as he always had, would try not to count how many days it had been since Owen. And in the years to follow, Owen would undoubtedly acquire a laundry list of traditions and holidays because he wanted that. Deserved that. All Quill got was this year, this one chance.
So, he’d push all thought of tradition aside. Make Owen the night he deserved because this was Quill’s one shot to be that guy for him. Someone else would be the tradition guy, and Quill would be right here on this mountain, same as he’d been decades now, both nothing and everything changed. It was simply how it had to be, and he had no right to shake his fist at the universe and ask for more.
* * *
Owen was all too aware that life didn’t contain many absolutely perfect moments. But right then, sitting up in Quill’s bed, surrounded by a mountain of covers, cool fake champagne in his hand, hot ranger behind him, nineties love songs on Quill’s stereo, and clock ticking toward midnight, life was pretty darn amazing.
“We should make a wish.” He tapped Quill’s glass with his own.
“It’s a New Year’s drink, not a birthday cake.” Quill’s laugh was easy, voice still sex-rough. True to his promise of sex as dessert, Owen had spent the past few hours fucking Quill until they were both incoherent messes. In the days since Christmas, they hadn’t suddenly leapt into daily fucking or anything like that, but Owen was learning to pick up on Quill’s subtle signals when that was what Quill wanted most. And after dinner when Quill had stretched and said, “Guess my room isn’t too cold, if you wanted to...ah...” Owen had happily abandoned his blow job in front of the woodstove plans in favor of fucking Quill silly.
He still wasn’t sure exactly what he’d done to get so lucky—big, sexy, take-charge ranger who happened to also love getting done. But now he had Quill, and he wasn’t going to waste a second.
“Wishes are more fun than resolutions,” he countered. After dozing a bit, they’d showered then collected the snacks to eat in bed, laughing like kids at a sleepover, and Owen wanted to keep that lightness going. “Everyone else is all making New Year’s diet and healthy habit resolutions. I think it’s way more fun to close our eyes and hope for something we want most in the New Year.”
“Wishes without a plan are kind of pointless. No sense in hoping for something you’re not gonna get, like fourteen hours of sun in January.” Of course, Quill had to go and be the practical one. Under his resignation though, there was a certain wistfulness to Quill’s words that damn near broke Owen’s heart.
“Come on. If you could have one wish, what would be it be? Pretend I’m a wizard or something.” Whatever it was, Owen would do everything in his power to make it happen for Quill.
“You are pretty amazing.” Quill held Owen tighter. “And the way I see it, I’ve got what I need.”
Owen couldn’t help his heavy sigh. It must be nice to not have any restlessness, any doubts about one’s place in the world, to not want anything more than what a person already had.
“Everything?” Working hard to not sound like he was fishing, Owen kept his voice light. But dude, would it kill Quill to have at least one Owen-centric wish? It made Owen feel like he was alone on a raft in an unfamiliar ocean, no land in sight. He had a long list of things he wanted, both realistic and not. And Quill insisting on being dour wasn’t going to stop Owen from dreaming. If anything, it simply made him that much more determined. Ever since Christmas, he’d had a much clearer idea of what he wanted from life. He wanted Quill, wanted to erase the stupid expiration date on their fling. He might still be a little fuzzy on the details of how to accomplish that, but he wasn’t going to give up without a fight. However, there was no denying that it would be easier if Quill would admit that he too yearned for more than a highly temporary secret relationship.
“I’m a simple guy. Give me a year with no fatalities, plenty of fish for the freezer, a generator that doesn’t crap out, and less paperwork.”
“Th
ose are decent wishes.” Owen had to swallow hard. The churning in his gut served him right for being foolish enough to give his heart to a guy with a glacier in place of his.
“And you know, maybe a little more of...earlier. Some more you wouldn’t hurt.” Even without looking, Owen could tell Quill was blushing from the way his voice had gone more hesitant. And okay, that was better than nothing and not total indifference to having Owen around. Maybe it was a start.
“That can be arranged.” Leaning back, Owen pressed a kiss to Quill’s neck. Maybe he’d simply have to wish enough for both of them, hope and plan and scheme, melt Quill’s permafrost emotions one day at a time until Quill had no choice but to add Owen to the short list of things he couldn’t live without.
“Hey. It’s 11:59.” Quill plucked the glass from Owen’s hand, set it next to his on the nightstand. “Pretty sure that means you get a kiss. You go ahead and make that wish.”
Damn it. This would all be so much easier if Quill wouldn’t keep showing that he was capable of infinite tenderness and romanticism. Somewhere in there, buried under all the ice and reservations, was a guy who was everything Owen had ever wanted and who Owen was having an increasingly hard time imagining living without. Thus, when Quill claimed his mouth in a sweet, soft kiss, Owen went right ahead and made his wish, wished hard enough for both of them, losing himself to the kiss just as surely as the rest of him was already lost to Quill.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“So, tell me everything. How’s it going?”
“Fine. Going well.” Owen fumbled the phone, narrowly avoiding it hitting the wooden floor. He’d been about to get geared up to see to the latest round of shoveling that the January storms had necessitated when Hattie, his volunteer coordinator and Quill’s friend, had called. They’d handled the pleasantries and the purpose of her call, which was to ensure that he didn’t want the subsistence stipend for the second half of his volunteer stint, but she didn’t seem in any hurry to end the call.
Arctic Heat (Frozen Hearts) Page 20