“Maybe with a longer engagement. In case you—”
Growling, Quill held him tighter. “I’m not changing my mind. Take all the time you need, but I’m not going to get scared off.”
He pulled Owen down for a kiss then, a hungry one that also managed to promise that what Quill had been saying was true. It was sexy and reassuring all at once. Owen loved Quill, all of him, but this Quill, the one who knew what he wanted and who wasn’t afraid to go for it, was intoxicating, a drug he hadn’t even known he needed.
“Yes,” he whispered against Quill’s lips. “I’m still worried and scared, but I want to do what you said. Leap. Together.”
“If it helps, I’m terrified too.” Quill released a tentative laugh. “But I want this. For all the practical and impractical and just plain foolish reasons. I want you.”
Owen took a breath, letting the words ricochet off every doubt he’d had the past few days, letting them warm him. Let himself believe Quill, really believe him. And maybe it was okay if some of this was triggered by the whole near-death thing because Owen got it, got what Quill was saying about time being finite. He’d spent the past few years running from that fact, trying to outrun that feeling of mortality, believing that if he simply made the most of his time, that hollow feeling would go away. But what Quill was suggesting was the opposite. Embrace it. Accept. Time was short and uncertain and sometimes cruelly unfair. He’d learned that lesson more than once. So why not go for what he wanted most? Wasn’t that the entire purpose of his bucket list? Not to put off for tomorrow the dreams he could accomplish today.
And there was no bigger dream than a future with Quill. So, yes. Yes, he could do this. Rather than try to put all that into words, he kissed Quill again, trying to tell him how much he wanted it too, how glad he was that Quill had had the courage to bring this up. Hell, Quill had apparently even talked to Owen’s parents. He’d plotted this whole romantic night for them. He was serious about wanting this, and Owen was going to give himself the gift of believing him.
“We’re going to give you hypothermia again.” Quill pulled back with a laugh.
“Bed?”
“Bed.” Stopping twice for more kisses, they scrambled out of the tub and dried off. Owen peeled off his cast cover before racing Quill to burrow under the covers. Naked bodies touching, wonder zoomed through Owen, making him marvel at the simple miracle of being alive, being here to enjoy this.
“Warm me up,” Owen demanded. As Quill pulled him tight, fuzzy chest brushing Owen’s, bigger body surrounding Owen’s, every fantasy he’d had about Alaska, about big strong rangers and cold nights seemed comical now. He’d gotten so, so much more than he’d bargained for. Everything. He’d gotten everything. No more list. This was all he’d ever need. And as their bodies moved together, mouths finding each other again, he pleaded with the universe for a long forever. He needed time to see this work, needed to see who they both became as love worked its magic on their lives. He both needed it all and needed nothing other than Quill, this moment, this man.
* * *
“I hate that the generator crapped out again. We don’t want you getting sick again.” Quill piled more blankets around Owen on the couch.
“I’m fine. Quit worrying.” It was a few days since they’d returned to the quarters, and Owen still wasn’t at full strength. He was steadily improving, but Quill still worried, tried to make him stay on the couch with his drawing supplies as much as possible. The generator had malfunctioned in the middle of the night, this time beyond what Quill could fix. Again. Which meant a cold night in front of the woodstove and an impending visit from Ron, the repair guy.
And not that Quill would tell Owen, but he was dreading seeing Ron again, back muscles tense as he took the snowmachine to fetch Ron and his tools from the lower parking lot. Quill had known that once he’d told his boss why he needed time off that word would get around. It just did. Small department, small area, not much other February gossip to distract people. It didn’t matter that his boss had been professional, giving Quill a short lecture about how getting involved with a volunteer wasn’t the best look, but also not censuring him. Little by little, Quill was working on replacing the awful images of when he’d come out to his dad with more supportive experiences like the nurses at the hospital and Hattie and Owen’s parents. Even more or less indifference like his boss’s was okay. There had been some rumblings when he’d been at a meeting the day before, but he’d tuned it out.
It was harder, however, to tune out Ron when they were in the small space of the generator room, and Ron was looking at him with obvious derision.
“So. Heard your volunteer got caught up in an avalanche.”
“That’s right,” Quill said evenly, trying not to let the vision of Owen’s cold body crowd into his brain.
“You all more than friendly is what I heard. First time you’ve taken consecutive days of leave in ten years.” Ron nodded like he had a source in HR, checking leave requests.
“How’s the generator?” Quill asked, letting his irritation make his voice rougher. “Short in the wiring again?”
Ron didn’t even glance at the machine, still giving Quill a critical eye. “It’s true then? You gay?”
Taunts on the school bus and harsh words from family members echoed in his brain, but his long-standard denial didn’t even come to the surface. He’d dealt with almost losing Owen. He could deal with the Rons of the world too. “Yep. That gonna keep you from fixing this generator? Because I’m happy to call your boss, see about getting someone else out here.”
“Oh, hold on to your britches. No need to call anyone. I’ll fix your damn machine. Stick your dick where you like. I just don’t hold with them liberal gays like your California boy, but I ain’t gonna leave you cold.”
“Good. But you insult Owen again, and we’re gonna have some words.” It was actually ridiculously easy to find the same stern voice he used with rowdy teens, his shoulders back, spine straight as he glared at Ron. Oh, he was never going to like conflict, but staring Ron down, standing up for himself, no longer made his stomach churn or his palms sweat. Could have used this backbone years ago, but he wasn’t going to dwell on what he’d lost to fear and inertia. Rather, he wanted to focus on what he’d gained—a future with Owen.
Later, after Ron got the generator humming again and Quill returned him to his truck with another harsh glare for his retreating form, he headed back upstairs. Back to Owen. Back to where he wanted to be. Fuck Ron and people like him who would deny them a chance at happiness. And hell, fuck himself for thinking that happiness wasn’t worth it. Because it absolutely was, the sight of Owen sitting up at the table, drinking tea and sketching, warming him way more than the return of the building’s heat.
“What are you drawing?” he asked, heading to the coffee maker, which Owen had already plugged in with a fresh pot waiting for him.
“A new comic. Cranky ranger, talking animals.”
“Cute volunteer?”
“That too.” Owen’s cheeks turned uncharacteristically pink. “It’s pretty gay. But then most of my comics are. Thinking back, that’s probably what clued my parents in, all the crushes and guys holding hands.”
“I like it,” Quill said firmly. “Go with it. Cranky ranger. Cute guy. Some hand holding. Maybe that’s what the world needs.”
“It does.” Standing, Owen plucked Quill’s coffee from his hand and set it on the counter before wrapping his arms around Quill’s neck. “I’m going to keep it PG, so maybe no kisses, but you can give me one now. I’m feeling lots better, especially now that the heat is back.”
“Are you now?” It was the middle of the afternoon, and he did have work to get to, the job waiting for him. But it could wait another five minutes. The work would still be there after he stole a few precious moments with Owen. And as their lips met, he knew that there was nowhere else he’d rather be. Not eve
n the most spectacular hike on his own could compare to the joy he’d found in being with Owen. He’d probably always be an introvert, always be Owen’s slightly cranky ranger, but he’d chosen to let love in, let it transform him and his future both.
“Love you,” he murmured, pulling back from the kiss to look at Owen, memorize the glint in his eyes, the wickedness of his smile, the strength of his embrace.
“Me too. And I can’t wait until later.” The curve of Owen’s mouth said he meant bedtime, but Quill’s heart expanded. He couldn’t wait until later either, until the future they both deserved where they belonged to each other.
Chapter Thirty
Nine months later
“Come on, boy. Come on.” Owen stopped to pat his leg. Snowshoeing with a dog in snow booties was a new challenge, one they were both getting used to with Yogi still not sure he liked wearing his coat and boots out in the white stuff. A year-old husky lab mix, he should like the snow, and indeed the workers at the shelter in Anchorage had assured them that he’d be a great winter companion, but so far Yogi spent more time sniffing and eating snow than trotting through it. “We need to beat Quill back home.”
“Too late.” Still in uniform and on snowshoes of his own, Quill came around the side of the cabin to the clearing where Owen had been working with Yogi. The light was already fading, short November days chasing away what remained of the day’s earlier sunshine. “Training still not going well?”
“Don’t say ‘I told you so,’” Owen warned.
“I wouldn’t dare, but you are the guy who picked the dog based on name alone. I did suggest that he seemed a little...common-sense challenged.”
“He’ll figure it out.” Owen tried to sound optimistic as he followed Quill back to the cabin since the dog had been his idea, a friend to keep him occupied when Quill worked long hours. Although he still helped Quill where he could, he was taking the season off from formal volunteering to focus on the long-distance art classes he’d enrolled in along with the start of his webzine comic, which had proved to be surprisingly popular.
That and there was still so much to do here at the cabin. After much discussion back and forth, they’d finally decided to move off-site to a little place that could be their own, close enough for Quill to reach any late-night emergencies, but far enough to give some semblance of work/life separation. And it had left the quarters to this season’s winter caretaker volunteers, a married couple from Montana who were experienced park volunteers grateful for the extra privacy of having the quarters to themselves.
He and Quill had pooled their savings on this property, a nice chunk of land with a two-bedroom cabin in need of some TLC. They were doing most of the work themselves, both to save money and because Owen found something deeply satisfying about rehabbing the place, turning it into a real home for them. Still, though, the work could get lonely as could long days spent drawing, and he’d started agitating for a dog back in the summer, finally wearing Quill down on one of their visits to Anchorage to see Hattie, Val, and the baby. Being honorary uncles had them making the trek more often, especially since the three of them had traveled to California for their wedding in May to support Quill.
“What has you smiling?” Quill asked as they stepped into the mudroom at the back of the cabin to peel off their winter gear, Yogi having decided to bound up after them after all.
“Thinking how much I love this place.”
“You should.” Quill laughed. “Anyone who spends that many hours on a backsplash for the kitchen better love the results.”
“I do. And I was remembering our wedding. Too bad we didn’t have this guy yet.” He bent to remove Yogi’s booties and coat and dry him off. “He could have been the flower dog.”
“He would have eaten the flowers. And liked it.” Quill shook his head.
“Hush. He’s a good boy.”
“Good expensive boy who ate a hammer, a level, and a piece of flooring last week alone. But hey, you ever talk me into another wedding, he can come.”
“You liked it enough to do it again?” Straightening, Owen studied Quill carefully.
“Like you enough to do it again.” Quill headed for the half-done kitchen, and Owen followed, Yogi at his heels. On the fridge were pictures from the wedding—Quill looking vaguely unsettled in a suit, holding the baby next to Hattie, Owen with his siblings crowded around him, Owen’s parents beaming at Quill, him and Quill having a private moment on the deck of the vacation house they’d rented in Lake Tahoe. Wanting to do something between a big wedding and an elopement, they’d decided to get married where Owen’s family could come along with a few select friends on a big weekend getaway that was more family reunion than traditional wedding. Quill’s family was conspicuously absent, but that was okay. Owen would simply be family enough for him, try to fill the gaps with as many good memories as he could, and it helped that his parents adored Quill, with his mom sending frequent packages their way.
“Dinner smells good. Another recipe from your mom?” Quill asked hopefully.
“Yeah. Ginger garlic chicken thighs. She says hi by the way and that they can’t wait to see the guest bedroom at Christmas.”
“Better get cracking on that then.” Quill laughed, apparently unruffled at the news of an incoming parental invasion. “Might help to have a guest bed. They’d probably appreciate a floor in there too.”
“I’m working on it,” Owen protested. “I got sidetracked today with a great idea for a new comic panel and then dinner...”
“I’m teasing.” Quill tugged him close enough to drop a kiss on his head. “I’ll help Tuesday when things are slower after the weekend tourist rush. And you do know that you don’t have to do any of it, right? Dinner’s nice and the home repairs are great, but it’s also just fine if you concentrate on your classes and art.”
“I want to do things for you. For us,” Owen assured him. “I like this. A lot.”
He wouldn’t say he was a househusband exactly, but close enough, and he found the role suited him in ways he’d never expected. Making sure that Quill was well taken care of to do his job fulfilled something deep inside Owen, an inner caretaker he hadn’t even known existed prior to Quill. And maybe it was because Quill did such a good job taking care of him right back, and not just the obvious stuff like tinkering with the generator and making sure they had wood, but the little stuff like showing Owen his favorite summer hikes and bringing him treats back when he had to go into town and letting Owen have the warm side of the bed.
“Is the dinner ready?” Quill asked, eyes locked on Owen’s mouth.
“It could keep.” Owen shooed Yogi toward his bed in the living room. “What did you have in mind?”
“Uh...” Quill blushed. For all that he’d loosened up, especially in bed and when it came to being around other people, he could still be charmingly shy about certain things. Not waiting for him to continue, Owen started in on his uniform shirt buttons.
“Do I get to guess?” He nipped at Quill’s neck. “Because I’ve got a table you’d look exceptionally hot draped over...”
The sudden flash of heat in Quill’s eyes said he was on the right track, and Owen laughed as he continued to undress Quill, utterly in love with this man.
“What did I do to get so lucky?” Quill asked on a gasp as Owen sank to his knees to undo his belt and fly.
“Took a chance.” Owen looked him square in the eyes, trying to tell him without words how grateful he was that Quill had wanted to take this leap with him, that Quill had been willing to take the risk and face his own fears in order for them to have this future.
“I’d do it again,” Quill said gruffly. “You’re worth all the chances.”
“We both are.” Owen licked Quill’s exposed stomach, loving how that made him tremble. He’d taken a chance too, decided to trust in Quill and trust in love, and it had paid off in a level of happiness h
e still had a hard time wrapping his mind around.
“Uh-huh.” Quill’s head tipped back as Owen got serious about teasing him with his tongue. “Love you.”
“Love you too.” They both said it all the time. Maybe even too much, if such a thing were possible, but Owen was never ever going to get tired of hearing the words. They each knew how precious life was, how things could change in an instant, and if they weren’t going to miss a chance to say the words, then that was a good thing. The best thing. They had each other and they had love and because of that, they had a future worth having, whatever it brought.
* * *
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Author Note
As with all my Alaska-set books, my research was rather extensive. Curious readers will be interested to know that yes, the Alaska state parks system really does have winter caretaker volunteers at various remote locations throughout the state, who get accommodations and subsistence payment in exchange for volunteer work through the winter. And yes, the Hatcher Pass area is one of the areas that takes volunteers. I tried to stay true to what my research revealed about the location and the work of the volunteers and state rangers. Accommodations vary considerably from place to place throughout the state. However, as I have not personally volunteered to overwinter there, liberties were undoubtedly taken, and all inaccuracies are mine. No resemblance to actual Department of Natural Resources employees or volunteers is intended; all characters are 100 percent fictional. The job of a ranger is indeed part law enforcement and part steward, and I tried to balance the many competing parts of the job for Quill with the understanding that the job often varies from place to place, season to season, and ranger to ranger.
Arctic Heat (Frozen Hearts) Page 28