Runner

by Parker Williams

  That idea wouldn’t work. It took me long enough to deal with getting new things in the house. Plus, if the weather did turn bad, the likelihood of someone reaching us dropped drastically. “I think I need to, sir. If we get snowstorms, it might not be possible to deliver here.”

  “We have snowmobiles. I promise, one way or another, we’d get to you, Matty.”

  And he probably would. The man would move heaven and earth to do something for his customers, including procuring special items for me. It’s how he kept growing his business in such a small town. Like the hospital, people came from the surrounding counties because of Mr. Gianetti’s willingness to help them. In the town, Mr. Gianetti was the closest thing they had to a true rock star. But the thought of someone coming up this way reminded me of the man sitting on my porch and the accident he’d had.

  “I appreciate it, sir, but I think I’d be more comfortable knowing I had it on hand.”

  Mr. Gianetti sighed. “Okay, if that’s how you want to handle it. I hope you have enough space for everything.”

  Space was one thing I had plenty of. My pantry was huge and would barely be half full after the canning I was doing. There were two large chest freezers where my fish and any other game I took got stored. The house would have been large enough to house a family of three easily, so there was plenty of room.

  “I do,” I assured him. “I know this is short notice, so if it takes longer to—”

  “The order will be there in two weeks, just like I promised. Sometimes you need to have a little faith, Matty.”

  That was something normally in short supply around here. “I’ll try, sir.”

  “Now, is there anything else you need?”

  “Um… not that I can think of.”

  “What about… you know, protection?”

  I laughed. “My brother is sheriff. I think I should be okay on that front.”

  Mr. Gianetti coughed. “I meant more… personal protection. Something to keep you safe in case….”

  Oh. Shit. “Oh, God no.” I could feel fire rising in my face at the thought.

  “You have to be safe, Matty. You’re my favorite customer. I need you around.”

  “There won’t be any of… that,” I assured him.

  He made a hmm sound, then said, “I’ll pack it. If you use it, you can thank me later.”

  I just knew those wild eyebrows of his were waggling.

  AFTER I finished with Mr. Gianetti, I canned my first batch of vegetables. Because of the lateness of the day, I decided I would have to wait until tomorrow before I could continue. This threw off my schedule, and the thought had my chest heaving. I tried to calm myself, but there had been too many new things for me to deal with today. I went around the house and did my basic routine, and that relaxed me some, but not as much as it normally would.

  I went out on the porch and found Charlie with his head thrown back, mouth wide open. He looked… oh, hell. Adorable was the only word I could come up with. He was snuggled beneath the blanket, clutching it to his chin. I found it strange that seeing him lying out on the porch calmed me more than the routine I’d just put myself through.

  I went back inside to start dinner. Tonight would be fresh fish, dredged in flour and spices, then fried nice and crispy and served with fried potatoes and onions from the garden. I loved living up here, away from everyone else. Dependent on myself, mostly eating what I caught or grew. But having Charlie here had me thinking that if I lived closer to town, we could have seen each other more. Maybe we could have gone to the cafe, had a nice dinner. Spent some time together to get to know each other.

  “Something smells delicious.”

  His voice surprised me. I turned and splashed grease on my hand. I cried out, more from shock than anything else.

  Charlie yanked the door open and did his best to wheel himself inside. He made a beeline for me and clasped my hand, staring at it intently. “Stick your hand under the cold water,” he instructed.

  I did as he said. It sent prickles along my arm, but eventually the throbbing stopped, which I found myself grateful for. But what really astonished me was that he hadn’t turned my hand loose. While I had it under the water, he held my forearm, moving my hand gently, ensuring that all the red spots were covered.

  “I’m so sorry,” he murmured, taking my hand and drying it with the dish towel he’d pulled from the counter.

  “It’s not your fault,” I assured him. “I’m not used to people being there, so when you spoke, I got a little startled.”

  He squinted at me, his brown eyes showing so much concern it made me slightly uncomfortable. “Matt, I—”

  The timer for the fish dinged, and we both jumped. I pulled away from Charlie, rushed back to the stove, and turned the burner off. My heart thumped hard as I remembered the expression on his face, the touch of his hand. Tender. Caring. I wanted to know what he was going to say, but the thought of him actually finishing the sentence scared me so much my hands were shaking.

  “Dinner should be done in a minute,” I informed him, not yet able to turn around. “If you want to wash up, the bathroom is down the hall on the left. There are clean towels in the cabinet, but…. Could you make sure you hang it over the faucet when you’re done?”

  “Yeah, okay.” His voice told me everything wasn’t okay, but that he wouldn’t push me on it.

  He wheeled himself slowly down the corridor. I let my head drop against the cabinet door with a thunk. So many emotions, so many thoughts of what could go wrong, and me chastising myself for my decisions. I had to keep in mind this was what I wanted, because right now, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to survive having him in the house and not fantasizing about him.

  “Matt?” he called out from the bathroom.

  I turned toward his voice. “Yeah?”

  “Just so you know, this conversation isn’t over.”

  I smiled to myself, even as I banged my head against the cabinet again, because of course he wasn’t going to let it go. And a little sliver of hope inside me was grateful, because I honestly hoped he wouldn’t.

  CHAPTER TEN

  THE WEATHER turned decidedly colder not long after I flipped the calendar to November. Frost had hit the plants hard, causing them to shrivel, and the things that hadn’t been ripe enough to harvest had fallen off the vines.

  “Goddamn, is it always this cold up here?”

  Charlie huddled beneath a thick down comforter that I’d pulled from storage and put on the bed. Now that the house had gotten so much chillier, it was time to use both the wood-burning stove and fireplace to throw a little heat. The fireplace was sufficient to heat the living room so I normally used that, but the stove had pipes to take heat to the whole house. I had more than enough wood to keep them going all winter long, so I wasn’t worried about that. What did concern me was the fact that the weather didn’t normally dip into the single digits for several weeks yet. This didn’t bode well for the upcoming winter.

  “Not usually so early, but yeah. Colder than a witch’s tit, as the saying goes.”

  “No way can I type when my fingers are numb,” he whined.

  “Baby.”

  The teasing had come so easily. The two of us fit together naturally, despite my… idiosyncrasies. Yes, there were challenges. The first one had to do with seeing him naked. Oh my God. Having seen his body when he ran, I knew he was built very nicely, but nude? My mouth watered every time I helped him get clean. I’d wash areas he couldn’t reach because of his ribs, and being that close to him, seeing him in that way? I couldn’t deny it affected me. Charlie looked completely edible.

  The other issues were more problematic, though:

  “Charlie? Did you take down Murder in Times Squared?”

  “Yeah, but I put it back.”

  But he hadn’t. Not really. He’d put it on the shelf, but out of order. My hands itched to put it back, but I needed him to understand what the problem was.

  “Could you come here for a minute?”<
br />
  He got up from the desk, where he was looking at something on the computer. “What’s up?”

  I bit my lip because I was about to come across as a complete jerk. “Everything has a place.” I held out the book. “This is number two in the series, but you put it in the third place.”

  I’d expected him to sigh or huff or just be annoyed. Instead he took the book from my hands. “I am very sorry,” he said, no trace of sarcasm. He put the book back up on the shelf, where it should have been. “Is that better?” he asked.

  I reached up and straightened it out, making sure it was in line with everything else. “Thank you. I’m sorry.”

  “Hey, stop that!” he said sharply. “I’m a guest in your home. You have every right to ask me to help out. Thank you for letting me know.”

  A few days later, I opened the refrigerator to start lunch and found a gallon of milk with the label facing away. I reached in and pulled it out, then turned it. I wasn’t going to say anything, because after the whole book thing, I didn’t want him to think I was going to do nothing but complain.

  “What are you doing?” he asked from behind me.

  I thought about lying but didn’t. “The milk was in the wrong way,” I said, doing my best to appear nonchalant. “It’s fine. I fixed it.”

  He hobbled over and looked inside. “Well, damn, I guess I did. This is kinda new for me, and I swear I’m trying to learn. I don’t want to make your life difficult.”

  After that, Charlie did his very best to work with me. He watched what I did, then tried to emulate it. I now found him making certain he’d cleaned his plate, dried it, then put it away. Admittedly, I needed to check it myself after he finished, but the fact that he was willing to put himself out there like that went a long way to making our time together much easier.

  “Matt? Are you even listening to me?”

  His voice pulled me out of my reverie with his petulant tone. He sat there shivering and looking absolutely miserable. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

  “Seriously, Matt. I have a deadline, and I’ve already asked for an extension. My publisher didn’t believe I had broken my hand. I had to text her a picture of the cast. She gave me three weeks, because I already missed the first date she gave me.”

  “But the cast doesn’t come off before that,” I protested.

  He shrugged. “I’ll just have to muddle through, I guess. Maybe I’ll tell her a block of ice developed around my hand.”

  I shook my head. Usually throwing on a sweater would keep me warm. “I’ll get a fire going. It’ll be nice and toasty soon.”

  I tossed a few logs into the hearth, and it only took a short time before the house was awash in light from a crackling fire. The warm glow it cast about the room was one of my favorite things about winter. Having Charlie to share this simple pleasure with? I sighed. I couldn’t believe it when I realized how much I would miss him when he went back to his place.

  “Please tell me Teresa packed my long underwear.”

  Teresa had, very grudgingly, sent a couple of boxes with some clothes, his books, a laptop computer, and a pair of crutches to use in the house. It took me some time to work them into the household, but I knew how important it was for him to have some of his own things here.

  Fortunately he was able to get a signal on his phone, and he used it as what he called a tether to communicate with the outside world.

  “How do you live without the Internet?” he’d asked one night over hearty vegetable soup and thick, crusty dinner bread dripping with butter.

  “What do I need it for?” I countered, standing by the sink and rinsing out my bowl. “It’s a distraction I can’t afford. It would take time away from my….” I stopped talking because I realized I had said too much.

  Charlie put his spoon down and reached for a roll. He slathered butter on it, dipped it in his soup, took a bite, then said, “From your schedule. I understand. I guess I never really thought of it that way. Without the net, I can’t check on my books or promote them. Hell, without the net opening the doors for me to discover writing, I wouldn’t even be an author.”

  I cocked my head and thought about how much the world would miss out if Charlie’s voice was silenced. His writing was phenomenal and showed that gay characters weren’t caricatures or something to be used as a running gag. They were forceful, powerful, and always in control. Even when Tremaine let Lucien take care of him, he still retained his “fuck the world” attitude. They gave me hope, and to think they could be nothing but an idea in a young man’s head because he didn’t have a way to communicate with the outside world? It seemed so wrong.

  I turned my head and looked at a spot on the floor. “I guess I never thought about it that way.”

  He was up and hobbling toward me in an instant. “Hey, no! Stop that.”

  But everything became clear to me in that moment. Charlie needed the outside world. I didn’t. I tossed my head, my hair flipping back. When he got to me, he reached to embrace me, I drew away.

  “What are you doing, Matt?” He held his arms out. “Come here.”

  Oh, I wanted to. The few times he’d encircled me in his arms it actually seemed like they held the world at bay. They silenced the voices in my head, the fear that had always accompanied my incessant thinking.

  “I need to go finish my canning,” I replied softly, taking a few steps toward the kitchen.

  “No! Come back!” he snarled, then lurched toward me, grunting in pain as he put weight on his leg. He went down, grabbing my shirt as he did. He dragged us both to the floor, him crying out as his leg twisted, and me in a state of panic because I’d caused him to be hurt.

  I tried to scramble back, but he held tight. The thought of him in pain countermanded my fear of being held and unable to move. “Charlie!” I cried out.

  “Okay, that hurt,” he groaned, letting go of me and lying back on the floor.

  “What the hell did you do that for?” I shouted. “You could have been hurt.”

  He chuckled and wrapped an arm over his ribs. “Oh, believe me, I was.”

  I got up on my knees and crawled over to him. “Let me see,” I insisted as I tugged at his shirt. The skin over his ribs had turned a bright red, and I could see what looked to be a slight swelling. “I’m going to get some ice. Just stay here.”

  As I got up, he called my name. I stopped and stared at him.

  “I’m sorry,” he said softly.

  “What for?” I asked as I opened the freezer and pulled out some frozen vegetables. I hurried back to him, knelt by his side, and placed the bag against his skin. He hissed, and I withdrew my hand.

  “Cold!” he whimpered.

  “Still a baby,” I replied. “Hold this here.”

  He turned a pleading gaze toward me. “Can you stay here and hold it?”

  “Yeah, for a bit. Then I’ll get you a pain pill and put you to bed for a while.”

  He muttered something I didn’t hear.

  “What did you say?”

  “Nothing important,” he assured me.

  My knees started to ache, so I sat beside him, rubbing the bag slowly over his skin. After a few minutes, I pulled the bag away, got up, and put it back in the freezer. I returned to where he still lay, held out my hand, and helped him up. He wrapped an arm around my shoulder, and together we moved toward the bedroom. After I got him comfortable on the bed, I got a glass of water and two of his pills, and took them back to him.

  “I don’t like these,” he said petulantly.

  “It’ll help.”

  He sighed and grabbed the pills, popped them in his mouth, then washed them down with half the glass of water.

  “Get some rest. I’ll come check on you in a while.” I went to the door and turned off the light.

  “Matt?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Could you…?”

  “What do you need?”

  His voice was so soft, I had to strain to hear him. “Could you maybe stay a bit
and read to me?”

  There was no way a grown man had just asked me to read to him. I knew I must have misheard.

  “Do you mind? Just for a little while. I… I don’t really want to be alone.”

  Flicking the switch again, I turned the light back on. I smiled at him but noticed how pale he’d gotten. That fall must have taken a lot more out of him than he let on. “Sure. What do you want me to read?”

  “Death Comes to Allerton?”

  The innocent expression didn’t fool me for a minute. “You just want to hear your own book.”

  “No, that’s not it. I like the sound of your voice. I don’t care what you read. I just want to hear you read it to me.”

  He gave me a small smile, and my heart pumped harder. I went to the other room and picked up the copy of the book he’d given me. When I got back to the bedroom, I pulled over a chair and sat next to him. He giggled like a little kid and scrunched down under the covers.

  “My name is Donald Tremaine. Former soldier. Former cop. Currently a private detective, investigating the brutal death of Scott Tyler, a twenty-one-year-old man whose body was found cut up and placed into small bags, then dumped on the side of the highway….”

  Before I got to the end of the first chapter, Charlie was asleep. I closed the book and returned it to its place on the bookshelf. I went back into the bedroom to ensure he was covered. I stood there for a moment, gazing at him. The warmth that flooded through me had me smiling. This had been the right decision, I was certain. I turned and put my hand up to switch the light off.

  “Where are you going?” a sleepy voice asked.

  “I’ll be out there if you need me.”

  He crooked a finger. “I need you to come back here. Please?”

  Thinking he might be in pain, I went to the bed and squatted down. “What’s up?”

  “Can you lie down with me? Just until I fall asleep?”

  The hesitancy in his voice was so out of character for him, and it left me confused. “Charlie, is something wrong?”

  He nodded as his eyes closed. “I don’t like being alone in the bed. I want you to sleep with me. When you’re not where I can see you, I miss you so much, it hurts.”