“Exhausted,” Jackson answered. David swallowed his disappointment. He’d been going to invite Jackson to his mother’s for pie, but he understood how worn he must be. “It’s weird, though. I’m drained, but I’m not sleepy. That doesn’t really make any sense, does it?”
“It makes all kinds of sense.” David glanced over at him again. “Are you hungry?”
Jackson looked thoughtful for a moment. “Yeah, actually. I am.”
“Perfect.” David smiled. “That I can fix.”
WHEN DAVID came through the front door with Jackson, if Beverley Snyder was surprised to see him with her son, it didn’t show. She hugged Jackson, rubbing his back between his shoulder blades. He stayed stiff in her arms for a moment, then lifted his hand and patted her in return.
“How’s your mom, honey?” She leaned back and studied his face. “Not so good, then?”
“No, she’s okay, Mrs. Snyder. I mean, she’ll be okay. Right now she looks a little bit like a stitched-up rag doll.”
“What happened?”
“She got dizzy. The doctors told us it could happen. She was in her office, which is really just this little room crammed full of crap. When she stood up from her desk, the closest thing was a bookshelf. She didn’t quite get there and hit her head on it as she went down.”
Beverley grimaced. “Oh dear. Well, then.” She stepped back with a tight nod. David recognized the gesture and her expression. That was his mom’s “all right, let’s get on with it” face. He’d seen it when he was a kid and hadn’t finished his science project. He’d seen it when Dad was diagnosed with cancer. Once her fear and grief had passed, she was all about making the best of it. He’d seen it when his dad died and there were things to be done. This was what she did; she sprang into action, and she’d apparently decided Jackson needed help.
“Are you boys hungry?”
“Yeah, we are, Mom. And I understand there’s pie?”
“There is.” She was clearly pleased. “You like apple pie, Jackson?”
“Love it. It’s my favorite.”
Her smile could have lit up downtown. She opened the cupboards above the counter and took down two dessert plates. “You like that pie à la mode?”
Jackson gave her a tired smile. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Well, have a seat, and I’ll warm this up.”
Jackson sat on the far side of the table and David sat beside him, reaching under the cover of the cloth to touch his leg. It felt solid beneath the denim. “How’re you holding up?” he asked softly while his mom cut pie and put plates in the microwave.
“I’m okay.” He looked weary as he pushed his thick dark brown hair off his forehead.
David noticed that his beard looked darker beneath his pallor. There were tight lines around his mouth, but he smiled at Beverley when she set a plate in front of him. On it was a huge slice of pie, vanilla ice cream melting on the sugary top crust. She set an equally enormous piece in front of David, and he groaned. “Mom, that’s too much!”
“If you can’t finish it, I can.” Jackson dug into his slice. He lifted the bite, dripping with cinnamon and vanilla ice cream, into his mouth and groaned. “Mrs. Snyder, this is amazing.”
“Thank you, Jackson.” She wiped crumbs off her counter, then brought out an uncut pie, covered it with aluminum foil, and set it on the table in front of Jackson. “Now, you take that home with you, and you and your mom can share it.”
Jackson stared at the covered plate. “Thank you, ma’am. I know she’ll enjoy that.”
“You’re welcome.” She wiped her hands briskly. “Now, you boys take your time and enjoy that, and I’m going to go watch the news and make a shopping list. I’ll throw some things together that you can heat up for quick dinners. David and I will bring them over tomorrow.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“If I thought I had to, I probably wouldn’t.” She rubbed his shoulder in passing, smiling gently. “You’ll have enough on your hands, honey. Let me do this.”
Reluctantly he nodded, and she beamed as she left the room.
Jackson stared after her. “Is she always like that?”
David chuckled. “That was pretty laid-back, actually. She’s a force of nature.”
“She’s amazing.” Now Jackson reached over, and he caught David’s hand, looking into his eyes. “You’re amazing.”
David’s face felt hot. “I’m glad you think so, but I didn’t do that much.”
Jackson shook his head. “Don’t downplay it. You drove me to the ER, sat there all evening, and kept me from decking my asshole brother. Then you brought me back here for the best apple pie I’ve ever eaten in my life.”
“I can’t take credit for the pie.”
“I don’t think you take credit for much of anything.”
David always hated how much he blushed, but never as much as he did right then.
Jackson smiled slowly. “You’re blushing. You do that a lot.”
David looked away. “God, I know. It’s embarrassing.”
Jackson slipped his fingers between David’s and squeezed his hand. He leaned close, until his mouth was inches from David’s ear. “I like it,” he whispered. “Almost as much as I like you.”
David bit his lip, his heart pounding. “I like you too.”
Jackson ran his thumb over the side of David’s index finger. “Good.”
Yes, David thought. It certainly was.
THE STREETLIGHTS cast mottled shadows on the ground as light filtered through the canopy of branches that met over the street. There were enough leaves still on the trees that the shadows shifted in the light breeze, making a soft rustling sound. Jackson’s truck was still backed into David’s driveway, so David parked in front of his house. They got out, Jackson balancing an entire apple pie on his hand.
“Your mom didn’t have to do this.” He held up the covered dish.
“You could go back and tell her,” David teased and Jackson chuckled.
“Yeah, I don’t think so.”
“And prepare yourself for more tomorrow.”
“I sort of got that.” Jackson smiled. “She’s a nice lady.”
“Yeah,” David agreed, “she is.”
They were crossing over the sidewalk when the sound of rustling seemed to intensify, and David knew exactly what he was hearing. He grinned.
Bootsy ran up to them and went up onto his back legs, balancing and dancing, a happy smile on his little dog face.
“Well, hello.” Jackson looked down at the little corgi, his smile spreading to include his eyes for the first time since they left the hospital.
“Hey, Bootsy.” David bent and scratched behind his large, pointed ears. “Making another break for it?”
“Bootsy?” Jackson made a face. “That’s just wrong.”
“Yeah. The poor guy has to be embarrassed by it.” David straightened as Jordyn called for the dog from her front porch. Bootsy ignored her, looking up at the two men, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. “You’d better go before you get both you and me in trouble, buddy.”
Almost as if he understood, Bootsy glanced over his furry shoulder. When Jordyn called him again with more force than the first time, he sighed and grudgingly trotted back home.
Jackson chuckled. “Friend of yours?”
“Oh yeah, we’re tight.” David grinned after him. “If there was any way in the world I could get away with it, I’d steal him.”
“This close to his house, they’d probably figure it out. He’s cute as hell, though.” Jackson looked over at David as they continued across the lawn. “He likes you.”
“The feeling is entirely mutual.”
Jackson unlocked his truck and opened the door, placing the pie on the passenger seat. Slipping his hands into his jacket pockets, he stayed within the protection of the open door and studied David’s face for what felt like a long time. “So, you already know I like you too.” Jackson’s voice was soft, but David heard the words clearly. He smiled sl
owly even as his heart kicked hard against his ribs.
“That feeling is entirely mutual too.”
“Come here.”
Jackson’s voice dropped into a deeper timbre and it sent a shiver across David’s shoulders. He stepped closer and Jackson reached out, putting his hands around David’s ribs before pulling him into a tight hug. David wished he would kiss him but chose to take what he could get from the embrace. The feel of Jackson’s hard chest against his and the strong arms around him swept everything from his mind but pleasure.
“Thank you, David,” Jackson whispered against his ear, his voice hoarse. “For being there tonight. And for your mom.”
“You’re welcome.” He slipped his arms around Jackson and returned the embrace, relishing the feel of his slender waist and the strong muscles along his spine. David closed his eyes, inhaling Jackson’s scent: the faint, woodsy cologne, soap, and the reminder of hard work lingering beneath it all on his skin. David’s cock began to fill instantly. Startled, he abruptly tried to angle his hips back and away.
Jackson leaned back without releasing David and looked into his eyes. “Where are you going?”
“Uhm….” David knew his face was as red as it was hot, and prayed it was dark enough it didn’t show. His capacity to form a sentence apparently deserted him, and he faltered.
Jackson studied him, another of those weighted silences stretching out. Finally he slid an open palm down David’s back, continuing past his waist to the base of his spine. He pulled David in snug, pressing his hips forward, and David caught his breath when he felt an answering hardness behind Jackson’s fly.
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh. It was damned inconvenient when I got hard sitting at your mom’s kitchen table, watching your tongue every time you licked your fork.”
“I did? I… uh… you did?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Jackson was startled. “Why? What kind of question is that?”
“I… I mean, you’re… you, and I’m….” David faltered.
Jackson’s eyes narrowed. He lifted a hand and cupped David’s jaw, his calloused thumb moving slowly beneath his lower lip. For the first time in his life, David understood what it meant to be breathless.
“I don’t know what the voice in your head is saying,” Jackson murmured, “or who you’re hearing, but you need to ignore it.” His thumb pressed into the softness of David’s lips, and they parted under the delicate pressure. “I find you very sexy, David Snyder. Very, very sexy.”
Jackson couldn’t have said anything that would have shocked David more. When his hand slid around David’s nape and he speared his fingers into David’s hair above his collar, David softened into his touch. Jackson pulled David forward while angling his head and David tipped his in counterpoint. Jackson leaned in, then paused when their lips were barely an inch apart. His hot breath on David’s lips caused chills to break out down his back. “I’m going to kiss you now, okay?”
“Oh my God, yes,” David gasped. “Please.”
Jackson’s mouth curled in a soft smile before he closed the distance between them, pressing his lips to David’s, and David realized you truly could feel someone smile against your mouth. It was gentle and so tender, perhaps the sweetest kiss David had ever received, and it made his toes curl in his shoes. He clutched Jackson’s jacket and whimpered a bit when Jackson’s tongue fleetingly touched his upper lip. David opened his mouth, desperate to feel Jackson’s tongue filling it, but instead Jackson pulled back, sighing softly.
“Much as I hate to, I have to go,” he whispered. “I have to get to the house and clean up that rug. It can’t look like that when she gets home.”
David managed not to sigh in disappointment, but it was a near thing. “Of course. I understand.” His cock didn’t, but it was going to have to get over it.
“I’d rather stay, believe me.” Jackson slid his hand farther down and pressed in with his fingers along the cleft in David’s ass, curling them unerringly over his tailbone. A shudder passed through David’s body. He bit his lower lip when Jackson rolled his hips forward in a slow movement, putting pressure against David’s groin. Abruptly Jackson stopped and took a step back, his hands lingering for a moment before slowly sliding from David’s body.
“I have to go,” Jackson said, almost as if he was attempting to convince himself. “I really do.”
“I know.” David forced himself to take a step back, and then another to leave the security of the open door. Jackson closed it at his back. He looked at David and the regret was clear on his face.
“Call me tomorrow when they give you a time she’s being released,” David said. “I’ll be there.”
Jackson nodded and walked around the back of the big truck, opening the driver’s door before he paused again. “Thanks.” His voice was soft and deep, carrying in the quiet evening.
“Of course. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Jackson gave him a fleeting smile, then climbed up into the truck. David backed up, wrapping his arms across his waist as the big engine roared to life and Jackson pulled out into the street.
David watched him all the way to the corner, taillights growing smaller in the distance until the truck turned the corner. When he climbed his porch steps with a soft sigh, he prayed fervently Jackson didn’t have a change of heart before he saw him again.
There was a sharp snap behind him and David whirled, his hand on his doorknob. He stared into the shadows dappling his lawn and the near blackness of the neighbor’s driveway as it curved behind their house, the memory rushing back—Trevor sitting out there somewhere in the dark, watching him and his smashed car window. Nothing moved, but he knew how exposed he was, standing under the porch light.
His hands trembled as he unlocked his door, and he didn’t feel safe until he was inside, the door once again securely locked behind him and his blinds down, blocking the view into his house.
It took a long time for his pulse to return to normal.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“JESUS, MOM, there’s enough food here for a small army.”
David loaded another casserole in its padded carrying case into the back of his car. There were three already loaded, along with a picnic hamper full of rolls, brownies, and a cobbler. There was also a small igloo holding a container of potato salad.
“When did you have time to do all of this?” He took a Crock-Pot out of her hands.
“Last night and this morning.” David caught a whiff of what he held, and the aroma made his mouth water.
“This is the italian wedding soup, isn’t it?” He paused to take another deep sniff.
“I thought that would be easier for tonight.” She locked her back door. “That poor boy has already got his hands full.”
David placed the Crock-Pot in the car and closed the hatch, sighing. That was the understatement of the century.
Too tired the night before and too busy reliving every moment of the most amazing first kiss he’d ever had, David had spent the morning cleaning up pizza boxes and plates and empty beer bottles in his living room. Once he was done, he paced nervously, jumping every time his cell rang. He had brief conversations with Michael and Gil, both concerned about Jackson and his mom. He got them off the phone as quickly as he could without being rude, giving them a sketch of what happened and promising more later. It wasn’t until after eleven that Jackson called, telling him the hospital was releasing his mom at noon. Relieved, David swept up his keys and hurried out of his house.
Jackson greeted him with a warm smile, alleviating the gut-clenching fear that kept David awake most of the night. Fear Jackson had been looking for comfort when he kissed him, that he hadn’t really meant it and he couldn’t possibly want someone as average as David. Jackson so clearly wasn’t average. At all. David had almost managed to convince himself Jackson’s erection was the result of gratitude, even though he knew how damned near impossible that was. He was a nervous wreck when he pulled up in fr
ont of the house. Then Jackson smiled at him as he got in the car and David’s fear bled away, leaving giddiness in its place.
It lasted until Jackson accompanied his mom’s wheelchair out through the hospital’s huge sliding doors, and David saw the anger and concern he was trying—unsuccessfully—to hide. David understood the source of it when Shirley was unable to stand by herself, needing her son to lift her from the chair.
David hustled to help, holding the door open, poised to step in if Jackson needed him. When she was settled in and her seat belt fastened, David got a good look at her face. The heavy bandage around her head covered her hair but her face was revealed, and she was almost as white as the gauze. Most alarming, though, was the far away, confused expression on her face.
When the door was closed behind her, David looked at Jackson. “Is she all right?”
“Does she look all right?” Jackson snapped. David took a step back, stung, but immediately Jackson reached for his arm. “I’m sorry, David.”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it isn’t.” Jackson sighed. “None of this is your fault, I’m….” He broke off, running his hand roughly through his thick hair, something David noticed he did when he was frustrated. “No, she isn’t all right, but they’re releasing her anyway. Insurance.” He spat the word, and David caught his hand for a moment in a hard squeeze.
“I understand.” He lowered his voice. “My dad.” That had been one of the worst parts of the ordeal around losing his dad. Hearing some insurance lackey describe a kidney transplant as “elective surgery” had been infuriating. Oh yes, he understood.
Jackson returned the pressure of his hand, his eyes full as they held David’s.
There hadn’t been much conversation as they drove Shirley home. She dozed and Jackson sat in the backseat, perched on the edge, his hand on her shoulder. If David hadn’t already had feelings for him, that would have clinched it. As it was his heart felt so full and sore on Jackson’s behalf, it was hard for him to take a deep breath.
The hospital had provided a walker for Shirley but she became agitated if it was even mentioned. As a result, they each took an arm and walked her carefully up the front walk and helped to lift her into her living room. When she collapsed into a small rose-colored swivel rocker, exhausted, David found himself wondering how Jackson was ever going to get her into bed by himself that night.
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