After the Fire

by Felice Stevens

  Lucas wasn’t even his type. Jordan ran a critical gaze over the enigmatic man sitting across from him. Sure, he had the broad, muscular build similar to Keith but personality-wise, the two men were nothing alike. Keith’s friendly, joyful personality drew people to him; they couldn’t help but want to be his friend. Totally unlike the quietly serious Lucas Conover whose lone-wolf persona and hands-off attitude screamed, Don’t ask, don’t touch. Jordan excused this inexplicable physical reaction as his first time in months being in close proximity to a man.

  “You okay, Jordan? You looked kind of sick for a moment.”

  As far as he knew, there wasn’t yet a cure for being heartsick and heartbroken.

  “I’m fine.”

  Fine as he’d ever be.

  Luke didn’t believe Jordan for one moment. He’d bet his last nickel Jordan was reminiscing about Keith, and in an odd way it made him respect the man more. He remembered clearly Keith’s loving expression whenever he spoke of Jordan. Luke had his doubts about Jordan Peterson at first, especially after he’d ignored the firm’s repeated requests for a meeting. He’d assumed the man hadn’t cared one whit for Keith and ignored his letters because the Center meant nothing to him.

  How wrong he’d been. Seeing the private hell Jordan lived in proved the adage to never judge a book by its cover—and for the first time in his life, Luke took pity on another person. Of course, Keith’s tragic death upset him terribly and Luke had shed private tears, but he couldn’t fathom allowing another person to intricately tie themselves up with him so that their lives became bound together. Luke knew he was meant to be alone. Alone meant safety, where no one could hurt him.

  “Okay. Let’s move on to the people working at the center. I had the idea to use people from a homeless shelter I volunteer at on the weekends. Who better to know the community and its needs than the people who grew up on the streets?”

  A thoughtful expression entered Jordan’s eyes. “That’s an excellent idea.” He shuddered and Luke’s fingers tightened around his knife and fork. “I can’t imagine the hell those people live in. Keith and I would occasionally drop off clothing and furniture to donate at various shelters and no matter how the directors spun it, they were all depressing places.”

  “They are.”

  The waiter arrived with their main courses and eying him sharply, Jordan opened his mouth as if to speak but Luke focused his attention on his plate, effectively shutting down any further discussion. Nothing he could say would enlighten Jordan. Luke could speak from today until next month about the shelter system; how once you’re in it, it sucks the life out of you until it seems impossible to break free. How the nighttime opens you up to unspeakable horrors so that you’d rather sleep outside in the warm subway station and take a risk, rather than be a sitting duck in your bed in the dark.

  In the rich, prep-school life of dinner parties and cashmere sweaters where Jordan grew up, he could never relate to people like Luke and the others. People who didn’t know where their next meal was coming from or where they’d lay their head to sleep that night. How easy it must be to drop your bag of unwanted clothing and leave to go to your fancy brunch and sit around a table, flush with the knowledge that you did something good for the “poor unfortunates.”

  “I think,” Jordan said carefully after several minutes had passed with no conversation, “the training they receive might help them to find work, so they can leave the shelter. So not only can we give the kids a safe space, we can give the adults a workable skill to market to potential employers.”

  Surprised because he hadn’t thought about that aspect, Luke set his cutlery down on the white damask tablecloth and stared at Jordan. “That’s a really good idea. There’s so much they can be taught.”

  “Right,” said Jordan, excitement creeping into his voice, animating him for the first time since they’d met. “Let me think what we could have them do.” He pulled out his phone and began to make a list, his tongue caught between his teeth.

  Luke couldn’t help but watch, fascinated with the change in Jordan. This vibrant man before him must’ve been who Keith fell in love with, and for the first time since they met, Luke could understand what drew Keith to Jordan. Jordan’s eyes sparkled and his pale cheeks flushed as he sat thinking. When he caught his lower lip between his teeth, an unfamiliar throb of desire rolled through Luke and he wondered how Jordan’s mouth would taste and what his skin felt like underneath his clothing.

  “The computer work alone is a skill any employer would be grateful for.” Jordan’s smile reached his eyes and Luke couldn’t look away from that burning gaze.

  “Huh? I mean, yeah. Good point.” Furious with himself for getting distracted, Luke stabbed at his chicken parmigiana. No longer hungry, he still made the pretense of eating so as not to draw attention to his unusual case of nerves. “Uh, I also think they could talk to the kids who might be at-risk, you know? Give them firsthand knowledge of the danger they face becoming entangled in that life.”

  “Yeah,” said Jordan distractedly, staring out into the distance. “People often get on the wrong track and without proper guidance, they can fall by the wayside.”

  Something else lay behind those words, Luke was certain of it, and it frustrated him that he was unable to pick up on the hints staring him in the face. In their brief acquaintance, Luke had seen many sides of Jordan, yet the man before him remained an enigma—first, the haughty, attractive man in Keith’s pictures, laughing without a care in the world, the broken, pitiful man who sat before him in his office several weeks ago and the snidely sarcastic, caustic man, lashing out in anger. And tonight, yet another persona of Dr. Jordan Peterson presented itself, perhaps the most puzzling one of all. A thoughtful, caring man, one whom Luke might like if he gave himself the opportunity.

  And that scared him enough to climb into his foxhole and hide, willing himself with all the strength he possessed to ignore this impossible attraction to Jordan simmering in his blood. Impossible because Luke knew for certain Jordan would never love another man like he loved Keith. And while he respected that, he had no desire to be a stand-in lover, even for a night.

  “So, uh, I think we’re onto something. I can talk to the people at the shelter and get it started.”

  “I admire you. Most people, especially in your field don’t see the need to do charity.” That faraway look in Jordan’s eyes returned. “When I joined Drew’s clinic, Keith and I talked about the Center and doing work in conjunction with it. It was always our plan. I just never thought it would come to fruition so soon.”

  “Life doesn’t always work out as we plan.”

  Chapter Five

  Luke returned home late Friday night, completely drained. It had been a hellish week, full of conference calls and long meetings that sometimes extended well into the evening. In addition, because he dealt with international clients, he had to hold meetings in the middle of the night to accommodate their schedules. He never complained, as the pay more than made up for any inconvenience, and he banked the majority of his salary, his only major expenses being the apartment and the gym. No wonder so few people in his firm had long-term relationships. What spouse could put up with hours like these?

  Jordan had seemed in a much more lighthearted mood over the phone when they’d finalized additional plans for the Center. Hopefully it wasn’t the liquor talking, but Luke was neither the man’s keeper nor babysitter. Everyone had, at some point in their lives, lost people precious to them. The man had to learn to deal with the shit life threw at him.

  Luke stripped off his work clothes and pulled on a pair of sweats and a long-sleeved T-shirt. A Bruce Willis movie played on the TV. Luke settled down with a beer but spent more time thinking than watching the screen. Though he’d never known his parents, growing up in foster care had given him Ash and Brandon. Neither he nor Ash had overtly displayed his sexuality, yet they were often the targets for homophobic bullies, and on more than one occasion, Ash had been suspended for getti
ng involved in bloody fights with members of the football team, almost always saving Luke from being hurt.

  How could he ever forget Ash saving his ass in the boys’ bathroom when two members of the football team held him around the neck, inches from shoving his head down the toilet? Or the time he was jumped as he cut across the field so he wouldn’t have to walk past the team hanging out in front of old man Beamer’s candy store? Once again, Ash had rescued him, and they’d escaped with only some minor cuts and bruises. That’s why he couldn’t believe or understand how Ash had left him and Brandon. Ash pleaded with Luke to leave with him and take Brandon, but Luke had known that would be impossible, as Brandon was too young. Instead he’d begged Ash to stay, but Ash was adamant.

  “You don’t understand. I gotta go. Take care of yourself and watch out for Brandon. I’m gonna make sure he don’t hurt you. When I get settled, I promise to come back for you.”

  Fucker. Ash never came back, never did anything to make sure Luke didn’t get hurt. Now for some reason, when Ash had decided it was time to make an appearance, he was expected to drop everything for him. Maybe once Luke would have. But those days were gone. Luke finished his beer and placed the bottle on the coffee table. He wasn’t the scrawny kid any longer who needed someone else to be his white knight. Training at the gym had given him hard muscles so that he could take care of himself. As a boy, he’d always looked up to Ash because of his size, but he now knew bigger didn’t always mean better.

  At the commercial, he went into the kitchen and rummaged around the fridge until he found some Chinese food that still smelled okay from a day or so ago and decided to heat it up. Waiting for the microwave to ping, Luke decided to pay a visit to the shelter the next day and see if any candidates wanted to work with the kids. Thinking about the foundation focused his thoughts back on Jordan Peterson. Pale and thin as he was, the man exuded sexuality. Blond hair and blue eyes had always been Luke’s weakness in men. Add to that a cockiness Luke admired and Dr. Jordan Peterson was one dangerous package. Not that he’d ever act on it or that Jordan would have any interest in him, considering how deeply he still mourned Keith.

  His food ready, he grabbed another beer and headed back to the sofa to watch the movie. The second beer hit him hard, and as he ate he remembered he’d had no lunch that day. His body slumped against the sofa cushions while his mind wandered from the television screen back to Jordan. That arrogant mouth and blue, blue eyes heated his blood, and he shoved his hand beneath his sweats, freeing himself to the air. The image of Jordan’s pink lips wrapped around his cock sent him thrusting into his palm, the wetness of his precome enabling his hand to slide down his shaft, creating a delicious, torturous friction.

  “Fuuuck.” His groan bounced off the empty walls of his apartment, mingling with the sounds of the gunfight from the television. Fast and rough, he stroked himself until his balls drew tight and his dick jerked, once, twice, and he came hard, ejaculating onto his shirt. White light burst behind his eyes as he gasped for air, perspiration drenching the curls that lay on his brow. He sank back into the sofa, the cushions beneath him damp with sweat, his body boneless and utterly spent.

  With a heavy, fumbling hand he pulled off his sticky shirt and threw it on the floor, then dragged a throw blanket lying folded on the sofa over his naked chest. On the one hand, his body lay pliant, sated, and drained. He groaned and stretched. On the other, he hadn’t jerked off to the thought of anyone he’d known in years. And why Jordan Peterson, someone he didn’t even particularly like? The answer eluded him, and before he drifted off to sleep, Luke found the remote next to him and clicked off the television set.

  “Good morning, Luke.” Miranda, the security guard at the Bowery Homeless Shelter located on the Lower East Side, greeted him with a smile. New York City had over fifty thousand homeless people, and the shelters were all bursting at the seams. He’d called this place home when he first arrived in the city, and it became as familiar to him as his own skin. The hallways hadn’t changed much in all that time, and Luke shivered slightly from his memories on his way to the offices in the back. The same dank smell of unwashed bodies and fear permeated the air and the walls, despite the stinging scent of disinfectant and air freshener the cleaning crew left behind. The sense of despair was palpable. It was a place where hope came to die if you let it grab hold of your soul.

  Groups of children untainted as of yet by the cruelty of their situation played in a community room. He passed by vast rooms filled with rows and rows of beds that looked comforting yet provided no safe haven once the dark of night settled in. When he’d lived here, he’d taken evening classes at City College and worked two jobs during the day. The less time spent in this depressing atmosphere, the better. The half-opened door to the director’s office allowed him to peek inside and see Wanda Grant, the director of the shelter, roll her eyes in disgust at whatever story the person on the other end of the telephone tried to feed to her. She caught his eye, and a grin burst across her face.

  “I gotta go. Talk to you later.” Her accent, a curious combination of Southern and Brooklyn, became more pronounced whenever someone or something got her annoyed or excited, which was most of the time. After she hung up the phone, she beckoned him inside. “What are you standin’ there for? Come on in here.”

  Wanda barely gave him a chance to move before she pulled him to her well-endowed chest and gave him a big, smothering hug. Luke remembered the very first night, after he’d arrived at the shelter from his painful trip up north. Wanda had taken one look at him, shaken her head, and led him straight to the kitchen. In between bites of roast turkey and mashed potatoes, she managed to get his entire life story, something he had sworn to never tell anyone. Lonely and confused, Luke held back at first, but Wanda, motherly and comforting, had proved hard to resist, and the words poured out of him. It had been years since anyone had listened to him or paid him attention.

  “How are you doing? It’s been so hectic. I’m sorry I haven’t been by in the past few weeks, but I’ve been working on the gun violence prevention foundation. Thanks for setting up today’s meeting with the volunteers.” He pulled away from her jasmine-scented embrace to sink into the chair in front of her desk.

  Wanda nudged the other chair closer to his and sat next to him. “I’m fine, baby doll. How are you doin’?” She ran a critical eye over him, and he flushed as if she could see all the secrets inside of him. “You’re lookin’ too thin, like you haven’t been eatin’ proper.” A scowl twisted her mouth. “They’re workin’ you too hard at that hellhole, aren’t they? I told ya, they’ll eat your soul for breakfast if ya let them.”

  He shook his head. “I’m fine, and I am eating.” If you counted takeout and leftovers. But if he told her that, she’d be over at his place with enough Tupperware to have a party for the entire borough of Manhattan. Luke shuddered.

  “Humph. So you say.” Those fathomless black eyes narrowed. “You meet a fine young man yet? I can’t stand to think of you all alone night after night.” Her well-worn hand reached over and took his, giving it a gentle squeeze.

  Mother of his heart. If ever anyone could claim the title, it was Wanda. She’d never judged him or looked down on him when he’d told her he was gay, even though she was a churchgoing woman.

  “You know me. I’m not looking for anyone. I’m fine the way I am.” With his hand and his dirty thoughts. That was all he could hope for, anyway. What did he know about relationships? The only people he’d ever been close to had betrayed him, left him swimming against the tide, only to be flung back to the shore, more battered and helpless than ever.

  “It’s not right for a man like you to be by himself. It gets you thinking about things too much. You’re young. You need to live a little.”

  “I am living. That’s what I’m here about. I finally met the person in charge of the foundation, and now we can move ahead with the men and women you’ve chosen to work with us. People who’ve lived through the violence have a better
understanding to talk to the people in the community.” What a shame Keith had to die for something like this to come to fruition. At least Jordan had finally come to grips with his loss and proven himself worthy of Keith’s trust.

  Back to business, Wanda handed him a folder. “They’re all waitin’ for you in the big conference room at the end of the hall. Inside you’ll find the names and background checks for the people I feel will be best for the job.” For a moment, the gleam in those dark eyes dimmed. “Each one of them has had experience with drugs and gun violence, either personally or by losing someone close to them. I wish I’d have been able to meet the detective who died. He sounds like he was a wonderful man.”

  “He was.”

  Startled, Luke almost dropped the folders as he swung around to face the door. “Jordan?” Surely he must be seeing things. Dr. Jordan Peterson would not be at a homeless shelter on an early Saturday afternoon, looking casually elegant in jeans and a cashmere sweater as if he’d stepped out of the pages of a men’s fashion magazine. Yet here he was, and he’d made an obvious effort to pull himself together. The paleness of his skin contrasted with the luminous blue of his eyes, and he’d cut his hair so that although it wasn’t short, it no longer lay in waves against his collar. A shame, Luke mused, imagining the thick silky strands sliding between his fingers.

  Also obvious and altogether unwelcome was this unholy response his body had whenever the man was in his vicinity. That needed to stop immediately.

  “In the flesh. I thought I should also meet the people who are helping to make Keith’s dream a reality.” The slight arrogant drawl of that prep-school voice normally grated on Luke’s nerves. He heard it plenty in the halls and meetings in his office. But somehow on Jordan, each word echoed sensuality and promises yet to come. Watching that wicked mouth, his appeal was clear. Jordan radiated charm, sex, and class. The man was out of his league, and Luke was out of his mind for even thinking about him.