Page 41 of Always You

Jazz fixed me with a look that told me he wasn’t buying my act. “I wanted to kiss you, Alex.” His voice was soft but clear. He reached out, his gloved hand touching mine across the table, the contact enough to recall holding his hand and tracing the lines on his palm during the summer days long gone. “I wanted to kiss you,” he repeated, his eyes never leaving mine. “I thought that part of me, the part that craves connection outside of being a dad, had died. But I never stopped thinking about you. In all my dark moments, there was always you.”

The sincerity in his words and the raw emotion in his gaze left me breathless. In that fleeting moment, words escaped me, leaving me in shock and my heart thumping loudly. It was a revelation, a baring of his soul I hadn’t expected, even though part of me had sensed the undercurrents during our almost kiss.

“Jazz…” I started, unsure of what to say. My mind raced with a thousand thoughts, a thousand responses. I’d felt it too, that pull, that desire to bridge the gap between us with a kiss.

“You don’t have to say anything right now,” Jazz interrupted, his hand retracting, but the intensity in his eyes never wavering. “I just… I needed you to know. Because for so long, I’ve been hiding from everything, from everyone, including myself. But you, Alex… I couldn’t pretend you didn’t exist.”

I took a deep breath, my gaze drifting to where his hand had touched mine, still feeling the warmth of his touch. “Jazz, I…” Ipaused, collecting my thoughts. “I felt it too. But maybe it was just the intensity of the moment.”

“It wasn’tjustthe moment,” Jazz said, a hopeful undertone in his voice. “At least, not for me.”

The admission hung between us, a truth neither of us could ignore.

I nodded. “Then, let’s not ignore it,” I said, meeting his gaze again. “When you leave the program, maybe we explore this, and see where it goes, with no pressure or expectations. Just get back to being friends outside of this.” I waved at Guardian Hall.

A smile, tentative but real, spread across Jazz’s face. “I’d like that,” he said, his voice warm. “Why?”

“You mean, why do we need to wait?” I asked, already armed with many reasons we needed to both be on solid ground, how he was still recovering, how I was in a position of authority, how he was still working our program, but he shook his head to stop me.

“No, you always said as soon as you inherited your trust fund that you would tour the world, see everything, taste and touch it all. So, why did you stay in Chicago and use your trust fund to create Guardian Hall?”

Because of you. Because I needed to be there for you.

I couldn’t be that honest. The memories flooded back as vividly as if they happened yesterday.

“I was in college, at one of my first AA meetings, newly sober, filled with passion and focus,” I began, the scene unfolding in my mind. “There was this guy, Lonny Dalgleish, a former Army guy. He would come in off the streets for the meeting and sit at the back, observing everyone. He didn’t speak at first, but after a few weeks, he became part of the furniture and shared a little about himself. He’d been sober for six months but had no support since he’d come home; his family was gone, and he had no siblings.” I cleared my throat, understanding that honestywas important. “It made me think, made me wonder, what would happen ifyoucame home and didn’t have help. If what happened to Lonny happened to you. I knew you were married by then, with a small baby, that you’d built a family, but…” I rubbed my eyes. “You were always in my thoughts. It was always you.”.

He said nothing as I echoed the words he’d used, and I paused, the weight of those days pressing down on me.

“I tried hard to help Lonny. Pulled in Marcus too. I wish I could say it was a success story, but maybe we went about it the wrong way. He disappeared one day, and we never tracked him down. But that… that whole situation, it made us realize there was a need, and I had all this money sitting there, and I wanted it to make a difference.” I rolled my eyes at myself. “So, I ditched the family firm and did something else. I was young and idealistic.”

“Strong and brave to go against your family,” he said, and I felt warm.

“It didn’t feel brave. Dad disowned me. Mom called it petty rebellion and claimed she could handle me being gay, but turning my back on my birthright was an embarrassment, and I was so unlike Lance and Clarke, who were ‘a credit to the family’.” I air-quoted that last part.

“What about them? Your brothers, I mean?”

“Married with kids, and I haven’t seen them or my parents since I chose to do my thing.”

“Huh?” His surprise showed. “None of them?”

“Nope.”

“Well, fuck.”

I shrugged. “Whatever. That was years ago, and it’s their loss.”

“True.”

“So, with Lonny, being in AA working on my sobriety, my family disowning me, coming into my inheritance, it was all a wake-up call. I switched my major from business to psychology. Marcus was already training to be a doctor, and the idea of Guardian Hall became a thing between us,” I continued, a mix of pride and reflection in my voice. “It wasn’t just about offering a place to stay. It was about providing a support system, which Lonny and many others lacked. It’s about helping people transition back to civilian life, giving them the necessary tools and support.”

Looking out at the grounds of Guardian Hall, I could see more than just the physical structure; I saw what it represented. “Every day here, I think about what could have been for Lonny. And I work to ensure that others might have a different story to tell, a chance at a better ending.”

This time, he reached over and held my hand as tightly as he could, even though we both wore gloves.

What I wouldn’t give to feel my fingers laced with his.

Skin on skin.

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