Page 20 of When Ben Loved Jace
Greg grins at her. “Hey, you’ve gotta put your profits to work.”
Allison and I dredge up a few stories from our childhood, conversation coming easy as we move on to other subjects. When the topic of dinner is raised again, I offer to help in the kitchen.
“Actually, do you have a second?” Jace asks. “I’d like to talk to you alone.”
“Sure,” I say after Allison nods that it’s okay.
He leads me out to the Airstream trailer. I assume we’re going to check on Samson.
“Is Greg allergic to cats?” I ask, still struggling to understand why Jace lives back here.
“Not at all. Samson goes inside the house when he wants. He just considers the trailer his territory and guards it proudly.”
I’m happy to see the little guy. I squat to pet him and am smiling when I stand again. Jace’s demeanor is much more reserved.
“I get the impression that this wasn’t just a casual visit,” he says.
I sigh and nod. “I was getting a little jumpy.”
He crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the kitchenette counter. “Any reason why?”
“I’ve had a lot of bad experiences with the guys I’ve dated before. There’s always some secret or lie that I find out about later.” I chew my bottom lip while searching his gaze. “Do you know what I mean?”
Jace thinks for a moment. “If anything, the guys I’ve dated have been a littletoohonest. Just wait until you meet Adrien.”
“Who?”
He shakes his head, like it’s not important. “I’m sorry you’ve had bad experiences. I know we talked about cheating the last time you were here, which probably didn’t help. Trust has to be built, and while you can’t simply take my word for this, I am exactly who I seem to be. If you have any questions, ask me, and I’ll always be truthful with you.”
“Okay,” I say, licking my lips. “Who was that guy at the party? When I went to get champagne.”
He looks skyward and sighs. “You sawthat?”
“Yeah. Who was he?”
“A stranger.” Jace pushes away from the counter. “But I’ll show you who I thought he was.”
He opens a drawer and takes out a stack of photos before shuffling through them. Then he hands one to me. The image is of two teenagers. Jace is a younger gangly version of himself, his blond hair shoulder-length. The guy next to him has olive skin and the same flopped-over mohawk that I saw the other night. He’s wearing a green army surplus jacket and a crooked grin.
“The night I tried to kill myself,” Jace explains, “I had a letter with in my pocket, sealed in a baggy, explaining why. The man who rescued me, Bernie, read it while I was warming up in his shower. He had a trailer like this parked next to the river. I didn’t want him to out me to my parents. Or tell them that I’d tried to kill myself. I begged him not to. And for reasons I wouldn’t learn until later, he agreed. Bernie insisted that I come work for him at the convenience store he owned, so he could keep an eye on me. Idle hands are the devil’s tool. That’s his philosophy.” Jace pauses a moment, as if reliving happy memories. Then his expression becomes somber. “Anyway, I was working a late shift one night, all on my own, when a guy walks in wearing a werewolf mask. Except it wasn’t Halloween yet. I figured he was there to rob the place. He just stood in front of the counter, not saying a word, while staring at me with mismatched eyes.”
I check the photo and notice that one is brown, the other green.
“Even then I felt something, as crazy as it sounds. And when he pulled the mask off…” Jace swallows. “Love at first sight sounds so trite. Maybe it’s biological or spiritual, but sometimes you meet someone, and you justknow. The feeling is impossible to ignore. Almost overwhelming. I’d never experienced that before. Or since.” Jace’s gaze meets mine. “Until the day I met you. So yeah, at the party, drunk and raw from everything you’ve stirred up inside me, I thought I saw…” He trails off before laughing humorlessly. “But it wasn’t Victor. How could it be?”
“Victor?” I repeat.
The emotion on his face when he nods matches that of his younger self when I check the photo again. I can all too easily imagine, while on our date, the jolt I would have experienced if I’d noticed silver eyes watching me from across the room.
“That’s all it was,” Jace says. “A case of mistaken identity. The guy at the party took it in stride, because as he admitted, not many people have that hairstyle.”
“No, they don’t,” I say, handing back the photo. “So I take it Victor was your first…”
“Everything,” Jace confirms with a nod before straightening himself up. “Are we okay now?”
“Of course!” I step forward and cling to his torso.
Jace sets aside the photos and embraces me.
