Page 135 of Smoky Mountain Dreams
But there was a new text from Jackie.
Chapter Twenty-six
JESSEWOKE THE NEXT MORNINGwith a hangover and a fuzzy mouth. He rolled over,looking around at the deep burgundy of the master bedroom walls and the emptyspace in the bed beside him where Marcy had slept. Groaning, he stretched andgot up to take a leak, grabbing his cell phone on the way to the bathroom.Nothing from Christopher. Not that Jesse deserved any messages or calls.
He padded down the hallway to the guest room he’d beenspending most nights with Christopher. He’d resolved, though, to get a designerin to redo the master bedroom in the new year.
Jesse noticed the copy ofAmerican Godson the bedside table, and remembered how Christopher had pulled it from hisbookshelf downstairs and taken it to bed with him the other night. He’d lookedso adorable tucked up in the bed with it in one hand, his face still pink fromthe heat of his pre-bed shower, and his lower lip pulled into his mouth as he’dread. And then there’d been his smile when he noticed Jesse in the doorway:radiant, shy, sultry, excited. So many things. But mostly happy.
Fuck. Had he ruined that? His stomach churned. He wasn’tgoing to work today—he was going to Christopher’s and making this right.
Shower, clothes, and coffee, and then he was out the door,twining around the mountain down to the main drag, only to turn by his closedjewelry studio to head back up to Christopher’s place.
When he arrived, the little red Yaris was gone, but therewas a blue, beat-up Chevy Avalanche parked where Christopher’s car usually sat.Jesse’s palms went sweaty. He slid the gear into park and swallowed, his mindracing with the possibility that Christopher might have…but, no, he wouldn’t.It was a friend’s truck. Or maybe his sister’s husband had come up fromKnoxville. It wasn’t anything to get worried about. So why was his chest achingand blood rushing in his ears?
The front door opened, jarring the solitary wreath with ared bow Christopher must have hung up the prior weekend after he’d mentioned hehadn’t decorated his own place at all. The blacksmith, Gareth, stepped out, abrown bag in his hand and his hair wet from a shower. Jesse’s heart seized andhis blood ran cold. He stared at Gareth and thought about throwing the car inreverse and driving away, but a thread of anger pulled through him along withthe sharp needle of pain.
He didn’t intend to talk to Gareth. It had nothing to dowith him. But there was no avoiding him when they crossed paths on Christopher’ssidewalk. He shoved by, focused on Christopher’s door and the confrontationthat lay beyond it, but Gareth grabbed his arm.
Jesse jerked out of his grip. “Fuck off.”
“He ain’t home.”
“What?”
“He ain’t home, and this ain’t what it looks like.”
“Oh yeah?” Jesse clenched his fists, trying to stay calm.
Gareth nodded and jerked his chin toward the road below. “Heleft a little while ago. And like I said, this ain’t what it seems.”
“Then what the fuck is it?”
Gareth looked sour for a heartbeat, but then he said, quietly,with a bit of rough tenderness in his tone that made Jesse understand whatChristopher might have once seen in the man, “His Gran died. I took him homefrom the bar. Helped him get together what he needed, and made sure he wassober enough to drive down to Knoxville when the sun came up. That’s it. Nothin’else happened.”
His stomach dropping, Jesse looked at the house and thenback to Gareth again. He swallowed thickly. “His Gran died?” He rememberedbrokenhearted Christopher curled up against him on his sofa, asking him why hisGran had thrown him under the bus at Thanksgiving. He remembered all the timesChristopher had talked about her. Jesse wanted to find Christopher and hold himclose.
“Yeah. Sudden-like. Unexpected.”
“Well, she was pretty old, so I don’t know if that’sunexpected.” Jesse knew he sounded like a dick, but he wasn’t comfortable withGareth walking out of Christopher’s place like he owned it, and imparting thispiece of information that he wished had come straight from Christopher.
“He was pretty shocked by it.” Gareth took a long gaze up anddown Jesse. “You should’ve been here for ‘im. He needed you.”
Jesse wanted to snap that Christopher could have called ortexted, but he knew that with the way he’d acted Christopher didn’t owe himanything. “I’m sure you took good care of him.” He couldn’t help but sneer.
“Maybe. But he wantedyou.”
His throat went so dry that Jesse could only croak, “He did?”Maybe he hadn’t fucked it up forever and royally. God,Christopher.He loved his Gran so much. He’d be devastated. “He’s on his way to Knoxville?”
“Gonna stay at a Comfort Inn there. His sister’s beentexting him all night off and on. There’s plans to be made of course. And hewas pretty damn broken up about your fight as it was, but once the news of hisGran came in, he was messed up bad. Cried and everything. Never seen ‘im crybefore.”
Jesse’s chest was tight, and he gritted his teeth at theimage his brain kicked up of Gareth comforting Christopher while he cried.Fuck, he’d messed it all up, hadn’t he? If he hadn’t said the things he had,Christopher would have calledhim, and he’d havebeen there for him. Hell, they wouldn’t have even been apart, probably. Jessewould have been with him when he got the news, and he could have held him whenhe needed comforting most.
He’d hated himself a lot in his life, but in that momentJesse wasn’t sure if he’d ever hated himself more.
“It ain’t too late to make things right, you know.” Gareth’sdark hazel eyes looked bruised and sad.
Jesse worked to keep his tone even. “I said some pretty shitthings to him. He might not feel that way now.”
