Page 39 of Ho Ho Homicidal Mania
And if he died as a result of hooking up with a stranger, their departure captured by cameras inside a gay club, who would have suspected the caring big brother of foul play?
Things like that happened to sheltered gay boys sometimes.
But as we talked, it became clear that Blake really didn’t spend that much time in Carl’s company. The gifts he received were expensive but rarely tailored to Blake’s taste or needs—empty tokens given out of obligation rather than love.
His life sounds very lonely, with only a couple of adults who were paid to keep him safe and content. He had an imaginary friend for way longer than what could be considered normal childhood development, and he would sometimes sink into books for days at a time, consuming one, or even two within a period of twenty-four hours. He used to go on long walks around the property surrounding his house and imagine exciting events happening to a different version of him, a version surrounded by companions straight out of Blake’s favorite shows and novels.
It sounds like a very empty existence, which explains his desperation to put himself out there during his first-ever time at a nightclub. Be seen. Be noticed. Actually feel someone’s hands on his skin.
But now he has me, and I’ll give him all the attention he could ever dream of.
My car can deal with the snow-covered road just fine, and as we drive past the old tree that serves as a marker on the road to the cabin, I’m hit by a flood of memories of all the days I spent here with the only other person who knew the real me.
It’s so fitting that I introduce Blake to this side of my life.
As the wall of evergreen firs and pines thins, revealing the clearing around the little wooden building, I realize this is the first time I’ve been here since the summer, and that it looks lonely and cold in the light of dusk.
I imagined this would be a fun trip down memory lane and an introduction to another part of me. Instead, it could have played the role of a murder cabin. Which it kinda is. But I don’t want Blake to start overthinking it, so I force myself to smile and stop the car.
“And here we are! Our little safe haven,” I say, feeling unconvinced myself when I spot a raccoon jumping out of the window and skittering away. Can’t believe those little fuckers got in again!
Blake stretches and opens the door, his green eyes taking in the dull, undecorated building that’s surely as cold as a freezer. “Well, there’s no way they’re gonna track us downhere,” he says, sliding into the snow reaching almost to his knees.
I get out quickly, not even sure where to start. I’ve been here in the winter many times, but by myself or with Grandpa, I didn’t have to worry about impressing anyone.
“Very few people know about the existence of this cabin. Even Owen doesn’t because I didn’t want to risk him asking if he could use it for a romantic getaway, or something.” I approach Blake andpick him up so he doesn’t have to wade through the snow. “We’ll be nice and cozy as soon as I get the fire going.”
Blake yelps and wraps his arms around my neck. He’s tense, but as I make my way to the porch of my second home, he leans ever closer, melting against me.
“You’re really strong,” he mutters, resting his head on my shoulder in a way that lights fires deep in my chest.
“This reminds me of the first body I ever brought here.” I sigh as I set him down on the porch. Thanks to the roofing over it, the snow isn’t so deep here. “It was winter back then too. And even without a head, it was heavier than you.”
Blake stares at me and releases a nervous laugh. “Are you saying I’m too thin?”
“Or maybe I’m just that much stronger than I used to be.” I nudge his chin. I want to kiss him, but I’m not sure where we stand after the whole assassin fiasco. He threw me under the bus with that one. Then again, we did hug at the supermarket, and that didn’t feel like a gesture between twofriends, so maybe that nosy lady was on to something. I could, of course, try to make my move and risk getting rejected. It wouldn’t be a big deal with anyone else, but I feel so tender about Blake and our budding love story that I’m too nervous to act. This is my opportunity to show him the real me, and I don’t want to waste it.
I open the door, and while the house doesn’t smell, which is a relief, the main room is messy, dusty, and cold. It’s the opposite of Christmas at a time when I want to teach Blake about holiday joy.
“Make yourself comfortable. This place will be homey in no time,” I say before dashing outside. Getting firewood is my priority, because the house is a walk-in freezer.
I’m well-versed in getting this place warm, and once the fire is going in both the main fireplace and the burnerin the bedroom, I take a moment to assess damage. Fortunately, the cabin is small enough to heat up quickly. The pest came in through a broken window, which I block with a few planks and some paper. It did get into the pantry and broke a few jars, but I can’t see any other issues.
Soon enough, our breaths stop creating vapor, but the cabin remains gray as mud.
Blake pulls a chair close to the fire and sits down, watching me work. “Do you come here often?”
“Are you flirting?” I wink at him as I clear the surfaces. This is a disaster. At least I know the bedding is clean and dry. As soon as the bedroom is warm, it’ll be ready for us to enjoy a cuddle. “I’m sorry it’s such a mess. I don’t usually have guests here. The last time I wasn’t alone here was with my grandpa four years ago.”
Blake’s face darkens, and he pulls up his hood, watching me from its shadow. “No, I get it, my brother always has someone prepare our other properties before he actually goes there.” He clears his throat as I watch him, struck by the level of wealth we’re talking about.Other properties? As in more than one? Blake must think I brought him to an absolute dump.
I wrestle my thoughts, wondering how to answer when he speaks again. “You must miss your grandfather. As family but also, you know, as someone who supported you when it comes to—”
Killing. That part of the sentence is silent.
I throw another piece of wood into the fireplace, taking my time with the answer since I wasn’t expecting the turmoil in my heart. “I do. But he was so much older, he knew I’d need to be able to deal with his death sooner or later, so he talked to me about it, prepared me for it. For the responsibility of running the shop, for keepingmy…needsmet and secret. And even encouraged me to date. He was sweet like that. But he drilled into me that I can’t tell anyone what I do in my spare time. And that’s a loneliness I wasn’t prepared for.”
I’ve already switched on the generator, which allows us both to see just how thick the layers of dust are on every single surface. Blake swallows as he watches me clean, and I can’t help but feel self-conscious about being judged by this pampered boy, who likely didn’t have to clean his room once in his entire life.
