Page 67 of Constantly Cotton
He finished his task and stood, still naked, to roll Jason off the towel and then back into his place on the bed before covering him with the quilt and blankets because he was starting to shiver. He’d taken a step toward the pile of laundry, planning to put it in the washer that night so they could dry it in the morning, but then Jason stopped him with a hand on his wrist.
“I love you too,” he whispered, and Cotton could see a silver track running from the corner of his eye into his hair.
He hadn’t wanted to say it, Cotton figured. Hadn’t wanted to bind Cotton to him any more than they were already bound. But Cotton really had unraveled him, and Jason had trusted Cotton when he’d been completely unable to look after himself.
He’d done it willingly, and Cotton would take the words, which he needed so desperately, he could admit that now, as the best gift of all.
He kissed that silver tear track and went back to the last parts of cleanup, putting the sheets in the washer.
On his way back, he saw the perpetual glow of the monitor in the guest room, where they’d kept it since Burton had left, and Cotton’s newfound sense of responsibility, of participation in his own life, reared its head.
With a lump in his throat, he unplugged the monitor—which ran on a fairly decent battery even without a power source—and moved it into the bedroom he and Jason shared.
He set it up on the end table on Jason’s side of the bed, glad Jason was turned away from it, tucked into himself in aftermath, too exhausted and floaty to realize the monitor was even there.
Cotton climbed into bed next to him and snuggled, shivering for a couple of minutes while his body got used to the warmth again and keeping his eyes on the monitor.
Nothing for a moment, and then one of the panels lit up as an owl flitted across the screen. The panel went dark in sixty seconds just as another panel lit up with the same animal. In another moment, a panel lit up to show a parade of possums, white as ghosts with the night-vision cameras, making their stiff and awkward way through the trees. That panel went dark, and the possums disappeared outside their territory, and the screen was blank.
Cotton stared at it, wondering what wonder would show itself next, and right after he thought, “Hey, maybe I’ll see a bear or something,” he fell asleep.
Speeding Up the Run
“NOT Aword,” Jason said, scowling, as he limped around the lake that morning.
“Sorry,” Cotton said, but he didn’t look sorry. Nor should he be. Yeah, Jason was sore, but damn, what a way to go.
“My fault entirely,” Jason said, slowing to a stiff walk. “Forgot how long it’s been. Those were some muscles that hadn’t been, uhm, worked in a while.”
Cotton laughed softly. “You work them every day,” he said coyly, and Jason laughed.
“It’s really not the same.”
And finally, his angel, the man who had literally fucked him onto another plane of existence the night before, gave a self-satisfied smirk. It was well earned. Jason may have been walking a little stiffly—and running was not as much fun as it had been the day before—but damn if his heart, hissoul, didn’t feel infinity to the nth power less lonely.
On the one hand, it was stupid. They still had to face down the mob, arrest Deavers, and convince Talbot to not prosecute Jason. And the situation hadn’t changed in the least regarding Cotton. Jason was still going to have to go down to the desert near Barstow and Cotton was still going to Sacramento where he had friends who could help him as he started school and got his life in order.
But the situation between Jason and Cotton was radically different, in a way. Cotton had taken control and pushed Jason to his absolute limits the night before, and Jason knew why. It was his way of proving that he was strong enough,wholeenough, to accept what they were—who they were—for the time being, and that he would be okay when their brief liaison ended.
Which was a soft balm on Jason’s soul, because he’d been worried, but it was also a chafing, painful realization, because the hard truth was that Cotton might be okay without Jason, but the time without Cotton stretched before him like Death Valley itself.
Except worse, because sometimes, in the evenings, when the sun was going down and the sky looked as though God had broken out the good oil paints and textured canvas, Jasonlikedthe desert.
“Yup,” Jason said now, ignoring the ache in his chest. “You’re pleased with yourself.”
“Wellyeah!” Cotton’s laugh—young, exuberant, happy—added years to Jason’s life. Or maybe that had been the sex, but either way, it was Cotton. “But I will be even more pleased with myself if we can get you to run a little farther. It’s only a little farther!”
Nurse, caretaker, personal trainer, gym coach…. Cotton’s future was an endless vista of opportunity. Jason needed to respect that and let him go when their time was up.
“Isn’t that what the big bad wolf said to Little Red Riding Hood?” Jason retorted.
Cotton howled, and they continued their run around the lake.
It reallywastoo cold to swim that morning, and Trina was waiting for Jason when they got back.
“You can keep going,” Jason said, when Cotton made a disappointed noise because their morning workout had been cut short. They’d already talked about Cotton making another loop around the lake since the swim was no longer feasible.
“No!” Trina said sharply, and Jason’s eyes darted to her.
