Page 41 of Constantly Cotton
“For one thing, he said there’d be a storm at the end of August, and he wasn’t talking rain. And look at us, finally seeing some of the clouds dissipate.”
Jason glared at him. “Don’t you dare say that. Have you learned nothing?” Back in college Jason would have eschewed the idea of psychic powers and laughed at Ernie’s “witchiness,” but soldiers were often superstitious. If you were risking your life as part of your job, you spent a lot of time talking to a higher power, whether you admitted you believed in one or not. Jason wasn’t proud. He’d come to believe in the gods of luck, wisdom, and random fucking chance as much as the next soldier, and Ernie’s abilities to simply sense the world around him out of sync with linear time was something he believed had saved a lot of lives—his included.
But part of jumping on board that train was not jinxing things by saying, “Looks like it’s all clear, sir!”
Burton grimaced. “I saidsome!Someclouds! I didn’t say all of them. I just meant that, you know, you managed not to die in a tiny apartment surrounded by porn stars.”
Jason rolled his eyes. “That wouldnothave been a hardship.”
“It would have been forus!” Burton retorted. “You seem to forget that you are the glue holding our little enterprise together, Jason. Youhaveto be healthy. Youhaveto be well. So yeah, maybe it’s been because I’ve had Ernie for almost a year, but I’m going to have a little faith. I’m going to hope. Do you fucking mind?” And with that, Burton shoved a bite of chicken and garlic bread into his mouth and chewed. He paused midchew, swallowed, and said, “Cotton, this is really amazing chow. You know that, right?”
Cotton gave a shy smile. “Thank you. You guys are fun to cook for. You actually eat.”
Jason grunted. “And so do you,” he said pointedly, looking at the half a chicken thigh and most of a piece of bread on his plate. “You promised.”
Cotton sighed. “Of course,” he said and began to eat determinedly, in tiny bites.
Burton raised an eyebrow at Jason, and Jason shook his head, mouthing “Later” at him. Ordinarily Burton’s curiosity would be a violation; people had boundaries. But Jason and Burton had confided a lot in the young man in the past couple of days, and much of it was, in fact, classified. Information that Cotton—and good God, did they even know the kid’s real name?—couldn’t know.
But then Cotton had pretty much given his life over to keeping Jason alive, and Jason was reasonably sure that everybody who had been in the room with Rivers and Henry during the official debriefing knew most of what they’d told Cotton. The fact was, Jason and his team worked below the radar, were comfortable with being there, in fact, and so did Cotton. John Carey was never going to get a philanthropy award, but he’d apparently worked hard, purposely unnoticed, to make sure the kids in his employ were as healthy as he knew how to make them. Jackson Rivers and Ellery Cramer were never going to get medals for their work to bring Karl Lacey to justice, but they’d almost given their lives to do exactly that. Even Henry’s boyfriend, Lance, and Jai’s boyfriend, George, had risked their jobs and their freedom to take care of Jason when he’d needed them, and they expected nothing more than to know that the kids Jason had been transporting had made it home.
It was safe to assume that Cotton, much like the people who surrounded him, wouldn’t be noticed in this lifetime or the next as the heroes they were, but Jason recognized the extent of their service, and of what they’d done for him personally. He couldn’t give them all a zillion dollars and a new car, but he could give Cotton what everybody else had been given.
Jason’s trust and the truth. And given Burton’s freedom around Cotton, Jason figured it was a case of Jackson Rivers trusting the young man as well.
And of course, Ernie.
But trusting Cotton meant Burton needed anomalies explained to him. Since Burton was planning to leave the two of them alone in the cabin, with their watchers positioned nearby, Burton was trusting Cotton didn’t have any medical or psychological needs that would render them both vulnerable if they were discovered and attacked.
So Jason got it, but he didn’t want anybody but himself to know about Cotton’s difficulties.
Cotton was, in a very personal, private way, Jason’s. He tried very, very hard to keep up the illusion that his life started the moment John had found him, turning tricks apparently, but Jason wasn’t fooled like that. He could see somebody had thrown Cotton away. Somebody had thrownJason’s angelaway. Jason might need to leave Cotton when this was all over—he was certainly not in any position to make promises, and given how much grief he was getting while the government knew who he was, he certainly didn’t want Cotton mentioned inanyofficial reports, not as a spouse, not as a friend, not as a person of interest. But that didn’t mean that Jason would throw him away too. Or throw away his privacy or his dignity or any of the things the young man worked so hard to protect.
Jason would tell Burton about the eating disorder, partly so when Jason was gone, Burton could help keep an eye on the young man. But he wasn’t going to just dump the information out like it didn’t matter.
It obviously mattered very much to Cotton.
Jason tuned back into the dinner table chatter and realized that Cotton was grilling Lee about the cats, and he had to smile.
Everybody except the allergic loved the cats.
“I’d love to have a cat,” Cotton said wistfully. “And a dog. And a fish. An entire apartment full of animals.” He grinned, hiding his face. “Animals don’t judge, and as long as you feed them, they’re very free with love. I like that in a roommate.”
“Ernie’s exact philosophy,” Burton said. “And since I’m gone a lot, I told him the house was his to decorate as he pleased.” He chuckled. “Imagine my surprise when I realized we were going for cats on every available surface.”
“You weren’t surprised at all,” Jason chided, and Burton’s smile was all fondness.
“Not even a little teeny bit,” he said and then wiped his plate with the last of his garlic bread.
Jason glanced over to see Cotton had done the same, and he smiled gently. Cotton winked and got up to clear the table.
“Nope.” Burton stood and took his plate. “My job. You guys go to the living room and cuddle on the couch and look cute. I’ll bring milk and cookies.” He gave Cotton a stern look. “One cookie?”
“Sure,” Cotton murmured, smiling slightly.
Lee Burton would say he was the least personable, least kind, least amiable man on the face of the planet, but Jason knew better. All of those stories about Ernie—all of that affection for someone who wasn’t conventional in any sense of the word—and Cotton now trusted him too. On the one hand, it was so smart it was almost cruelly calculated, but Jason knew Lee hadn’t done it that way on purpose.
Burton wanted Cotton to trust him because Burton might have to save their lives again.
