Page 34 of Melting His Grumpy Heart
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The axe came down in a clean arc that sent two halves tumbling to either side of the chopping block. Here he was again, the barn some kind of refuge. Christ, but he didn’t need any more fucking logs. But, the physical exertion was welcome, helping to dull and dampen down Jake’s twisting, turning thoughts. The problem was, as soon as he stopped, they all came rushing back.
The blackout, when he’d kissed Ru. Or Ru had kissed him. It hardly mattered who had initiated it; what mattered was that Jake had wanted it, had welcomed it, only to then pull back like a scared kid. Because scared was exactly what he’d been. He’d talked of doing the right thing because Ru was vulnerable, although in truth Ru hadn’t seemed so; Ru had been very clear, very direct about what he’d wanted. So he’d taken refuge in being honourable, when honourable had been the last thing he’d wanted to be.
Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the cold. Jake wiped it away with his sleeve, breathing hard from the exertion. He’d been at this for nearly an hour, the pile of split wood growing far beyond what they needed. But stopping meant going back inside, where Ru would be with his easy smile and soft grey eyesthat saw too much, and his bruised and battered nose that had triggered something fierce and protective within Jake.
Yesterday’s bump on the head, and a nosebleed. It’d been nothing more than a minor injury thank god. But Jake’s response had been anything but minor. The sight of Ru on the ground, with blood on his face, had shaken Jake out of all proportion to the mishap. It had been like being back in the field, triaging a wounded comrade, except the comrade was Ru and the stakes had been so much higher.
He set up another log, raising the axe again. The truth he’d been avoiding slammed into him with the force of the blade hitting wood: he wanted Ru. It wasn’t only physical, and Christ, but the frustration was nearly killing him. It was so much more than that. It was the connections they were forging, the tug of the heart, all the feelings he’d sworn he wouldn’t allow himself again after?—
Jake cut off the thought, focusing on the hard, physical task at hand. No use dwelling on the past. What mattered was the present, and the present included a man whose smile made butterflies take to the wing deep in his stomach, whose bright, sunny nature lifted the gloom, and who was temporarily stranded in Jake’s home by a winter storm that showed no signs of abating.
After the brief lull, the snow had started again, light at first but steadily intensifying overnight. Their snowman stood half-buried, hat askew, looking like it was sinking into quicksand.
Jake gathered an armful of split logs, balancing them against his chest as he made his way back to the house, where he stacked them in the utility room, adding them to the existing huge pile before peeling off his heavy coat, hat, and scarf. Ru appeared in the doorway with a steaming mug in his hand.
“I thought you might want coffee,” he said, holding it out. “You’ve been out there for ages.”
Jake took the mug, careful not to let their fingers brush. Even this small consideration threatened to unravel his resolve.
Ru’s nose was spectacularly bruised, a purple-blue shadow across the bridge and beneath his eyes. It looked like he’d gone ten rounds in the ring.
“How is it?” Jake asked, nodding towards the injury.
“Tender.” Ru touched it gingerly. “But better than yesterday. I think a good night’s sleep helped. Along with expert medical care and the painkillers.”
“It was basic first aid.”
“Well, it didn’t feel like it. I might not have shown it, but I appreciated it nonetheless. Coming in? It’s freezing out here.”
Jake nodded, following Ru into the warm living room. Logs were stacked up either side of the wood burner, with no room for any of what felt like the thousands he’d chopped. Dropping down onto the sofa, he stretched out his aching muscles. His skin prickled. Turning his head, he found Ru watching him.
“What?” Jake asked, aware of the scant inches between them, of the unruly lock of dark hair falling across Ru’s eyes, of the flames warming his pale skin. Jake coughed and shifted, and pretended he wasn’t squirming.
“Nothing,” Ru said quickly, then seemed to reconsider. He laughed, the sound low, and tingling its way along Jake’s spine. “Actually, not nothing. I was just thinking that you’re the most physically capable person I’ve ever met. Splitting wood, fixing generators, building snowmen, first aid… You’re like a superhero. Is there anything you can’t do?”
The question was light, teasing, but Jake felt himself tense anyway. “Those who believe they’re heroes, super or otherwise, are the ones who cock up. There’s plenty I can’t do.” He concentrated on drinking his too hot coffee, anything to avoid elaborating.
“Like what?”
Like protecting the people who matter. Like stopping wanting things I shouldn’t have. Like forgetting the taste of your lips.
“Pointless, banal small talk.” It was the first thing that came to mind, but Jesus, if it didn’t make him sound like the most miserable bastard who’d ever walked the earth.
Ru laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “Fair enough, because banal is, I suppose, what most of it is.”
Neither said anything more, each concentrating on their drinks. The moment stretched out, growing thin, ready to snap.
“It’s only three, or is it four days, to Christmas? I’ve kind of lost track of time,” Ru said, breaking the silence.
Three, maybe four days, of this delicious, torturous proximity, of wanting what he’d decided he shouldn’t take. How the fuck was he going to cope? Just three or four days to Christmas… which meant…
“It’s the winter solstice. Shortest day of the year, and longest night.” How the hell could he have forgotten? But he knew, because the reason was smiling at him.
“And the astronomical start of winter, though it feels like it’s been winter forever.”
Something turned and twisted in Jake’s chest. Like Ru, he too had lost track of time, too caught up in the storm, in Ru’s presence, and in his own tangled thoughts. “The solstice,” he repeated, more to himself than to Ru. “The darkest day before the return of the light.”
