Page 37 of Melting His Grumpy Heart
“Go on. You can ask but it doesn’t mean I’ll answer.”
Ru looked over his shoulder, at the photographs on the wall. Jake already knew what Ru was going to ask.
“The photo of you, when you were younger, with the other soldier. He…he looks like he matters to you. A lot.”
“He did. Still does. That’ll never change.” Jake hesitated for a beat. “His name was Ben.” How could his throat still thicken, his voice still catch, after so many years?
“Was?”
Jake nodded. “He was killed. Blown up by an IED, a crude homemade bomb essentially, in Afghanistan. He was my best friend and my confidant. I could tell him everything except for what mattered most of all.”
“You loved him?”
Jake nodded. Turning to the fire, he blinked away the tears he believed he’d long ago run out of. “I fell head over heels from the moment we met in basic training.”
“Did he guess?”
“I think so.” Jake stared into the fire, not seeing the flames but a face that would never grow older. “We didn’t talk about how we felt inside because we were tough army lads. Or at least I was tough. Ben, though, he was way too soft to be in the forces. I often wondered why he’d signed up. I’m not sure he knew why, either. I like to think that in time I’d have been honest with him, but the time didn’t come.”
“I’m sorry. He looks lovely, and you look happy with him.”
“Right on both counts.” Jake pushed himself up. “I’m going to make coffee. Want some?” It was the not so subtle signal to say the topic was closed.
Ru nodded. “Thanks, that’d be nice.”
As the night progressed, they took turns adding logs to the fire, making fresh drinks, occasionally stretching stiff muscles. Around two in the morning, they shared the food Ru had prepared, bread and cheese and fruit that tasted better for the hour and the company.
“Are you getting tired?” Jake asked, noticing Ru stifle a yawn.
“A little,” Ru admitted. “But I want to see it through. The whole night.” He shifted, leaning back into the sofa. “Did you used to wait up with your nan, when you were a kid?”
Jake nodded. “My mum, too, but not my dad because he had to be up early for work, but he always said he was with us in spirit.” Jake smiled as the happy, comforting memories of his family came back to him. “Nan always said the longest night teaches us patience. That some things can’t be rushed.”
“Like waiting out a storm.”
“Yes, just like that.” The words prickled against Jake’s skin, feeling the sharpness of their double meaning, of the storm that had built up between the two of them and remained unresolved.
As the night wore on, Jake found himself drifting, not quite asleep but not fully awake, awareness narrowed to the warmth of the fire and Ru’s presence beside him. At some point they’d moved closer, their shoulders touching as they leant into the sofa. Jake knew he should move, keeping the distance he’d told himself he should maintain, but the contact was comforting in the deep quiet of the longest night.
He woke fully to find Ru’s head resting against his shoulder, his breathing deep, steady and warm against Jake’s neck. Jake sat still, hardly daring to move but knowing he must.
The fire had burned low, little more than pockets of red amidst the grey and crumbling embers. Jake checked his watch. Seven-thirty. The sun would rise in a little over half an hour.
“Ru,” he said quietly. “Wake up. It’s almost time.”
Ru stirred, blinking slowly, sleep fogged and disoriented. “Did I fall asleep? Sorry. That wasn’t supposed to happen. I was never one for staying up all night. Just think of all those raves I missed out on.”
Jake smiled. Somehow, he couldn’t imagine anybody less likely to dance the night away in a disused warehouse.
They made their way to the utility room and bundled themselves up in layers. Just before they left the house, Jake wrapped a silky soft scarf around Ru’s neck. He did it without thinking, only wanting to make sure Ru was warm and comfortable.
Outside, the world was still dark, but with that particular quality that precedes dawn, of darkness preparing to yield, holding its breath before the change.
The freezing cold was shocking after the warmth of the house. The world was silent, snow muffled, waiting. Jake cleared away fresh snow from a small bench, and they sat side by side, close enough that their bodies seemed to share warmth even through layers of clothing.
“It’s beautiful,” Ru whispered, as if afraid to break the hush.
The snow-covered landscape stretched out before them, the bleak moor rising as a darker silhouette against a dark sky.
