Page 53 of Melting His Grumpy Heart
They both laughed. A little self-conscious, slightly awkward, but enough to fracture the tension that had coiled itself around them.
The clock on the mantle shelf began to chime, marking midnight, and the transition from Christmas Eve to Christmas Day.
“Happy Christmas,” Jake said quietly. “Come on, let’s get to bed. The fire’s died down, so it’ll soon get cold.”
Gathering their discarded clothes, they climbed the stairs. Jake’s hand came to rest lightly at the small of Ru’s back. It felt both protective and possessive, sending a warm glow through him all the way down to his bones.
They’d not made any promises, they’d not made any plans. All they were was an appallingly bad idea but, for now, it was enough.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Jake woke first, consciousness returning gradually. Next to him, Ru’s body was a warm, comfortable weight. He lay still, eyes closed, allowing wakefulness to steal over him, growing more and more aware: of Ru’s breath against his shoulder, the pleasant ache in muscles that had grown unaccustomed to physical intimacy, and the particular quality of light pressing against his eyelids.
He opened his eyes, turning his head towards the window. A bright, clear blue sky filled the window. The icicles that had hung from his gutters for days were shrinking fast, each drip catching the light as they surrendered to gravity drop by drop.
The storm had finally passed. The rain that had followed the snow had stopped, and the temperature had risen a few degrees. It would still be cold outside, but it was enough to allow the thaw to set in, quicker than forecast. The remaining snow would soon disappear and the isolation that had created the fragile bubble they’d been living in would dissolve.
Jake stared at the ceiling, his body fully aware of the man sleeping beside him, in a room that had been exclusively his domain for so long. He sucked in a deep breath, held it for a second or two, before letting it go, the attempt to centre himselffailing. The morning would demand answers to questions that had been asked in the darkness.
Beside him, Ru stirred.
“Happy Christmas,” Ru murmured, his voice rough with sleep, eyes finding Jake’s with a directness that still caught him off-guard.
Ru’s gaze shifted past him to the window, his eyes narrowing against the hard brightness of the cloudless sky. He didn’t speak, but his arm tightened around Jake’s waist, as if instinctively wanting to hold on to what had blossomed between them.
They lay together in silence for a few moments, neither rushing to move despite the brightness of the day, or the pull of Christmas morning. Jake found his gaze repeatedly drawn to the window, to the evidence of change outside, of the world shifting from one state to another. Each drop of water from the eaves felt like a countdown, time slipping away from them, forcing decisions he knew he had to make. He shifted, ready to get up, but Ru’s hand found his, interlacing their fingers.
“Not yet. Let’s just stay here for a while.”
Jake hesitated, the urge to move, to act, to regain some sense of control through motion nearly overwhelming. But Ru’s fingers were warm against his, a shelter in the growing turbulence of his thoughts. He nodded, some of the tension easing from his shoulders as he settled back against the pillows, Ru’s hand still joined with his, as his eyes dropped to a close.
Jake opened his eyes, his brain and body instantly awake as he sat up. He was alone in the bed. Panic like wildfire swept through him. Where was…? The spot where Ru had lain held the merest hint of warmth. Jake collapsed back against the pillows.Ru had left him to sleep, that was all, but not finding him curled up beside him in the bed, had turned his blood to ice.
Christ. Was he fucked, or was he fucked?
Jumping out of bed, he dressed quickly and rushed downstairs. He lurched to a stop by the kitchen doorway. Ru was bent over Monty, giving the dog the obligatory belly rubs, as he told him what a good boy he was, how he wished he had a dog like Monty, how he’d slip him some treats when grumpy old Jake wasn’t looking.
Jake chuckled and Ru looked up.
“Grumpy old Jake?” Jake raised a brow and tried to look fierce. Ru wasn’t having any of it.
“Oh, yes,” Ru said airily. “Or maybe only sometimes. Coffee’s just been made,” Ru said, straightening up and nodding to the cafetière.
Jake poured himself a mug, and went to stand at the window. The thaw, now it had set in, was working fast. Jake’s fingers tightened around his mug. “If the sun stays out like this, the roads might start clearing by tomorrow,” he said, the words heavy on his tongue.
“And then what?”
“I… Christ, I don’t know. I?—”
“What do you want, Jake? What is it that youreallywant?” Ru stared at him, his gaze unflinching.
The questions cut through Jake’s defences like a bayonet through butter. What did he want? Not what was practical or safe or what he’d convinced himself was enough.
The answer rose with such force it nearly stole his breath. Connection, companionship, the hundred small intimacies of a shared life that had been absent for so long. The warmth of another body beside his, the sound of another voice in rooms too long filled only with silence.
He wanted all that, and he wanted it with Ru.
The realisation he’d been fighting was terrifying in its clarity. To acknowledge such a want was to admit vulnerability, to open himself to the possibility of pain he wasn’t certain he could survive again.
