AJ’s Fire (Hampstead Valley #3)

Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

AJ

I’d said something wrong. I was looking at Jackson, though he was mostly staring at the flames. Then we were kissing, and my world was on fire. We stopped and were talking and laughing and it felt right and normal, but I’d said something that had Jackson tensing up, and he was staring at the fucking fire again.

I reached an arm out and held his bicep. I loved touching him. It’s not like we’d never touched before. As a matter of fact, as I thought about it, we touched an awful lot. It’s like we were always finding excuses to be close to each other. Why hadn’t I realized how much I loved touching him? I shifted position, an arm around his shoulders, encouraging him to lean into me. He did so, never taking his eyes away from the flames.

Instead of forcing him to face me head-on, I closed my eyes as well and pictured the oranges and reds dancing in the green-and-gold flecks of his eyes. I rested my chin atop his head.

“It’s just you and me now, Jax.” There was another pause, and I hoped it meant Jackson was gathering his thoughts. I tightened my grip on his shoulder, encouraging him to relax into me.

“It’s that easy for you, AJ? You’ll just tell your brothers and, what, become my fuck buddy or something? Just like that?”

“I said I’d do whatever you want. If you want a fuck buddy, I’m there for you. If you’re not ready to come out, we’ll stay in. I just want my friend back.” I kissed the top of his head.

“You’re really willing to do this again? With me?”

“Jackson, yes! Let’s stipulate that I really, really enjoyed what we did tonight, and that I really, really want to do it again.”

I tested the waters with a little joke. I moved my head to look out the front window even though it was curtained. He didn’t look up, but he could feel me do it. “I’m thinking we can even do it a few more times before they clear the roads in the morning, and we have to get to the station.” That made him tighten up again, God damn it. “And then when we get home, I’d very much like to keep exploring this. I’m not hooking up with anyone else. I don’t want to hook up with anyone else. Let’s figure this shit out, together, okay?”

“Fuck buddies,” he muttered.

I wasn’t sure if it was a comment or a question, and frankly, the way my heart was pounding at the mere thought of bringing this aspect of our relationship into our everyday lives, I wasn’t sure fuck buddies was exactly what I was after. But like I’d told him, my priority was him and his needs. If that’s what he wanted, that’s what I’d be.

I squeezed him tight. “Yeah, sure, man. If that’s what you want. Fuck buddies.”

We stared at the fucking fire some more before I prodded Jackson into sharing the snack platter with me. We ate quietly. I felt like we had so much more to say. I just didn’t know how to say it.

Eventually, Jackson continued. “I’m not ready to come out. With my family, it’s complicated. And at the station, it will be complicated. And with our friends … I’m just not ready. I know your family will probably throw a pride parade or something, but mine … I need more time.”

“I’m in no hurry, Jax. And I’m not going anywhere. We got this.” He snuggled back into me without compunction or hesitation, and my heart soared. Even with all of the things we had done that evening, I don’t think any of them held a candle to breathing in and out in silence, staring at the fireplace, with Jackson willingly nestled in my arms.

When he slumped involuntarily, I slipped out from under him and cleared the coffee table of our late-night snack.

Jackson rallied and went to the fire to put it out, and we met by the stairs. I reached a hand out and implored, “Let’s get some sleep.” Jackson nodded, and we took the stairs shoulder to shoulder, me clinging to his hand. I felt him hesitate when we arrived at the upstairs landing, so I took the lead, dragging Jackson toward the guest bedroom. “Go use the bathroom first.” I let go of his hands. “I’m going to straighten up that bed.”

Jackson came in a minute later, hesitant as ever as I was turning down one corner of the sheets I had straightened up. “Be right back,” I promised, then I practically ran past him, eager to take care of business and get back to the room. Jackson was standing where I’d left him when I returned.

I came up behind him and wrapped him in my arms. “We’re gonna have to pick sides.”

That got a tired little chuckle out of him. “Since I graduated to a bottom bunk, you always take the bed to the left at the station. It'd be weird facing you from the other side.”

“Right. Window for you. Door for me. I checked the weather. We shouldn’t have a problem getting back in the morning if we leave some time for them to clear the roads. I’ll set my alarm. We’re really gonna need to wash the bedding before we go.” I raised my eyebrows, and Jackson scoffed.

I gave him an encouraging little push toward the bed, and he rounded it to the far side. There may have been another second of hesitation, or maybe it was shock, as he reached for the sheets and climbed in. I climbed in next to him, and for the first time in five years, I held my best friend in my arms as we fell asleep.

We woke up in each other’s arms too, but Jackson started in immediately on getting the place tidied up and talking about getting home. We’d eaten all the snacks Jax had bought the night before and didn’t have a plan for breakfast.

I was cleaning out the fireplace when Jackson came from the kitchen, mug in hand. “I can heat up a can of soup?”

I tilted my head as I grabbed the mug of black coffee from him. Jackson knew I wouldn’t want any nondairy creamer options with their shelf life of a year. “How about we grab drive-through on our way out of town?”

“There’s a donut place just past the exit. You can follow me, then we’ll loop back to the highway.”

We kept busy cleaning up and doing laundry, and once we’d made the bed, we left. Jackson was ahead of me and called from the road to ask for my carryout order.

“My treat. Wait in the parking lot.”

After we were situated and I had real coffee with real milk in it to fuel me, we were back on the road for the trip to the city. We had danced around each other all morning and hadn’t done anything other than clean the cabin.

I was trying to read Jackson’s cues and do what he wanted, but I also knew that what we both wanted was for this not to fuck up our friendship. I called him from the road.

“Seriously, bro. What is Emily’s deal? She insisted I be her date and then practically shoved me at you instead.”

Jackson laughed. “I don’t think there's any ‘practically’ about it. She was pushing me so hard to find a date, a male date, for New Year’s Eve. I think she …” He paused. “I think she wanted to make sure you had a date so that it would be harder for me to show up stag. Or maybe … Maybe she thought she was calling my bluff …” Jackson trailed off and didn’t finish the thought. I guessed what he meant was that Emily was trying to force his hand where I was concerned. He’d admitted he was attracted to me, but did that mean he wanted more from me than to explore this new physical facet of our relationship? I let it go, reluctant to have a serious talk with Jackson over speaker phone.

We’d only been in our respective cars for a few minutes, and I already wished we were together. I pictured us driving home from the cabin in one car, like we’d done a million times, only holding hands while we fought over control of the radio, laughing, and sneaking kisses at stoplights. Jackson may not have been ready for more, but I could see a future where he and I were together. I would have to help Jackson through his issues so we could figure out all the rest.

“That makes sense. I guess. I know you said you’re not ready to come out, but I’m guessing Emily already knows?”

“Yeah.”

“You know it doesn’t matter to me if you tell her about us.”

“Us.” It was hard to hear the subtleties in Jackson’s tone over my car speaker, but at least we were talking.

“Yeah, I mean if it helps you to talk to her since she already knows. You can tell her that we’re …”

He jumped in. “Fuck buddies.”

“Whatever we’re calling it.” I tried not to sound disappointed and assumed he’d missed any subtleties in my voice as well as we followed each other on the parkway.

“Okay. I mean, I don’t know if I will. But thank you for saying that.” We were quiet, and I could hear the white noise through the phone and the wind from outside my window. “But, Aje?”

“Yeah, Jax?”

“I’m sorry. I’m just not ready for you to tell anyone. Jamie, or Josh and Vance. Any of the crew. Oh god, and definitely not your stepmother.”

I had to laugh at that. “She’ll be picking out our wedding colors,” I agreed.

We both laughed and then got quiet. Again, it was hard to read the room when driving separately, but was he picturing our hypothetical wedding like I was?

Eventually he spoke, “I know it’s a lot to ask.”

“I already told you that it’s not. I’m a man of mystery now. I love it!” I decided to refocus the conversation. “Hey, what do you think about Jamie and Ruth? Do you think he’s two for two in the New Year’s Eve Club?”

Jackson scoffed. “The New Year’s Eve Club?

“Yeah, like the Mile High Club.”

“You're such a dork. Plus, it was you who said they didn’t have chemistry.”

“Yeah, but something’s up with Jamie. Can’t put my finger on it, though. I mean, Ruth seems nice.”

“Yeah, she is.”

Jackson went on to talk about his teenage years with Emily and Ruth as we caravanned back to the city, and our conversion remained comfortable, normal, for the rest of the trip. Normal except for the part where we didn’t talk about the night before.

We both lived near the station, though Jackson lived on the top floor of a high-rise, and I rented the basement apartment of a small home that had been carved up and rented out for years. My little apartment had a living room with an open kitchen behind it, one small bedroom, and a serviceable bathroom that I’d taken upon myself to renovate a few years ago, when it occurred to me that I didn’t want my friends, or my hookups, judging me by the age or state of my toilet and sink.

Jax and I didn’t say goodbye until I informed him that I was parking.

“I’ll see you in a few hours at the station, Jax.”

“Yeah, man. I’ll see you soon.”

My shitty apartment had never really felt like home. I had Jamie’s or Jax’s places for that and a big, beautiful house on a hill in Hampstead to compare it to. I remembered being so pleased the day I rented it after my training was done, and I had been assigned to Station Five. I’d been so proud.

Dad and Nat had showed up the following weekend and tried their best to be complimentary, but Nat’s words came back to me as I entered the apartment to get ready for our shift.

She’d grasped my upper arm. “We’re so proud of you. This is the perfect first apartment, AJ. Perfect for a young man starting out on his own. I can’t wait to see where you go from here.”

That had been over twenty years ago. I’d kept my little apartment while other renters had come and gone from the floors above me. As countless women came and went, for the night or for a few weeks, or if they were down for no strings, sometimes for longer. There’d been friends from the fire station here and all of my siblings, with the exception of Jamie, had crashed on the couch at one time or another when they were visiting the city.

It was only as I passed through the door that day that I realized that mentally, I’d agreed with Nat back then. This place was never meant to be my home. It had been meant as a stop along the way. I’d assumed back then that I would, in my own modest way, find the happiness Jamie and Anna had, or that my dad had found with his second wife. I’d never intentionally said I didn’t want that, never intentionally decided the hookup scene was my future. And yet somehow I’d found myself approaching forty years of age contemplating a real relationship for the first time.

I had to restrain myself from calling him right away. Figuring that he was a little more shook up about all of this than I was, I was determined to give him his space.

I called my brother instead, thinking I could somehow honor Jackson’s wishes but still steal a little free therapy from Jamie.

“Hey, man. I’m glad you called. Devon’s going to be here in a few days, and it just now occurred to me …”

“Devon?”

“Josh’s friend? From Thanksgiving? The one who’s going to be staying with me this month.”

“Oh, right, Josh’s roommate.”

Jamie went on to talk animatedly for about twenty minutes about the room in his basement where he stored a bunch of old junk, and before I could even think about asking him again about hypothetical later-in-life coming out stories, we were wrapping up our conversation.

“So they can come on Friday. But I’ve got patients. Are you at the station, or…” He dragged out the word, a pleading tone in his voice. “Or could you possibly hang around here during the day and wait for the bed delivery? You can hang onto the car until then. I don’t need it.”

I guess we had been talking about a new bed. Probably for that junk room in his basement. I tried to focus on my brother.

A quick check of my calendar confirmed that I was off on Friday. “Yeah, sure. Count on me, bro.”

“Thank you! I thank you. Devon thanks you!” I almost asked again who Devon was but stopped myself. He was going to be living with my brother and my niece for a month. I guess I would have to put some effort into remembering Josh’s best friend. “Bye, Aje!”

My brother really was way more excited than furniture delivery should warrant. I tried to reply, but he interrupted again.

“Oh, wait! You called me. What’s up?”

I chuckled at my distracted brother. “Nothing, man. Just checking in. Sounds like you’ve got your hands full with your visitor. Let me know if I can do anything else to help out.”

I swapped out my phone for the TV remote, then just stared at the screen. The news was rambling on, mostly about the president’s reelection and upcoming inauguration, and I watched distractedly, occasionally focusing on whatever man was on screen, trying to figure out how I could have gotten my sexuality so wrong. Arbitrarily, I could tell some of the men were hot, just like some of the women. The president in particular, as it turned out, was a remarkably attractive man. But did any of them get my motor running?

Nope. Not really. For that matter, neither did many of the women.

For the space of one commercial break during the Afternoon Now! news program, I worried that I’d reached out to Jackson for the wrong reasons. Had it really just been sympathy and the need to see him happy? To make him happy. I closed my eyes, blocking the guy on the TV commercial who was frolicking around in skimpy underwear, and I imagined Jackson similarly clad instead. In my imagination, a playfully smiling and almost fully naked Jackson dropped his heavy helmet on top of his head, his bright eyes shining out from under it as he danced to the synthesized pop music playing through my TV.

And there it was. That feeling, that swoop that I thought was worry or bro code camaraderie. Nope, it was fucking lust, and I had been feeling it for the better part of a year, or maybe even longer. Along with something softer. Softer yet stronger.

“Fuck,” I huffed out as I collected up my things for my shift. I said it again as I swiped my keys from the bowl I kept on the kitchen counter. In my head, I said it with every step I took as I jogged to the station, dumped my stuff in my locker, and took up residence in the gym, pushing myself to the limit and thinking about my best friend.

Because the thing was, that swoop, that feeling I’d been ignoring? It wasn’t just lust. I knew, sitting there on the preacher curl machine, my arms straining against too much weight, that the feeling was so much more.

“You’re early.”

“Darren,” I grunted on an up curl. “Happy New Year. Did you have fun?”

“It was fun.” He looked wistfully away from me.

“Did you guys go to Freeda’s again?”

“Nah, we opted for a club. A little dancing. A little action in the bathroom.” All of a sudden, I felt the need to focus on my arm motions. It’s important, you know, to make sure your positioning is right when you’re lifting.

“Is the great AJ Gordon blushing at the mention of a blow job? I thought you were more enlightened than that. I know you don’t have an issue with gay dudes. Hell, I’ve met your younger brother. That blond, broody guy. The writer.” Darren fanned himself in case the tone he’d used on the words blond and broody hadn’t clued me in that he thought my brother Vance was hot. “Didn’t think I had to worry about talking sex around the king of pus ...”

I placed the bar down as quickly as I dared and stood up. “You most certainly do not,” I interrupted as I forced a smile on my face. Even I could tell it wasn't my old AJ talking about boning smile. “You think you’re the only one who's ever gotten blown in a bathroom?”

Darren laughed as he walked away, yelling over his shoulder, “Who said I was the one getting blown?” Jackson brushed past him as they crossed paths at the gym door, looking back and forth between us, clearly having heard that final comment.

He stood wide-eyed in front of me, and all I wanted to do was run up to him and kiss the shit out of him. The marching band that resided in my stomach took to the stage to perform a seventies disco medley.

The smile I had forced for Darren turned soft and real as I looked at Jackson. “You’re here early.”

“So are you.”

“Needed to blow off a little steam.” I tipped my head to the equipment.

“Same,” he muttered before heading to the bench press. I followed automatically and spotted him as he worked. This was something we’d done countless times, but my heart fluttered, and my dick tightened as he lay there waiting for me to adjust the weight. His eyes were closed, legs spread on either side of the bench, baggie shorts gaping.

When I said, “All set, Jax,” it came out, unbidden, as a whisper. He grabbed the bar and immediately started pushing himself harder than I thought was prudent.

“Jax. Jax! Slow down.” We were alone in the room, and he was ignoring me. I raised my voice to a command. “Firefighter! Put the bar down. You’re going to hurt yourself.” He huffed as he extended his arms, and I guided the weights back into place.

He sighed in frustration and put one arm over his eyes. “I’m gonna fuck this all up, AJ. I’m gonna fuck us up,” he whispered. “I just know it.”

I came around and kicked his shin. He got the message and sat up on the bench. I straddled it and faced him. “Jackson, it’s been one day. We haven’t fucked anything up.” I looked over my shoulder before leaning in closer. “If anything, this past year has been the fuck up.” He looked down, and I wanted to reach for his chin and gently guide his eyes to mine, but I didn’t trust myself to touch him and didn’t trust us not to get caught. “I’m so happy to have my friend back. We’ll figure out the rest of it. I promise.”

He nodded without further response.

“We just need some time, together, to figure shit out.” He nodded noncommittally. “Hey! I’ve got the perfect place. Jamie needs me to hang around the house on Friday. Come with me? We’ll have all day to talk.”

“On Friday? Are we babysitting?”

“Nah. Vee’s back at school already. We’re waiting for furniture delivery, I think. I wasn’t really listening.”

“I thought Jamie swapped out all of the furniture after Anna died.”

“Mostly. Some friend of Josh’s is staying with him this month, so Jamie bought a bed for that room downstairs.”

“Where I used to sleep on that crappy futon that was falling apart?”

“I remember that. Yeah, I think that piece of junk actually did fall apart last year. Something about Josh and a hookup.” The memory had me laughing. “That room was full of old baby furniture and toys and that ancient futon Jamie and Anna had had since their first apartment, and Josh brings some guy down there. None of us were supposed to be there, because at least Josh has sense enough not to bang dudes with Vera in the house, but for some reason, we all came back early. My parents were even there, and the guy’s running out the back door, Josh holding up one of the armrests.” I was laughing in earnest at the memory.

Jackson smiled. “Your little brother’s a little slutty.”

“He really is.” I looked at my best friend knowingly. “He reminds me a little of us. And from what he says, this roommate of his is just the same. So it’s probably a good thing Jamie is buying him a sturdy bed. So meet me over there anytime Friday morning. I’ll just be hanging out, waiting for the delivery. We can talk about how much you do not need to worry about you and me. Okay?”

“Okay.” His tone reverted to being noncommittal.

It was an uneventful shift, and I felt Jackson trying to avoid me like he’d done for all those months, but I wouldn’t let him. I pulled a few people together to talk about ideas for the charity event we were planning, and by the end of the shift, Curtis, Jackson, and I had been appointed to the planning committee along with members of the Burcus Center staff and some of our teammates from other shifts.

The next morning, I let Jackson know I was going to go home and change and then head straight to Jamie’s. I’d told him not to rush, but he was at the door almost as soon as I’d turned on the TV and put my feet up with a cup of coffee in hand.

“Hey,” he huffed, out of breath. “I jogged over. Mind if I shower up?”

He didn’t really wait for a reply as he made his way to the downstairs bathroom, where he used to stay when we helped out after Anna died.

“I’ll be here,” I said to his fading back before sitting back down to watch the news.

When he returned, he was a vision in sweatpants. I was realizing how much I loved him in our FDNY navy blues, the dark material a contrast to his light hair, which was a shiny mess atop his head as if he’d run the towel over it once and left it at that. He wore a T-shirt that stretched and strained to hold him in, and on his feet were a pair of fuzzy, mismatched socks.

He may have caught me ogling him from head to toe, but he’d definitely caught where my gaze landed. He lifted and tapped first one set of toes, then the other. “My grandparents won’t miss them. And they’re really comfortable.”

“Fuck it,” I muttered under my breath. I hadn’t really meant to say it out loud, but Jackson’s eyes went wide as I stormed toward him and took him in my arms, enveloping him in the hug that I had wanted to wrap him in for the past year. It took him only a beat to hug me back and rest his head on my chest.

We stood like that until we were breathing in time with one another, my heartbeat having gone from a pounding mess to a gentle ebb and flow. Jackson relaxed against me. “Come here,” I whispered, and I did what I’d wanted to do the entire day before at the fire station. I gently guided his face, the slightest tap of my fingers under his chin, until I could brush my lips with his in a gentle hello. My body screamed for more, but today was about talking, so I dropped my hand to his and took a step back. Our eyes locked, but then his traveled.

“I got your shirt wet.” He brushed the spot where his wet head had stained my maroon-colored Hampstead University tee and that minor, simple, nonsexual touch ignited my whole body.

“Don’t care,” I said as I walked us to the couch. I deposited Jackson toward the middle of it and picked up the remote to mute the TV. I went to sit next to him, but at the last second, I took one of the chairs instead. We needed to talk, and I needed to not be distracted by my desire for Jackson. I was distracted enough by all of the other feelings I was having.