Ink & Snow (Clair de la Lune #1)

3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

D r. Ben was a tall guy who looked like he was working out a lot when he wasn’t treating patients. By the time he’d stomped up the stairs and put on his latex gloves, I’d at least managed to coax Amory up off the floor and onto my couch.

“How did this happen?” Dr. Ben asked, unwrapping Amory’s thumb.

“Uh, Soyer here just moved in today. He bought Fran’s place, you know, and I came by to say hi but found him on the floor because he slipped on the snow that had come in through the open window.”

“Uh-huh,” Dr. Ben said.

I’d moved the coffee table moving box out of the way, and with nowhere else to put it, the doctor unspooled the bloody gauze onto the floor where he was kneeling like some goddamn white knight in shining armor.

Amory glanced at the snaking gauze once, but given his issue with blood, he looked away quick and back at me.

“I asked whether I needed to call you, but Soyer said he was fine and asked me to stay for coffee and cake to say thanks.”

“Bit late for coffee, isn’t it,” Dr. Ben said.

“Oh, you think so?” I asked, doing my best not to sound as irritated as I was.

“In this time zone, I’d say so,” the doctor said, bedding Amory’s hand on one of those white gauze napkins all the medical professionals had and getting out the needle and thread and medical tongs he’d use to sew Amory’s thumb back together.

“Well, I was kind of looking forward to that Americano though,” Amory said with a look at the abandoned mug on the moving box. That made me smile. “You see, we needed forks for the chocolate cake. The one the mayor left, you know. I went over there to look in that box, and I guess a glass broke, and I didn’t see.” Amory took on some color. “I may have fainted.”

“Like the time you got your blood work done?” Dr. Ben asked, producing a syringe he loaded with a clear liquid.

Amory’s flush deepened. “I just have to not faint with the people in my chair, okay? And I’ve never fainted. You know that.”

“Never said you weren’t good at your job. Just wondering if maybe you have a low blood pressure issue. Have the chocolate cake once I’m done with these stitches. I’m going to inject you with this, so relax.” He lifted his syringe.

Amory snorted. “I don’t mind needles. Poked myself often enough.”

True to his word, the doctor pushing the needle with the anesthetic into him didn’t bother Amory one bit.

“That’ll probably scar,” I said, watching Dr. Ben work.

“Yeah, probably,” he said, tucking the cut shut neatly.

“It’s a shame I’m a righty or I’d be able to cover up the scar myself,” Amory said.

“Maybe focus on letting it heal first. No getting this wet, no messing with the stitches, and I’ll see you tomorrow to check you’re not dying from an infection. If you get a temperature, you call me right away.”

“Of course.”

I was about to offer to take Amory home when I remembered that my car still needed to be charged. I’d have to call him an Uber or walk him home in case he needed to walk off his caffeine rush.

“Dwayne said he picked you up in the middle of the road,” the doctor said, his eyes firmly focused on Amory’s thumb. “Said your car died.”

“Yeah. No reception in the wilderness out here.”

“Oh, but there mostly is though,” Amory said. “I mean, except for that spot on Pauper’s Hill. I guess you managed to find the only dead spot in the area.” He looked at me with those pretty, pretty eyes, and if I ignored the stupid doctor and the blood—and the fucking skeleton sweater—I could get used to the sight of him supine on my furniture.

“Guess I did. Maybe you need to show me around and warn me about all the no reception spots.”

Amory smiled. “It’s just the one, I promise. Well, I guess if you go down to the basement, reception wouldn’t be wonderful either.”

“Curious about the basement after all, Amory?”

The doctor gave me some side-eye, and Amory noticed.

“He just joked about locking me up in the basement earlier,” he told the medical professional.

“Is that how you flirt in the city these days?”

Amory’s eyes widened. “Oh, he wasn’t flirting at all! It was just a joke.”

The doctor glanced at me. “Uh-huh.”

I sighed. “I’ll go make some fresh coffee. Amory, Americano for you. Doctor?”

“Black eye, if you know how to make that.”

“I know how to make that,” I told the little prick. It was possible he was a decent guy, but I didn’t trust people who were that buff and looked that good in an Oxford out of principle.

While the doctor bandaged the man I had every intention to fuck, I made coffee, looking at the mess all around me. Sure, most if it was still contained in the moving boxes, but the two townies in my new living room might not be that easily put away. And how the fuck had Amory missed me flirting with him? Did I need to go get a tattoo done by him that read “Wanna fuck?” or something?

While my machine got to optimal brewing temperature, I collected the mugs with the now cold coffee and rinsed them in the sink. I considered finding my to-go cup for the doctor to give him a subtle signal, but in the end didn’t bother.

I handed him his fucking black eye when he’d taken off his gloves. Amory had decided to sit back up at that point and was running his good hand through his hair self-consciously.

“Thanks,” the doctor said.

“No, thank you for coming so quickly. I’m sure you have better things to do than making spontaneous house visits.”

“No, actually. I was just about to close up when you called.”

“Oh, cool. Stay for some cake then. As a thank you,” Amory said.

All right. He was cute. Very cute. He was also a menace who invited strangers to have some of my chocolate cake, never mind that he was good with a mop. I needed to keep both eyes on him, just like on the back fist of a master in drunk boxing.

“I wouldn’t want to bother you,” the doctor said, showing he had some social graces.

Amory wiggled his professionally bandaged thumb. “You’re not a bother. Please.” He then looked at me pleadingly. The fuck?

For reasons outside my understanding, I said, “Yes, please have some cake.”

The weird town cult vibe clearly was already getting to me.

The doctor didn’t talk much. Amory talked plenty. They exchanged stories about Elias, possibly the one I’d heard about before, and about someone called Simeon. The story centered around a competition this crazy-ass town held to award the most outrageously sized gourd.

“…and all the while I was thinking, it’s too bad because I really would have liked some pumpkin gnocchi,” Amory said.

“Really was a shame,” the doctor agreed.

I smiled at Amory. “I believe you inspired me to revive my pumpkin pie recipe. I retired it a while back, but perhaps it’s time.”

“You bake?” Amory said, his gold-crowned eyes widening. He then licked the tines of the fork I’d found in a mess of two broken wine glasses. His pink tongue licking the silver redirected my blood flow south.

“Yeah.” I sounded horny too.

Dr. Ben narrowed his eyes at me and put his plate on my cardboard coffee table. “It’s really late. Amory, should I take you home?”

Fucking sewer creature of the medical profession. Interfering cock blocker.

“I’ll call you an Uber, Amory. Or you can stay a little longer and tell me about your time in Korea. Show me some more of your ink.”

Amory giggled. “An Uber? You think we have Uber here?”

Of course they didn’t. This fucking town.

Dr. Ben fucking smirked. “I’ll drive you over. We don’t want your mom to worry.”

Didn’t we? He was a grown man. I wasn’t sure why he needed a mother who kept that close an eye on him, but Amory flushed and looked at me.

“I live with my mom and stepdad. It was temporary after Korea. I mean, it is temporary. I’ve just been really busy. Apartment hunting takes time, you know.”

I felt the irrational need to comfort Amory and wrap him in a blanket. Ideally, he’d be naked underneath the blanket, but first things first.

“Oh, I don’t judge,” I told him. “It’s nice to have family.” Not even a fucking lie, though you had to be selective about which of them you allowed into your life. Into your head.

Amory nodded, still looking extremely self-conscious about the whole thing. Dr. Ben stood. “Ready?”

“I think I’ll walk, actually. Get some fresh air.” Amory got to his feet as well, and so I followed suit.

“I’ll walk with you,” I said before the fucking doctor could ruin my plans for the night any further. “I’d never forgive myself if you slipped.”

Dr. Ben didn’t look happy, but who fucking cared. Amory smiled at me. “I can show you a few things on the way, give you the lay of the land.”

“That would be fabulous.”

Dr. Ben sighed heavily. Hemorrhoids. I hoped he was getting hemorrhoids for Christmas.

Dr. Ben had driven past us in his pickup truck, glaring, going barely above walking speed. Once the doctor had finally found the gas pedal, Amory fell in step next to me, looking like some weird pixie with that stupid fucking pink pom pom hat. I pulled the zipper of my coat up as high as it would go, and Amory noticed.

“You really should go and see the triplets if that’s the only winter jacket you own,” he said. “It’s going to get colder.”

A snowflake landed on the lashes of his right eye, underlining his point.

“So I’ve been told.”

Amory looked at the park to our left. The carolers had gone, but the tall fir still shimmered in the artificial light illuminating its branches. He pointed the messed-up hand he’d not managed to fit into his glove across at the park. “ We Hikin’ Love It is just across the Village Green. Simply go straight, and you can’t miss it.”

“It’s going on my list for tomorrow,” I told him, and because I liked risking things sometimes, I took his bandaged hand. “Huh. Your fingers are getting really cold. Want to warm that hand in my pocket, Amory?”

With the cold and the snow and the trickling light from the streetlamps, I couldn’t really tell, but fucking hell, he looked blushing shy.

“I have pockets too.”

“I’ll warm this one for you.” I peeled my own glove off.

I saw his jaw work. After a few moments, he let me guide his hand into my pocket, which I did, carefully.

“You were flirting earlier, weren’t you?” he asked. “I’m not good at noticing. I’m demisexual, you know. And, uh, not super experienced.” He looked at me, eyes going wide. “I mean, I apologize if I misread anything and overshared or—”

Well, that was an explanation. It was actually sort of a relief, proving I hadn’t lost my touch.

“I was flirting,” I told him. “And had plans to ask whether you were down to fuck, but I’m guessing you’d have had to let me down.”

“Uh…”

There was that vulnerability again, and once more, I wanted to go find a blanket I could wrap him in.

“You’re really cute. You can afford letting people down, Amory.”

The look he gave me after that was getting me so very much aroused, even in this fucking weather on these fucking icy sidewalks that could kill us both at any moment.

“Thanks. You sure?”

“About you being cute or that you can afford to be picky?”

“Maybe both?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. I still want to fuck you though. Guess you’ll have to let me know when it’s all right for me to ask you that.”

I saw a wet sheen come over Amory’s eyes, and I had no idea what had triggered that, my words, the snow, the cold. I didn’t want to poke him in case it had been me.

After a minute or two, he asked, “And you’re a florist?”

“I don’t have formal training, but my aunt had a flower shop. She raised me, and I worked there ever since I could, end of elementary school all the way to high school. I’ve been doing stuff I didn’t really enjoy for the past few years just because I’m good at it. I figured it was time for something new, something that didn’t drain the life out of me. And the flowers never drained me. So I figured I’d do that.”

“Wow. That sounds like a midlife crisis thing.”

Yeah, needed to watch this one with both eyes for sure. “You calling me old, Amory?”

“No. You don’t look old. I meant, like, it would be surprising if it was that.”

“Ah. Sure.”

“Really though. You’re not old.” He paused, tilting his head, his fingers curling against mine in my pocket. “How old are you though?”

“Thirty-two.”

He beamed. “In Korea, I’d be calling you my hyung.”

“Huh? Young?”

He laughed. “No, no. H-y-u-n-g. It’s what you call a guy who’s older than you. It’s this respectful thing they do, you know.”

“Right. You can call me that if you want.”

He led us down a street, residential, and the lights strung up on a tree in one of the yards illuminated his face, painting the planes and angles in artificial blue light.

“No, I think I like calling you Soyer.”

“Okay then.”

He pointed. “It’s that house there, next to the church. My stepdad is the caretaker.”

I frowned. “You the churchy type?”

He shook his head. “Nope. Mom forces me to go every now and then, but I secretly joined the Satanic Temple in college. College was really transformative that way, you know.”

“I see. Good thing too. I’m not overly fond—” of dealing with clergy messes, I almost said. Those fucking messes always made me feel like filth after cleaning them up, and these old men in their dresses saying their magic words in old buildings had never learned to keep their hands off children. Filth in robes, that’s what they truly were. “Not very fond of religion,” I said, steering clear.

“Don’t come to Sunday dinner. They say grace and everything. I’m just lucky to have a little half-sister who does the whole thing a lot better than me or my sister ever did. She’s mom’s favorite, which means me being the black sheep tattoo artist of the family isn’t her focus of attention, and my sister’s fine with being able to do her thing too.”

“I’ll cook you dinner,” I told him when we stopped outside a neat family home. The drive had been cleared and lights were strung up all over the place, plastic angels singing silent songs next to a manger in the front yard.

“Might take you up on that,” Amory said.

He pulled his hand from my pocket. I wasn’t going to be the complete and utter asshole who tried to get a goodnight kiss out of someone on the ace spectrum but fuck if I didn’t want to.

“See you around, neighbor.” Amory waved at me with his bandaged hand.

“Take care. Don’t get that hand wet.”

He grinned. “I have tons of surgical gloves. Comes with the job.”

“Good. Sweet dreams, Amory.”

“You too,” he said quietly after a shy little pause.

Once Amory had vanished into the house, I hiked back through the snow. In the flower shop, I locked the door this time around and went back upstairs where I found my candles and my bubble baths and scented oils. Also a bottle of wine from another box as well as a glass that had survived the move.

The bathroom was on the left at the end of a short hallway opposite the kitchen. The room had been the final thing to convince me to put in an offer. The tub sat in a corner, and the tiles were plain white, the windowsills spacious enough to sit on, one close enough I could reach it from within the tub. That was where I put my wine and my tablet. It was the perfect spot.

All in all, the room had the flair of something old, but it had been redone not too long ago, and by someone who knew what they were doing. I’d loved it ever since I’d seen it.

I cleaned the old-fashioned tub with the claw feet as well as the bathroom as a whole before I ran a bath and set everything up the way I liked, using the time the tub took to fill the bathroom with scented steam and warmth to pull the protective sheeting off the new bed I’d bought and make it up so I could just collapse into it.

I spent about an hour, the air scented with vanilla, sage, and patchouli, drinking my wine, watching porn, and masturbating. Once I was done and ready to bask a little, I thought about how off the rails this whole entire day had gone.

And yet, not once did I feel the heated biting anger and frustration that always came with thinking about Cecil. Because I didn’t think about him once. I had found someone else to think about in this weird little town.