Smoky Mountain Dreams (55 page)

The front door opened, jarring the solitary wreath with a
red bow Christopher must have hung up the prior weekend after he’d mentioned he
hadn’t decorated his own place at all. The blacksmith, Gareth, stepped out, a
brown bag in his hand and his hair wet from a shower. Jesse’s heart seized and
his blood ran cold. He stared at Gareth and thought about throwing the car in
reverse and driving away, but a thread of anger pulled through him along with
the sharp needle of pain.

He didn’t intend to talk to Gareth. It had nothing to do
with him. But there was no avoiding him when they crossed paths on Christopher’s
sidewalk. He shoved by, focused on Christopher’s door and the confrontation
that lay beyond it, but Gareth grabbed his arm.

Jesse jerked out of his grip. “Fuck off.”

“He ain’t home.”

“What?”

“He ain’t home, and this ain’t what it looks like.”

“Oh yeah?” Jesse clenched his fists, trying to stay calm.

Gareth nodded and jerked his chin toward the road below. “He
left a little while ago. And like I said, this ain’t what it seems.”

“Then what the fuck is it?”

Gareth looked sour for a heartbeat, but then he said, quietly,
with a bit of rough tenderness in his tone that made Jesse understand what
Christopher might have once seen in the man, “His Gran died. I took him home
from the bar. Helped him get together what he needed, and made sure he was
sober enough to drive down to Knoxville when the sun came up. That’s it. Nothin’
else happened.”

His stomach dropping, Jesse looked at the house and then
back to Gareth again. He swallowed thickly. “His Gran died?” He remembered
brokenhearted Christopher curled up against him on his sofa, asking him why his
Gran had thrown him under the bus at Thanksgiving. He remembered all the times
Christopher had talked about her. Jesse wanted to find Christopher and hold him
close.

“Yeah. Sudden-like. Unexpected.”

“Well, she was pretty old, so I don’t know if that’s
unexpected.” Jesse knew he sounded like a dick, but he wasn’t comfortable with
Gareth walking out of Christopher’s place like he owned it, and imparting this
piece of information that he wished had come straight from Christopher.

“He was pretty shocked by it.” Gareth took a long gaze up and
down Jesse. “You should’ve been here for ‘im. He needed you.”

Jesse wanted to snap that Christopher could have called or
texted, but he knew that with the way he’d acted Christopher didn’t owe him
anything. “I’m sure you took good care of him.” He couldn’t help but sneer.

“Maybe. But he wanted
you
.”

His throat went so dry that Jesse could only croak, “He did?”
Maybe he hadn’t fucked it up forever and royally. God,
Christopher
.
He loved his Gran so much. He’d be devastated. “He’s on his way to Knoxville?”

“Gonna stay at a Comfort Inn there. His sister’s been
texting him all night off and on. There’s plans to be made of course. And he
was pretty damn broken up about your fight as it was, but once the news of his
Gran came in, he was messed up bad. Cried and everything. Never seen ‘im cry
before.”

Jesse’s chest was tight, and he gritted his teeth at the
image his brain kicked up of Gareth comforting Christopher while he cried.
Fuck, he’d messed it all up, hadn’t he? If he hadn’t said the things he had,
Christopher would have called
him
, and he’d have
been there for him. Hell, they wouldn’t have even been apart, probably. Jesse
would have been with him when he got the news, and he could have held him when
he needed comforting most.

He’d hated himself a lot in his life, but in that moment
Jesse wasn’t sure if he’d ever hated himself more.

“It ain’t too late to make things right, you know.” Gareth’s
dark hazel eyes looked bruised and sad.

Jesse worked to keep his tone even. “I said some pretty shit
things to him. He might not feel that way now.”

“Call ‘im.” Gareth swallowed and looked up the mountain
behind Jesse’s shoulder. “He’ll answer.” Then he walked on by and got into his
truck. He pulled out slowly and Jesse thought he saw Gareth wipe his hand over
his face as he drove away.

His heart pounding, Jesse rushed back to the car as he
texted Nova and Amanda to see which of them could take care of the kids.

Christopher used the hotel key card to swipe into the
side entrance of the Comfort Inn. His room was on the ground floor, and as he
approached he could hear the jangle of Christmas commercials seeping out from
under the surrounding doors. Everything in his body ached like he’d been beaten
with sticks, and when he finally got into the room, he threw his coat on a
chair and left his shoes in the middle of the floor before falling face down on
the bed.

It’d been a tough day being in the same room with Sammie Mae
and Bob for the first time since Thanksgiving. It hadn’t even been certain they
were going to let Christopher have anything to do with the funeral preparations
until Joe had spoken to Jackie.

She’d said in a shaking voice, “Gran loved Christopher best.
He should be here. It wouldn’t be right any other way and I won’t let you get
away with excluding him.”

So they’d let him stay in the room, but his mother and Bob
had ignored him completely. He’d found himself with little to say or contribute
anyway. Gran had apparently left instructions with the funeral home ages ago,
and there was nothing to dispute about the selection of the casket or the
service itself. Until Bob had said he’d give the sermon, and then Christopher
had whispered, “No. Absolutely not.”

All heads had turned to him then, and he’d met the eyes of
the funeral director with a steady ferocity he hadn’t known he possessed. “Either
have the chaplain from her nursing home speak, or someone from your staff. But
Bob won’t be acceptable.”

There’d been a tension that had filled the room, but Jackie
broke it by saying, “I agree. Gran had different values from Bob. It wouldn’t
be what she wanted. Don’t you think so, Joe?” When Joe had gruffly agreed, she’d
turned to Sammie Mae and said with a pointed note to her voice that Christopher
hadn’t heard before, “
Mama
?”

Sammie Mae had shifted nervously, her long blond hair
looking lank and as miserable as the rest of her red-nosed, wet-eyed face. “Maybe
we should wait for Laurie Ann,” she’d whispered.

“Mama, she won’t arrive until Monday,” Jackie had said,
jutting her jaw out. “We can’t put this off waiting for Aunt Laurie Ann to get
down here. She already said she’d go along with whatever we chose, so just
decide now, Mama.”

Bob opened his mouth and Christopher braced himself for
whatever spewing rage might pour forth.

“The kids are right. Violet never took much from a man of
strong faith like myself,” Bob said, his face red and his double chin
quivering. “If Chaplain Peters from her home will consent to speak, he’ll do
just fine.”

Jackie had looked almost as surprised as Christopher had
felt. Afterward, they’d gone their separate ways. Christopher went to Gran’s
room at the nursing home to collect her personal belongings. Sammie Mae and
Jackie had taken everything they wanted from Gran before she’d moved into the
home to begin with, so they told him to do what he wanted with it. Well, Jackie
did. Sammie Mae wouldn’t look at him and hadn’t offered any comfort when he’d
shown up at the funeral home in tears. It’d been Joe who’d clapped him in a
huge bear hug, and Jackie who’d cried with him for a few minutes before they’d
had to pull it together and get to business.

Christopher gripped the pillow and pulled it close, hearing
yet another sleigh-bell-driven Christmas pop song sliding under the locked door
that adjoined his room to a stranger’s. He wished Jesse was with him. He’d
almost called Jesse a dozen times since the morning, but it was a bad idea. He
was being smart to not fall right into Jesse’s arms after the awful scene at
Marcy’s bedside. Right?

As if on cue, his phone pinged with a new text. Christopher’s
heart skipped as he saw Jesse’s name appear.

I heard about Gran. How does some
company sound?

Christopher didn’t know what to say. He both wanted
desperately to see Jesse and wanted to be alone. He sighed and replied with:

It’s been a tough day. You don’t need
to drive down. I’ll be okay.

His stomach tightened as Jesse’s reply came immediately.

I’m here in the lobby. What’s your room
number?

Christopher didn’t have energy to fight, but fuck, he wanted
to see Jesse so badly. He thumbed in the numbers.

106

Less than a minute later there was a knock. Christopher,
waiting by the door, pulled it open. Jesse looked exhausted, with rings under
his eyes, and his face pale. His blue sweater hugged his chest and his jeans
fit a little loosely, and his expression was worried and ashamed, tender and a
little scared.

“I was so wrong,” Jesse blurted. “An absolute dick. I’m
sorry. Can you forgive me?”

Christopher wanted to throw himself into Jesse’s arms, but
he restrained himself and ushered Jesse inside. After he shut the door, he
leaned back against the wall with his arms crossed and regarded Jesse standing
there anxiously, shifting from foot to foot.

“How did you know where I was staying?”

“Googled Knoxville Comfort Inns and started calling.”

“I’ve had a really shitty couple of days,” Christopher
whispered, his throat tight.

“I know. I’m so sorry. About hurting you. And about your gran.”

Christopher nodded, tears coming to his eyes. He gritted his
teeth, willing them back, not wanting to cry in front of Jesse when he’d
already cried in front of Gareth. It’d been embarrassing enough when he wasn’t
in love with the guy.

“Oh, babe,” Jesse murmured and reached for him.

Christopher came into his arms easily, resting his head
against Jesse’s shoulder and letting his tears be absorbed by the soft fabric
of his sweater. “I don’t have anyone now. I’m alone.”

“No. You’ve got me. I swear, you’ve got me.” Jesse rubbed
his back.

Christopher shook his head, his heart aching along with his
head. “I’m not your family. I’m no one’s family.”

Jesse’s arms tightened around him, and Christopher let him
hold him a long time before they broke apart.

“Sorry,” Christopher said. He gestured at the bed. “You can
sit. Or go. I’m not much fun right now.”

Jesse steered Christopher to the bed, sitting him on the
edge and then sinking to his knees on the carpet. He squeezed Christopher’s
hands and gazed up at him intently. “I’m here for you.” He took hold of
Christopher’s chin. “I love you, Christopher Ryder. Maybe we aren’t family yet,
but if we can love each other and forgive each other, I think one day we can
be. We
will
be.”

Christopher’s heart thumped.
He really
loves me?
“My Gran never got to meet you,” he murmured. “Well, not with
me…as part of me and my future.” He met Jesse’s eyes. “I feel like so much shit
right now. I can’t promise anything or be sure that I can just let what
happened go, but I want to. I don’t want to care about what you said to me in
Marcy’s room.”

“I care what I said to you. I was wrong.” He clutched
Christopher’s hands again.

“You were wrong. But so was I. I didn’t know…I swear to God,
I didn’t know what it meant to go in there. It was…” He trailed off, his throat
getting tight again. “Fuck. I hate that I’m so emotional right now. Fucking
hell.”

“It’s okay. I promise, Christopher. It’s okay. It’s all
okay. If you forgive me for being a dick to you, I promise it won’t happen
again. Well, about Marcy. People are dicks sometimes. I definitely am, but I’ll
try my best not to be. But I know that you were…that I should have offered to
take you there. Christopher, I do love you.”

Christopher realized he hadn’t said it back, but he didn’t
want to right now. Not when he was so devastated by Gran’s loss and so hurt by
his fight with Jesse.

And that’s what it was,
Gran’s
voice said in his head.
Your first real bad fight. This ain’t
done, baby, and you love him too.

“Jesse?”

“Yeah?” He gazed up at Christopher with such vulnerable hope
shining in his eyes.

“Will our second fight suck as much as our first?”

Jesse laughed and threw his arms around Christopher’s waist,
dragging him close and nuzzling his cheek against Christopher’s chest. “I hope
not. In my experience, they all suck, but not like that. It’s not so bad once
you’re sure of the other person.”

“You think I can be sure of you?”

“I don’t
think
you can—I promise
it.” Jesse sat back on his heels and looked up at Christopher. “I don’t think I’ve
ever felt about a person the way I feel about you.”

“Me either,” Christopher whispered. “And I’m sorry for my
part in what happened at the nursing home. I should have told you when I found
out I was going.”