The House on Hancock Hill (13 page)

I
HAD
just finished wiping down the counters when I heard the front door close. It goes to show Pat would lift his creaking bones for Henry while not even the alluring scent of melting chocolate had him deign to raise as much as a single nostril in my direction.

“It smells amazing in here” was Henry’s greeting, and I preened. He must have kept a change of clothes in his office because he’d switched his jeans for a pair of cords with a cardigan that screamed
hug me please!

While Henry pulled his phone and wallet out of his pockets and went over to Pat to scratch his ears, I stood in the middle of the kitchen clutching a dishcloth, having a minor silent freak-out. Henry moved around like he found it natural to come home to me baking with his equipment. The luscious scent of him reached my nose even over all the sweet aromas, clouding my mind. Should I joke and say, “Welcome home, honey”? Should I pretend the kiss in the car never happened? Or grab the cupcake by the frosting and ask whether I was the first guy who’d ever kissed him? I was still debating all this when Henry came up to me, closed his eyes, and sniffed the cheesecake. He gave me a small, private smile and pulled a bottle of water from the fridge.

After all that, what I came up with was “Something bleed on you?”

Henry wrinkled his nose and said, “Cat pee.”

“Ick.”

“Yes, pretty much.” He filled a glass with water and offered it to me. I accepted it more out of courtesy than thirst and took a sip, Henry’s eyes never leaving mine. When I lowered the glass, he took it from me with a smile and drank the rest of it in one go. It was hard to say why this little domestic scene felt so intimate, but the spell only broke when Henry turned away to open the French doors.

Agonizingly slowly, Pat ambled down the ramp, and Henry watched him in silence, waiting to open the door again when the old dog returned. The back of my head was starting a dull throb from the tension in my neck and shoulders. Henry followed Pat back to his bed and repeated the performance from that morning, drying all four paws and tucking the giant wolfhound into his blankets before joining me again in the kitchen.

“So what have you been up to?” He eyed the collection of things on the counter as I washed residual sugar off my hands. “I was expecting maybe six cupcakes or something, not all this.”

“Really,” I said over my shoulder, a little irritated. Henry came to stand next to me as I dried my hands. He leaned against the counter, arms crossed and looking far too amused. “After all the stuff I made you buy, you expected cupcakes.”

“And cheesecake.”

“Well, you got that.” I reached past him to flick on the coffee machine I’d prepared earlier and startled when Henry stroked my side.

“Fly got in your custard?” he hummed, and I blinked at him.

“Huh?”

“Bit grumpy, aren’t you?” He smiled, but I saw the mirth fade out of his eyes. “You’re in pain.” It wasn’t a question.

“I’m okay.”

Undeterred, Henry asked, “When’s the last time you took something?”

“Not since this morning,” I admitted, and his eyes hardened.

“You had
one dose
? It’s nearly eight o’clock! After everything you’ve been doing today? Jason—”

“I know,” I said quickly, “I’ll take one soon, but I’d have to eat something first anyway, so….”

“Pain management is all about keeping it under control before it becomes too bad to deal with in the first place,” Henry lectured me, and I rolled my eyes.

It wasn’t that he didn’t have a point; I was in pain. But if I took something now I’d probably fall asleep, and I didn’t want to yet. Having Henry here made me feel better than I had since before we went to the funeral home, and I wanted it to last a little longer. “Come on, food first.”

Henry’s voice was very different when he said, “Just wait a second,” and slid a gentle arm around my waist. “Is this okay?” he whispered, and I nodded, already leaning in to kiss him. His mouth opened easily for me, no hesitation this time, and I tightened my arms around his shoulders. He cupped my face with one hand, tilting my head to the side so he could deepen the kiss, and I sighed, relaxing into the embrace.

“You feel so good,” Henry murmured. “Will you go back to Annie’s tonight?”

“Is that what you want?” I tangled my fingers in his curls, tugging a little. Henry’s eyes darkened.

“I want,” he said, carefully considering his words, “to spend as much time with you as possible before you leave. And I will have to go into work tomorrow. So if you want to stay, I’d like you to.”

In other words: I don’t know if I’m up for having sex with you, but I’m all for making out. I grinned. I could do that.

“I want to stay,” I said. “I really do.”

Henry grinned back. “Good. Now how about that cheesecake?”

“Do you want some coffee?”

“Sure.” Henry grabbed two mugs, and I turned around to find a few plates. It was the wrong move. My ribs lurched painfully and started to throb in synchrony with my heart. Cold sweat sprang from my entire body instantly as the pain shot like a horrible cramp all through my upper body. Only the thought of how much more pain I’d be in stopped me from emptying my stomach in the sink. Barely managing to keep myself standing with both palms flat on the counter, I took a shallow, shaky breath. I heard Henry rummage around the kitchen, but it seemed to come from far away, like I was in a huge, hollow place where everything echoed. God, this was not good.

“Jay?”

I opened my mouth but no sound came out.

“Are you all right? Jason!” Henry put a hand to the back of my neck and appeared in my peripheral vision. “Shit. You look terrible. Sit down.”

I tried again to speak, but my ears were ringing and my head felt like it was stuffed with cotton as I began to shake in earnest.

“Jesus Christ, I
told
you—” Henry mumbled into my ear. Grabbing hold of my elbows, he lowered me to the ground before I had the chance to collapse.

“M’not fainting.” Somehow this was very important to convey.

“No, you’re manly passing out. Now sit the hell down.” He made me lean against the island. “Breathe deeply. I’ll be right back.”

I tried to obey, but the ache in my chest and the ringing in my ears felt so much like the panic attacks I used to get right after Dad died that my last rational thought was
oh no, not now
. All that was missing was me hyperventilating my way into an asthma attack.

Automatically, I reached for my rescue meds in my jeans when I realized they weren’t there. The panic knocked me forward, making me curl in on myself, and another surge of pain caused me to cry out hoarsely.

One rescue inhaler stuck in a coat somewhere, the other one in my bag, I tried to suck in some air, but my lungs contracted against the invasion.

When Henry returned with a glass of water and two pills, he found me on my knees, breathing into my cupped palms.

“What do you need? Jason, where is your inhaler?”

I heard his voice, I heard him try and coax a response out of me, I felt him touch my shoulder, but it was all from very far away, like it wasn’t happening to me at all. In the meantime, my heart raced out of control, and my neck and shoulders were so tense, I distantly knew they’d hurt tomorrow on top of everything else. I struggled as hard as I could to control my breathing. The headache fully manifested with the force of a hurricane, and I wanted to crawl out of my own skin. Vaguely, I was aware of Henry disappearing again, of time passing, and then a puff of bitter-tasting air filled my mouth. An arm settled warmly across my shoulders, forcing me into a position that hurt my ribs marginally less.

Every once in a while, he would stroke slowly down my back, soothing, and his voice began to make sense again.

“Shh,” he was murmuring. “I got you. It’ll be over soon. Go on, breathe. Easy now. Easy.” For some reason, I imagined him talking like that to a nervous racehorse. I closed my eyes and let his voice calm me. The warm touch of his hand was an anchor on me, making me feel like I wasn’t about to disappear. It helped.

“Thanks,” I managed after a while. “And I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Henry said. He continued stroking my back as we sat in silence, waiting for me to calm completely. “Do you want to lie down for a bit?” he asked when my breathing finally evened out. I nodded. “Come on, then.” Henry helped me to my feet and up the stairs, where he sat me down on the bed and handed me a fresh glass of water with the two pills. Obediently, I took them from his warm hand and swallowed them.

“Will you be able to keep them down?” he asked, and I nodded. I was just too exhausted to repel the painkillers, I thought. “Then stand up a sec. Let me help you out of your jeans.”

I obeyed, unable to feel anything but the barest flicker of self-consciousness as Henry’s knuckles brushed the hairs beneath my navel. Gently, he tugged my jeans down. Steadying me with a hand on my ankle as I lifted first my right foot, then my left, Henry took off my socks with tender hands.

“Lie down, Jay. Rest.”

“Don’t go,” I whispered when he pulled the covers over me.

“I’m right here,” he assured me as I closed my eyes. The bed dipped, and I instinctively reached for him. With great care, Henry threaded his fingers through mine and pressed a warm kiss to my knuckles. Exhausted down to the marrow in my bones, I slipped into sleep.

I
WOKE
up to Henry lurching upright, a large shadow in stark contrast to the moonlight spilling in behind him. In the quiet of the night, Henry’s breathing sounded especially loud.

“What’s wrong?” I leaned up on one elbow and grimaced. Those damn ribs.

“Nightmare,” Henry croaked. He passed a hand over his face. I took it and held it like he’d done for me earlier.

“Want to tell me about it?” I shuffled back a bit and leaned against the headboard. Henry shook his head once, then changed his mind and expelled a long breath.

“I dream about finding you in that car wreck and being too late.”

My breath caught in my throat. I tugged on his hand until he leaned back against the headboard too, shoulder pressed to mine. “But you weren’t.”

“I know, it’s just… I nearly was. Dr. Donalds said you wouldn’t have lived out there for another hour.” He faced me, eyes wide and determined. “Will you kiss me?”

A hot surge of lust pooled in my belly. “It’s all I can think about,” I heard myself say. But because it was necessary, I added, “Only, you know in a few days I’ll be gone, and I’d never… I’d hate for you to do something you’ll regret.”

“I know that,” he whispered. “And I won’t.” He reached for me and stroked my bottom lip with his thumb, catching a little on the moisture, dragging it down. It felt different this time, sitting in bed instead of in the truck during broad daylight. The dim room throbbed with possibility. “When we kiss, I feel it right here….” Henry slipped a hand under my T-shirt and touched me below the ribs. His hand was warm, his touch scorching. “And even if it’s only for a few days, I’ll take it. After that, I’ll let you go. I promise.”

I made an embarrassing noise. I wanted him so badly, I shook with it. There was a moment, between this one and the next, where I knew it wasn’t him letting
me
go that would be the issue.

“Henry….” I sat up straight. I was going to reject him. I was going to do the right thing. But my hand was at the back of his head; it was tugging at his curls and his eyes drifted closed. He gave himself over to me completely and fuck,
fuck
, I shouldn’t have. But his mouth was so beautiful, so full and pink where his lips parted. I bracketed his face with my hands, stroked his cheekbones with my thumbs. His eyelashes fanned over thin, slightly bruised-looking skin. It had been a long day and a longer night.

“Jay,” Henry murmured, and he sounded pained. “Please.”

Like the magic word it was, it invoked a spell stronger than I could resist. Gently, I cupped the back of his head, moving closer slowly, to give him time to change his mind. His breath came in warm, fast huffs, little clouds of sugar and spice and heralds of everything nice.

“I’m worried,” he murmured.

“Don’t be. I want you so badly.”

Henry laughed. “No, I meant, with all your bruises.”

“Oh.” I bit my lip like that’d stave off mortification. Henry put a broad hand to the side of my neck, and I saw him smile.

“We’ll just be careful,” he said, “because I don’t think I can wait until you’re all healed.” It might’ve been nothing more than an attempt to make me forget my embarrassment, but it worked. And I could see it: in his gorgeous caramel eyes was lust to rival my own.

Henry’s mouth felt dry but soft against mine. He was holding his breath like it really was a very first kiss. I could sympathize, but I wanted him to breathe, so I pulled back a little, rubbing my fingers through his hair. I kissed his mouth a few times, giving and taking until Henry released the shuddering breath I’d been waiting for. I let my tongue touch his bottom lip.

“Hmm,” Henry hummed. His broad hands clenched around the fabric of my T-shirt at the small of my back, and next we were kissing like it wasn’t a first time at all. It felt like it was all we’d been doing for years. I had to restrain myself from crawling into his lap, but I did allow my arms to hook around his neck. Henry dragged me closer, his huge arms folding around me like a security blanket, careful of my ribs. I’d never felt this treasured in my life. He kept bunching up my shirt, but he didn’t try to touch skin, so I figured we wouldn’t be doing more than kissing for now.

Fully intending to slow things down, I lifted my mouth from his. “Henry—” I started, but he took my raised chin as permission to kiss my throat. His five o’clock—or 2:00 a.m.—shadow scraped deliciously against mine, and I moaned hoarsely. Henry fit his teeth to the muscle of my shoulder and breathed hard through his nose.

“The sounds you make,” he breathed into my ear. “You drive me wild.” He bit my earlobe, and I gasped as the last innocent thought fled my brain.

“I swear to God,” I managed, “you suck my earlobe, and kissing won’t be all we’re doing tonight.” It was an odd mixture of relief and regret I felt when he pulled away.