The House on Hancock Hill (9 page)

“Hmm.”

“Thank you for coming to check on me. And for letting me stay.”

“Of course,” he said, like that was all there was to it. And maybe that was true. Henry wouldn’t let anyone go cold up in that apartment if he could help it. He went quiet again, and I’d closed my eyes, thinking he’d fallen asleep, when he said, “I wasn’t bothered by the fact that you’re gay. Earlier, I mean. If that’s what you thought.”

My eyes snapped open again. A spark crackled in the fireplace. “Okay….”

“Was it?”

“Uh, yeah. I did get the impression it bothered you a bit.”

“Well, it doesn’t.”

“Okay,” I said again, fighting a smile in the dark. Knowing Henry didn’t care made me let go of the tension that was making me shiver from more than just cold. I thought of something. “So were you really going to tell me what you and Johnny fought about, or was that just an excuse to leave Annie’s?”

Henry hesitated, and I could feel him shift. I turned my head and saw he was lying on his side watching me. “Not exactly.” His eyes were huge and dark in the firelight, orange flames throwing odd reliefs all over the stretch of his body.

“Then what was it?”

Outside, the wind howled and we both froze, holding our breath as we heard a tree branch come down with a loud, mournful groan. When no other noise followed, Henry said, “It doesn’t really matter. I’ll tell you some other time. We should sleep.”

I wanted to push, but was afraid it’d shut him down completely. “Will you go into work tomorrow?” I felt rather than saw him shake his head.

“Doubtful. Not first thing in the morning anyway. It’ll take a while for the roads to be cleared.”

I hummed. My fingers and toes stopped tingling, and I wriggled around, trying to find a position that didn’t hurt. By the time I was as comfortable as I would be, Henry was snoring softly. The sound made me bite back a laugh, but it was soothing, and I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

W
HAT
FELT
like five seconds later, I opened my eyes to daylight slinking through the curtains.

There was a slight movement beside me, and I remembered I was in bed with Henry. His foot brushed my calf and I faced him, unable to shake the impression he’d been watching me. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

Muscles stiff and aching, I moved gingerly onto my side. “Much warmer.” My voice cracked like I hadn’t spoken in days. “What time is it?”

“Only six thirty.”

I groaned, covering my eyes. “Just once I’d like to sleep like a normal person.”

“The early bird catches the worm.” Henry’s smile mocked me, but his eyelids were still heavy with sleep.

“Yes, thank you for the quote of the day,” I said crisply as I glared at him. Ruffled curls spread over his pillow and there were sleep lines on his cheek. A sight I didn’t mind waking up to. Struggling my way out of the comforter, I swung my legs out of bed. “Jesus Christ!” The fire had gone out.

“Still cold?” Henry asked innocently.

“Fucking freezing,” I complained. “Your host skills are lacking. I might write a letter of complaint.”

“Hmm.” Henry, the bastard, snuggled deeper into his cocoon of warmth. “Didn’t want to wake you by getting out of bed.” It was tempting to crawl back in myself, but I really needed to use the bathroom so I pulled on my jeans and sweater at record speed. The socks were still wet from the trudge through the snow last night, so I left them off. “The bathroom’s through that door. There won’t be any hot water, so I wouldn’t recommend a shower, but there’s spare toothbrushes in the medicine cabinet.”

The cold inside the house was unbelievable. As I brushed my teeth and watched my breath fog in the mirror, I contemplated how lucky I’d been that Henry had come to find me. Chances were, I wouldn’t have survived another bout of hypothermia above that garage. Rinsing my mouth with the icy water made my teeth ache, and when I used the toilet, I noticed the water in it had frozen.

I opened my mouth to tell Henry so, when I stepped back into the bedroom, but no part of him was visible apart from a few stray curls sticking out from underneath the covers. Beyond tempted to crawl back in beside him and warm my toes against his muscled calves, I watched him sleep. The cold had woken me up, however, and I was likely to disturb him with my tossing and turning. I crept out of the bedroom.

It gave way to a small, square landing with two doors leading off it. They were both cracked open and revealed a bathroom and a packed-to-the-brim-with-boxes spare bedroom. As I made my way as quietly as I could down the creaky steps stripped of carpet, the smell of paint and plaster filled the air.

At the bottom of the stairs was a narrow hallway that led from the front door to the back of the house, and another door I guessed opened to the garage on my right. Following the hall, I found a pair of warm slippers, and because my toes were recoiling against the icy tiles, I stuffed my feet into them. I came to a pristine white swinging door and pushed it open.

“Holy mother of love.” The sight that met me left me breathless. A huge kitchen with white cabinets and black granite countertops spread out before me like a kingdom. On the right was a polished-to-shine gas range with eight burners, two ovens, and a separate grill. There was a bright red Smeg retro fridge and a matching dishwasher. The huge island in the middle had more cabinet space than a single man should know what to do with around it. Above the island hung a rack that had copper pots and pans hanging off it and something that looked suspiciously like bunches of dried herbs. Henry was clearly keeping secrets.

To my left, a heavy old wooden table that would seat at least eight divided the living room from the kitchen, a centerpiece for a home if I’d ever seen one. It released the scent of resin and polish when I ran my hand over it, and I wondered how many people had sat at this table over the decades, handed down from one family member to the next. It spoke more than anything to how Henry hadn’t planned on solitude. Like he’d bought it from an antique store with the idea of a wife and children someday.

A soft but reverberating woof came from the living room, pulling me out of my reverie. The fire was still going in the spacious room, although it had burned low. I was surprised to see it, and wondered why Henry hadn’t offered me one of the two couches to sleep on instead.

In front of the fire lay a huge dog bed with an even huger dog in it. It took me a while to make him out under the blanket pile.

“Hey there,” I said cautiously, worried I was about to be eaten by a wolf hybrid. The enormous gray beast thumped its tail against the bed once, but otherwise didn’t move, so I deemed it safe. Crossing a line on the floor where I guessed a wall used to be, I slowly went over to the dog. He kept an eye on me, but it wasn’t a very threatening one.

By the fireplace stood a basket with logs cut into even pieces, and I tossed two of them onto the fire, making it sputter and flare. The dog still hadn’t moved, so I bent down and let it sniff my fingers.

“Hey, bud,” I murmured. It panted at me, licked its nose, and stretched with a satisfied groan underneath the blankets, limbs quivering. As I gently scratched a wire-haired ear, I noticed smudges of gray all over its otherwise black muzzle.

“Ah, creaky bones, huh,” I said, understanding why he hadn’t gotten up to greet me. And I probably smelled enough of Henry—and there was a thought that made me go hot under the collar—I wasn’t perceived as a threat.

After petting the dog’s ears for a while, I stood and went back into the kitchen, the warmth of the fire quickly fading at my back.

Behind the table, a pair of French doors with soft green curtains led outside. I pulled one of the curtains back and gasped. There was nothing out there but pristine snow, lying at least two feet high against the glass. The world looked completely still, snow turning gray in the dawning light. The branch we’d heard last night hadn’t come down in Henry’s yard, or if it had, it was now buried underneath a thick layer of snow.

Cold pressed through the door, and I let the curtain fall. As it swayed, it revealed two light switches. I tried both of them, but nothing turned on.

Some snooping in the cabinets revealed enough ingredients to make strawberry and custard stuffed French toast, so when I found a box of matches and managed to bring Henry’s gas stove to life, I set to work.

By the time I was decorating two plates with strawberries, the dog was snoring loudly. I tiptoed over and added another log to the fire before going upstairs, where Henry stirred underneath the covers.

“Sorry,” he mumbled around a jaw-cracking yawn. “I don’t get to sleep in very often.”

“Don’t be. You could’ve warned me about the giant wolf in your living room, though. I put a few logs on the fire for him. It’s still ridiculously cold in the house. And there’s about six feet of snow outside.”

Henry’s look told me exactly how much of that he believed. “Pat’s an Irish wolfhound, not a wolf, and I’m confident even you could outrun him if necessary.”

“That’s reassuring. I wouldn’t have minded sleeping on the couch, you know.”

Henry laughed. “Oh, you would’ve.” I gave him a questioning look. “Old-dog farts,” he explained and I wrinkled my nose.

When Henry sat up, I couldn’t help glancing at the tensing muscles of his stomach. Embarrassed, I looked away and crept back into the warmth of the bed. Looking like the cold didn’t bother him, he got up and began to breathe life back into the fire.

“So what’s all this?” he asked when he’d crawled into the bed beside me, propping himself up with pillows against the headboard. The plates of French toast stood steaming on the white comforter.

“Just something I whipped together in that orgasmic kitchen of yours.”

“Ah, yeah. I might have gone a bit overboard, but I like to cook.”

“No,” I drew out the word and laced it with as much sarcasm as I could. “Really?” I snorted when Henry thumped my arm. “Hey, injured man here.”

“I’ll show you injured.” Henry dipped his fork in the toast. “Oh my God,” he said around a mouthful. “This is amazing.” His face transformed so completely, I laughed.

To hide how pleased I was I complained, “What’s with the surprise? Seriously. I own
two bakeries
.” Henry didn’t reply, just inhaled his food while making delicious noises. In one of those weird moments of clarity, I marveled at sitting here tucked in bed, side by side with my childhood friend, eating breakfast. Bruises aside, it’d been a long time since I’d felt so relaxed. And aroused, if I had to be completely honest. Henry radiating heat while moaning around his toast was stirring my blood in all sorts of inconvenient ways. Twice now, I was dealing with a hard-on in my friend’s bed; I had to get a grip. Oh God, that thought nearly had me groaning out loud.

“So what are the plans today?” I took Henry’s empty plate, put it on top of mine, and placed them on the bedside table. Henry snuggled underneath the covers again, and I did the same. Getting up was out of the question for now anyway, or so I told myself. “Apart from digging ourselves out and probably all the way into town, there’s not much we can do, I’m guessing.”

“I need to call Susie and ask her if she can be on call for any emergencies. She lives close by the clinic.”

“Is that Susie Franklin?”

“Yep.” Henry’s grin was wicked, and I suddenly remembered why she’d hit me.

“She punched me in the face because I called her a girl when we were twelve.”

“She punched you in the face because you called her a girl like it was an insult.”

“True.” I’d learned my lesson. “So, say she’s good with being on call…. What happens? Are we going to starve to death?” I’d seen Henry’s pantry so I knew we wouldn’t, but I liked the light atmosphere and wanted to keep it going.

“We should be okay. I made chicken soup the other day.”

“For the soul?”

“And other body parts. Besides, it looks like the storm is over so the roads will be cleared by the afternoon.” Henry blinked, like he’d just realized we’d been holding eye contact for a long time. His hand lay between us on the covers, fingers outstretched in my direction. Nice hands, Henry had: big, with long, elegant fingers and a broad palm. His hand twitched, like he knew what I was thinking, and Henry cleared his throat. He rolled onto his back with a rustle of fabric, the mattress bouncing lightly. “Listen, these power outages can last a few days. You should stay here until it’s warm again.”

“Henry, you really don’t have to—”

Henry faced me again with this intense look in his eyes I couldn’t place at all. “Why do you have such difficulty accepting help?” He looked genuinely curious, but there was a hint of anger in the set of his mouth I didn’t understand.

“I—” It wasn’t that I had difficulty accepting help—I didn’t think so anyway—it was more that I’d been used to fending for myself since I was nineteen years old. Why did Henry care so much, anyway? “I don’t want to inconvenience you,” I finished lamely.

“Jesus.” Henry rubbed a tired hand over his face, and I realized this was the second interrupted night of sleep for him in a row, too. “It’s not an inconvenience. I’ve wondered about you over the years, and it’s lovely to see you. Although I’d have preferred to see you less bruised.” His gaze roamed my face, and his fingers twitched again. For a wild moment, I thought he was going to touch me, and I was disappointed when he didn’t. “If my spare room wasn’t filled with boxes, I’d have asked you to stay here in a heartbeat. You were in a car accident. You—” He swallowed. “You were barely breathing when I found you.” There was a faint tremor in his voice, like it was a painful thing to recall. It couldn’t have been a pleasant experience. “I thought—” He shook his head, unwilling to share with me what he’d thought. “You need time to recuperate, and you can’t do that in a cold apartment where there’s not even any food.”

My first instinct was to protest again, but Henry glared at me as if he knew. “Okay,” I forced out. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said deliberately. We fell into a silence that was in danger of becoming awkward, so I closed my eyes, and yet I was unable to shake the feeling Henry was watching me.