Zero at the Bone (27 page)

“Sorry. Heard ya wake up.”

“I’m okay.”

“Yer heart’s beatin’ fast.”

“What, do you have mutant hearing now?”

“I can see the pulse in yer throat, dumbass.”

“It’s nothing. Bad dream.”

“Mmm.” D fell silent, but Jack knew he wasn’t going back to sleep. Jack felt D’s hand touch his shoulder, lightly. “C’mere,” D said, the word barely a puff of air. Jack turned over and was drawn into D’s arms. He sighed and relaxed a little. “Better?”

“Yeah.” He stayed where he was for a few moments, the steady thump of D’s heart in his ear, D’s hand on the back of his head. “I’m scared,” he finally whispered.

“I know.”

“I keep telling myself everything’s okay, and I should be brave—”

“Bein’ brave don’t mean not bein’ scared. And we don’t know if everythin’s okay.”

“Gee, that’s a comfort.”

“I ain’t got much comfort ta give.”

Jack burrowed closer to him, sliding his arm around D’s waist beneath the sheets.

“Feels like enough to me.”

“You got good reason ta be scared,” D murmured.

Jack sighed. “You aren’t scared, though. It’s embarrassing.”

“Who says I’m not?” Jack could feel D looking down at him.

“Well… you never act like it.”

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“I wouldn’ta got far in my business if I wore it on my face.” His arm settled around Jack’s shoulders. “I ain’t scared fer myself. Haven’t been in a long time. Now, I’m jus’….” He hesitated.

Jack lifted his head and looked at him. “What?” D met his eyes, then looked away quickly. “I’m scared I won’t be ready if they come fer you. I won’t be fast enough, or smart enough.” He shrugged and harrumphed.

“Scared I won’t be able ta protect you.”

Jack didn’t know what to say to that. He let his head rest on D’s chest again. They didn’t speak for a long time.

“What were you like as a kid?” Jack finally asked.

“Huh?”

“What did you like to do?”

“Hell, I dunno. Was like any other kid, I guess.”

“No, I want to know.”

“Know what?”

“Anything. Whatever.”

D sighed, exasperated. “What’s this about, huh?”

“D, I sleep with you every night and I hardly know anything about you.”

“What I did as a kid ain’t gonna tell ya the important stuff.”

“The unimportant stuff’s what I want to know, though. What was your favorite kind of candy?”

“Hmm. Hafta think about that.”

“I used to love Pixie sticks.”

D chuckled. “Paper tubes a delicious straight sugar, huh?”

“That’s the stuff, man.”

“My grandma always had chocolate-covered cherries,” D said, his tone curled at the edges, like he’d surprised himself with the memory. Jack slid up a little so he could watch D’s face. “Usedta love them things. The way they’d kinda bust open when ya bit ’em, and that syrupy stuff inside, then the cherry. I’d bite off one side a the shell real careful-like, so none a the syrup spilled, then suck all the gooey out, then fish out the cherry with my tongue, then I’d just have the chocolate shell left and I’d nibble on it ’til it was gone.

She’d only let me have one or two so I hadta make ’em last.” He glanced at Jack, who was just staring at him, his mouth open. “What?”

“That is the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard.”

D flushed and fidgeted. “Aw, hell.”

“Seriously. Ask me how much I want to go get some chocolate-covered cherries right now just so I can watch you eat them.”

“Shut the fuck up,” D said, but Jack could tell he was a little pleased. D always got uncomfortable when Jack told him he was sexy, or commented on his appearance.

“Hey, you’re the one who had to say it all sexified like that.”

“My arm’s goin’ ta sleep,” D said, changing the subject.

Jack rolled away onto his back and held out his arm. D just looked at him. “Well?

Come here.”

“I don’t, uh… umm—”

“What, you’re too macho to be cradled in my manly embrace?”

“Ya gotta say it like that, huh? Goddamn, you ’n’ yer smartass comments.” Zero at the Bone | 121

“The fact that I get snarky when I’m uncertain should no longer surprise you. Get over here. We’re having intimate bed conversation and I won’t do it with a foot of mattress between us.”

“Shit, yer gettin’ bossy.” D slid over and turned into Jack’s side, letting Jack embrace him. His protestations notwithstanding, the tension seemed to gradually leach from his body the longer he laid there, his arm draped across Jack’s midsection.

“See? This isn’t so bad.”

D shook his head a little. “Nah. Feels… kinda nice.” He sighed.

“Tell me about the house where you grew up.”

“You writin’ a biography?”

“Well, it’d be one worth reading.”

“Doubt that.” D shifted a little; Jack rested his cheek against the top of his head, not speaking, trying to be a sponge, a quiet receiver for whatever had to be said. “Had a treehouse out back.”

“Yeah?” Jack said, smiling.

“My dad built it when I was a kid. Big old tree in the back, with the ladder-rungs nailed ta the trunk, the whole works. Spent a lotta time up there.”

“You were probably one of those loner kids, weren’t you?”

“And I bet you were the most popular kid on the block.”

“Where was your secret place?”

“How d’ya know I had one?” D asked, lifting his head to look at Jack, one eyebrow arched.

“You did.”

D shrugged and laid back down. “Was an abandoned farm ’bout a mile down the road from us. Usedta go up ta the hayloft. Smelled like summer all the time.” He hesitated. His hand had begun moving slowly back and forth across Jack’s chest all by itself; when he spoke again, his voice was hushed. “Usedta go there ’n’ pretend I was the last survivor. Last man on Earth. Hadta build my own shelter, forage fer food, kill wild game with jus’ my wits ’n’ whatever I found lyin’ about.” D went on, his voice going from hushed to choked. “One day I been out there fer hours ’n’ hours. Pretendin’ ta hunt. I caught a rabbit ’n’ killed it.” Jack stayed very still and quiet, resisting the urge to fidget or speak. “I didn’t know,” D said. “Didn’t know what it meant. Thought it’d be like a game, but… couldn’t take it back. Sat there with that bunny, blood comin’ outta its mouth, held it on my lap… weren’t no game. Was for keeps.” He sighed. “I buried it. Cryin’ like a goddamn girl. Went home, thought everybody’d see it on my face, what I done. But no one saw nothin’. Was like any other day. Went back the next day ta see if maybe I dreamed it, but no; bunny still dead.” Jack felt tears rising to his eyes. He pressed his lips to the top of D’s head and drew him closer. He waited.

“Jack, I… I dunno how—”

“It’s okay. Take your time.”

“I gotta tell ya….” He trailed off again.

“I know.”

“Don’t… don’t let go a me.” This last was so quiet as to almost be inaudible.

“I won’t. Not ever.”

D took a deep breath and let it out. “Got married ’cause she was pregnant. Dunno why I got her that way. Jus’ was what ya did. Went inta the Army. Maybe it lasted long as it did ’cause I was gone so much. Love my little girl. So sweet, she was. Firs’ time she 122 | Jane Seville

call me ‘Daddy’ jus’ thought I’d melt away. So smart, and jus’ lovin’, wanted ta love on everbody, me mos’ of all. Real Daddy’s girl, she was. I tried ta be good ta her mamma, but… well, guess you know why she ain’t never done it fer me. ’Fore too long we had nothin’ ta say ta each other. I weren’t no kinda husband to her, so she left me.

“She hadta support her ’n’ Jill, a course. I sent her money but weren’t enough.

We’d been livin’ in North Carolina—she moved away with Jill while I was still at Fort Bragg. She’d got a real good job workin’ fer the Social Security Administration. Had her a cousin there got her an interview. So she hadta go where the office was. Fifth floor a the Murrah Federal Buildin’ in Oklahoma City.”

Jack sucked in a breath, his arms tightening around D reflexively. “Oh, my God.”

“She was workin’. Jill down in the day care.”

“Oh, Jesus, D.”

D’s voice was flat and uninflected. “The bombin’ killed ’em both. I saw it on the news ’n’ I knew right then my little girl was dead. Knew that was her mamma’s buildin’.

They kept tellin’ me ta have some hope, might not a got her, might be okay, but I knew.

And it couldn’t be took back, ’cause I put her in that buildin’. If I’d been there for her ’n’

her mamma, they wouldn’ta hadta move there. That happened, was like all the lights went out inside. Just waited ’round for the next thing. Buried my little girl ’n’ her mamma, went back ta work only ta find out that it was some crazy Army guy done this.

One a my own, fer fuck’s sake. Made it even worse, somehow. Was a lotta talk goin’

’round that he had friends still in the service. Militant motherfuckers lookin’ ta take us all down from the inside. ’Bout a year after the bombin’ one a the higher-ups come ta me ’n’

said he’d heard I was a man could get things done. Said they’d found out some major’d helped that asshole get his materials ’n’ plan the bombin’. Wanted it taken care of, off the books if ya know what I mean, asked if I’d do it. Didn’t even hesitate, said okay. I went and took care of it. Next day resigned my commission, and went out lookin’ for the next one.”

He fell silent. Jack’s mind was reeling. It was almost too much to take. He had so often wondered how D had gotten into his line of work. To find that he’d been driven by grief and misplaced vengeance was both strange and oddly fitting. D was not a man controlled by his emotions. At least he wasn’t now.

“I ain’t never told that ta nobody,” D said, sounding hollow.

“I’m so sorry, D. You’ve had so much tragedy in your life.”

“Guess.”

“But… what happened to your wife and daughter, it wasn’t your fault.” D snorted. “The hell it wasn’t. If we’d stayed married—”

“But she left you, right?”

“Drove her off.”

“You couldn’t have known.”

“Don’t matter.” He abruptly pulled away and sat up. “Jesus, listen ta me go on. Yer probly tired.”

“I’m fine. I—”

“I’m gonna go take a walk or somethin’.”

“It’s three a.m.!”

“I’m restless. Be okay.”

“But—”

“Jack, I said I’m okay.” He tried to slide away but Jack grabbed his arm and held him back.

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“No, you’re not. It’s all right not to be.” D looked back at him, blinking. “I said I wasn’t letting go of you, and I’m not going to.” D dropped his eyes and stared at the bedsheets. Jack sat up and put his hand on D’s face, making him meet Jack’s eyes.

“You’re not the last man on Earth. Not now.”

D stared at him, his eyes misting over. Two tears spilled over his lids and slid down his cheek. Jack wiped them away with his thumbs and leaned forward until their foreheads were pressed together. He could hear D’s ragged breathing; he felt another solitary tear drip onto his leg. How long had it been since this man had allowed himself an emotional release? How far could he really expect him to come back in one night?

Suddenly D drew back and grasped Jack’s face in his hands, an intent expression in his wet eyes. “Why?” he demanded. “Why’s it like this with us?” Jack struggled for a good answer but came up blank. “I… I don’t know.” D nodded. “Good. Me, neither.” He sighed. “Ain’t never been nobody like this fer me, never.”

Jack smiled, a little shaky, and lifted his hands to D’s face. “Me, neither.” He leaned closer, his eyes flicking to D’s, waiting for him to draw back as he had always done.

He didn’t.

The first touch was tentative, careful. The ghost of D’s lips beneath his own, not moving, still as a statue. He brushed his mouth over D’s again, waiting for a response, feeling D’s breath. He drew back and met his eyes, questioning. D’s eyes dropped to his mouth, his hands drew Jack’s face forward and this time, he didn’t hesitate.

KISSING Jack wasn’t what he’d expected. Not letting himself do it for this long now seemed kind of stupid… or a lot stupid. What had he been afraid of? Too intimate, too romantic, too… just too. Sex was okay, even sucking dick was okay. That was to get off.

Kissing, though… that you did only because you had something to say that words didn’t quite do it for. That meant feelings and messiness.

Messiness came in more forms than just kissing, though. He’d just unloaded a whole pile of messiness, hardly able to believe he was doing it even as he heard the words coming out of his mouth. All of it. Sharon, Jill, his first job, all of it tumbled out.

That vault door was standing wide open now, all its secrets disgorged and seeing air for the first time in forever. And he’d opened it willingly. He’d turned the lock and taken out his most closely guarded truths and placed them in Jack’s hands, because he trusted him.

It was a strange feeling. He was the one who was supposed to be doing all the protecting, but the truth was that Jack made
him
feel safe.

At the moment, Jack was making him feel something else entirely. His lips were soft and full, his body was warm and firm in D’s arms and it was right, so goddamned right. He ran his tongue across Jack’s lips and they opened to him without hesitation. He plunged his hands into Jack’s hair and dove into him, restraint leaving without a backward glance, Jack’s hands grasping at his back and shoulders, pushing his tongue into D’s mouth. D drew back to kiss his lips some more, Jack’s stubble rough against his cheeks and chin, soft little noises coming from Jack or from himself or from both of them, he couldn’t tell; he just knew they were sitting on this bed, half in each other’s laps, making out like horny teenagers in the backseat of Daddy’s car.

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Jack pulled away, holding D’s head in his hands. “What?” D said, wanting nothing more than to be kissing those lips again.

Jack grinned, his eyes glimmering in the fading moonlight. “Just… I don’t know.

You.”

“C’mere.” D pulled him close, his hands sliding down his back to cup his ass, and kissed him again. “This kissin’ stuff’s workin’ real good fer me.” Jack chuckled against his mouth, one hand sliding between D’s legs. “Hmm, I can tell,” he said. “Better make up fer lost time.”