Blackbird Knitting in a Bunny's Lair (4 page)

But he didn’t do that to his Jeremy, and Jeremy would always be grateful to his boy. Instead, Aiden took Jeremy’s knuckles to his lips and kissed them. “No, Jer. You’re not. I think you proved that already.”

“Saved my gay ass!” Stanley piped up, and Jeremy met his eyes and realized he was worried. About Jeremy, who was a common laborer as far as Stanley knew. Stanley was right to be
grateful
,
but he didn’t have to be
worried.

“Id a goo’ add,” he reassured, and Aiden’s laugh at his side let him know that of all things, that was
not
what Stanley had been worried about.

“Nice of you to say so,” Stanley said, smiling sweetly, and Jeremy closed his eyes so he’d have enough energy to let his lips quirk up. His ribs ached, and his shoulder, and he was pretty sure there was more slicing and dicing in his future, but right now, his friends and his boyfriend were being really nice to him, and he knew enough about life not to take that for granted.

Of course, it didn’t stop him from falling immediately asleep, either.

A
IDEN
R
HODES
passed his community college classes that semester mostly because his professors knew him, and knew Jeremy, and figured that As were not going to turn into Fs just because Aiden missed the finals.

Aiden couldn’t have given a ripe shit.

Jeremy was in the hospital.
Jeremy
was in the hospital.

His mother, Susan, wanted him to come back home until Jeremy came home from the hospital. She was waiting in Jeremy’s apartment when Aiden had first gotten back from Boulder, about three days after Jeremy proved he’d lost his rabbit card by forgetting how to run.

“There’s a whole lot of chocolate milk here that’s going to go to waste if someone doesn’t drink it,” she said as he entered the tiny space. Aiden didn’t even startle. She was his
mother.
She’d known pretty much from the moment Aiden had met Jeremy that her son was
not
going to marry a nice girl and settle down. All she’d hoped for, really, was that Jeremy would prove to be more dependable than the dumb boy who’d been grabbing Aiden’s ass all through high school, and once Aiden started telling her about the brave, troubled heart in Craw’s new worker, she’d pretty much conceded the inevitable.

The fact that Aiden had scarcely been eighteen when he and Jeremy met hadn’t fazed Aiden
or
his mother. And sure enough, Jeremy had eventually grown up enough for Aiden to make his move.

“Bring it home to the kids,” Aiden said, thinking his little brothers and sisters would be thrilled. His mom bought them the poor-rent version of Nesquik, and they were
always
grateful for the stuff that Jeremy bought, which came by the gallon. Besides premium yarn, it was one of the few real luxuries Jeremy had.

“You said he was going to be fine,” his mother said. She did not snuggle into his arms—not because she was a cold woman but because Aiden had been telling her he didn’t need kid stuff since he was eight years old, and she respected his boundaries.

“Yeah,” Aiden said heavily. Without warning, he sagged into one of the kitchen chairs, so tired from the hospital and the questioning and the thing the questioning was for. “They say he’s going to be okay. It’s going to be hard, but—” He jerked his head, trying to stay awake. “He didn’t look okay,” Aiden mumbled, because Jeremy had been swathed in bandages and unconscious. But that wasn’t even what Aiden was thinking about. Suddenly, nakedly, the entire night flashed before his eyes:

Running up the hill to see Jeremy, bloody and half-conscious, kneeling in front of a mobster with a gun.

Aiden couldn’t even remember firing the shot that killed Michael Carelli, psychopathic douche bag, but he must have fired it.

He must have fired it because Jeremy wasn’t dead, and Mikey had been the one holding the gun to Jeremy’s head.

“I killed someone,” he said, right out of the stark blue. He stared through the crocheted valances Ariadne had made for Jeremy right after he’d moved in. They were dusty—they could probably go for some washing and a freshener on the starching. Beyond the valances was the clear blue of the sky and the endless mountain horizon of white. The Rocky Mountains were fairly merciless this time of year—he and Craw would be utilizing the little mail plane to go back and forth from Boulder, because the roads were crap.

And he’d killed someone.

“I know,” his mom said quietly, moving closer into him, dangerously into “little-kid space,” as he used to call it when he’d first exiled her from cuddle time in front of the television.

“I’d kill him again,” Aiden said, keeping his chin hard and his gaze flat, just like he had when he’d gotten into a fight after he’d come out at school.
I’m suspended. I hit a kid for calling me a fag. I’d hit him again.
His mom had never questioned his judgment in those matters either.
Fine, Aiden. Do your sister’s chores tomorrow, since she’ll be rounding everyone up for school.
And that had been that—the extent of his punishment. His parents had known, even then, that he only did things he thought of as necessary, and his judgment was usually sound.

“He needed killing, son,” his mom said, her voice as reasonable as his. “Do you think your father wouldn’t have killed a man who held a gun to
my
head?”

Aiden nodded. “Right,” he said, and suddenly, oh, suddenly, he wanted Jeremy so badly. Jeremy wouldn’t even debate. Jeremy would
thank
him, and Aiden could be honest.
I was scared, Jer. I was scared, and I’d do it again in a heartbeat, but does that mean something’s wrong with me?

And even though he could hear Jeremy’s answer—
No, nothing’s wrong with you. You got some dark colors in you, boy. You’re fierce, which is good, ’cause you’re gentle enough to tame a rabbit but fierce enough to keep him safe—
Aiden just wanted to hold him, so he’d have tangible proof that the gouge from his soul was going to heal over and that the missing gobbet did not make him less of a person.

“I know he did,” Aiden answered his mom. “I’d do it again. I wish I’d done it sooner.” He closed his eyes against the vision of Jeremy, battered beyond recognition, begging for forgiveness in his arms. “If I’d known what he’d grow up to be, I would have snuck into that man’s cradle and wasted him in cold blood.”

His mother gasped, and Aiden wasn’t sure what was in his eyes when he turned them upward to meet hers. Something—something frightening, because she put her hand over her mouth. But something sad too, because after that initial recoil, she stepped forward past his “little boy cuddling space,” and then forward again until she could pluck worn fingers restlessly through his hair. He took it for what it was—comfort—and leaned against his mother’s middle for a moment.

“Mom,” he said, keeping his voice from cracking with everything in him, “I said I’d keep him safe.”

“You saved his life.”

“But I didn’t keep him safe. And now… what if he’s afraid of me?”

His mother’s fingers kept up that restless, comforting movement like he hadn’t just shown his naked heart to her. But then, she’d known him as a baby—maybe she just took it as her due.

“Was he worth killing for?” she asked bluntly.

Oh God. “Yes,” he whispered, closing his eyes. “He’s a good man, Mom. He’s one of the best.”

“Then he’ll be worth gentling again.”

He kept his eyes closed, squinting so tightly against what he knew was coming, it almost made them come faster.

His mom just held him like that, though, and didn’t wipe his face or even acknowledge the tears.

Aiden would do anything for his mom.

“You coming home until he gets back?” she asked when his breaths were forced and even again.

Except that.

“No,” he said. “Ben’s got a friend in Boulder, gonna let me and Craw take turns in the guest room. Once he’s out of the woods for a while, we’ll get back to the mill.”

“But, Aiden—” His mom backed up, taking her warmth and comfort with her. “Craw’s got a business to run, and he’s two men down!”

“Yeah, but Ben and Rory are pitching in,” Aiden said, looking away. It would be rough—they knew it. Even if they were hitching a ride with the mail plane, it was still an expense. “I’m tapping my college money to help—”

“
Aiden—
”

Aiden turned back to her, the same implacable fierceness in his body that he’d felt when he’d first walked into this very apartment, hell-bent on seducing Jeremy, because Jeremy’s rabbit had finally stopped twitching to run. “This is for
Jeremy
,” he said without flinching. “If this was my girlfriend, my wife, would you tell me not to?”

His mother closed her eyes. “No. But he’s a grown man—”

“We’re using his money to put a down payment on Ben’s house,” Aiden said, and his mother’s eyes popped right open.

“You’re buying a house?”

Aiden nodded, and his bones felt tired. “We have to,” he said. “He’ll heal, Mom. He’ll heal, and his bones will mend, and they’ll stitch up his face and he’ll remember pain—and he’ll run.”

“But Aiden—are you sure this is the man you want to spend the rest of your….” She sighed.

He was glaring at her with the same look he’d used to insist that he didn’t want to go out of state for college.

“Aiden,” she said, and there was pleading in her voice, “hon, you were just a baby when you met. Do you think—”

“I was eighteen,” he said, even though she knew this, just like Craw. Hell, twenty girls from his senior class already had babies by now, and nobody asked them if
they
knew what they were doing. “Yeah, Mom. It’s been three years. And I love him.” For the first time since he’d cried over Jeremy’s bed, listening to his broken syllables, his confusion, Aiden felt his voice breaking. “I love him. For life. Like a wolf or an eagle or a whale. It’s not going away.”

His mom made a hurt sound. “Son,” she said helplessly, and Aiden grunted.

“Mom?” He looked at her levelly, without blinking, his chest moving in and out like he was readying for a battle.

She shook her head. “Never mind. You get some sleep, okay? I’ll take most of the milk home—”

“Leave me some bread, some meat, some instant oatmeal,” he said, nodding. “I’m leaving tomorrow afternoon again. Jeremy’s going down for another surgery the day after tomorrow. I promised I’d be there.”

She pulled in a harsh breath through her nose. “We want life to be easier for our children,” she said, voice soft. “Every baby’s a new start. Son, I had so many plans for you—”

He opened his mouth to say it, but she held out her hand.

“I know. I know. You just always had plans of your own. I’ll be by tomorrow afternoon—your gran and I will make a basket for Jeremy. Is there anything he’d want?”

Aiden closed his eyes, thought of the safe full of mittens. He’d be going through it, pulling out the ones he thought were Jeremy’s favorites. It was cold in the hospital.

“Homemade,” he said after a minute. “I’m bringing him all the knitted throws. He’s going to be there for a while.”

His mom’s face grew, if anything, paler. “There’s not enough wool in the world—”

“Bull,” he said shortly. If anyone on the planet believed in the magic of wool, it was that rabbit of a man.

His mom risked a peck on his cheek and he returned it with a hug. She grabbed the two gallons of chocolate milk from the fridge, and he stood and saw her to the door. When the door closed, the apartment echoed, empty like a cardboard box, and he wandered dispiritedly.

He found the thick throw that Craw had made Jeremy his first Christmas in an apartment of his own. He also found the lighter alpaca blanket, a lace spread that somehow still managed to look masculine because the yarn was brown.

He took both of them to the bed he and Jeremy had shared for a handful of weeks, kicked off his shoes, shucked his jacket and pants, and laid them both on the chair by the bed. Then he crawled into the bed and buried his face in the pillow Jeremy had slept on four days before.

The light was thin, edged like a knife, and it cut through the dark in the room with a blade of snow. Aiden propped his head on his hand and watched Jeremy sleep for a moment. He looked so peaceful, eyes closed, mouth for once still.

Those brown eyes opened, and Jeremy’s strong, wiry body suddenly vibrated with the urge to flee.

“Sh,” Aiden murmured, putting a hand on Jeremy’s hip and scooting closer to make their furry, warm spot under the covers even more intimate. He reached up and brushed the brown hair out of Jeremy’s eyes, not even thinking about Jeremy needing a haircut. Aiden liked it long.

“Don’t we gotta
—
”

“Yeah, in a few. But right now, just kiss me, gentle like.”

Jeremy’s smile grew wider, and every time he did that, Aiden was reminded of the childhood he hadn’t had.

“I’ll kiss you any way you like,” Jeremy said, and his sleepy morning smile grew bolder.

“Will you kiss me at my mother’s house?” Aiden asked sternly, and Jeremy’s smile faded.

But the resolve in his brown eyes didn’t.

“I promised,” he said. “I meant it. I’m done with running.”

Aiden sighed into the pillow and burrowed deeper, wondering if he could smell the kiss they’d shared next, the sleepy lovemaking, Jeremy’s quiet groan of climax as he’d spilled in Aiden’s fist.

“Oh, Jeremy—you couldn’t have remembered how to run?”

Of course, if Jeremy had run, Stanley would have died—no two ways about it. And Jeremy would have had to live with that on his head.

But that didn’t stop the simmering anger, the helplessness, so much of it aimed at Jeremy himself.

“Just this once, you couldn’t have remembered how to be a rabbit after all?”

Aiden’s bunny wasn’t so helpless, was he? Would he still be comfortable in his own fur when they brought him home?