Guarding January (27 page)

“I’m
trying
to be nice.” Rye’s lips touched his for a moment.

Jeff rubbed their noses together. “I wish….”

“What do you wish, baby?”

“That this could be our life.”

“It is our life, Jeff.”

“No. No, I mean, our real life.”

“Well, why can’t it be?”

“Because we’re just doing it for now.” Right? This wasn’t theirs—this peace, this house, this life.

“Our life can be anything we want it to be, Jeff. And we’re going to get married and be together for always. We’ll always have this.” Rye held on to him and pulled him close.

Jeff held on, wanted to believe it.

“I’m not going anywhere, baby. Not ever.”

“Not ever?”

“Not ever.” Rye kissed him, like he was sealing the vow.

Jeff held on, happier than he’d ever been. Ever. He hoped, if he held on tight enough, he’d get to keep it.

T
HE
POWER
was off for over a day, but they survived it just fine, and Rye had to chuckle at Jeff’s cheer when everything came back up again.

They plugged their phones in, Jeff’s beeping immediately to let him know he had voice messages. Jeff listened, taking notes on his laptop, and then suddenly Jeff stopped, put his phone down, and headed to the bathroom.

That was strange.

Frowning, Rye followed him and knocked on the door. “Baby?” The water started, and he thought he heard crying. “I’m coming in, Jeff.” He opened the door and went in, worry like an electrical wire.

Jeff was on the bottom of the tub, curled up, sobbing.

He climbed right in, not even bothering to take off his clothes, and picked his lover up. “What happened?”

“He’s gone. He’s gone, and I missed it.”

“Baby, who—oh. Roach?” He squeezed Jeff tight.

Jeff sobbed, just cried like his heart was broken.

Rye didn’t know what to say except “I’m sorry,” and he said it again and again, whispering it into Jeff’s skin.

“He was a good guy. He made me famous, taught me about music.”

“I know, baby. It sucks that he’s gone.”

“I should have been there.”

“Was he awake at all? At the end?” Rye asked, keeping his voice gentle.

“No. No, Donna said he just slipped away. Two days ago.”

“Then it wouldn’t have made a difference if you were there.”

Two days. When the power had gone out.

“No, but still….” Those red eyes stared at him. “My head hurts.”

“I bet it does. Your heart too, eh?” He stroked Jeff’s cheeks, knowing his lover had to go through this. Much as he wanted to—and man, did he want to—he couldn’t take this for Jeff.

“Uh-huh. Everything. You have your clothes on.”

“Yeah, well, you’re more important to me than them.”

“Still, you’ve got to be uncomfortable, and I need aspirin.”

“Yeah, yeah. Be all logical and shit.” Rye turned the water off and started stripping out of his admittedly disgusting clothes.

Jeff handed him a towel and wrapped one around himself, heading for the big bed.

He grabbed the aspirin from the cabinet over the sink and followed Jeff out. “Hey, let’s go sit down by the fire.” No more hiding in bed.

“I want to lie down.”

“We can curl together on the couch.”

“You don’t like the bed?” Jeff pulled on a huge sweater and a pair of pants.

“I don’t like you hiding in it.”

“I….” Jeff stared at him.

Rye opened his arms. “Come here.”

Jeff ran to him immediately. After picking Jeff up, Rye headed downstairs. Jeff’s face was in his throat, breath warm and soft. He put Jeff down on the couch and turned to light the fire. Jeff pulled all the blankets around, making them a nest.

He settled in with his lover, tugging Jeff close. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“He was…. He found me. He invented LJ.”

“He was your friend.” Even if Rye thought being LJ was the worst idea ever. “It’s good to mourn, natural.”

“What is going to happen now? The band is going to be nothing.”

“It’s time to let the band go, baby.” It was selfish of him to be glad about that, he knew it.

Jeff began to cry again, tears sliding down the lean cheeks. Rye let him cry, holding his baby and stroking his hand along Jeff’s back. The tears came and went, then returned, and they stayed together.

“I have you,” Rye whispered, holding on.

“I don’t want to be a performer anymore, Rye. I’m so tired.”

“Then don’t, baby.” He knew Jeff didn’t believe it yet, but it really was that easy.

“Okay.” Jeff’s eyes closed. “My head hurts so bad.”

He fished the bottle of aspirin out of his pants pocket and handed two over. They’d forgotten them earlier. Jeff took them dry, making Rye wince. Gross.

Rye tugged Jeff close again, kissed the top of his head. “You don’t have to perform anymore, baby, honestly. You’re an amazing songwriter.”

Jeff pulled the blankets around them tighter.

“You can mourn, but I’m not letting you hide from our life together.”

“I just want to be here with you.”

“That works for me, baby.”

“Good. Can… can there be soup later?”

“I’ve got tomatoes, so yes, there can be. I can even do grilled cheese sandwiches.” He would do anything for Jeff. Absolutely anything.

“Later. Just soup.”

“Anything you want.”

“Soup. You. Holding. I hurt.”

“I know. I won’t let you hurt alone, though.”

“Do you think Roach cared about me? And Jim? Did they like me?”

“Yeah, I do think so. I think that’s why he didn’t tell you about the cancer—he didn’t want you to worry about him. And Jim… the man was your sponsor, of course he liked you. You can’t have that kind of relationship if you don’t like a person.” Rye knew how hard it was for someone who was a celebrity to have true friends. It had been especially hard for Jeff because of the persona LJ had been.

“I swear, you’d better not die on me. Not for years and years and years, and then we’ll go together, at the very same second.”

Rye nodded. “That works for me, baby.” He held Jeff tight—he wasn’t going to let anything get his baby, ever.

“Cool.” Jeff sighed. “Good.”

“Do you need to call Donna?”

“Probably, but I don’t want to, not yet.”

“Okay. Are we going to the funeral?”

“There’s not going to be one. He didn’t want one.”

“Okay.” Did it make him awful that he was glad about that?

“I don’t want to go anyway. He’s dead.”

“Yeah.” Rye squeezed Jeff tight, wishing he had some magic thing to say to make it all better. Jeff cuddled in, held on. Maybe he was, just by being here. Which he always would be, so they were good.

J
EFF
CALLED
Donna, pacing and watching the snow fall.

“LJ. How are you?”

“I quit. I’m going to write. Just write. I want to sell the big house, and I want this one. I want my life here.”

“Okay.”

He blinked. “Okay?”

“Well, honey, if you take away the costs of running the LJ empire, you’re actually making more writing.”

“Okay. You’ll still be—” His friend. His manager. His soul. “—Donna?”

“As long as you don’t expect me to come see you when it’s snowing.”

“No. No, you have to take a snowmobile out to the main road.” It was amazing.

“Seriously? And you’re choosing to live there?” Donna didn’t get it. At all. She was an LA lady, through and through.

“Uh-huh. It’s—” Real. It was a real place where he was just Jeff, just a guy. “—a good place.”

“And you’re happy, honey?”

“Yes. I need this—the quiet, the solitude.” Rye. He needed Rye.

“As long as you’re happy and doing what you want, I’m on board. You still with the giant?”

“He asked me to marry him.”

A sharp gasp came down the line. “Oh, honey, I’m so happy for you. Unless you said no, in which case he’s fired.”

“We’re ordering rings. Gold and silver together.”

“Congratulations. Really.”

Jeff grinned. “It’s like a new life, Donna. Like a new start.”

“That’s great, L—” Donna cut herself off, chuckling softly. “So what do you want me to call you now?”

“Jeff. I’d like to just be plain old Jeff Smart, please.”

“You got it, Jeff.” It sounded right, hearing Donna call him that. Call him by his real name.

“Can you help with the house and stuff? All the details?”

“Of course, I can. You leave it in my hands. Once it’s sold, you want to buy the place you’re renting now?”

“I do. We do. It’s amazing. Even if there’s enough snow you have to use a snowmobile!”

Donna snickered, then sobered again. “You want me to let everyone know you won’t be using their services anymore? Like Janie?”

“I… I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

“Honey, it’s the nature of the beast. One day you’re the driver of the biggest star out there, the next day you’re doing airport runs for rich kids. No one is going to blame you for not being LJ anymore. Especially under the circumstances.”

“I just—” Being Lord January was going to kill him.

“You just what, honey? The only person who you have a responsibility to is yourself.”

“I still…. They’re good people. I can’t do it anymore.”

“And you don’t have to.” Donna sighed. “Honey, go tell your man what you’re feeling. He’ll help.”

“I love you.” It seemed important to say that these days.

“I love you too, Jeff.” Donna sounded like she might be tearing up.

“It’s going to be okay, right?” He was feeling panicked, and Rye’s huge hands landed on his shoulders. They massaged him, the heat of Rye’s body a wall behind him, supporting him.

“Of course it’s going to be all right, Jeff. We’re going to keep making money, you and me.”

“Okay, you’re not mad at me?” He couldn’t bear that. No way.

“For what, honey?” Donna sounded honestly surprised by his question.

“I don’t know….”

Donna’s chuckle was soft. “Is Rye there?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Go hug him. Call me later.”

Rye kissed the top of his head, the silent support sure, steady. There, just like it always was. Always.

Jeff hung up the phone and then turned to hold on, heart pounding furiously. He’d done it.

Rye’s arms wrapped around him, pulling him even closer. “You’re shaking.”

“I did it, Rye.”

“What did you do, baby?”

“I quit. I told Donna to sell the house.”

“Really? You’ve officially hung up the LJ mantle?”

Jeff nodded, swallowing hard, panicking a little.

Rye pulled back to meet his eyes, that smile huge. “That’s great, Jeff. It really is. Will she keep representing you as a songwriter?”

“Uh-huh.” He was going to throw up.

“Cool. That’s really, really wonderful. And you’re selling the house in LA? So we’re going to stay here? With the snow and silence and the beautiful mountains?”

“Uh-huh.” He looked into Rye’s eyes. “I’m wigged out.”

Rye nodded. “It’s a huge change, I get that. I have your back, though.”

“That’s what Donna said. Can we get in the hot tub? Hold each other?”

“Only if we can roll in the snow afterward.” Rye’s eyes twinkled at him.

“You’re a sick, sick man.” Funny, though… and his.

“No way! It’s a real thing. It’s supposed to be invigorating.”

“No.”

“No you don’t believe me, or no you won’t do it?”

Jeff couldn’t stop his smile. “Just no.”

“Damn. Okay, we don’t have to do it. This time. One day, though.” Rye picked him up and moved toward the hot tub. “We are going to forgo swimming trunks, though.”

“Okay. This time.” He wrapped around Rye, held on tight. “Love you.”

“I love you too, baby. More than anything.”

“Good, because I need you.”

“Yeah, you do. Probably almost as much as I need you.”

Jeff didn’t know about that, but that was okay. They were building something—something real. Something good. Jeff looked at Rye and twined their fingers together. “Love, can we try the bacon sandwiches tonight?”

He was feeling like he could be brave.

Often referred to as “Space Cowboy” and “Gangsta of Love” while still striving for the moniker of “Maurice,”
S
EAN
M
ICHAEL
spends his days surfing, smutting, organizing his immense gourd collection and fantasizing about one day retiring on a small secluded island peopled entirely by horseshoe crabs. While collecting vast amounts of vintage gay pulp novels and mood rings, Sean whiles away the hours between dropping the f-bomb and pursuing the
Kama Sutra
by channeling the long-lost spirit of John Wayne and singing along with the soundtrack to
Chicago
.

A long-time writer of complicated haiku, currently Sean is attempting to learn the advanced arts of plate spinning and soap carving sex toys.

Barring any of that? He’ll stick with writing his stories, thanks, and rubbing pretty bodies together to see if they spark.

Website: http://www.seanmichaelwrites.com

Blog: http://seanmichaelwrites.blogspot.ca/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/SeanMichaelWrites

Twitter: @seanmichael09