The House on Hancock Hill (8 page)

“Then come have a glass of wine. I have to let Buttons out and feed him.” Annie rose to her feet, and Henry and I were left alone. I heard the fire pop and hiss from the living room. There was something about this house that made me want to lower my defenses, a warmth that trickled under my skin and down to my bones. I tried to shake it loose.

“If I have any more alcohol combined with these painkillers, my liver might just pack up and leave.” I reached for the wine bottle anyway and Henry laughed softly. His curls fell over his brow, the soft light of a standing lamp in the corner of the room turning the strands of hair the color of cumin spice and cinnamon. We clinked glasses and drank. It was good wine.

“So,” Henry cleared his throat. “What’s Denny like?”

“Denny?” I looked up from topping off his wine. “Uh. He’s… competent?”

Henry’s eyes bulged, and he began to cough, steadily growing redder and redder.

“What?” I demanded, jumping to my feet so I could thump him on the back. “What is it? What did I say?”

“Competent,” Henry said hoarsely. I passed him my glass of water from earlier, and he took a grateful drink.

“Well, he is. He’s a good baker, and I trust him to take care of things until I get back. We’ve been running Sherwood Bakery together for the past eight years.” The way Henry was staring at me had me completely at a loss. “Okay,” I said, putting my glass down. “What’s going on?” I saw him swallow hard. The redness that had appeared from the coughing turned into a lovely shade of pink that reached the tips of his ears.

“Denny is your business partner,” he said slowly like he’d never considered it before, and suddenly I got it. I laughed.

“You thought he was my boyfriend? God no, he’s married with two kids, not that he’s my type. And Maddison, his wife, is lovely. She helps out in the bakery sometimes.” Henry’s face went through a whole range of expressions I couldn’t decipher before he narrowed his eyes at me.

“Does that mean that you are? Um, gay, I mean?”

Abruptly, I stopped laughing. I was so comfortable with who I was these days, lucky enough to live and work in an environment where no one bothered me about it, that it hadn’t occurred to me Henry might think differently. “Is that a problem?” I asked tightly.

“No,” he said quickly—too quickly—and I frowned at him while he fiddled with the stem of his wineglass, twisting it back and forth between his thumb and forefinger. “Not at all.”

Huh. Henry looked at me with unfathomable eyes, but I got the impression I hadn’t shocked him, so he must’ve suspected.

“Is that why you and Johnny fought?”

A flash of surprise passed over Henry’s face. He blinked, and it was gone. “I’d rather not talk about it here, if you don’t mind.”

I didn’t mind. Annie came back with Buttons a few seconds later, and I arranged three plates of shortbread cookies with delicious lemon curd. I accepted the praise with grace as was my due, and Annie brought in a pot of coffee, which we drank while Henry and Annie talked about people I only vaguely remembered. Saturated with food, alcohol, and pain pills, my eyelids began to droop while they chatted around me. Annie glanced over and squeezed my hand.

“Henry,” she said while holding my gaze, “there’s something Jason wanted to ask you. About your falling out with Johnny Neville.”

My eyes snapped open. I very much did want to know the reason for their falling out, but I had been planning on asking Henry about it myself. Later. Desperately fighting down a blush, I gave Henry a contrite look, but he only smiled at me wryly.

“I’d better accompany Jason back to his room, then,” Henry told Annie. Maybe we were in a little bit of a hurry, but Annie didn’t look offended when we made our excuses and left. It made me wonder if Henry had ever had the chance to talk about this with anyone, so easily did he follow me down the porch and up the steps to my temporary home.

Chapter 5

I
F
I
thought Henry was about to confide in me about his rift with Johnny Neville, I’d thought wrong.

“Will you be all right?” Henry asked as I pushed the key into the lock.

“Uh.” I turned to look at him, the door behind me opening a crack, warmth of the living room spilling out. “Yeah.” Henry’s hands were buried deep in the pockets of his coat, shoulders hunched. There was no moon, or it was too cloudy for any light to make it through, and I couldn’t read his face. “Don’t you want to come in?”

“I should probably head home. I have to work in the morning. So if you’re sure you’re fine, I’ll just—” He shrugged and stared over the dark street. It was completely silent, apart from the odd tree branch groaning under the weight of snow. I had the impression Henry didn’t want to look me in the eye, and I felt annoyance bubble inside of me. Was it because I’d confirmed I was gay? Suddenly we couldn’t be friends anymore?

“Fine.” I bit back anything else I could’ve said because Henry had been very good to me so far. I literally owed him my life. “Thanks.” I stepped inside, but could tell he hadn’t moved yet.

“I’ll come by tomorrow morning with coffee and breakfast.”

Spinning around, I made an exasperated motion with my hand because what the hell? “Henry—” I began, angry now.

“There’s nothing in the house, and you can’t drive anywhere,” he interrupted. “I live kitty-corner to this place so it’s no trouble.” I was so confused, I had no idea what to say. Another silence fell as I stared at him until Henry said, “’Night, Jay.”

It made me smile despite myself, and I answered, “’Night, Mac.” I caught a brief flash of a grin on Henry’s face, and then he disappeared down the icy steps.

A very short hunt through the tiny kitchen brought up an old box of tea bags and a small banged up kettle. There was no sugar to be found, but this was more about the action of doing something as ordinary as making tea than that I actually wanted to drink it. Tired as I was, insomnia lurked in the shape of a hundred stray thoughts, and trying to go to sleep now would only lead to hours of staring into nothing.

Flicking on the fireplace, I took my tea to the couch and sat down. The wind was picking up outside, rattling at the garage door downstairs.

The exchange at the door with Henry still had me baffled. From what I remembered, Mac had always been a levelheaded, straightforward kid, honest and trusting to the bone. So what had him running off like that when it seemed he
wanted
to tell me about Johnny? Granted, I hadn’t seen him in over a decade, hadn’t even recognized him at first, but it felt like we’d been slipping back into our old friendship. Until half an hour ago, he hadn’t given me the impression he didn’t trust me anymore.

The tea tasted stale, so I got up and poured it out, swallowing a painkiller with water instead. Hopefully it would help me sleep. Outside, the wind began to howl in earnest, the kind that makes it extra cozy to be buried beneath a comforter. I switched off all the lights and the gas fire, brushed my teeth, and crawled into bed.

I
T
COULDN
’
T
have been more than a few hours later that I woke to a strange noise. For a minute, I thought I was still in Detroit, and it took me a while to figure out I was hearing my teeth clatter. When I checked the time on my phone, my breath fogged in the air.

The heating had given out. Pulling on my socks and wrapping myself in a comforter burrito, I made my way to the kitchen window above the nook. From what I could see, all the lights at Annie’s were out, and I wasn’t about to frighten the life out of her by ringing the doorbell at one in the morning. Fiddling with the thermostat did nothing at all, not even after a charmed third try. Since the apartment wasn’t part of the house, I reckoned it worked on a separate furnace that was more than likely in the garage below me. I didn’t have a key to get in there, not that I had the faintest clue about heating units. I was battling the bulk of the comforter and hobbling back to the bedroom when a knock on my door made me jump a foot.

“Who is it?” I called.

“It’s me, Henry.” I gawked at the door. “Would you let me in? It’s freezing out here.”

Nearly tripping over the duvet, I hurried to the door and undid the locks. “Hey, sorry,” I said, stepping aside. “Please come in.”

“The power went out on the whole block,” Henry told me, pushing the door shut against snowflakes drifting through. “I came to check if you were okay.”

“I was just going to wrap myself up in three blankets and this thing and hope for the best.”

Henry gave me a once-over, like he’d only just noticed my attire, and lifted an eyebrow. “Does the fireplace work?”

“I’m guessing not, since it has an electric switch.” I turned back to Henry. “What about Mrs. Mitchell?”

“I went by there already, and she’s settled in her living room by the open fire. I made sure she had enough wood to last the night.”

God, this guy really was a saint.

Saint Henry pushed his way into my bedroom, and I tried not to feel self-conscious about the rumpled sheets and clothes strewn on the floor.

“You can’t stay here by yourself after nearly freezing to death yesterday,” Henry said, walking back out. “There’s a terrible draft coming in from the garage.” He swallowed, looked at me, and looked away again. “I have an open wood fire in my bedroom. You’ll come stay at my place, and I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“You’re not sleeping on the floor,” I said immediately, not really thinking it through. “Not on my account.”

“We’ll deal with that later. Let’s get out of here before we can’t walk through the snow anymore.”

Dropping the comforter quickly, I hopped about pulling clothes on as fast as I could. My fingers and toes were like the icicles I used to eat off the porch as a kid, and I was shaking by the time I walked back into the living room. Henry frowned at me.

“Don’t you have anything warmer?” he asked as I reached for the too-thin coat I’d worn all day.

“This is all I’ve got, plus the blankets.” I shrugged. Henry made a dismissive noise and shrugged out of his coat, thrusting it into my hands. The thing weighed a ton. “What about you?” I said, clutching his monstrosity to my chest, bewildered.

Gruffly Henry said, “I’ll be all right. It’s not far, but your lips are blue again. Put it on.”

“No,” I demurred. “Mine won’t fit you, and if it’s not far I’ll be fine.” I shoved the coat back into Henry’s arms and before he could protest, I pulled mine on and opened the door. “Holy crap,” I squawked when wind so icy it felt like a hundred tiny knives bit me in the face.

“I know, I know. Here.” Henry shrugged into his coat, tugged a pair of gloves out of his pocket, and gave them to me. “At least get these on before your fingers fall off. Come on.”

Together, we battled the wind shear, sometimes so sharp I nearly got blown over, and Henry had to steady me. It was so awful, I couldn’t see half the time, and I was glad Henry knew where he was going. Halfway there, I was shivering so badly it hurt my bones, and Henry wrapped an arm around my shoulders to hold off the worst of the wind.

“I really truly hate the cold,” I mumbled through chattering teeth as we stumbled through his front door. Henry made me take off my shoes and guided me straight up the stairs. Outside the wind howled at the house, sending a baleful noise through the chimney. Henry bent down to stoke up the flames as I took off my thin coat. He saw me hesitate.

“Go on, get into bed. You’ll be warmer without those jeans on,” Henry said, pulling his coat off.

“Will you get in too? Don’t sleep on the floor. I promise I won’t make any attempts on your virtue.” Henry rolled his eyes at me, but I saw him grin.

“Just get in the bed before I toss you in there,” he growled, and maybe I was going to have to rethink my stance on his virtue. Henry stripped down to his underwear, and I quickly did the same. I could feel his eyes on me, but I didn’t dare look up since I was already valiantly trying not to think in terms of hot and blooded. Henry lifted his corner of the sheets, so I crawled under mine.

Making some sweet, mind-melting noises, Henry got comfortable under the covers. His body radiated heat, and I startled when his ankle accidentally grazed mine. Instead of pulling away from me like I expected, he chuckled into his pillow. Not a homophobe, then.

“Am I on your side of the bed?” I asked. “Because we can swap.”

“I sleep in the middle,” Henry said, and I laughed. As if to prove a point, Henry did shift closer, and I felt my mouth go dry.

“Just don’t kick my ribs. That’s all I’m asking.” A lame excuse if there ever was one, but Henry stayed where he was, so I’d take it. The pleasure of his body heat had made me half-hard already, and if he came any closer, he might find out.

My fingers and toes had begun to warm up, which meant excruciating pins and needles. I concentrated on lying still and willing my erection down. The fire cast pleasant shadows around the room, and I found myself awake, watching them on the ceiling. Beside me, Henry breathed deeply and evenly, but I didn’t think he was asleep. “Henry?” I whispered.