Clang (14 page)

His eyes were closed, so Chase let his own lashes flutter shut and pressed forward into the kiss. Their noses bumped and their soft cocks touched as their knees tangled with each other's. Chase's hand ran down Jackson's muscled chest and stomach, then over his hip.

Chase finally pulled back and murmured, “
Now
you can get me a cloth or something.”

“Okay.” Jackson laughed quietly to himself. The affectionate look he shot him as he climbed out of bed made Chase tingle all over again.

It was the easiest thing in the world to clean up and climb under the covers with Jackson. Chase was groggy within minutes, his back pressed to the chest of the man who'd wrapped himself around his body and his heart. Jackson was a furnace, which was perfect since he was usually cold at night.

He thought he heard Jackson say good night. Chase barely managed to murmur it himself before he was out like a light.

As Chase slowly stretched, cozying up into the sheets, the first expression on his face was a smile. He smelled bacon. Jackson was up and making breakfast.

Oh, man, and today was a day off!

Normally he'd have slept in, but Chase was already wide awake from excitement. He could maybe invite Jackson over. He'd have to see if Jackson planned to work that day or not. Spending the day catching up with him would be... wonderful.

He crawled out of bed and washed his face, stealing a bit of toothpaste on his finger to freshen up. He'd have to leave a toothbrush over at Jackson's from now on.

Even that thought excited him.

Once Chase was looking cute enough to be presentable, he headed downstairs.

Jackson was singing under his breath as he checked the bacon and whisked a fork in a hot pan to scramble eggs. “Duh dum... cure this overload... won't you help me cure, duh dum duh duh...”

“Good morning.”

“Whoa!” Jackson jumped and spun to look at Chase, then laughed. “Ninja.”

“I walk like... the night.” Chase winked and came around the corner to kiss Jackson. “Need a hand? I'll set the table. I didn't know you were a singer.”

Jackson cringed. “I'm
really
not.”

“You sounded all right for an amateur,” Chase teased. “I'm no better though.”

“I'm nearly done.”

When Jackson delivered a plate of food, Chase lit up with excitement. Eggs, bacon, toast, maple beans, and best of all, waffles. “You have a waffle iron?”

“Of course I have a waffle iron,” Jackson grinned. “It's a household essential.”

“I'm surprised you don't just barbecue them.”

“I've never tried using one on a barbecue...” Jackson looked thoughtful. “I can do pancakes...”

Chase laughed and dug into his food eagerly. They were both quiet for the first few minutes as they satisfied their hunger. Now and then, Chase glanced up. Jackson's broad frame was silhouetted by the sunlight through the kitchen windows.

He was so lucky.

“I'll walk you home, at least,” Jackson told him once their plates were clear and the dishes were in the dishwasher. “I don't have to work today...”

“Really?”

“It's already mid-morning. Half the work day is gone,” Jackson laughed.

Chase groaned. “Disgusting. You're an early riser? I don't know about this.”

“Always have been. I noticed you sleep in... but that gives me time to cook breakfast.”

“Two in one: extra sleep
and
breakfast. Works for me,” Chase shrugged. “And... if you're off today, you could come home with me...”

Jackson brightened up. “I was hoping you'd say that.”

Chase grinned and headed to the door to tug on his sweater and shoes. “Then you're more than welcome. You can come over any time.”

“Any time at all?”

“Yeah,” Chase smiled, his heart lightening. No chance he'd have some other guy over anymore. Early days yet, but he liked it this way.

“Okay.”

They walked hand-in-hand down the sidewalk, loosely swinging their hands. It was a comfortable silence now. Together, they enjoyed the warmth of the sun beating down on them already. Early August afternoons were pleasant here. It wasn't the terrible, humid Toronto heat Chase was used to.

“You live in this building?”

The affirmative response died in Chase's throat. He stumbled to a halt when they rounded the corner of his apartment building. He dropped Jackson's hand, his hands curling into fists.

A short, stocky man was leaning on the railing outside the apartment building front door.

No.

Chase would know him anywhere.

Before Chase could flee, his uncle Jerry's eyes flickered towards them. He jerked his chin, then approached.

Chase was frozen on the spot, his breathing quick and harsh. He still remembered the words and more that had come from his own flesh and blood. Jerry had taken it upon himself to fix him the only way he knew how: by a good kicking.

For his own good, of course. Because other people would do worse to him if he kept on this path.

Well, years later, nobody had, but Jerry still made him shake on the spot. His brain screamed at him to do something – anything – anything at all, but he couldn't even speak.

Then, Jackson's body shielded him. He'd never been more grateful for Jackson's broad, tall figure. His boyfriend stepped between them.

Chase was almost stuck in his own head, waging war against his body to move or his lips to part so he could shout something at Jerry. His hearing was faint, but he picked up on Jackson anyway.

“Who are you?”

“I ought to ask you the same.” The deep rumble of Jerry's voice made Chase's stomach turn. He wanted to shove Jackson away and tell him to fuckin'
run
, but it was all he could do to breathe. “I'm Charlie's uncle.”

Jackson glanced back at Chase, and Chase managed to make eye contact. The look was silent but easy to read:
Do you want him here?

Wetting his lips, Chase shook his head slightly. He could move his arms now. He wrapped them around himself for a moment. He reminded himself that he was
here
, now, months later. Safe.

Sheltered by Jackson, he was safe.

Jackson looked back at Jerry, and even his aura was intimidating now as his shoulders rose. “Well, he doesn't want you here. Have a nice day.”

Christ, Jackson was calm and Chase felt even more like a scared little wimp. They'd been right. He
was
all those things his parents had told him, and Jerry had shouted as the iron tang of blood shriveled his tongue... His feet came loose, too. Though his whole body shook with the invisible pains along his ribs and legs and face, he moved out to look at Jerry.

He had to look his own demon in the eye, terrified or not, and
win
this time.

Jerry scowled. “Who is this man to you? Nobody compared to your own family. Don't let him jerk you around like a bitch on a chain. Charlie, we all miss you, most of all your broth--”

“Don't say my name.” Chase tried to steady his shaking arms and he couldn't, so he shoved his hands in his pockets. His breathing still came in short gasps, but it was slowing now.

“Don't you miss Luke and Buddy? It hurt your parents so much to get your response that I had to come alone to find you.”

“No.” Chase reached out to grab Jackson's hand abruptly. In for a penny, in for a pound. “I miss them because they're too young in Luke's case or too... too good a dog, in Buddy's case... to be as...” How could he even describe it? “As fucking
hellish
as the rest of you. Hell isn't where I'm going, it's where I left. It's back home with you all.”

Jerry reeled. “How dare you?”

“How dare
you
?” Jackson snapped his fingers to draw Jerry's eyes to his own, his chest swelling. He jutted out his chin. “I've beat the shit out of guys like you before. I'll do it again unless you leave him the fuck alone. He doesn't want anything to do with any of you.”

Chase's cheeks flushed with humiliation. Getting Jackson to fight his battles was low, but it was the first time he could remember feeling safe for... months.

Jerry's next words chilled Chase to the bone, making him forget his shame. “I'll be around again, when this misguided soul isn't.”

Chase pulled Jackson's hand and shoved past Jerry to open the lobby door. His hands shook as Jackson stayed between them. “I don't have anything to say to you.”

Jerry's voice was soothing again, but Chase knew exactly what ploy this was. “I have plenty left to say to you. Messages from your family.”

“Who? I don't have a family.” Chase kept his voice flat and dull, though his chest was swelling with the same pain he thought he'd finally forgotten. It was ten times more intense than it had been at Jackson's family's barbecue. No, a hundred times.

Chase let the lobby door close while Jerry watched. As he led them to the elevator, Chase grew aware of how much his hand was shaking in Jackson's.

Bless him, Jackson didn't ask – even when they reached Chase's apartment. Chase fumbled, trying three keys before he got the right one.

Once the door was closed, Jackson finally dropped Chase's hand. He strode to the window and look down across the parking lot. “What car does he drive?”

The shame was back, but worse. He had to explain this now.

Chase swallowed hard, walking up gingerly behind Jackson. “Silver Corolla. It was parked in the visitor bays.”

The spot was empty now.

He was gone, but Chase was certain it wasn't for good.

They knew where he lived now. It was only a matter of time before they found out the rest: where he worked, who Jackson was, where
he
lived...

That asshole detective. Chase was the worst scrapper in the world, but he'd lay into Alex if he showed his face again with some vague offer of help.

“Think he's gone properly?” Jackson murmured, his voice quiet.

Chase shook his head.

A warm arm circled around his shoulders. Jackson pulled Chase into his side as they scanned the parking lot together. Jackson stepped between Chase and the window to wrap him up in both arms.

Chase melted against Jackson's chest, pressing his cheek to Jackson's shoulder. He squeezed hard in return, his arms around Jackson's back.

He wasn't gonna cry like a little girl, but he'd forgotten how damn good it felt just to be hugged.

“Okay, I need a drink,” Chase laughed quietly. “It's noon. That's not too early.”

Jackson chuckled and pressed his lips into his hair. “I think the occasion warrants it. Unless that happens every day...?”

“No. God, no,” Chase chuckled. “This was the first time.” He breathed in that musky, citrus scent and pressed his nose into Jackson's shoulder for a few more moments before letting go. He rummaged for a bottle of wine and cracked it open. He found cheese and crackers, sliced up a couple apples, and dug in the cupboard for nuts.

Where did they go? Fuck, he'd bought them.

Chase searched one cupboard, then the other, then the first again. A hiss of annoyance escaped him as frustration knotted his chest. “Fuck, I had more--”

Jackson came up behind him to kiss his shoulder and close the cupboard. “What you've got is fine.”

“I want nuts.”

“It's fine,” Jackson soothed, and Chase let his resistance melt again. Jackson was right. They'd only had breakfast an hour or so ago.

“Right, let's go to the couch...”

Jackson opened the wine bottle and started sharing the tray of appetizers with him. Though Chase was waiting, he never asked. Two glasses in, the tension higher than ever, he still hadn't.

Finally, Chase looked at him. “You gonna ask?”

“I was leaving it up to you.”

Chase bit his lip hard and poured his third glass. He settled back with it and cradled the glass against his chest. The dry bite of the white wine helped distract him, even if it was unpleasant. “That was my uncle.”

“Mmhmm.”

“They... were religious. Still are, I should say. It's the usual story.”

“When did you get out?”

“A year ago.”

Jackson frowned. “I thought you only moved here...” he trailed off.

That was the other part he hadn't wanted to say, but hey. Might as well now. Chase sighed and chugged half his glass, then couldn't help pulling a face. Ugh, it was
bone
-dry.

Jackson chuckled quietly, his hand resting on Chase's knee. He wasn't judging him or trying to stop him; he was just...
there
. Someone being there for him was new.

Chase finally admitted, “I moved out, and moved in with my ex. He was a biker. I met him at the shop I was freelancing at. He seemed like he could protect me from them, you know?”

“And the relationship didn't last?”

“He was... controlling,” Chase muttered. “I have great taste in men. Out of the frying pan...” When he looked up, Jackson's eyes were like flint. He hadn't seen him this angry before, and it made Chase flinch backwards. “S-Sorry. Not you.”

Jackson looked startled. “No, I'm not – I'm not angry at you, babe,” he murmured, squeezing Chase's knee again. He set aside the empty appetizer tray and scooted closer, resting his arm around his shoulders again.

“Okay. Sorry.” Chase welcomed it and leaned into it. The warmth and comfort was exactly what he needed, even if he never would have been able to ask for it.

Jackson shook his head slightly. “For what?”

“That you had to see all that,” Chase murmured. “I hate telling people. They get all pitying... and stuff...”

Jackson shook his head again, stronger this time. “I don't pity you.” His firm tone made Chase look up, and then their eyes locked. “I promise I don't. I'm just pissed as
hell
at the people who thought this was okay. And if you ever need revenge...”