“You still look pale. Why don’t you go sit by the fire? It can get pretty frigid in these parts.”
Jacob gave a stilted nod, going to sit on the ancient sofa with its ugly floral print. Connolly disappeared back into the bedroom, returning once more with the maroon blanket, covering Jacob up like he was a child before taking a seat on the opposite end of the couch. He nestled into the blanket, giving Connolly a grateful smile. “Thank you.”
Jacob leaned his head against the back of the sofa, his body turned towards the larger man.
“Do you live here all alone?” Jacob asked finally.
Connolly shrugged. “Part-time. Mostly, I’m on the road with clients. I have an apartment in the city. This is just my family cabin. I just happen to be the only one left.”
“It’s really nice,” Jacob said, looking around.
It wasn’t a lie. The place was homey, lived in, like once upon a time, there’d been family dinners and kids in sleeping bags in front of the fireplace. There were even faded photos of actual happy people with their arms around each other. Jacob didn’t have a single picture of anybody in his family that hadn’t been clipped from a tabloid or news article.
Connolly looked around his cabin like he’d never seen it before, a sort of smirk on his face. “I don’t think I’ll ever get a spread in Architectural Digest, but it’s a good place to come when I need to be alone.”
Jacob frowned. “Then why did you bring me here?”
Connolly gave a shrug and a soft smile. “I guess drunk me wanted to be alone…with you.”
“I-Is this, like, where you bring people to hook up?” Jacob asked, hoping that was the right term.
“The only person I’ve ever brought here was my daughter,” Connolly said, looking once more at the blanket covering Jacob.
Once more, blood filled his cheeks, making him flush. “I’m plenty warm. You… You can have it back. It’s clearly important to you.” He tried to shuck off the blanket, but Connolly placed a hand on his calf, his touch somehow burning through the layers straight down to Jacob’s marrow.
“It’s okay. She passed a long time ago. I don’t mind you using it.”
Jacob surprised himself by scooting closer. The look on Connolly’s face said Jacob’s movement surprised him, too. When he was close enough for his toes to almost touch Connolly’s thigh, he looked up at him. “Can I… Do you mind if I ask what happened to her?” Connolly’s brows knitted together, his mouth turning down at the corners, and Jacob instantly felt a pinch in his chest. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”
Connolly cleared his throat. “No. No, it’s fine. Like I said, it was a long time ago.” He shifted his weight, body twisting until his thigh now covered Jacob’s feet. He didn’t move away. “It was a car accident. My ex-wife was driving home from work. She’d just picked up Maggie from aftercare. She had a seizure, ran off the road. They didn’t make it.”
“I’m so sorry,” Jacob said, tears springing to his eyes.
Connolly looked stricken at his tears. Jacob didn’t blame him. It wasn’t his family. He tried to blink them away and then swiped at them with the back of his hand. “I’m sorry. I’m a crier,” he said, sniffling.
Connolly handed him the box of tissues sitting beside him. The box was hidden inside one of those hand crocheted holders favored by grandmothers. It was old and tacky. Jacob loved it. He clutched the box to him. “I even cried when my dad died, and he was a monster,” he tried to explain.
“I’m really sorry.”
“Why are you sorry for crying?” Connolly asked, leaning forward and running his thumb along Jacob’s cheek, wiping at a stray tear.
The touch hardened Jacob’s nipples, which only made him feel even more like a morbid creep.
“What kind of weirdo cries over a stranger’s family?”
Connolly shook his head, giving him a half smile. “A compassionate one?”
Jacob blew his nose loudly. “Compassion wasn’t really seen as an asset at the farm.”
“Yeah, it seemed to mess your brother up pretty good for a while.”
“Well, he became a preacher, so I’m not sure he’s done being messed up,” Jacob said, feeling guilty about the bitterness creeping into his voice.
“Not a fan of organized religion?” Connolly questioned.
Jacob was suddenly much more aware of their proximity, bodies turned towards each other, Connolly’s hand resting on the back of the sofa, close enough for Jacob to lean into his palm if he wanted to. It seemed like a weird thing to want, so he forced himself to focus on the question. “Robby is a good person. He has his heart in the right place. I love what he wants to do, making Christianity more Christ-like, making it open to everybody. I just don’t want any part of it. Any of it. Are you religious?”
“No. Not really.”
