As Young Tommy rolled his window up and drove off, Morgan got out of the truck, knees knocking as the snow piled on his shoulders and head like somebody was dumping it from a sack.
Jack, at his side, waved Young Tommy along with a snowy hand.
“Let’s grab the bags,” Jack said.
Morgan was tempted to leave them in the truck bed, since they’d be fine until morning. But Jack needed his new clothes and boots, and Morgan needed Jack to have nice, thick winter clothes to wear.
He tugged at the bags before Jack took them from him, and together they struggled through the drifts to the front door. There, he put down his cane and pulled the double doors open, scraping a crescent in the deep snow. Jack was right behind him, pushing Morgan into the relative warmth of the doorway.
“We made it,” Jack said, a smile in his voice.
The cool space of the feed and grain felt like a warm oven after the blizzard, though with the doors open, the blizzard was coming inside with them.
Morgan turned, taking in Jack’s still-white face, the flakes of snow on his dark hair that had yet to melt. And the fact that he was quivering, the effects of the drive shaking off him, remnants of fear that had yet to dissipate.
“Are you okay?” Morgan asked, reaching around Jack to close the doors, and then he slipped on a clump of snow.
He fell forward, narrowly missing Jack, and hit the doors with both hands, slamming them shut. His cane went flying. And through the glass was the storm, still raging, a curtain of white.
Jack stepped in front of him, those green eyes looking at him, head tilted back.
Morgan’s hands came off the doors and slid around Jack’s head, damp hair silky under his fingers. Quivers radiating off Jack and into Morgan’s body, as though Jack knew Morgan knew what to do with them.
“Jack.” Morgan’s voice was raw, as if he’d been shouting for Jack for hours and had only just found him.
With a final tremor, Jack’s face crumpled, and the mask he’d been wearing from the first moment Morgan had met him faded away. Jack pressed into the curve of Morgan’s body as though he’d found long-sought shelter. As though Morgan was his rescue, his final destination.
Jack’s arms snaked inside Morgan’s coat, the leather of his jacket shockingly cold, his head tucked under Morgan’s chin.
Jack was hugging him sohardthat Morgan couldn’t resist any of the emotions racing through him. He hugged Jack back, just as hard.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered into Jack’s dark hair. “This whole mess was my fault.”
Jack drew back, pulling off his gloves, and touched Morgan’s face with cold fingers. “Not your fault,” he said, and then he rose up on his toes and kissed Morgan gently.
An electric current zapped Morgan right into the moment, shoving the terrifying drive to the background in favor of the sweetness of that kiss, the softness of Jack’s mouth. All of it connected them, all of it nothing Morgan had expected or even imagined.
“I don’t—” he began, but Jack moved close, the smile in his green eyes, dashes of freckles high on his cheeks, everything about him magnified to become Morgan’s whole world.
“No talk,” Jack said. “Kiss now.”
Morgan had no desire to resist—except that the snow was melting, dampening Jack’s hair and forming a puddle at their feet, and Jack was still wearing those horrible boots.
Jack deserved better, and Morgan was going to make sure he received the best Morgan had to give.
CHAPTER 25
morgan
How he stumbled up the steps would remain always a mystery to him, but he led the way until his knee gave out, and then Jack took over, giving Morgan his shoulder to lean on until they made it into the parlor.
The room was dark, and the blizzard wailed outside, trying to get in through the thin glass and half-closed blinds. There was no fire in the cast-iron stove, leaving the room chilly, but what did that matter when the flames flickered so hotly between them?
Jack stripped off his leather jacket and flung it on the floor, then tugged at Morgan, at his coat, the buttons on his shirt, his fingertips leaving behind traces of warmth that Morgan wanted more of.
While he normally would have groused about the amount of damp Jack’s boots left on the carpet, now he only wanted those boots off and quickly, so he could take Jack’s cold feet and warm them against his bare belly.
Jack had other ideas. Many other ideas, which seemed to involve pressing Morgan onto the couch and getting his hands on Morgan wherever he could touch, tearing at Morgan’s zipper,tugging on his shirttails, ripping Morgan’s parka fully off and casting it aside.
