“I want you to stay,” Morgan said, because he had to cut through his own bullshit and get to the heart of it before he lost Jack for good. “You’re amazing and so sweet—” He broke off, scrambling for a way to say what he meant without coming across like an arrogant, selfish bastard. “I want you to stay.”
He could barely say it, but he needed to; otherwise, Jack would be gone.
“And I’ve treated you like a?—”
Jack moved closer, his thigh right next to Morgan’s knee. Close enough to touch.
“Like a servant?” Jack asked quietly.
Morgan’s fingers reached out and then drew back. He didn’t get to touch what he wanted when he wanted to. He also couldn’tstay seated, because what he had to say—what he needed to say—was important enough that it should be said while standing on his own two feet.
He pushed off the couch cushions, wondering where his damn cane was, and steadied himself, even as he saw Jack’s shoulders twitch as though he wanted to reach out and help. Like he always did.
“I’ve never met anybody like you,” Morgan said as clearly as he could. He looked at Jack, looked him up and down and shook his head just a fraction, as though Jack was some kind of miracle. Which he was.
“I needed someone, and there you were. I needed help, and you gave it to me. You gave me a ticket into this damn town. Connected me with all these people.” Morgan stopped the spill of words that weren’t the point, after all. “You are amazing. I don’t have to be anybody but myself around you. And then I go and treat you badly?—”
“Shitty,” Jack interjected. “That’s how you treated me. Shitty.”
“I did,” Morgan agreed. “I’ve been shitty to you. When I didn’t want to be. It was a defense, but that’s no excuse. You deserve better.”
“I do,” Jack said simply. “And you deserve better.”
Shaking his head, Morgan frowned, searching Jack’s face for answers he desperately needed.
“Pull yourself up,” Jack said. “Cut your meds in half if you have to, to wean yourself off them, instead of complaining. Do your fucking exercises and get on with it. Stop wallowing.”
Morgan stopped himself from pouting like a scolded child. Jack was right. So he said it out loud. “You’re right. I want to get better. I want to take care of what I need to take care of. But mostly, I want you.”
He reached out, intending to brush his fingers over Jack’s bare arm, but instead moved a trail of dark hair out of Jack’s eyes.
Jack didn’t pull away. Jack let him do it, which sent a shiver through Morgan, as though he were still cold and only just now warming up.
“I want you,” he repeated. Then he waved at the room. “I don’t know what will happen come spring. But I want you to stay. So I can look afteryou.”
Jack quirked an eyebrow as though Morgan was once again, as always, missing the point.
“So I can be with you,” Morgan corrected. “Just that. Just be.” He took a gulp of air. “Will you let me? Give me another chance?”
If there were a crowd of people screaming reasons for Jack to say no, Jack didn’t seem to hear them. He stepped forward off the futon, close enough to send Morgan off-balance.
He’d be fine. There was the couch to fall on, after all. But Jack caught him around the waist, the way he had so many times before, sure, quick, confident.
Morgan gasped. Their hips connected, the lines of their thighs creating warmth between them. He had a chance at this. He still had a chance to make it up to Jack.
CHAPTER 32
jack
Jack had been leaning against the wall near the stove, warming himself up as he prepared what he wanted to say.
He wanted Morgan to offer the money he’d promised. Then Jack could refuse. Then he could say goodbye. Then he could leave. Put all of this behind him and forget he’d ever imagined there’d be a place for him in this town. In Morgan’s heart.
He’d been mentally rehearsing how he would leave in the morning. How he’d hitch a ride to Billings, because there was sure to be more than one train stopping in a town like that.
He didn’t want to stick around for more of what Morgan had been dishing out, as though Jack’s only purpose was to be useful.
Morgan would let him stay until morning. Which meant Jack would have one more night with a roof over his head, listening for the wail of the train whistle as it went over the crossing. After that, the future was a blank space stretching out in front of him.
