Suddenly the parlor seemed overly warm, a cave full of too much heat as Morgan attempted to explain himself
Jack let his mind wander, only half listening as the conversation turned to stray dogs and what they needed, whichevidently was, at least in Morgan’s mind, charity and a whole lot of guidance that Jack didn’t need or want.
What he wanted from Morgan was the truth about how he felt about Jack. He wanted to hear that what they had shared meant something to Morgan. That if Jack’s heart was in his hands, and Jack rather felt it was, Morgan would care for him more than he did anything else in the whole wide world.
Except then, Morgan mentioned something about a plane reservation and some fancy hotel, as though Morgan thought a hotel was the solution to what was going on between them.
Jack would take himself downstairs to sleep on the bags of grain in the storage room before he accepted that kind of handout.
Then Morgan had said, “I want you to stay,” and Jack had stood very still. Wanting to hear the rest. Wanting to trust Morgan’s words.
And then he’d said it again: “I want you to stay.” His voice had shaken, but he’d sounded like he meant it.
Jack moved closer, standing on the edge of the futon, which made him taller than Morgan, as Morgan confessed the truth: that he had treated Jack badly.
Which hurt, because after Morgan had taken him in, after Jack had shaken off the cold and looked into Morgan’s eyes, he’d thought he’d found someone like himself. Someone who was lost and looking for a forever home.
It felt good to get the words out.You treated me shitty.But despite Jack’s trembling fear of Morgan’s reaction, Morgan had grown gentler, more open. As though the truth was what he’d been wanting all along.
Morgan curled his fingers around Jack’s wrist.
Jack could have gotten loose, but his heart was thumping, and he didn’t pull away.
“I don’t need your money,” Jack said, hoping he was making himself clear. “Or your charity.”
Morgan was close enough for Jack to see the sweat at his temples, the glisten in his eyes.
“I’m bad at this.” Morgan paused to swallow hard. “So bad at this. Which is probably why Bradley left when he did.”
Jack didn’t care about that. He brought Morgan closer, Morgan’s scent filling his lungs.
The air from the landing leading to the stairs was cool, which wasn’t good. Morgan was still healing, and if he caught a cold, it could set back his recovery.
“And?” Jack asked.
“I want you to stay, like I said,” Morgan spoke slowly, as though he feared he might run out of breath. “I can do this without you, but I don’twantto be without you.” Morgan grabbed hold of Jack, drew himself upright, and looked Jack straight in the eye.
“The day you arrived,” he said, “everything changed. I hated this town. Hated being here, though at that point I probably would have hated my life, myself, no matter where I was. And then you appeared.”
“You were fine,” Jack said. “Getting along fine.”
“I wasn’t.” Morgan’s jaw tightened, and darkness filled his eyes so quickly a shiver ran up Jack’s spine. “It was—” Morgan shook his head, looking away for only a second before his focus returned to Jack. “Bad. But it’s better now.”
Those blue eyes brightened with warmth that soaked into Jack, even as he questioned what Morgan meant. Maybe Jack should ask.
But before he could draw breath for the words, Morgan said, “I think I fell in love with you.”
Jack blinked. “Because I’m useful,” he said after a moment. That had to be the reason. Why else would Morgan say something like that?
“No.” Morgan’s response was instant. “Because you saw me,” he said. “Not as the person I was supposed to be or should have been, but who I was. That’s rare.”
“I’m rare?” Jack asked. The conversation had galloped to a place that made his head spin, his heart lurching to a wild, hopeful beat. “What d’you mean, rare?” He scoffed, forcing a low laugh to stave off the pain that would surely follow such a weird compliment. “I’m not a steak, you know.”
Humor filled Morgan’s eyes in a way Jack had seen before, a fleeting spray of light and happiness that had always been quick to vanish, and Morgan raised his hands as though he wanted to hug Jack close but didn’t feel like he could.
“After my accident,” Morgan said, “everything was a struggle. Though maybe it had always been that way, and Bradley had gotten tired of it. Of me.” He sighed. “You make everything easy. Like it all could be good, better than good, if I only just let it, instead of struggling all the time to make it what it isn’t.”
“What do you want it to be?” Jack asked, breathless.
