Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 71726 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71726 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
“I made it on this site online where you can—”
Jean grabbed him and pulled him into a fierce hug. Her cheek was damp against his.
“It’s wonderful.”
She stroked his hair back and smiled through tears.
“Go on, then.”
He pulled the rest of the paper off and found a needlepoint kit of a giant St. Bernard dog that looked very much like Bernard—wait, it was Bernard, and it had a decorative border made of bones.
“Is this—?”
“Great minds and all that,” she said, smiling. “I got the picture from Jack.”
“You’re awesome,” Simon said. “Thank you. Merry Christmas.”
* * *
With all the snow the drive to Jack’s cabin took twice as long as usual, but when he turned up the long drive, Simon saw lights glittering through the trees and heard happy barking from inside as he parked.
For a moment as Simon looked at Jack’s front door he was back months before when he’d first taken the winding road and ended up here. That day, it had felt like it would take a force of energy greater than the sum of everything Simon had inside him to even open the car door. And once he had, his very hand had rebelled against knocking on the door.
Now, behind that door was everything Simon wanted. The man he loved, the animals he loved, the place that felt like home and safety and freedom. His future.
The door opened.
“Hey, darlin’, need a hand?”
Jack was already tugging on a coat to come help him and Simon felt unexpected tears prickle in his eyes.
Jack hadn’t shaved in a few days and it tickled Simon’s face when Jack leaned in to kiss him.
“You okay?” Jack asked, catching his chin.
Simon nodded but he knew if he spoke he’d cry.
Jack stroked his cheek, then caught him up in a crushing hug. Simon felt like he could have lifted up his legs and gone slack and still Jack’s arms would have held him.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Jack
Simon was leaky from the moment he arrived. A little teary-eyed, yeah, but Jack could feel the emotion pouring out of him. It happened sometimes. Like Simon felt so much it overflowed the bounds of his skin and poured out into the world. It always made Jack want to wrap him up in his arms or his bed and let Simon flow into him until he could absorb whatever excess Simon was emanating. Share in the aureole of pure feeling from a man who was used to trying to hold everything inside.
But today he couldn’t just bundle Simon into the bedroom and hold him, so he made do with squeezing and kissing the stuffing out of him whenever he looked up from cooking.
Charlie arrived, smiling and hauling a bag of junk so big he looked like a very buff Santa.
“What’s all this?”
“Merry Christmas, little brother,” Charlie said, dropping the bag inside the door and patting Bernard, who’d come to investigate.
He held out his arms. Jack couldn’t remember the last time they’d hugged but the feeling of his brother’s arms around him was familiar and safe.
“Merry Christmas, Charlie.”
Simon poked his head out of the kitchen, smiling shyly.
“Hi, Charlie. Merry C-Christmas.”
Charlie smiled and tentatively held out an arm. Simon blinked, then gave Charlie a quick hug. Jack had never seen him touch anyone except Jean.
From the bag, Charlie pulled garland that Jack recognized from the shop, a fruitcake, and more dog and cat toys than any house should hold. He dropped them onto the living room floor and there was immediate chaos as the pack converged to nose and paw at the new arrivals and stake their claims.
One toy, a plush caterpillar with a crinkly nose that Jack felt sure was actually a baby toy, caused a tug of war between Rat and Dandelion that ripped it in half in ten seconds flat.
“Welp, that’s my life,” Jack said to Charlie. “Thanks anyway.”
“No problem,” Charlie said. Then from the bag he pulled a set of reindeer antlers on headbands and proceeded to try and stick them on various animals’ heads.
“What’s happening?” Simon murmured.
“Charlie’s trying to recruit a team of reindeer dogs for his sleigh slash dogsled?”
Charlie stood from trying to put antlers on Puddles, who, it seemed, had another fear to add to his list—though whether it was a fear of headbands, of antlers, or of looking like an idiot was impossible to deduce with certainty.
“Just being festive,” he grumbled.
Jack socked him on the shoulder, but Simon said, “It’s nice.”
Charlie smiled and Simon went to finish cooking.
“How’s the store?”
“Pretty good,” Charlie said. “I’m hiring another person for spring, I think.”
He told Jack about the new line of paint he was carrying at the store and about the insulation he’d put in the addition to his house. Finally, he said, “You seem good, Jack.”
“I am.”
Charlie nodded.
“Good.”
“You all right?”
Charlie looked up and for the first time Jack noticed grooves around his mouth and wrinkles at the corners of his eyes even when he wasn’t smiling. He noticed a cut along his jaw from shaving and a Band-Aid on his thumb.