Tallowwood Page 19

  “Well, he had good taste in men, that we do know. But soy decaf? What kind of crime is that?”

  August laughed. “I think I said something similar to him under the awning that day.” And this time when August’s smile faded, happiness still lingered there. His gaze met Jake’s and the fear that had been there a minute ago was gone. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Don’t try and close yourself off from his memory,” Jake said. “Remember his life and the good times. I didn’t know him at all, but I reckon I can tell the guy in these photos would want you to be happy.”

  August stared at the photos, then glanced at Jake. “That’s easier said than done. I think about him every day and it hits me like the first day. And people are weird. Our friends, they never knew what to say, so after a while they stopped calling or coming by. Not that I tried either. I didn’t know what to say, and I hated how they’d look at me with such pity, or how the whispers would stop when I walked in the room. It was just easier to be alone. They wouldn’t talk about him, like ‘Oh my God, don’t mention Christopher’s name in front of him!’ like if I heard someone say his name, I’d shatter into pieces.” August frowned. “Who knows, maybe in the beginning I would have.”

  “It’s always like that in the beginning,” Jake agreed. “They want you to be the old August or the guy we used to know, but you’re not that person anymore. When you lose someone you love, something in you changes. You can’t get the pieces to fit together again because the picture of you has been changed. They need to understand your pain and how it changed you before they can understand how the new you needs to be loved.”

  August’s eyes welled with tears. “Exactly,” he whispered. “That’s exactly what it’s like. Like I was a broken puzzle that couldn’t be put back together. But I’m different now. After Christopher.” He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly as though Jake had said what August had been waiting eight years to hear. “Christ, thank you. You’re the first person to ever really get that.”

  “My mum taught me that,” Jake said. “She lost her brother, and she said no one in her family was the same after that.”

  August nodded. “It’s true.”

  “Can I tell you a funny story?”

  “Sure.”

  “I lost my nan when I was fifteen,” Jake said. “My mum’s mum. She was my best friend; I’d go to her place after school instead of the pub, and she’d be in the kitchen waiting every day with homemade afternoon tea. She’d want to hear all about my day, and she was the first person I told when I came out. I took it hard when she died. But after her funeral, we all went back to my pop’s house and everyone was sad. Mum had lost her brother years before, and then her mum, and it was a horrible time. But we were all sitting out in the backyard for the wake, and there was food and drinks, and people came from all over. But then two kookaburras flew in and sat right near us. One walked up real close, like she was inspecting the food, and everyone said it was my nan and Martin. They’d found each other and were reborn as those two kookaburras.” Jake smiled remembering that day. “And at every family gathering we have, two kookaburras show up, always. So we weren’t sad after that, because we knew they lived on, free to fly wherever they wanted. And that was such a relief and such a confirmation of our spirits, which probably sounds totally crazy to you.”

  “No, it doesn’t,” August replied. “It sounds perfect. I like that idea, that we move on. That Christopher’s spirit is a bird or something free. It’s comforting.”

  “It is,” Jake agreed.

  “It also explains the paintings in your house. The Aboriginal art. They’re amazing.”

  “They mean a lot to me, so thank you.” He squeezed August’s hand. “Do you feel better?”

  “I do, thank you. I’m sorry I got a little freaked out before. It just hit me that I was bringing a guy home, which sounds wrong because we’re working together, and my head knew that but my heart . . .”

  “Your heart what?”

  “My heart feels like I’m betraying Christopher. God, this is so fucked up. You’re not even here for that, and it just shows how deprived of human contact I’ve been.” August’s face fell. “I’m a fucking mess.”

  Jake cupped August’s face and made him look into his eyes. “Hey. You’re not a mess. You’re doing great, August. You’ve carried this weight around with you for so long.”

  August nodded. “I’m tired. I’m just . . . so tired.” He leaned into Jake’s palm, his eyes closed.

  “August, look at me.”

  August opened his eyes.

  “It’s okay to be scared.”

  “I’m not scared. I’m . . .” August’s gaze flickered between Jake’s eyes. “I’m terrified.” Jake ran his thumb over August’s cheek, and August sighed into his touch. “It’s been so long . . . and I never thought I’d . . .”

  “Never thought you’d what?”

  “I never thought I’d think of another man the way I thought about him. I thought something inside of me broke that day, but now I’m not so sure . . .”

  Oh God. Was he saying what Jake thought he was saying? What he wanted him to say?

  This . . . thing, this complex yet simple thing, did he feel it too?

  Jake leaned in and drew August closer to him, their bodies almost touching. He gave him time to adjust, to pull away, to say no . . .

  But August closed his eyes and gave into it, and Jake pulled him in for a crushing hug. He fell into him, let himself be held, and Jake held him as tight as he could. “You’re not broken,” Jake whispered.

  And August began to cry.

  Chapter Fifteen

  August felt like he was falling apart. He’d held himself together for so long, keeping everything bottled up, thinking it would make him stronger. He’d never allowed himself the luxury of crying. He’d never allowed himself the luxury of talking about Christopher and how much he loved him. Since Christopher had died, he’d never allowed himself the luxury of human touch.

  And God, Jacob held him so well. He had strong arms and sure hands. This human contact, this human touch, August had been so long without it.

  Like a bottle that had been left overflowing for too long, put under too much pressure, cracks began to show. He hadn’t made himself stronger. He’d simply worn himself down to the fault lines, and under the unbearable weight of grief and gravity, he began to shatter.

  He let himself cry, and let out the pent-up sorrow and guilt, and even his frustration and anger came in the form of tears too. For everything he’d lost, for everything he’d endured. For what Christopher went through, for the life he was supposed to live.

  And even when the tears stopped, Jacob never let him go. He thumbed a tear from August’s cheek and held his face. “Feel better?”

  August nodded. “I’m sorry.”

  “Stop apologising. You have nothing to be sorry for.” Jacob lightly scratched August’s beard and August studied the brown of his eyes. There was so much life inside them, so many layers of browns, ambers, and bronzes.

  And those goddamn freckles . . .

  “What’s wrong with my freckles?” Jacob asked.

  August froze. Christ, he’d said that out loud. “Um, you have freckles on your nose,” August replied. “They stand out when you blush. And when you smile. And when you laugh . . .”

  Jacob’s smile became a grin. He slid his hands down to August’s neck, and August only then realised his hands were on Jacob’s waist. It was totally normal for them to be standing so close, right? This is what colleagues did, right? Friends, maybe?

  “August, when you said you never thought you’d think of another man the way you thought about Christopher and how you thought something inside of you broke that day but now you’re not so sure . . .” Jacob licked his lips, and his eyes met August’s. “What did you mean?”

  August couldn’t speak. His mouth was so dry. His heart thudded to a stop. “I just meant . . . I’ve enjoyed spending time with you. But I haven
’t spent this much time with another guy, or another person for that matter, in a long time. So it’s probably nothing, and you can ignore me. It’s just good to know that I’m not completely broken.”

  “You’re not broken, August.”

  “I’m trying not to be.” He tried to get his heart under control. “And maybe it’s not you, exactly, but just someone. You know, I could have spent time with anyone and my heart would probably be like Wait, what was that? And so it’s not you per se, so you don’t have to worry that I’m desperate or anything, it’s just that I’ve been alone for so long and I’m totally ballsing this up, so please just ignore everything I just said.”

  Jacob chuckled. “And if I don’t want to ignore it?”

  August took his hand from Jacob’s waist and put it to his own forehead. “Well, that’d be up to you and awkward for me. I guess. I mean, I’ll get over it, and you’ll eventually go back to Tallowwood, but at least I’ll know then—”

  Jacob peeled August’s hand from his forehead and put it back to his waist. “That goes better here,” he said. “And what I meant, was what if I don’t want to ignore that you said you’ve enjoyed spending time with me. Because I’ve enjoyed spending time with you too. You’re kind of great, August. I mean, you grumble a bit and you don’t like people much, but there’s more to you than what you let people see. And I like what I see.”

  Oh, holy shit. August shook his head. “I’m a . . . I’m a mess.”

  “No you’re not. You’re still you. You’re just made up of different parts now. There are new pieces to who you are. Those pieces aren’t wrong or broken, they’re just different to how you used to be. And that’s okay. Actually, that’s a good thing. You should be different after everything you’ve been through. It means you’re human, August. You don’t need to be alone. You just need someone who knows how your puzzle goes back together.”

  August’s heart felt like it was going to beat right out of his chest. It made him breathless and his knees weak. But he managed to nod. “I think that’s what I want now. To not be alone. Maybe I’m ready. I never thought I would, but maybe . . .”

  Jacob smiled and traced his thumb across August’s bottom lip, his eyes following the movement. When his gaze met August’s once more, it was darker, more intense. “Maybe . . .” He swallowed hard. “Maybe I want that too.”

  Had he moved closer? Or had August pulled him closer? He couldn’t remember. He couldn’t think . . .

  “August, can I kiss you?”

  The air was sucked out of the room. His lungs were tight and couldn’t expand, but he thought he nodded. He meant to nod. He wasn’t capable of speaking. He wasn’t capable of anything . . .

  Jacob ghosted his lips over August’s. It almost buckled him. Maybe Jacob was holding him up. Maybe . . . Then Jacob kissed him again. Tender and careful, a promise that he wouldn’t hurt him. Jacob pulled him closer, he kissed him deeper, and August was overwhelmed with touch, taste, and scent. He melted into him, into his embrace, into his kiss. And Jacob sure could kiss. Passionate yet gentle, deep but subtle, the perfect amount of hands, tongue, lips.

  It was everything he’d deprived himself of these last eight years, and more.

  For the first time in that long, August felt alive. He felt human . . . and buzzing . . . and wanted.

  Jacob slowed the kiss, pressing his forehead to August’s as he caught his breath. His lips, wet and plump, curved into a smile and those freckles on his nose had spread to his cheeks too. August couldn’t help himself. He cupped Jacob’s face, just so he could feel the heated skin there. He whispered, “Your freckles . . .”

  Jacob chuckled and scratched gently at August’s stubble. “Your beard . . .” Jacob pulled him in for another soft kiss, but then rubbed his cheek against August’s. “I really like how it feels.”

  August put his forehead to Jacob’s chin but kept his hands on his waist. He wasn’t quite ready for this contact to be over. His whole body thrummed and felt warm and tingly. He hadn’t felt this alive in years, and it felt amazing. “Thank you,” he whispered.

  Jacob breathed in deep, pulled August flush against him, and settled his arms around him with a sigh. “Thank you,” he murmured against August’s neck.

  August did that melting thing again, warm and secure, safe and protected. God, how could a simple hug be so miraculous? There was healing in Jacob’s touch, August was sure of it.

  August could have stayed right there in his arms forever, but eventually Jacob pulled away. “You okay?”

  August nodded, feeling a little sheepish. “Yeah. Actually, I feel kind of great. I wanted to do that for a while, but I didn’t know how and I was a bit conflicted and scared for what it all meant . . .”

  “It means,” Jacob said with a grin, “that we can order pizza for dinner, then instead of comparing notes or case details, maybe we could make out some more? Put some footy on the TV and get all cosy on the couch? I’m thinking that’s what it all means.”

  August laughed, thankful for Jacob’s ability to take August’s awkwardness in stride. “That could work,” he said.

  And Jacob made everything feel so natural. After August’s freak out and then the make out, things could have been incredibly awkward between them, but Jacob made himself right at home. That easy confidence, the ability to take charge, and not be weird, was utterly perfect. Because Lord knows, if it was left up to August, he probably would have been hiding in his bedroom having a panic attack.

  But Jacob took August to the couch, sat right next to him, keeping their fingers entwined. Jacob found some rugby on a channel August had never seen before, then carefully moved the case files to the side while August ordered pizza. When August brought Jacob a bottle of water, he’d moved the cushions a little and was fluffing up a nest for them to get comfy in. He patted the couch beside him, grinning, and when August settled in, Jacob repositioned him a little so August was leaning against his chest, then slung his arm around August’s shoulder and front.

  It was kind of surreal. August had never been so happy to watch rugby. But Jacob kept him anchored, his warmth and the rumble of Jacob’s chest every time he spoke made August smile.

  Jacob was so perceptive. Like he knew that if August was sitting by himself on the opposite end of the couch he’d probably be freaking out right about now, not knowing what to do after their kiss or how to behave or what to say. But by pulling August against him, keeping his arm around him, and distracting him with rugby, Jacob was telling August “It’s okay, I’ve got you. Don’t overthink anything, just let me take care of you.” And it was everything, exactly, what he needed.

  Jacob took charge, like he always did. But he was nurturing, almost. He was very tactile. Even when they’d only just met, Jacob had touched his arm, his shoulder, his hand . . . August thought back to his time in Tallowwood when he’d met Jacob’s entire family: they were all very touchy-feely. They all hugged and kissed and touched. It was just them and how they were so loving, and so loved.

  So very different from August and his family. It wasn’t the first time August had noted that every single thing about Jacob was the polar opposite to August. If August was winter dreary, Jacob was summer sunshine. If August was night, Jacob was day.

  And there was something fun and challenging about that.

  Not that August expected long-term boyfriend status, or even a second kiss for that matter. But Jacob had cracked a light into what had been a darkened room, and even if Jacob left in a few days and that was the end of them, August was grateful for him.

  August glanced at the photos of Christopher, and he expected a barrage of guilt to pull him under, but it never came. Perhaps it would come later, but right then, there was no guilt at all. There was acknowledgement and recognition, and there was love—a part of August would always love Christopher—but there was also acceptance, that he was gone and that August still had life in him yet.

  The intercom buzzed, and August reluctantly got up. He let the pizza
delivery guy up and brought the box back to the couch. Now, did he sit beside him while they ate? Or should he get plates for the table? Jacob patted his chest. “Back in your spot, Detective. You were keeping me warm.”

  August grinned and happily obliged. He put the box beside Jacob, and Jacob slung his arm back over August, grabbed a slice with his other hand, and gave it to August. “Thanks.”

  Unexpectedly, he planted a kiss to the side of August’s head. “I could tell you were overthinking where to sit.”

  August laughed but ate his pizza. Jacob ate as well, in between yelling at the rugby, but all in all, it was one of the best nights August had had in almost a decade.

  When the pizza was gone and the rugby finished, some terrible movie came on, though Jacob made no start to move. His arm across August’s chest got a little tighter and rubbed over his pec, over his ribs. Subtle caresses that sent waves of electricity through August.

  He was warm, relaxed, and a pleasant hum began to spread to places August had neglected for years. Then Jacob shifted his weight underneath him and August could feel something hard pressing into his lower back. He writhed a little, chasing more of that pleasant hum, not really meaning to but unable to stop himself. Jacob’s strong arm over his shoulder and across his chest held him in place. “August,” he breathed. “I need to know what’s okay before we go any further.”

  August froze. And in that split second, he knew he wanted more. “I want to feel . . . alive.”

  Jacob sighed quietly before kissing the side of August’s head again. Then he nuzzled behind his ear and August moaned. The sound surprised him, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He tilted his head, giving Jacob better access, and gripped Jacob’s thigh. Jacob rolled his hips, and oh yes, Jacob’s erection pressed firmly into his back.