by AG Meiers
The second thing Sven noticed was the delicious smell of freshly baked apples and cinnamon. Jayden turned and gave him a huge smile that caused flutters in Sven’s stomach.
Orla called out to him first. “Sven, there you are. Pat told me you had to pull that up-to-no-good Greg out of the mud along the river.” Sven threw a long, dirty look at Petrovic, who shrugged his shoulders and completely unfazed, continued to eat his pie. Orla shook her head. “I’ll give him a piece of my mind when he dares to show his face. His parents raised him better than that.”
Sven looked at his mother with her hands on her hips. She took a few quick steps toward him. “And you.” She pointed a finger at Sven. “Don’t you send this nice young boy here lying to me. ‘Checking out the bridge’? You and Greg always did stick together, but don’t pull other people into your tales. You hear me, Sven Larson?”
“Well, I actually did check the roads and the bridge. Wasn’t a lie. The bridge is under water. I doubt it will last long, but for now we’re cut off.” At the table, Jayden stiffened slightly, drawing Sven’s attention to him. Jayden looked up and their gaze caught. He gave a little shrug, his eyes flickering to Orla before he glanced back at Sven with a frown. Was he worried about Sven getting into trouble? Shit, that was sweet.
Sven’s suspicion was confirmed when Jayden took a deep breath and awkwardly waved to the pies on the table. His voice was low and hesitant. “I made you a pie, but you have to hurry before Mr. Petrovic finishes it all.”
Pat’s fork froze halfway to his mouth. Elliot started to chuckle again.
“‘Mr. Petrovic’?” Pat said, horrified. “Oh no. Call me Petrovic or Pat if you have to, but not ‘mister.’ Nobody but my parole officer ever called me ‘mister.’” He shoved another huge piece of pie with whipped cream into his mouth. “But you do make a mean pie. This is good. Sven, you should have some now, because I fully intend to have another piece.”
“What are you guys doing besides eating pie?” Sven asked, “Oh shit! My books.” The table was filled with old photo albums, notebooks, and folders. For a second, he was almost angry, exposed and a little humiliated in front of Jayden, a complete stranger. But then his eyes fell on his very first diary written over twenty years ago. It was nothing really, just a thin composition book that one of the camp counselors had given him to write down his experiences from the summer trip to Cold Creek. “So you remember all the good times.”
Sven picked up the book and flipped through. Memories of his dad covered almost every page. Sven felt his throat closing up and he swallowed hard. Taped in at the back was an old faded picture of the group of boys with Duncan and him standing on the side. Sven had religiously written down everything that happened every single day. He had drawn maps to document where he’d been. There were colored pictures of leaves and plants. And pages and pages of notes scribbled in the messy handwriting of a nine-year-old kid.
The room had gone silent except for the ticking of the large, old clock in the corner and the crackling of the fire. Everyone seemed to be waiting for Sven’s reaction, but he was lost in the past and kept looking through the different years of collected memories. After the first summer, he’d continued to keep a diary until he left for college. At first, because he’d been worried he would be sent away again like so many times before. He’d wanted to capture everything good and store it away for bad times . . . when he was in a foster home again waiting for the next family to give him a try. Later, he carried on simply out of habit, and once he got his own camera, he’d started to add more pictures. Holidays at the lodge, fishing and camping trips, driving lessons in Duncan’s old jeep that later became Sven’s first car, all spread out in front of him on the wooden table.
“This is my favorite.” Jayden held up a folder that Sven had made when he was ten or eleven. He and Duncan had built a tree house. Sven had been so excited, he’d documented every single step and written long, detailed descriptions.
“I’m a city kid from Philly, but I think even I could build a treehouse following your step-by-step instructions.” Jayden gave him a beaming smile. “This is awesome. I mean, you have drawings of screws, nails, and all the tools.”
Heat rushed to Sven’s face. He wasn’t sure how to respond. Luckily, he was saved by Pat, who asked, “But you don’t live in Philadelphia now, do you?”
“I sure do. Where else would I live?” he added with a nervous laugh. He clearly didn’t like to be in the spotlight, which made it even more endearing that he’d spoken up earlier to get Orla off Sven’s case.
Petrovic, who had been in the process of adding whipped cream to his pie, stopped and turned to Jayden with a frown. “But I saw—” He gave his head a little shake. “And you flew in straight from the city?”
Jayden lowered his eyes and nodded. “Well, there was a stopover in Vancouver.”
“Can I have some pie?” Sven asked to disperse the tension that suddenly seemed to have risen between the two men. Orla handed Sven a plateful and Sven took a huge bite of pie. Flavor exploded in his mouth: tart apples with a hint of sugar, just the right amount of cinnamon, and a delicious crust. “Wow, this is good. You made this?”
Jayden blushed hard and gave him a shy nod.
“This is really good. Are you a baker or something? I mean back home?”
“No . . . I’m . . .” Jayden’s blush intensified. “I’m between jobs right now . . . but I . . . I like baking.”
Before Sven could ask more, Orla took the folder out of Jayden’s hand. “Oh my, I remember the day you finally finished the treehouse and you were determined to sleep out there. It was below freezing that night. We tried to talk some sense into you, but nothing would change your mind.”
“In the end, Dad dug out his old camping stuff and climbed up there with me.” Sven smiled at his memories. “He stuck me and my blankets into his giant sleeping bag. We could barely move, but it was probably the best night’s sleep I’d had in a long time.”
“Duncan was a great dad.” Orla had tears in her eyes again.
“Yeah, the best.”
The door of the lodge flew open and two hikers entered. Sven was almost thankful for the gush of wet, cold air. It blew away the overwhelming sense of loss he felt in that moment. He pulled himself together and took another bite of Jayden’s pie.
The two girls asked for shelter for the night. They’d been out for a hike and underestimated the weather. Cold Creek was marked as a rescue station on most local maps, so lost or stranded strangers walking into the lodge was a frequent occurrence. Orla immediately took them upstairs to the bunk room, where they’d have plenty of space to dry their wet clothes and backpacks.
Sven and Jayden gathered the photo albums back into their box. Sven could feel Jayden’s eyes on him but wasn’t sure he could handle the silent attempt to offer comfort, so instead he grabbed the laundry and the box full of memories. “I’ll bring this back to Orla’s apartment. Make sure to save me another piece of pie, will you? It’s very good.”
Orla caught up with him when he was at the door to her place on the second floor above the kitchen.
“I brought your box back up. Elliot’s poker buddies will be here soon,” Sven said. “I also brought some laundry that I wanted to throw into your machine. Is that okay? I can go over to the station just as well.”
“Oh, no, leave it here. Washer is empty. No need to drive over.”
Sven left the laundry in the hallway and quickly helped Orla put his books back into the shelf behind the new sofa Orla had gotten for herself last month. She’d wanted something with an ottoman to put her feet up at the end of the day. It had taken Greg and Sven almost a whole day to get it from the furniture store in Newbury and haul it up the stairs into her apartment, but the spread-out blanket and extra pillows told Sven that it was well used.
Orla interrupted his thoughts. “He’s a nice lad, your Jayden. Quiet, yes, but I like him.” Then she added, “A lot of sadness hiding in his eyes. He lost his mom to cancer last
summer. Did he tell you?”
“No, we haven’t had much chance to talk yet.” Sven cringed at how that sounded and quickly continued, “Jayden was tired last night. He more or less fell into bed when we got to the cabin.” Nice! Somehow his mind was completely hung up on Jayden in his bed.
“I knew he was a good man when he walked through the door last night.”
“Mom, he’s a complete stranger. We don’t know anything about him.”
“Don’t you mom me like that. I’ve met a lot of young lads here at the station. Every season there are a few old faces, but also a whole new batch of loggers thinking they’re man enough to make it out here. Your Jayden is a good one. And he is so eager to please it’s hard to look at. He’s scared we’ll kick him out into the rain again. He’s lost and hurting. It’s not an act, and you know it.”
Sven smiled slowly at Orla. Somehow, she had thrown off the heavy blanket of sadness, and her usual self was coming through: strong, full of compassion, but opinionated like her husband had been. Orla and Duncan O’Conner had always, always known better than anybody else. Sven pulled her into his arms and gave her a quick hug. “We’ll keep him for a while if it makes you happy.”
Orla snorted and pushed him off. “I got him for you, you idiot. To make you happy.” When Sven turned away, she asked, “Sven, are you angry at me? Did I . . . did I overstep? If I did, I’m sorry. Still, you need to stop hiding here and go out and live your life. Cold Creek is no place for you. I love you, son, but I’m an old woman with my life behind me. You, on the other hand—”
Sven waved her off and picked up the laundry. “Don’t talk like that! I miss him just as much, but . . . just . . . just don’t talk like that!”
Orla took the laundry from him. “I’ll take that. Last time you used too much detergent. I’ll put it in for you.”
Sven knew it was fruitless to argue and was glad to escape. He didn’t like when their discussions turned toward him and his life.
Before he could make it out the door though, Orla called him back. “Sven, have you thought some more about the job in Vancouver? It was nice to have you here for a long time. You’re a good son and helped me a lot, but you should really think about taking the position. Move on with your own life. Vancouver is the perfect place for young people like you and Jayden. This is your last week to make a decision, right? They’ve given you so much time. And you said yourself, it’s a great opportunity. Great pay.”
Right on cue. Of course she would bring this up the minute she got him alone. His decision was well overdue. Sven was simply stalling. He didn’t want to leave Orla alone yet. Anyway, he felt like he was honoring his family by following in Duncan’s footsteps as a logger and forester. Why would she try to get rid of him, pushing him toward a job that he wasn’t sure was a good move?
“Dad would never have taken the job. It’s a desk job. In an office. Shirt and tie. Yes, it pays well. I’m just not sure if it’s for me.”
To avoid more questions, Sven turned to leave the apartment, but Orla would have none of it. She caught him at the door. “Your father was incredibly proud of you. Proud of all the things you accomplished that he never had an opportunity to do in his life. Going to college and getting your degree. Sven, Duncan read every article you ever published. He always said you have a special gift with words. You know that.” Her voice broke. “I’m sorry he isn’t here anymore to advise you, but there is no way in hell he would have stood in your way. And if I had known about that job offer, maybe I wouldn’t have hired the agency to find Jayden for you. You need to move forward. Stop dragging your feet. You know we have that money from the insurance. It’s just sitting in the bank. You could use it for starting up a new life.”
But I’m here for you! I’m staying for you! Sven bit the comment back before it could escape him. Orla had her pride. If she knew how worried he was, she’d probably kick him out of Cold Creek in disgust. And in all fairness, she wasn’t the only reason he was delaying his decision. The thought of starting all over again in a city like Vancouver filled him with dread. Lamely, he replied, “I’m not taking that insurance money. It’s for emergencies. But . . . I’ll think about the job and will let you know. I need to get back to them by the end of the week anyway.”
Escaping Orla’s well-meant meddling, Sven made his way downstairs and stopped at the kitchen door to watch Jayden in the main room of the lodge. Elliot had gotten out the cards and was obviously teaching Jayden poker. He was sitting in Sven’s chair at the fire, one leg pulled up, showing off the artificial rip in his jeans. Only a city kid would wear torn jeans on a cold, wet day like today.
Elliot pushed two new cards across the table. Jayden looked at them and immediately broke into a shit-eating grin, which he tried to hide behind his hand. Elliot shook his head in disgust, and Sven snorted with laughter, promising himself to make sure he got Jayden back to the cabin before the game started tonight. Clearly the kid had no poker face at all. Sven took out his laptop and settled down to check his email.
Two hours later, the lodge started to fill with guys from Fire and Rescue for poker night. It was only a small crowd due to the rain, but there were enough players to get a game together. As a stranger, Jayden got a lot of curious stares, and there were a number of guys mumbling comments under their breath. Sven could only imagine what they were saying. Everything about City Boy screamed gay, especially in this testosterone-loaded environment.
If Sven was going to keep up his pretense of being straight, he couldn’t risk being seen as connected to Jayden.
Orla did all the introductions, and Elliot stepped up as well, pulling Jayden into a few conversations. His family was covering for him like they always did, but tonight it rubbed Sven the wrong way. All the hiding, all the lies lay heavy in his stomach.
Once everyone had arrived, Orla served huge plates of food. Pat helped her while Sven took over the bar, mainly serving beer just like every poker night. Right on time for dinner, Greg showed up. Orla gave him a look that would have made most men tremble, but Greg returned her glare with a remorseful grimace and started to load his plate. The hikers came down from upstairs as well and joined the game.
From a safe distance behind the bar, Sven tried to keep an eye on Jayden, who pulled back more and more from the group of players. His smile dimmed; it almost seemed fake compared to the brilliant sparkle in his eyes earlier. His movements had lost their usual dance-like fluency.
Once the crowd got rowdy, he gave up his prime spot at the fire completely to sit closer to the counter—closer to Sven. He tried to strike up a conversation with an awkward question, but Sven, not wanting to draw attention to them, only answered with one-liners. After two or three attempts, Jayden fell silent and took out his phone. His shoulders slumped and his eyes lowered.
Damn! Sven threw himself into serving drinks.
Once all the food was gone, Elliot tried to pull Sven into the card game, but he declined when he realized he’d lost track of Jayden completely. He finally found him in the large kitchen, loading the dishwasher.
“You know, that’s Greg’s job. Especially after this morning. You don’t need to clean up for him.”
Jayden jumped, obviously startled by Sven’s voice, and dropped a plate. It broke, pieces scattering across the tiled floor. The noise ripped through the silent kitchen like a bombshell.
“Shit! I’m so sorry.” Jayden crouched down, his hands shaking as he started to pick up the shards. His face was pale in the bright overhead light of the kitchen. Sven heard irregular gasps as if Jayden were having difficulty breathing. It reminded Sven of the night of his arrival, when Jayden had pressed himself against the lodge wall. Fuck. In order to protect his secret and his lie, Sven had completely forgotten Jayden’s well-founded fears. Self-loathing swamped him to the point that he felt sick.
He walked over to help. Getting the broom from the corner, he swept up the smaller pieces and dumped them into the trash. Once the mess was cleared, they put some last di
shes into the machine and turned it on. Then, Sven couldn’t hold back anymore. He gently placed his hand on Jayden’s back. Jayden was all tensed up, but he seemed to relax slightly at Sven’s touch.
“Listen, you’re safe here. Pat, Orla, Elliot, and me . . . we would never let anybody hurt you.” Too little too late, Larson.
Jayden’s hand flew up to the faded scar on his forehead. Sven’s heart twisted a little at the gesture. Somebody had hurt Jayden in the past.
“Usually your kind . . . butch, outdoorsy . . . doesn’t like my kind.”
“And what kind would that be?”
“Queer, swishy . . . effeminate . . .” Jayden’s voice dropped to a whisper.
Unwanted thoughts rushed through Sven. Adorable. Magical. Oh baby, you have no idea how much I like your kind. However, out loud he said, “Trust me. You’re safe here. Nothing bad will happen to you. Let’s go back to the cabin. Have you ever watched the movie Maverick? It’s Elliot’s favorite movie.”
“No, I don’t think I have. Sounds good.” Jayden’s reply was accompanied by a slow smile as he looked up to Sven. They were standing close, with Sven’s hand still on Jayden’s back. For a split second, Jayden seemed to lean into him with a low exhale, but then he abruptly stopped and moved away, returning the broom to its corner.
It took all of Sven’s willpower to not pull him back. In that moment, nothing seemed more important than regaining Jayden’s trust and keeping him safe. Hell, how had Jayden managed to get under his skin so quickly? Sven brushed the thought aside. With everything else going on in his life right now, he didn’t need . . . this.
Perfect Match Commitment #5:
We will never make you look through a large number of profiles. We wouldn’t be doing our job. There is one perfect match out there for you, and we know how to find him.
