Cole rubbed his face with his good hand. “I just feel like such a dick intruding on your vacation with your boyfriend.”
Daniel shifted uncomfortably. “Well, he’s not my boyfriend yet.” Justin was cute and lively, but would he really make good boyfriend material? Did they have a single thing in common aside from being gay and working at AppAny?
Chill. The whole point of this trip is to find out. And have some fun for once. CYC. He checked his phone, finding the lock screen still blank but for the stock image of a random cityscape. He’d texted Justin with the bad news that they’d have company, but no response yet.
“Is he waiting for you to pick him up? I’m sorry to delay everything.”
“It’s fine—he headed up this aft. And like I told you, there are four bedrooms. It’s a big chalet, but it was the only one I could get last minute. Works out for the best. We can do our thing, and you can relax and whatever.” Won’t be awkward at all.
“Right. Okay. Uh… Well, if you’re sure?”
He pushed the button to turn off the engine. “I’m sure. It’s settled. End of discussion.”
“Okay.” Cole smiled tentatively. “You were always like that. Once you’d made up your mind, you were determined.”
Daniel blinked. “You think so? I’m amazed you even remember me. You were just a little kid.”
“Not that young. I was thirteen.”
“Were you? I thought you were ten or something. Right, I guess thirteen makes sense since you’re in grad school now.” Cole had certainly grown up. He was only about five-six, but he had a tight, lean little body, like a swimmer or diver. His short hair was light brown, eyes blue, jaw square, and most importantly, he’d grown into his ears, which had seemed enormous when he was a kid.
Cole seemed okay as they walked into the building and he unlocked the lobby door, but Daniel stayed in arm’s reach just in case and asked, “Where’s the elevator?”
“There isn’t one.”
Of course. Normally Daniel wouldn’t care, but considering stairs had made Cole their bitch once already today… “Tell me you aren’t on the third floor.”
Cole winced. “I’m not on the third floor?”
Wonderful.
Progress was steady, though. Cole really was being a trouper, and as he turned the last landing—right hand gripping the railing, Daniel beside him—Daniel said, “You’re doing great.”
Cole grinned, then stumbled, and Daniel caught him around the waist. “Whoa. Don’t get cocky, kid.” It wasn’t quite a direct quote from Star Wars, but as he straightened up, Cole laughed.
“You still love those movies?”
“Sure. It’s stupid, I guess.” He could still imagine Trevor rolling his eyes at what he’d referred to as “Daniel’s little sci-fi problem.” He shifted his weight uncomfortably.
Cole blinked at him. “Why would you say that? Those movies are awesome. Did you see the new one when it came out last week? What am I saying, of course you did.”
“Actually, I haven’t yet,” he said with a pang of regret. “Too much work to do before we closed the company for the holidays.”
“Seriously?” Cole’s thin brows shot up. “I’d have thought you’d be there opening day. I saw it on the weekend. So good. You’re going to love it.” He added, “At least, I think you will. Not that I know you anymore. Or that I ever knew you.” His ears went bright red.
“Okay, well. Let’s keep going. Carefully.” Mindful of the cast, Daniel stood closer, his hand hovering over Cole’s back. The stairwell smelled of nothing, really—stale air and concrete, which was better than the stench of piss that made itself home in many stairwells. But now the scent of Cole’s sweat and the plaster from the cast filled Daniel’s nose.
A strange protectiveness surged up in Daniel as he stayed close to Cole. It sucked being sick or hurt, and it was even worse being alone when you hurt. The previous winter, Daniel had sweat and shivered through a brutal flu, holed up in his room, too weak to even go downstairs for filtered water, refilling his glass at the bathroom sink instead. He’d even missed a day of work.
They reached Cole’s apartment without further incident, and since it was approximately the size of a shoe box, it wasn’t difficult to stay close to Cole in case of more dizziness. An unfolded futon took up most of the space straight ahead inside the door, and the little kitchen and bathroom stood off to the left.
The place was painted white, and some framed abstract prints that were likely from IKEA decorated two of the walls. A foot-high ceramic Christmas tree sat on a low coffee table, and there were lights taped up above the kitchen cabinets.
Cole said, “I know it’s not much, but school’s expensive.”
“No, it’s…nice. Your dad’s not paying your tuition?”
“He did for undergrad. I want to do it all myself now. Really be independent, you know?”
“I hear you.” Daniel eyed the only closet. The door stood open, and it held everything from a vacuum to shoes to clothes hanging from an adjustable shower curtain jammed up between the narrow sides. “Do you have a duffel or something?”
Cole did, and of course it was stuffed way in the back of the closet. Daniel pulled his tight slacks up a couple inches for room to move and got on his hands and knees, rooting around until his fingers closed over something that felt like a handle. The duffel bag—blue with the Toronto Maple Leafs logo—was worn but functional. Daniel crawled out and held it up. “Got it.”
He’d left Cole leaning against the wall nearby, and Cole nodded and squeaked, “Great.” His face was alarmingly red.
“Do you feel sick?” Daniel sprang to his feet.
“Nope! I’m good.” He walked slowly toward a battered chest of drawers. A TV sat on top. Opening drawers with his right hand, he awkwardly pulled out a few T-shirts, a hoodie, a pair of jeans, socks, and underwear of the boxer-brief variety.
Daniel scooped the little pile into the bag. Just then, his phone buzzed.
Hey babe! RU on your way? Np about your bro. The more the merrier! Have surprise 4U, so hurry.
We’re going to have so much fun!!!
Cole came out of the bathroom with a Ziploc bag of toiletries and asked, “Is everything okay?”
Realizing he was gritting his teeth at the way Justin used short forms for some words, Daniel unclenched. “Yep. It’s all good.” So Justin was informal in his texts. Most people were, and just because it drove Daniel crazy didn’t make it wrong. He needed to loosen up. That was the whole point of dating Justin. Getting out of his comfort zone. CYC.
Still. Was it really so hard to type out three-letter words?
“I guess we should get going?” Cole asked.
Indeed they should. After the slow and steady trip downstairs, they got back on the road. Daniel lived in a new subdivision in Kanata, and half the streets were still under construction, the dark hulks of half-built houses standing watch. Daniel weaved around potholes made by the construction trucks and equipment.
Cole asked, “Is it noisy with all this being built?”
“I guess. But they don’t work weekends, and I leave at six to hit the gym before the office. They’re always done by the time I get home at night. I’m looking forward to all the mess being gone, though.” He turned onto his street, strings of Christmas lights adorning some houses. There was also a massive, blinking Santa’s sleigh where the little lawn would be in front of the house across the street.
They’d get sod put down in the spring, so currently their front yards were only dirt—now mud covered in wet snow. Daniel pulled into his short driveway and pressed the buttons for the house alarm and then the garage door.
In contrast with his neighbors, Daniel’s only holiday decoration was a dark green wreath on the front door decorated with tasteful hints of silver. He’d never put up decorations inside at his condo, and hadn’t done it at the house either.
“I’ll go in through the garage. Too messy out front. Do you want to just stay in the c
ar? I’ll be quick.”
“Yeah, cool. The seat warmer is making my butt way too toasty to get out. Do you rent this place?”
“No, I bought it last year. Moved in just before spring.”
“Seriously, you have your own house? That’s awesome.”
Daniel shrugged and said a simple, “Thanks,” but he flushed with pride. Only a few feet separated the houses in the cookie-cutter subdivision, but Daniel owned his own fully detached home before he was thirty. While Ottawa was nothing compared to the insane real-estate markets in Toronto or Vancouver, with the rising cost of houses, it was still an accomplishment.
He climbed the three concrete steps up from the garage into the house and unlocked the door. The alarm beeped twice in greeting, and he closed the door behind him and carefully removed his wet loafers. Normally he’d polish them immediately after wearing them in the snow, but they still had a two-hour drive to Mont-Tremblant.
Daniel flipped on the hall light and hung up his coat before hurrying up the stairs, his socks damp on the dark hardwood. He pulled his small suitcase out of the walk-in closet and eyed the racks of clothing, color-coordinated by black, gray, brown, and a few pieces of white. He chose several sweaters and slacks and a pair of dark jeans. Would he need his steamer?
Reluctantly deciding against it, he tugged off his tie and hung it in its place. While the office dress code was insanely casual, he’d always believed in dressing for the job you want. Sure, Martin wore tees or sometimes—Daniel shuddered—Hawaiian shirts, but Daniel always dressed properly. He didn’t wear a suit jacket, which was plenty casual enough.
He changed into a charcoal cashmere sweater and a pair of black jeans, then finished packing. Downstairs, he passed through the darkened living room into his open-concept kitchen. The walls in his house were painted a light gray, and all the furnishings and cabinetry were in black and chrome—although he did have a new dark purple rug in front of the black leather couch. CYC.
He opened the fridge and grabbed a couple bottles of water and bananas. Pam always teased him for keeping his bananas in the fridge, but he hated clutter on the gray quartz counters.
After zipping on his shin-high boots, he made two trips out to the vehicle, which was a car/SUV hybrid with a big open trunk space. He tossed his down parka in the backseat since he hated wearing bulky coats in the car. When he slipped behind the wheel, Daniel handed Cole one of the bottles. “There’s a holder in your door. Doc said to stay hydrated.”
“Right. Thanks. You know you really shouldn’t buy bottled water.” Still, he uncapped it and chugged half. “It’s insanely wasteful. Not just the plastic, but—” He screwed up his face. “Sorry. You don’t need a lecture.”
“It’s okay. You’ve gone green, huh? I guess as an environmental engineer, you kind of have to. Are you a vegan and all that?”
“God no. I’m way too much of a carnivore. And I love cheese. Sweet, sweet cheese. So to make up for my evil ways, I lecture unsuspecting people about disposable water bottles. You’re welcome.”
“Thanks. And hey, I recycle, for the record.” Daniel touched the display screen on the dash. “Let me just give Trudy the coordinates.”
“Trudy?” Cole chuckled. “You named your GPS?”
Daniel grimaced. “My friend Pam did, and it stuck. I was driving her to Costco and telling her about a woman I had to terminate at our office in Houston.” He backed out of the driveway, ignoring Trudy’s redundant directions for leaving the subdivision. “So I called her into the term meeting—”
“Wait, is that the euphemism for firing someone?”
“Yes. Anyway, most people cry and sometimes try to bargain, or there’s denial. Definitely lots of shock, understandably. But once in a blue moon, we’ll get a runner. Trudy stormed out and was cursing at the top of her lungs in the workspace. I went after her, hissing, “Trudy! Trudy!” I was afraid I’d have to call security to tackle her, but she calmed down. Anyway, I was telling Pam the story, and the GPS kept interrupting, so Pam declared it was Trudy’s revenge.”
Cole laughed. After a few moments, he asked, “Does it bother you? Firing people?”
A curl of dread wove through him, but Daniel shrugged as he turned onto the main road. “I don’t enjoy it, but it has to be done sometimes. If profit margins go down, the company has to reduce spend and HC.” He always felt sick to his stomach before a firing, but he had to do his job.
“HC?”
“Sorry. Head count. Also, if we acquire another company, we look for synergy opportunities. Weed out duplicated roles and try to consolidate business functions. Usually layoffs really have nothing to do with the staff members themselves. Which doesn’t make it easier to take, I realize.”
Daniel had often suggested that they could cut costs by not hiring executives who earn a quarter million a year for their ideas and didn’t actually do the operational work, but for all of Martin’s insistence on innovation, prestige still mattered. Daniel was the one who had to do the firing, so Martin got what Martin wanted.
“Do you have to do it often?”
“Several times a year, I guess. They send me to our other offices too. The one in Houston, and another in England. I don’t get emotional, so I’m effective.”
Pam’s teasing voice echoed in his head: “It’s because you’re cold and dead inside. You really need to work on that.”
“Mmm.”
Cole sounded sleepy, and Daniel glanced over after he checked his blind spot and accelerated onto the highway. They were heading back past Ottawa, then across the Ontario/Quebec border toward the Laurentian Mountains. Daniel said, “Go ahead and sleep.”
“Sorry. I’m super tired all of a sudden.” Cole leaned his head back, eyes drifting shut. He murmured, “Cars always put me to sleep. My mom said when I was a baby she used to drive me around the block and I’d be out like a light.”
“Plus you have a concussion. Sleep. I’ll wake you up in a little while to check on you.”
Daniel put the satellite radio on low, the murmur of commercial-free Christmas carols keeping him company, along with the steady rhythm of Cole’s deep breathing. It was strangely comforting that Cole trusted him enough to fall asleep while Daniel was driving. They hadn’t seen each other in ten years, yet here they were. Life could be incredibly bizarre.
Flurries fell, a blanket of white over the fields, the temperature fortunately dropping. Daniel far preferred the frigid, snappy cold to the slushy mess around the freezing mark. The roads had been salted and were only a little icy, and there weren’t many cars around. As Sarah McLachlan sang a melancholy yet pretty song about a river, the world seemed hushed and peaceful.
An hour and a half passed before Cole whimpered and moaned, lifting his head. “Fuck me. I think I’m going to be sick.”
Daniel checked his blind spot and veered onto the empty shoulder. The amount of detailing needed to scrub vomit out of his interior was not something he wanted to deal with. He unbuckled Cole’s seat belt before hopping out and running around to help him climb down, shivering in the cold, their breath pluming icily.
Cole took a few steps before bending in half and blowing chunks into the fresh snow. Ugh. Clearly Dr. Hanratty was correct about the nausea. Cole leaned his good hand on his knee, spitting and groaning. He seemed stable enough, so Daniel leaned back into the car to flip on the hazards and grab a box of mints from the glove compartment. He uncapped Cole’s water bottle, handing it over as Cole straightened up with another groan.
“I haven’t puked on the side of the road since high school.”
“You partied in high school? Huh.” Daniel rubbed his hands together and blew into them, stepping from side to side to keep moving in the cold. He brushed snowflakes off his sweater.
Cole swigged some water, sloshing it around his mouth before spitting it back out. “Nerds skimmed off the top of their parents’ liquor bottles too.”
“Ah, swamp water. I don’t miss those days. Here, have a mint or five.” He
pulled the tin from his pocket and opened it.
“Thanks.” Cole popped a few mints into his mouth and glanced around, moving his head gingerly. “Think it’s okay to piss out here?”
The Audi’s headlights cut through the night, but otherwise it was all dark. “Go for it.”
Daniel stayed within arm’s reach as Cole bent his head to unzip. Cole fiddled with his fly, cursing under his breath. “Fuck. I can’t get the button.”
“Oh. Um…” Shit. Well, he’d agreed to play nurse or whatever, so… “Here.” Daniel stood in front of him, hoping the puking had definitely stopped. He couldn’t see what he was doing, so he stooped and undid the button on feel and pulled down the zipper. He stood straight. “There.”
Cole’s sharp puffs of sour-yet-minty breath hit Daniel’s throat where his sweater made a small V. “Thanks.” Cole’s voice was hoarse, probably from the cold night air. Not to mention the puking.
“Are you good now?”
“Uh…” Cole was tugging his underwear with his right hand, and he huffed, “Jesus, why couldn’t I be ambidextrous?”
Daniel laughed awkwardly. This isn’t super weird or anything. “Here, I’ll just…” He pulled down Cole’s underwear a few inches, his knuckles brushing wiry hair. Nerdy little Cole was definitely a man now. Cole’s belly was taut and trembling, and more puffs of his quick exhalations warmed Daniel’s skin.
Cole’s laugh sounded strained. “I can pull my dick out. I hope.” His fingers brushed Daniel’s, and Daniel whipped his hands back. After a few moments, Cole said, “Are you into golden showers?”
“Huh? Oh, right!” He sidestepped out of the way. “Fire at will.”
As Cole pissed into the snow, Daniel looked away, crossing his arms, debating whether to grab his coat from the back. Cole had to be freezing too in his hoodie. But soon enough, Cole said, “Can you just get the button? I managed the rest.”
Daniel jolted at the sound of Cole’s low voice. “Sure.” He did it up, his numb fingers fumbling a bit, then he helped Cole back up into the passenger seat. Once he was settled, Daniel leaned across him to hook in the seatbelt.
In Case of Emergency Page 3
