24. Davis

Davis was grateful that he had asked Jeremy out to go mountain biking on a weekend, as the hike back to Davis’s cabin took longer than he would have anticipated. Having a bruised knee would do that to you, but Davis was impressed with the way that Jeremy kept a good face on while they walked.

Davis spent most of the hike talking about the various species of trees around him, partially because he thought it would get Jeremy’s mind off the fact that he was injured and mostly because Davis needed to keep himself distracted because Jeremy’s injury was his fault.

Jeremy, bless his sweet heart, listened to Davis detail the difference between ponderosa and lodgepole pines and even tried to point out aspens on the walk back, because they were, according to him, “the only tree I learned about in Colorado.” Blessedly, finally, they made it back to Davis’s cabin. They had decided to leave the bike Jeremy was riding on the trail, Davis having marked the GPS coordinates on his phone so he could hike out and get it tomorrow. He figured it would be a little like penance for injuring Jeremy. Plus he would have to fix it before he gave it back to Alex. Davis leaned his own bike against the front of his cabin, then turned to Jeremy. “I’m sorry,” he said for what had to have been the thousandth time. “Can I offer you some food or a seltzer? A tea?”

“It’s not your fault,” Jeremy replied, also for the thousandth time. “But I almost never say no to tea.” Davis nearly sprinted to the kitchen to heat up water, though he heard Jeremy’s pained groan as he sat down on this couch. A few minutes later, Davis came out with a cup of chamomile tea in a mug. He had only second-guessed the choice of mug three times, settling on one with Smokey Bear reminding the user that only they could prevent forest fires.

“Here,” Davis said.

Jeremy took the cup and smiled, then took a sip. His injured knee was stretched out on Davis’s couch, so long it seemed to take up the entire length. Davis perched on a nearby foot cushion so Jeremy didn’t have to move.

There was an awkward silence, the only noise Jeremy sipping his tea and Davis cracking a can of seltzer. “I’m sorry,” Davis said again.

“You should be,” Jeremy said. Davis’s heart dropped somewhere into the inner core of the earth, but only for a moment, because Jeremy smirked, a sly smile that Davis had only received from men at very specific bars, and never on his couch in the national forest. “You should be sorry that you didn’t tell me how much more comfortable this couch is over my own.”

Davis let out a relieved laugh that bordered on frantic. “I mean, really? A leather couch? You should know better.” Davis waggled his fingers. “Design and all.”

“I’ve never subscribed to form always following function,” Jeremy said.

“I mean, it looks nice,” Davis said, laughing.

“Fine, fine,” Jeremy said. “I’ll just live here on this couch forever, then. You can take my leather couch.” Davis would probably agree to that, suffer through a loud and uncomfortable piece of furniture for the chance to keep Jeremy here, laughing and smiling, drinking tea in his cabin.

“I’m going to have to charge you rent,” Davis joked back. “I mean, the federal government shuts down at least once a year at this point, so I do need a steady source of income.”

“Oh?” Jeremy said, shifting up and setting his teacup down. “Not a second career as a paramedic?”

Davis rolled his eyes. “Too much math. Forest kid,” he said, pointing to himself in an imitation of Jeremy earlier. “Speaking of, how is your knee?”

“It doesn’t hurt as bad,” Jeremy said, gingerly bending the knee. “I think I’ll live.”

“And your wrists?” Davis, without thinking, held out his hands. Jeremy placed his wrists in Davis’s open palms. Davis studied the bandages, which looked good, and delicately pressed the skin just above the wrap. “Does that hurt?”

“No,” Jeremy said, his voice getting a bit softer.

“Good,” Davis whispered back. He leaned a bit closer, his hands still holding Jeremy’s wrists the same way he would hold a rare wildflower. Cautious. Protective.

“Hey, I saw that your bike was back and thought I could drop off Mary Anne.” Davis heard Alex’s voice a millisecond before he would have crossed the point of no return and closed the gap between Jeremy’s lips and his own. He pulled back quickly and, Davis was grateful to realize, Jeremy had also reclined back on the couch. His brain was lagging like the dial-up at his parents’ house, because before Davis could open his mouth to ask Alex to keep Mary Anne outside, there came the noise of his front door opening, followed by the unmistakable sound of eighty pounds of a loving pit mix barreling through the house.

“Mary Anne!” Davis said, leaping up and just barely getting a hand on her harness. Mary Anne, excited by a new person to meet, whined and pulled, wanting to get to Jeremy. Davis couldn’t blame him. Like dog dad, like dog daughter, apparently.

“Who is this?” Jeremy said, releasing that same goose honk of a laugh Davis had begun to crave.

“This is Mary Anne,” Davis said, pulling back on the dog’s harness. “Sorry, I didn’t get a chance to see if you liked dogs. Alex, my coworker, was watching her today and apparently, just dropped her off.”

“Is she friendly?” Jeremy asked.

“She wouldn’t hurt a fly,” Davis responded. Jeremy shifted, only wincing slightly as he bent his legs and placed both his feet on the floor.

“Hey, girl,” he said softly, placing his bandaged wrist out in front of him. Davis, still keeping a light grip on her harness, led Mary Anne over to Jeremy. “I promise I usually don’t smell like this much dirt,” he joked to the dog, then added, “You probably like that, though.” Mary Anne, to her credit, sniffed Jeremy’s palm and, after a moment, pressed her head into Jeremy’s hand.

“She likes it when you scratch behind her ear,” Davis said, suddenly feeling like his heart was growing too big for his chest.

“She likes me!” Jeremy exclaimed, almost in awe, as he followed Davis’s guidance. Mary Anne looked at Davis just once, as if to check, then turned back to Jeremy. “She really likes me,” Jeremy repeated.

Who wouldn’t?Davis thought. “She’s a good dog” is what he said instead.

“I always wanted a dog,” Jeremy said, shifting to scratch Mary Anne’s other ear. “It’s kind of hard in a fourth-floor walkup in Greenwich Village, or when you’re in art school.” Davis wouldn’t know what it was like to be an art student or what it would be like to live in New York City. But he did know dogs.

“I always had ’em growing up,” Davis explained. “Always some kind of mutt running around our house. I, uh, didn’t get Mary Anne until recently.” Davis focused on scratching the dog’s back rather than watching Jeremy gently stroke the dog’s ears.

“Why?”

“I wanted to make sure I was staying. It wouldn’t have been fair to get a dog and then move somewhere else.” Mary Anne, to underscore the gravity of what Davis said, rolled over on her back, demanding belly rubs.

“You were thinking about leaving?” Jeremy asked, rubbing the dog’s belly.“When I first moved, I wasn’t sure. But now, Colorado, for some reason, feels right.” He chanced it then, and looked up at Jeremy, who was looking back at him, smiling.

“I know the feeling” is all he said.