Chapter Six

Chapter Six

Shane

"The listing called it rustic."

Most city folks would have meant that as an insult, but from Milo's joyous mouth it was all compliment. He was downright giddy as he nosed around the cabin.

There wasn't much ground for him to cover.

It was an open plan on the main floor. Nowhere to hide and no place to secret anything away, not really. At least it wasn't as bare on the inside as it was outside. The basics were all provided. A fridge and stove in the kitchen area. A table and two chairs smack in the center, made for a dining room. There was even a sofa placed directly in front of the fireplace and a small stack of wood waited to be used.

Milo peeked into the kitchen cabinets and opened the cupboards with all the enthusiasm of someone on a treasure hunt.

"What do you call it?" Shane asked. He needed to keep his hands busy and his mind occupied with practical matters, so, he helped himself to that wood and started a fire.

"I think it's handsome."

Despite the growing heat from the crackling fireplace, Shane was frozen by that reply. A lump formed in the base of his throat. Shane tried to will it away but had no luck there. He coughed to shake up his nerves and free his tongue.

"Handsome, huh? Strange compliment for a building."

"I prefer handsome over pretty," Milo said.

There was an insinuation there that Shane did his best to ignore.

Shit, maybe Milo wouldn't be fighting off the women after all.

Pumpkin broke the delicate ice that had settled over their conversation and sparred them any further awkwardness by pawing at Shane's side. A silent demand for attention. He stopped prodding the fire to give her a few pets. Once Pumpkin was satisfied, she curled up next to the sofa and began to soak up the heat pouring from the fireplace.

Shane rested both palms over his knees for support as he rose from his kneeling position. His bad knee was still aching something fierce and Shane put his weight on his good side as he turned to face Milo.

The boy had both hands behind his back. He must have found something during his digging around the kitchen.

"What're you hiding?"

"I was hoping you could tell me."

Milo revealed what he'd found in the pantry: a large glass jar full of a clear liquid. No label on it, but there was no need for one. Shane knew exactly what it was at a glance.

"That there is shine." A thin chuckle slipped past Shane's lips.

"You mean like…moonshine?" Milo's excitement was clear and open as he looked down at the jar in his hands. "For real?"

"Yeah, for real."

"Is it safe to drink?" Milo screwed the top off and pressed his nose to the jar's opening. He immediately drew back, lifting one hand and pressing his knuckles against his nostrils. "Woah."

"That was Mr. Tate's way. Took his liquor strong and made his hooch even stronger."

"The Tates…were they happy here?"

A complicated question yet there was a simple answer. "I'd say so."

There were no ghosts left over in the cabin. The only skeleton in the closet was the left-behind moonshine.

"I hope I'm happy here too," Milo said. His expression turned thoughtful and then determined as he plopped down onto the sofa. "I will be happy here."

Shane hummed as he lifted his palms toward the fire to test the temperature. It was warm enough for now, but he'd add another log before he left for the night. "You're sounding real sure about that."

"I'm already happier than I've ever been before. Out here…and with you." It was finally Milo's turn to clear his throat and only silence followed the sound. Shane still refused to look too hard at his own feelings. He wasn't about to go asking after Milo's.

"I hope we'll be good neighbors to each other, Shane. And friends too. Should we toast to it?"

Milo's smile grew as he looked up at Shane. As did the flames from the fireplace. Both were dangerous. Both were close enough to reach out to touch and just as likely to end with Shane getting burned.

There were no glasses or cups to be fancy about it, but they could make do.

They could take turns.

"I suppose." Shane's voice turned warmer than it had in years as he joined Milo on the sofa. He wanted to say the cause of that was on the nearby fire instead of Milo's sweetly seductive smiles.

Milo took a swig from the jar. A small one. So small it barely counted as a proper mouthful of the stuff, but Shane wouldn't fault a city boy for such an uneasy first sip.

Either Milo would manage to swallow and he'd grow to like it.

Or he'd swear off moonshine for life.

Shane gave Milo his full attention so he could see which path Milo would go down. His face scrunched up as the shine hit his tongue, but he kept his lips pressed together tightly and swallowed.

He kept it down.

Milo let out a strange sound. Something between a laugh and a cough as he held out the jar toward Shane. His turn. Shane accepted it and as he did their fingertips brushed.

Shane took a long, hard swig to try and forget that moment of skin-on-skin contact. He was no boozehound, but he'd grown up sneaking sips of his mama's moonshine and could hold his drink.

When he swallowed, he didn't so much as blink.

"So. Who were you visiting at the cemetery?"

Now that made Shane blink. And cough. In between all those involuntary movements, he lost his stoic composure. "My mama. Shit, you sure don't hesitate in asking the personal questions."

"I thought me being friendly and prying would help me fit in here. Isn't that how they do it out in the country? Everybody knows everything about everyone or something."

Shane let out a huff that nearly counted as a laugh. Fair was fair and true was true. "That is how it's done."

"I was there visiting my mom too. Or I was trying to visit her. I didn't find the grave."

The fact that Milo had kin buried up on Hope Peak took Shane by surprise. Milo was as city as city could be. There wasn't even a trace of the hills in that squeaky-clean accent. "But you ain't from around here."

"No, I'm not. My mom was born here. This is where she wanted to be buried — she wanted to come home, I guess."

A sad thing.

Shane knew of no other way to think about it and knew even less about how to speak of it. There were no platitudes or pleasantries that could comfort a loss so great. Shane knew that intimately, he still felt it even after all those long years.

He didn't know Milo's full life story. Why this boy had chosen to move here at all. Why he'd just now come to visit his dead mama and didn't even know where they gave her to the earth.

Shane didn't need to know all that.

But he did know what he needed to say.

"I'll help you find her," he said, "when the weather fairs up."

"Thank you," Milo smiled. First to Shane and then to the four walls around them. "I'm going to make this house into my home."

Milo might have spoken on sad things, but there was no creep of solemnity into his voice. He sounded strong, and proud, like the very mountain itself.

Maybe, just maybe, Shane had judged the boy too harshly.

"So, do you have any other family up here?" Milo asked.

Shane shook his head and answered honestly. "No, she was all I ever had."

He knew he should have asked more after Milo's mama. In all likelihood, Shane himself might have known the woman once upon a time. There were a great many things Shane should have asked Milo. About the city he'd moved from. His work. His hobbies. Milo was a bubbling ball of goodwill and shiny optimism, but he seemed so hellbent on where he ended up that he hadn't said much about where he'd moved from.

There was all manner of things Shane could ask after, but he found his tongue dry in his mouth and all he could offer was companionable silence.

"But do you want more?" Milo asked. "You waiting to get married and have kids or…?"

That was another question Shane couldn't bear to answer. The truth hurt too much to speak.

The pain of silence was so much easier to shoulder through.

"I do fine on my own," Shane said, "and having you as my neighbor is sure to keep me busy this winter. You should uh…be careful. People like to talk and they're really gonna like talking about you."

"You mean they'll gossip about me being gay." Somehow Milo didn't lose his smile with that admission. He didn't blink. He didn't cough. Milo might not have been able to quite handle his liquor, but he could handle his truth.

"I picked up on your insinuations."

"Does that bother you?"

Shane didn't trust his voice so he shook his head. No, it didn't bother him. Confused him, maybe, but that wasn't something that Shane was willing to admit to Milo. Not when Shane could barely think it to himself.

The whole damn day had confused him.

"Nope, no bother. Your business is your own and I don't need to know it."

"But you want to help me with my business," Milo said. "You act like you don't want to be around me, but you keep sticking around to help out. How come?"

Shane had never heard a call out so cheerfully done.

"Yeah, well…" Shane trailed off with a grunt. He glanced over his shoulder and looked at Pumpkin. At some point in their awkward conversation, she'd sneaked herself up onto the couch and curled up. She shouldn't have been up there, but Shane didn't have the heart to scold her down. Not when Milo didn't seem to take offense to her bad manners. "Guess I got me a soft spot for helping the helpless."

"I think you mean hopeful," Milo laughed. That laughter bell-like sound warmed Shane's bones more than the fire. Or the liquor. He looked down at the jar of moonshine and decided that the both of them had enough to drink for the night.

A little bit of liquor might help keep a man warm in the dark of the night but getting drunk was only asking for all kinds of trouble.

As Shane glanced over at Milo and caught the boy's profile, Shane realized he was already neck-deep in trouble. The light from the fireplace left Milo bathed in a golden light.

Everything about Milo was gold. His smile. His laugh. His heart. Even those light brown eyes looked flecked with that treasured color.

"Maybe we can help each other," Milo said as they looked deep into each other's eyes. "I'd like to do something to help you, Shane, to repay you for your kindness. We're both alone but we don't need to be lonely."

Somehow during all that talking they'd drifted closer. They'd sprawled out their legs to warm up their feet and in doing so had ended up sitting side by side, sharing both the heat of the fireplace and body heat.

If Milo moved even an inch closer, the boy would be in his lap.

Fuck, he couldn't think about that. There was a lot Shane couldn't think about and even more, he couldn't allow himself to want. Yet as he looked at Milo's open face and parted lips, all Shane could do was want.

With the fire roaring inside and the snow falling outside and the dog asleep behind them, Shane closed that last bit of respectability between him and Milo. He didn't know what the hell he was doing, but Shane did it anyway.

The primal center of his brain took over and instinct led the way. One moment they were staring at each other and in the next moment he'd fallen into darkness…and against the softness of Milo's mouth.

It was less of a kiss and more of a touch.

Warm. Dry. Gentle.

His mouth over Milo's mouth, they breathed together and shared air, merely enjoying the closeness for a spell. The contact was too much yet not enough.

It went on for too long and ended too soon.

Milo made a little sound of need that had Shane pulling back. Shane ran his hand across his face and pulled at his thick beard. He ducked his head and licked his lips. Goddamn. He could have sworn the taste of Milo's sweet nature lingered on his tongue.

He wanted more, but it had to stop.

They had to stop.

Shane had to stop. Because if he allowed himself to have this, to have Milo, he'd never stop wanting him.

Milo pulled away as Shane did, scooting back a little to put a bit more space between them. He looked up at Shane with wide eyes. Not fearful, exactly, but it still bore a similarity to someone taken by surprise. Like Milo had surprised himself as much as he'd surprised Shane.

"Shit, I'm sorry. I thought maybe—"

"No."

Shane wouldn't have Milo making apologies or feeling bad over what happened. It was only a slip in control. A mistake that might not be easily forgotten but was forgiven instantly.

"Ain't nothing to be sorry about," Shane said, "what happened…happened. Don't you worry. There's no need for us to make a thing outta it."

But it was something that couldn't happen again.

Milo touched his mouth too. Pressed his fingertips to his lips before he lowered them and offered Shane a shy smile. "Should we blame the moonshine?"

"If you like."

"You drink this stuff like it's just water. I guess it went to my head." Milo cleared his throat and then let out a laugh. A little awkward sounding, but it was still real. And a lovely sound. It was clear and warm and welcoming, a sharp contrast to the frozen weather that waited for him outside.

Shane shrugged and took another generous swig before he passed the moonshine back to Milo.

That was his final taste for the night. He'd drunk enough. What Shane had drunk would leave him warm, but wouldn't make him fuzzy-headed and blurry-eyed. He still needed to drive a few miles down the road. Plenty of stupid and reckless men had killed themselves driving even shorter distances.

Shane wouldn't be counted among them. He had no plans of joining his mama in the ground, not anytime soon, though his new acquaintanceship with Milo was certainly putting him at an increased risk for a heart attack.

"The more you drink it the faster you get used to it," Shane said with a shrug, "not that I'd make drinking this shit a habit."

He regarded Milo with another careful look. The boy didn't seem like the type who'd start brewing homemade hooch out on the back porch. Even if Milo looked happy to be wincing as he sipped from the jar of moonshine, he seemed more suited to savoring wine from a stemmed glass.

"I won't," Milo said with a little laugh. Though the way he looked over at Shane made it sound like a promise. "There are other habits I'd rather take up. Or maybe a new hobby."

Milo's tongue darted and touched his bottom lip. Surely just to wash away the horrid sting of the shine? Shane didn't let his mind linger too long on that question.

Nor his gaze.

And he himself couldn't linger for much longer.

There was no need for it. The power was still on. The fire was lit. Milo would be safe and sound, for now. Shane stood up, his knees letting out a creak of protest from the sudden action.

"Good luck with that. I'm sure you'll figure something out. I gotta head home. Need to get my groceries put away and Pumpkin fed."

"Oh."

Milo's mouth made a perfect circle. He followed Shane up onto his feet. Shane tried to tell Milo he'd show himself out, but Milo insisted. They walked out onto the porch together.

"Hey, Shane? Does it…get easier?" Milo asked, still as curious as he'd ever been. His fingers held tight onto the porch railing. "Living out here on your own?"

Still smiling too.

His small, pert mouth. His light pink lips.

Once Shane started staring at that boy's mouth he found it hard to look away. He knew what that mouth tasted like now. He'd never un-know it. Yet did Milo truly know what he'd signed up for by moving out here? Shane worried for the boy. And for himself. For their own safety, it'd be for the best for Milo to go back to the city.

"You get used to it."

"I imagine there's a lot you get used to."

They said their goodbyes. Milo gave both Shane and Pumpkin a wave of farewell. He lingered in the doorway of the cabin, both the porch light and the lights from inside bathing him in a golden glow while he watched Shane get into his truck and start to drive away.

Shane glanced into the side-view mirror to catch one last look at Milo. He supposed what they talked about was true enough.

With enough time, one could get used to almost anything. And anyone. Despite the dangers of getting too close and feeling anything at all, Shane had to admit something: it'd be nice to get used to having Milo around.