Chapter 7

Chapter

Seven

T he beeping alarm system had Jon tensing until the telltale tones of the code being entered meant Tracey was home. He had texted that Perry was dropping him off soon, so Jon had finished up in his office and gone to the kitchen to pull together a quick snack in case they skipped dinner.

Tracey appeared looking exhausted and limping heavily. When he all but fell onto one of the stools at the kitchen island with a long sigh and a tired smile, Jon studied him. Sleeves rolled up, tie gone, and his normally styled hair messy with finger-comb marks.

“Hey, stranger. You okay?”

“Long day. What’s this?” He gestured to the cutting board with Jon’s carefully arranged cheese slices.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d eaten. If you need takeout, it will hold you over while we order.”

Tracey’s smile was soft, but Jon swore it had a melancholy tinge. “Perry made sure we had dinner near the bars we canvassed.”

“Ah, I should have guessed he would have you covered. Find out anything interesting?” Jon cut one more slice of cheddar and popped it into his mouth, then wrapped up the hunk and returned it to the fridge.

He set the plate between them and listened as Tracey recounted his evening.

“Sounds like a productive night. You confirmed some things. That’s good.”

“Yeah, I plan to get with Sarena tomorrow, talk to some of the witnesses in the other jurisdictions. Maybe there’ll be similarities in victimology. Like Doug and Enrique said, the gay communities are pretty close-knit, so maybe someone somewhere knows a username, and we can compel Smoldr to cooperate with an ironclad warrant.”

“Good, good.”

“What about you? Did you have luck with your research?”

Jon was very ready to not talk about work after digging into Enlightened Covenant Ministries. The Wright family’s place of worship, Memorial Crossroads Baptist Church, wasn’t directly affiliated with them, but a few of the parishioners had ties with the leadership of ECM.

“Not much more than hunches at the moment, but I have a plan for tomorrow. I probably shouldn’t discuss it. Plausible deniability.”

Tracey frowned, then pushed the plate back toward Jon. “You can’t tell me?”

“I can, but it’s late. I was thinking we could go upstairs, unwind with a mindless TV show, and get tangled up in each other before we fall asleep.” Jon put the snack away and turned back to Tracey, a hopeful little crook to his mouth. “Maybe forget about work for the night.”

Tracey blew a long breath out and let his shoulders sag. “That actually sounds really nice. Let me shower the clubs off me, and I’ll meet you in the bedroom.”

“Want a back rub?”

“Honestly, I just want the world to be out there for a bit.” He made a pushing gesture toward the nearest window. “Ignore everything and pretend none of it’s a fucked-up mess.”

Jon chuckled. “I can relate.” He followed Tracey up the steps. His pronounced fatigue meant a bigger limp and slower progress. “We can skip the TV show. You can take a pain pill if you need one, and we can just sleep the sleep of the dead.” They topped the stairs and entered the bedroom.

“Nah, something else to think about sounds good. Back in a few.” Tracey beelined into the bathroom and shut the door.

Jon got into a pair of sleep pants and a t-shirt—he didn’t want to be too presumptuous—and browsed show recommendations on his phone while the news played low in the background.

When the bathroom door opened, a waft of steam followed Tracey out. He wore nothing but a towel and his hair was slicked back and wet. He ducked into the closet and returned wearing sleep pants and a long-sleeved shirt. Jon put away his hopes for sexy times and embraced being whatever comfort Tracey needed as he crawled into bed.

On the TV, the news anchor was wrapping up with the lighthearted segment they almost always ended on. “Motorists may have been more caught up than usual in traffic today, and it wasn’t for the typical reasons.” As they switched to a video filmed earlier, Tracey perked up. On screen, people stopped to talk to someone at an intersection handing out balloons from a massive bouquet.

“Oh, hey. Perry and I ran into one of those whackadoodles.”

Jon laughed. “Such a clinical term.”

Tracey rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. “Yeah, well there was something almost manic about the guy, like he was forced to be there, but it wasn’t barely disguised boredom for a job. It wasn’t even for charity or to raise awareness for a cause. He just said to ‘remember your power.’ It was a gimmick and served no point, just aggravated a bunch of people trying to get home after work. It was weird.”

Jon couldn’t help it; he laughed. “Wow, okay.” He clicked off the TV before the story’s feel-good spin could further deepen the divot between Tracey’s eyebrows. Throwing an arm across his torso, Jon nuzzled in. “You are way too serious right now. Are you sure nothing’s bothering you?”

Tracey heaved a giant sigh. “I really just want to go to sleep. It’s been a long day listening to Wright’s friends talk about what a ruler-straight guy he was and how he wouldn’t be so disgusting as to associate with queers. I don’t have the energy for… anything. Not even mindless TV.”

“Okay.” Jon backed off, not missing how his question had gone unanswered. He turned off his bedside lamp, but immediately gathered Tracey in his arms as he tried to get comfortable. When the response was squirming, he squeezed. “Shh. Go with it.” A lifetime ago, Tracey had said the same thing to him.

The response was a wordless grumble.

“You know, it’s okay to accept comfort when it’s offered. Sometimes, it feels good to be held.”

In the dark, Tracey snorted. “Having my words used against me is kind of annoying.”

“What’s more annoying is realizing how right you were. Are. Whatever.”

“Probably. And I can’t even argue because I’d have to admit I was either wrong then, or I’m wrong now.” He shifted until he was on his back, eyeing Jon in the dim light from streetlamps leaking in around the curtains. “You know, you should work in psychology or something. You’re really fucking good at it.”

“I’ll look into it. Might be too late to change careers.” Taking a risk, Jon stretched forward and kissed him gently, keeping only comfort in mind. He was gratified when Tracey kissed back. “Go to sleep. Tomorrow will be better.”

It didn’t take long for him to drift off. When he awoke, it wasn’t even close to morning. Finding the bed empty, the sheets cold, worried him. Tracey had been gone for a while.

He checked the second-floor rooms. Maybe he was meditating or even sleeping in one of the other beds. If Jon really got thrashing through a nightmare, Tracey may have bailed to preserve his own rest. Not that he’d ever done that. He’d always woken Jon and talked him down.

No Tracey.

So where is he?

Maybe downstairs? Midnight snack? Working in Jon’s office?

The first floor was deserted.

The back of Jon’s neck prickled. He had the oddest urge to check if his car was in the garage, but surely not . If Tracey left, he’d have called for a ride, left a note. There was nothing in the kitchen or on the little desk where he paid bills and kept sticky notes. The little whiteboard near the pantry where he wrote grocery items for his weekly shopping list had only the food items they needed. Nothing indicated Tracey left the house.

Jon gave the back patio light a cursory flip on and off, not that he truly expected to see Tracey huddled on the cushioned outdoor furniture.

Basement? In the weeks Tracey had been living here, he’d shown very little interest in venturing down there. What could possibly have captured his attention in the middle of the night?

You know. He found it.

Jon’s heart skipped a beat and then resumed at double-time. When he approached the basement door, it was ajar. While the stairwell light wasn’t on, the lights all the way down were blazing. Tracey was down there.

He found it all.

Practically tripping down the carpeted steps, Jon flew into the basement. The stairwell was part of the central support pillar, so the main recreation area was one big ring around the bottom of the steps. He scanned the bar, the comfortable couches in front of the giant television on the wall, and behind that, the pool and foosball tables. The lone bedroom was dark through its open door.

No Tracey.

Jon’s mouth went dry.

Beyond the pool table in the corner by the bar was the archway to the enormous second half of the basement, which held the utility room with the furnace, water heater, and many storage shelves, plus Jon’s home gym. It consisted of free weights, a treadmill, and a few mats for calisthenics, yoga, or sparring when he had a partner.

Beside the shelves sat the modified door to his secret room. Would it be open, spilling his vulnerable underbelly to Tracey? How would he explain this? Could he explain it?

Barging into the utility room, he was prepared to find it empty, too, with the secret door standing open to reveal Tracey in the middle of his deepest secret.

Instead, he found him on the treadmill, holding onto the rails as the belt whirred with every footfall. Sweat beaded on his face, and he scowled in concentration. The belt’s incline was insane.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Jon couldn’t have kept the demand out of his voice if he’d tried.

“Couldn’t. Sleep.” Tracey was out of breath. “Trying. This.”

Jon marched over and pulled the emergency stop string. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

The belt slowed to a pretty quick stop, the incline descending rapidly as the screen flashed Tracey’s time and distance with congratulatory language. Jon gawped at the readout.

Tracey mopped his face with a towel, his breathing labored, speaking between gasps. “I don’t want to hear it. You don’t know what this is like, how frustrating it is when your body doesn’t cooperate. The pitying looks. The fear it’s always going to be like this. ” He slapped his thigh as if his leg was an annoying bug.

He barely had the energy to stand and had to tighten his grip on the handrails to hold himself up.

“Then tell me!” Jon didn’t know if he succeeded in not yelling, but he knew he was pleading. “I want to help.”

“You’ve done enough.”

“Clearly not, because you’re down here walking half-marathons up mountains when you should be sleeping.”

Tracey scoffed. “Don’t exaggerate.”

“Tracey, look.” He pointed to the readout. “Fourteen miles. I highly doubt your doctor has signed off on this level of activity, and especially not that incline. You’ll get there someday, I have zero doubt, but if you do it too soon, you will do more damage.”

“Jon. Drop it.” Tracey tried to pass him and get off the treadmill, but his legs weren’t stable, and he grabbed the handrails when his knees buckled.

Scrambling, Jon caught him with an arm around his waist. “Can you make it to the couch?”

Tracey grunted, which Jon took as an affirmative.

Gingerly leading him to the rec room sofa, Jon hurried to the mini fridge behind the bar and grabbed two water bottles. When he returned to Tracey’s side, he handed one over. Tracey gulped half, but then made himself slow down.

The break from talking gave Jon space for deep breaths to calm down. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to yell at you. I’m just worried.”

Tracey’s dejected look when he finally met Jon’s gaze drove splinters into his heart. “I feel so out of control all the time. I thought us being with your friends would help, but it didn’t release enough pressure. So I called my parents when Perry and I stopped to grab lunch. I need to come out to them soon, but I’m terrified, and it’s just more weight on my shoulders. My mother’s asking why I haven’t gotten my house set up yet, and it’s yet another reminder of not living up to her standards. What’s she gonna say when I tell her I’m dating a guy? It makes me not want them to visit for the holidays. I’ve never felt like that before. I just want something easy right now. I mean, I got shot. Why can’t my mother cut me some damn slack?”

“Mothers like to mother.” He gentled his voice, then thought some more. “Do you want to figure out what to say to them?”

“Not really.” Tracey picked at the label on the water bottle.

Jon pulled him close and kissed his sweaty temple.

Tracey laid his head on Jon’s shoulder. “Then Perry and I worked through the evening, and that kept my mind occupied. He’s onto me about dating someone, and he was pushing about it being a guy, so I had to be careful all day not to let anything slip. At least we were busy working, though. But after I got home, everything piled on. I couldn’t shut my brain up long enough to sleep, so I thought a walk on the treadmill would tire me out.” He sniffed and wiped the back of his hand across his nose. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do this. I was only going to walk for a little bit, but it wasn’t working, so I tried upping the incline a couple degrees. Then a couple more. I figured I’d get tired eventually. I guess… I zoned out. Then you found me.” He narrowed his eyes, assessing Jon with that shrewd gaze. “Why were you so freaked out? I mean, I was in the house, not a missing person. I get you being a little concerned, but you looked like you were about to lose it.”

Jon swallowed. “When I woke up and found your side of the bed empty and cold, I got concerned. Then when I couldn’t find you anywhere, it got… never mind. This isn’t about me. I’m just glad you’re okay.” He tightened his arms around Tracey, trying not to give away that he’d had any thoughts other than finding his boyfriend and making sure he was fine.

“Am I, though?” Tracey dropped his voice to a whisper. “Jon, I think I need to go.”

“Too much water?” He chuckled, making sure he wasn’t squeezing too tight at an inopportune spot.

“Home.”

He froze. “What?” It was his turn to whisper as he pulled back to look Tracey in the face.

“I moved from Champaign to D.C., but I haven’t moved in to my own house yet. That’s a big part of my problem. I don’t really belong anywhere. My life is still in boxes. Staying here was temporary. I got shot, so I’m not even comfortable in my own body. I’m still finding my sea legs at work. I can’t tell Perry and Sarena this big thing happening between you and me—and I won’t.” He put a palm to Jon’s cheek. “But along with all of this, I’m dating a man for the first time ever. Everything I know is shaken up. I need to come out to my parents before they visit, and I’m scared the family I grew up with won’t look the same. I need my own space. Something that’s only mine.”

Jon’s heart ached for him. “I understand. I do. You’re always welcome here, but I get it. You don’t feel comfortable making your mark on my house.”

“No, I couldn’t do that the same way I can in my own place.”

Jon fought his dry mouth. “Is this… the end of us, though?”

Tracey shook his head. “I don’t want it to be, no. But you have to admit we went from zero to living together really fast.” He leaned in and rested his forehead to Jon’s cheek. “Can we maybe date first before we take that big of a step? I’d like to get to know you more naturally than this. I want you to tell me things about you rather than me stumbling onto a box of old memories or photos in your utility room.”

He flipped a hand toward the room, and Jon couldn’t help it. He stiffened. “Yeah, okay. That’s reasonable.” Say. Nothing.

Tracey blew a breath that seemed to come all the way from the bottom of his lungs. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

His smile was a little sweet and a little sad. “For understanding. For coming to find me when I was spiraling. For being your completely kind self and only yelling about me brutalizing my body, but not about me possibly snooping through your stuff.”

“Ha-have you snooped through my stuff?”

Tracey kissed his cheek. “No.” He chuckled. “That’s the point. I don’t want to. I want you to tell me about you. About your past. About people you’ve dated and things you’ve done. When you’re ready. And I want to be ready to tell you about me, not feel pressured because I’ve had some kind of meltdown. Or because I’m living here and you learn something about me I’m not ready to share yet.”

“Yeah. This isn’t fun, is it?”

“Nope.” Tracey’s shoulders slumped.

Impulsively, Jon squeezed him tight. “I’m sorry if I’ve pushed you into moving too fast.”

“Hey, no. Your heart was in helping me recover from a gunshot wound. Not getting me to become your live-in boyfriend by the second date.”

Jon squeezed harder. “Do you think you can make it upstairs? We should try to get some sleep. Work’s in just a couple of hours, and if you're going back home, we need to move your things back to your place sooner than later. We’ll need all the energy we can muster.”

They stood and Tracey put weight on his bad leg. Then hissed. “Yeah, I need your help.”

“Of course.” Always.

Together, they limped back up to bed.