Garrick had been trapped before, true no-win situations in the midst of a fire, had had midair malfunctions, and knew how to keep his cool in all manner of scenarios. So he had no reason to be freaking out right then. Except he totally was.
“Cookie? Want a biscuit? Cookie? Come on, girl!” He kept his voice light and encouraging even as his mind raced. One second he’d been adjusting the wheelchair leash and the next Cookie had been sprinting away from him, top speed, like this was some fun new game. Except it wasn’t and Garrick seriously didn’t know what he’d do if he couldn’t catch her.
Rain was working late, so he’d thought he’d do him a favor and give Cookie her exercise. However, they still hadn’t worked out all the kinks with the leash system. She wasn’t used to walking that close to the chair or on that short of a lead, and he wasn’t used to the extra pull of her as he wheeled himself. He was confident they’d eventually work it out, but first things first, he had to get her back.
Funny how life could change in a few short months. He couldn’t imagine life without Cookie now. He counted on her company on the nights when Rain wasn’t around. Hell, he’d been talking about putting in a strip of some sort of grass for her out back, getting opinions from Linc and Jacob about what they did for their pack of beasts. Talking dogs had been a nice way to smooth over the tension after his abrupt exit from the party. He’d really rather not call them or his dad to come help him catch Cookie, but he might not have a choice.
Damn it. He’d lost sight of her now. They were at the park but near the edge, by all the houses. Crap. He patted his shirt for his phone and—
Fuck it all. He’d left the phone on his dining table as he’d been adjusting the new leash.
“Cookie? Cookie?” he called again to no avail. Damn it. No choice but to head back now, have Shirley put a red alert on the neighborhood board, and call someone to come help him. He raced back, wheeling hard, glad he’d remembered his gloves at least. Almost home, he narrowly avoided crashing into Rain in Shirley’s driveway.
“Damn. What’s up with you?” Rain jumped out of the way. He was still in work clothes and had tired eyes, but right then, all Garrick cared about was help getting Cookie back.
“Cookie. Got away from me. At the park. Need help. Please.”
“Okay. Okay.” Rain clapped him on the shoulder. “We’ll get her back, promise. Let me tell Grandma—Wait. Look!”
He pointed toward Garrick’s place, and heart in his throat, Garrick spun around. There on the porch lay Cookie, looking for all the world like she was waiting on him. Her fur was dusty with muddy clumps and she was chewing on some mangled tennis ball, but she was there.
“Cookie. Stay!” he called as he hurried over, Rain fast behind him.
“Got you.” Rain lunged for Cookie’s sparkly collar, which was looking a little worse for the wear after her adventure. “And you got yourself all dirty, girl. Bath time?”
“Don’t think I can do it myself,” Garrick admitted, patting Cookie’s head with a still shaky hand. “And you seem bushed. I’ll call Dad, see if he can help me take her to the groomer they’ve got part time at the feed store.”
“I can handle a bath for her. You don’t need to call anyone.” Rain sounded all indignant, eyes all but shooting sparks at Garrick.
“Okay, okay. But you’re going to let me make you dinner afterward. Let’s hurry her into the bathroom before she can get dust everywhere.”
“On it.” Rain scooped up Cookie like she was a sack of potatoes instead of fifty-odd pounds of dog. He clomped to the bathroom, heavy tread saying he was in a mood of some sort. “Now stay. Neither of us is gonna like this, so let’s make it quick and easy, okay?”
Still frowning, Rain deposited Cookie in the tub, then stripped down to a very basic pair of black boxer briefs.
“Laundry day?” Garrick tried for some levity but didn’t get a laugh from Rain, who peeled them off with far more force than usual.
“Work pants chafe with lace. Sorry if you were expecting something sexy.”
“I wasn’t.” Staying in the bathroom doorway, Garrick held up his hands. “You know I don’t require...a certain wardrobe, right? I like you every which way.”
“I know.” Rain huffed out a breath.
“What’s wrong?” Garrick asked as Rain dug under the sink for the bottle of dog shampoo they’d bought last trip to get dog chow and then never used.
“Dunno.” Rain hopped in the tub with Cookie, who seemed rather bemused with the whole proceeding. “Guess I’m mad at myself for having to work late. And mad that you needed to take Cookie out on your own. You could have waited—”
“Hey now. I appreciate your help. So much. But this—” he gestured between them “—doesn’t come with chore expectations. She’s my dog, and I need to be able to take her out on my own because you’ve got a life too. I never meant that I expected your assistance indefinitely.”
“Obviously.” Rain’s voice was way harsher than his gentle hands as he soaped up Cookie.
Garrick tried to figure out where he’d gone wrong here because Rain was certainly acting like Garrick was trying to shove him out the door. Heck. Was that it?
“You know I love having you around, right? I sleep so much better when you’re here, and I actually eat a real dinner, not simply a sandwich, on the nights you’re over too.”
“Glad to be of service.”
And now it was Garrick’s turn to get irritated. “Are you only with me because you think Cookie and I need taking care of? I mean, I know we both enjoy doing things for each other, but if you’re thinking I need...dunno...some sort of full-time keeper, I’d like to know that now.”
“Nah.” Some of the ire seemed to leave Rain as his shoulders slumped. He carefully rinsed Cookie with the spray attachment. This had to be the weirdest damn location for a state-of-the-relationship talk. Not being able to kiss some sense into Rain was particularly irksome.
“Why are you in this thing then?” Maybe it was ego but Garrick needed more than monosyllabic answers.
“Uh, you have to ask? You’re sexy as fuck. You make me feel...special.”
“Good.” Garrick liked knowing that because he did try to show his appreciation for Rain as a person he cared a lot about.
“Even when I’m feeling lousy, like the other night, you make me feel sexy. Wanted. And you take care—wait. That’s not really the word. You pamper me. Like I’m the princess instead of this one.” Tone lighter now, he ruffled Cookie’s head. “I like it. A lot. And yeah, I do like returning the favor, helping you out because you do so much for me from cooking to workout plans to making me rest. Guess I worry about not being able to do anything in return to make it worth it for you.”
“You. You make it worth it for me. I’d want you around even if you couldn’t or didn’t want to do favors anymore.”
“Thanks.” Rain quickly rinsed his own body before grabbing two towels from the rack. He toweled off Cookie first, who still managed to shake enough water off to get Garrick damp too, and then wrapped the other towel around his waist. “I appreciate that. And sorry. I’m just in a weird mood. Ever since... Never mind.”
“Oh no, you do not get to tease me like that.” Garrick stopped him with a hand on his arm when Rain would have breezed on by. “Seriously. What’s going on? Something at work?”
“Sort of.” Gently breaking loose from Garrick, he chased Cookie into the bedroom, herding her onto her bed. “There. You can dry off before you get anything else wet.”
“You were saying?” Garrick prompted.
“It’s nothing. Just that Bosler—older guy on our crew—has been after me to put in for a hotshot crew down in California. His brother is a crew chief down there, and he thinks I’d have a good chance of getting the job.”
“And?”
“Well, obviously I’m not taking it. Like I said. It’s a weird mood. That’s all.”
Fuck. Garrick had known this was coming eventually, but still wasn’t ready, didn’t know what to do with the dull ache spreading out in his chest, the heaviness taking over his limbs. But he did know exactly what he had to say. “You should take the opportunity.”
“What the ever-loving fuck?” Rain whirled on Garrick, who moments earlier had seemed intent on proving that their relationship was way more than the trading of favors. Except maybe it wasn’t, not if Garrick could so easily cast him off. “You want me gone that badly?”
“No!” Garrick held up his hands again, like Rain was the one being unreasonable here. “Of course not. Didn’t I just get done telling you how much I like you around?”
“I don’t know. Did you?” Yeah, he was being childish, but damn. He hurt. He’d expected Garrick to thank him for not going, not...whatever the hell this was instead.
“We have a great time together. You know that. I love having you around. Cookie does too. I’ll miss you like hell, but we both know that hotshot crew slots are hard to come by. If this is really your dream, then you need to go for it.”
“I’m not sure,” Rain admitted, brain whirring like an overloaded motor. He’d thought about little else for days now and still wasn’t certain. He’d thought he’d had his answer—Cookie and Garrick needed him here. Only now he wasn’t sure about that either.
“You’ve been working out like it’s a second job all summer. I’ve seen plenty of smoke-jumping rookies less determined than you. You’ve added muscle, overhauled your diet, gained strength and flexibility—”
“Yeah, well, you’re a good trainer. You could probably do it professionally—anyone would be ripped following your orders.”
“Thanks. But you’ve put in the work, not me. You said you wanted to be on a hotshot crew. What’s changed?”
You. Us. Everything. Those words froze in Rain’s throat, refused to budge because what if that wasn’t enough of an answer for Garrick? What if he was disappointed in Rain changing his mind?
“Spot might open up here,” he said instead, pacing in front of the bed. “It’s only July. There’s a few more months—”
“California’s burn season is longer, and their crews are always way bigger.”
“Why the fuck are you so hell-bent on me going? You want a medal for training me enough to earn a spot?” He stopped short of accusing Garrick of living vicariously through him, swallowing back caustic words he wouldn’t be able to recall, but seriously, he did have to wonder why this seemed to matter so much to Garrick.
“Of course not.” Garrick waved away the accusation. “As someone with a lot more experience than you, though, I know how rare it is to get a hand up like Bosler is offering. You get a few years of hotshot crew experience—”
“Years. You want me gone for years.” Rain’s voice came out flat and lifeless.
“I don’t want.” Eyes wide and pained, Garrick’s face softened. “What I want has absolutely no bearing on this though. This is your future. Your career, if you play your cards right.”
“But it could—your opinion, it could make a difference,” Rain said softly, pausing his pacing near the fireplace. “What you want, that matters to me. Making you happy, that’s important.”
“At the expense of making yourself happy? No, thank you. That’s a recipe for a short and bitter relationship.” Garrick had stripped off his wheelchair gloves and was twisting them in his hands, worrying the leather.
“Like it’s got a ton of longevity to start with. You’re ready to kick me to the curb.”
“Stop that. I am not. But you have to do what’s best for you here.” Garrick stopped twisting long enough to slap the gloves against his thigh.
“Ask me to stay, Garrick.” Rain sank onto Garrick’s side of the bed, putting their faces at the same level. “If that’s what’s in your heart, then ask me to stay.”
“I can’t do that.” So much for eye contact. Garrick wouldn’t meet his gaze. “It wouldn’t be fair to you. You’d be miserable. I’ve known all along that you’re more of a city person.”
“So? Ask me to stay anyway.” Ask me. His ribs ached from the force of his wanting. Maybe that’s what this was—he needed Garrick to desire his presence enough to be willing to ask him to stay. That would be proof that Garrick truly wanted him, that he wasn’t going to cast Rain aside when he got to be too much. “Maybe you mean more to me than any amount of nightlife. Maybe I’d stay if you asked.”
“I appreciate that. I do. God, you don’t even know how much.” Garrick scrubbed at his short hair. “But for how long?”
“How long what?”
“How long would you be happy if I asked you to stay? How long until this place started to grate on your nerves? This job? Me? Tell me you wouldn’t resent passing up this opportunity if another one doesn’t come along.”
“I...” The denial was on the tip of his tongue but didn’t come. Fuck it. Why did this have to be so hard? All he wanted was a reason to stay, and Garrick wasn’t giving him that. “I don’t know. I mean, I figure if I start hating this job too much, I can find something else. Don’t worry. I’m not intending to freeload.”
“That was hardly my worry.” Garrick gave a bitter laugh as he reached over and patted Rain’s knee. His hand was clammy and cool, not warm and reassuring like usual. “Jobs aren’t all created equal. Trust me. I know. And any job that excites you enough that you’ve been getting up extra early simply to train for it, you owe it to yourself to chase, others’ wishes and wants be damned.”
I’ve been up early for you. But he couldn’t admit that, not with Garrick being all adult and reasonable here. He didn’t want to look even more like some kid with a hopeless crush while Mr. Older and Wiser was trying to push him out of their cozy little nest. Maybe Garrick had a point that he wouldn’t know whether the hotshot crew was for him unless he tried it, but figuring out whether he wanted to try—that was the whole damn quandary he was in. And all he needed—the one thing he wanted—was for Garrick to ask him to stay. Then he would, and that would settle it as far as he was concerned. Everything else could work out if Garrick could simply admit he wanted Rain to stay.
And if he didn’t, well then, there wasn’t really much point in staying, was there?
Garrick grabbed his hand, but Rain didn’t squeeze back.
Fuck. Rain had known better than to get attached. He really had. But here he was, well and truly attached to this man, who didn’t seem to want him, at least not the way Rain craved him more than he did ice water in the July sun. Garrick simply didn’t understand. Rain would happily commit to a future together, if only Garrick would ask. He’d stay. He’d give up whatever.
“I can’t stay here.” He pushed away from the bed, dropping Garrick’s hand.
“I know. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”
“I mean right now. This minute. I can’t have this conversation with you with me in a towel. You want me to try for this job. So I guess I will. But damn it, I really thought you wanted me here.”
“Rain. I do. I want you so bad my hands are shaking with it.” He held one up and he wasn’t lying.
“Then—”
“But I’m not going to ask you to stay in Painter’s Ridge. I like you too much for that. I like us too much for that. I’m not going to taint my memories of what we had—”
“Fuck memories. You could have me. You’re so damn afraid that I’m going to leave someday that you’re shoving me out the door right now to ensure that I don’t get a chance to break your heart later on. That’s fucked up, man.”
“You’ve got it all wrong. I’m not going to let you mortgage your future for me. It would be disastrous, and I know it. If that means letting you go, then that’s what I have to do.” Garrick’s jaw was firm as ever, but his eyes were glassy.
Hell. If he cried, then Rain was going to cry, and then they were truly going to have a mess. If Garrick wanted to play martyr, let him. He stalked off to the bathroom to find his work clothes, pulling them on with robotic hands, brain still back in the bedroom with Garrick.
“Don’t go.”
“What?” Rain’s heart leaped, rest of him scarcely daring to hope.
“Don’t go. I said I’d feed you dinner. Let’s not ruin what time we have left together. We always knew this was a fling—”
“Did we? Did we really now?” Still buttoning his shirt, Rain whirled on him. Hope, whatever there had been, died a swift, merciless death. “So this was always only casual for you? Even the last few... You know what? Never mind. Clearly I’m the idiot here. I thought... And it doesn’t really matter what the fuck I thought. You’re the one who’s made up his mind.”
“Rain.” Garrick’s face might be anguished, but his voice was all be-reasonable-now tone that had Rain ready to claw at the walls. “Don’t leave angry—”
“You’d prefer a party? A nice little civilized going away get-together?”
“Is that such a terrible idea? Ending things as friends—”
“Fuck. You. You know how you like me too much to ask me to stay? Well, I like you too much to end things like that. And I definitely like me too much to settle for a few more days or weeks or something when I know damn well we could have had more if only you’d fucking ask me. Which you won’t. So yeah. Leaving.”
One boot on, one in his hand, he hopped to the front door, almost tripping on Cookie’s unicorn toy. He’d known better. He absolutely had. And he’d still had his heart broken by the nicest guy he’d ever had the privilege of knowing. Fuck it all to hell. The absolute last thing he wanted to do was cross the road, knowing full well that Garrick was watching him go, knowing that Garrick was hurting too, and knowing that this was well and truly over if he went. And still he walked.