KC BURN
I wish with all my heart that you didn’t have to deal with this. I admire your strength and determination, and on those days where you fear you’re faltering, know you’ve got a huge community of supporters who have your back, whether they’ve met you or not.
THE ALARM chimed on Justin’s computer. He saved his work, then pulled the curtains apart and sat on the wide windowsill, waiting.
With a breathless air of anticipation, Justin stared at the sidewalk outside his house. A few more minutes.
As regular as church bells on a Sunday morning, the jogger came into view, legs pumping, arms moving.
The day wasn’t as chilly as the past few, since the jogger wasn’t wearing the bright teal knitted cap he’d worn most of the winter. Instead, his dark hair, about ear length with a bit of a wave, bobbed in the breeze. Justin tried not to blink as he took in the jogger’s strong form, cold-weather jogging attire covering up all that lovely brown skin but still illustrating how firm and toned the man’s body was.
Spring couldn’t come soon enough, in Justin’s opinion. The jogger was too attractive not to show off his body, but winter had taken that small consolation from Justin. At least winter hadn’t stopped the jogger from his daily workout.
Passing by Justin’s house, the jogger turned his head just enough to flash a wide smile, teeth white against full red lips. The jogger must have some Mediterranean or Native American ancestry, because his smooth brown skin lightened hardly at all during the overcast winter months.
Another few moments, and the guy was nothing more than a memory. Justin had an hour before the jogger returned going the opposite direction.
What was his name? He’d moved into the house on the corner of the cul-de-sac on the opposite side of the street from Justin less than a year ago, after Justin’s mugging. Even if Justin wanted to go out and introduce himself to the man he saw every day, he just couldn’t.
Today, the jogger could be… Raoul, a paramedic who jogged in between saving lives. Paramedics needed to be strong and friendly. Tough, though. Bad accidents would be wearing on their souls. Raoul would limp into the house, an injury from Afghanistan flaring up on days when he’d been worked hard and long. Justin would meet him at the door, help him to the shower, take him to bed, and comfort him.
Visions of a normal life with Raoul the paramedic drifted away upon the sight of the jogger returning from his run. The cul-de-sac led to a forest trail near the ravine, one Justin had jogged many a time. Before the mugging.
It hadn’t taken the jogger long to discover it after moving in, and every day the jogger took advantage of it, returning past Justin’s window exactly one hour after heading out.
Not a paramedic, though. Justin knew a paramedic’s hours were too erratic to allow the jogger the freedom to jog at the same time every day. He’d had a friend… although he wasn’t sure he still did… who was a paramedic. All his friends had lost patience with him, trickling away until all he had left was his work and the jogger.
The jogger who jogged by his house every day without fail, at the same time, regardless of the weather. Who had started smiling at his window almost six months ago. The jogger he’d come to rely on and fantasize about daily.
Raoul, Steven, Bernard, Harrison, Matty, Kevin—every day he’d come up with a different name and occupation for his mystery man. Every day he berated himself for not going out to introduce himself, offer to join him on his jog.
But he couldn’t. He just couldn’t.
The jogger flashed him another smile, face sweaty and flushed, as he ran past. Justin moved along the windows stretching the entire expanse of the room, following the jogger’s gorgeous ass as he ran down the street toward his own house. Scrunched into the corner, face pressed against the cool window, Justin got a treat. He watched until the jogger opened the side door of his house. The jogger ran his hand through his sweat-dampened hair before closing the door.
In the early days, Justin had watched him go into the house all the time, sometimes got to see him bend over to remove his shoes before the door closed behind him. But now that the Willetts’ twin boys were in college, the ugly-ass minivan that had taken them to a myriad of sports practices was an almost permanent fixture in their driveway, blocking Justin’s view of the jogger’s side door and the tantalizing glimpses of his mudroom.
Break time was over. Back to work. With a sigh, Justin sat back down at his computer.
AFTER DINNER later that night, Justin sat back down at his computer in the dark. His shoulder ached, a reminder of the fractures in his collarbone and humerus from his mugging. He should be thankful those breaks were on his left side. Although the pain occasionally interfered with typing, he’d been able to type one handed when required and was always able to use his mouse unimpeded. Presumably those bones were going to act as a barometer or thermometer for the rest of his life whenever the temperature began to plummet.
Tonight, television wasn’t enough to occupy him—distract him—and he needed some companionship. He pulled up his favorite multiplayer online game. In the game, he was a superhero. In the game, he could fly around unhindered by fear, and others in the game looked up to him, sought him out. Being housebound and a social pariah gave him plenty of fucking time to raise his skill levels.
But he basked in the companionship of his team, TheAmazon41 and le_diable_blanc99. They were the only ones who’d remained steadfast after the mugging. Then again, theirs was the only relationship that hadn’t been changed by Justin’s disinclination to leave the house.
Justin shivered and wrapped his arms around himself. The howl of wind whipping past the window made him glance up, and he realized he’d forgotten to close the curtains. Heart pounding in his chest, he leaped up to do so. During the day, the open curtains allowed him to look out into the world, a world he’d withdrawn from while recovering from his injuries. At night, the open curtains made him vulnerable, like that big open sky was somehow invading his house, the double-pane glass no longer enough protection.
On a night like this, his solitude was even more painful. After he’d been beaten and stripped of his valuables more than a year ago, it had only been logical to close his office in town and work out of his home while he recovered. Getting groceries delivered, plus anything else he needed, hadn’t been difficult. Been prudent, really. After all, he had to rest, and he didn’t want his friends to bear the burden of his care. But as the days and weeks and months passed, he found it harder and harder to leave the house. Aside from nights like tonight, his bones had healed. The bruises were long gone and the scars almost invisible. Yet the thought of going outside, leaving himself vulnerable to a criminal who had never been caught, was untenable.
No matter how his friends cajoled or demanded, he stopped accepting their invitations. Before long, they didn’t believe his excuses, and calls stopped coming. It was like they’d forgotten him. Or could no longer be bothered, now that the demon in his brain overrode all their good-natured intentions.
Now he had his clients, his games, and his jogger. He was twenty-eight and alone and would just have to get used to it.
THE NEXT day, Justin glanced at the time impatiently. His grocery delivery was late. Very late. He’d called twice about it, only to be told that the driver was out with his order and would be there… when he got there. Bastards.
He deliberately scheduled deliveries and client conference calls so they didn’t interfere with his jogger time. And now, one delinquent driver was going to make him miss the jogger for the first time.
Justin drummed his fingers against the top of his desk, unable to concentrate. The light dusting of snow coming down meant the jogger would likely be wearing his teal knit cap and matching mittens. Privately, Justin liked the teal hat. He wondered if a girlfriend or grandma had knitted it for him. There was something about the lopsided hat with its fluffy pom-pom on top and braided ties that hung down near the jogger’s pecs. Made him seem carefree, as if the ability to jog out in the open wasn’t enough.
The doorbell rang, and Justin sprinted for the door.
“Hey there, Mr. McCarthy. Sorry I’m late.” Walt, the driver who delivered his groceries most often, set a fully laden plastic tub inside the door and grabbed the empties Justin had stacked there, waiting for him.
“No problem.” There wasn’t, not anymore. Walt should be done and gone before the jogger started his run, and Justin didn’t really want to harangue the man responsible for his food… and quite possibly his most consistent offline relationship, outside of the jogger.
“The roads are a mess today. After the thaw we’ve had the past couple of days, the freezing temperature last night made black ice everywhere. With the snow coming down now, no one can see it. It’s a fucking skating rink out there, excuse my language.”
Walt took the empties back to his truck and grabbed another bin.
“I hope you’re careful out there,” Justin said when Walt returned with his second load.
“Oh yeah. Knocking off early today. You’re my last delivery, then I’m getting off the road for the rest of the day. No one knows how to drive in this weather.”
Justin tipped the man and shut the door behind him. He grabbed the milk, cheese, and orange juice from the bins and raced them into the fridge before running back into his office, just in time to hear the chime from his computer.
The rest of the groceries could wait an hour. He had a jogger to watch.
AS PREDICTED, the jogger appeared wearing his teal hat and mitts, looking like he didn’t have a care in the world. The jogger couldn’t take himself too seriously, not if he wore a hat like that.
The jogger passed by Justin’s window, flashing another wide smile. When he’d first started jogging, he’d run along the sidewalk on Justin’s side of the street and return along the opposite side. Several months ago, about the time he started smiling as he passed, the jogger had changed his routine. Now he ran along the sidewalk on Justin’s side of the street going both ways.
Justin had wondered, more than once, if the jogger knew he’d been observing, but that seemed impossible. How could the man see inside Justin’s window during the day?
Who was he? He’d noticed the jogger coming and going on his jogs. If he wanted to be completely stalkerish, he could stare at the house down the street all day and figure out the jogger’s schedule for the rest of his day. But that felt too over the top. He could allow himself the hour each day to watch the jog, since he’d only noticed the jogging by accident.
Maybe he was Rex, a fitness trainer. A fitness trainer probably had a schedule he could easily work around a regular jog on the nature trail. If he wasn’t working a corporate job, he could easily wear whatever made him happy, like a slightly lopsided teal knit cap.
Rex would love to work out at home too. Put Justin through the paces, then fuck him mercilessly over the weight-lifting bench. It had been so long since anyone had touched Justin, and he wanted Rex, the fitness trainer, to kiss him, lick him, fuck him. Rex would be very flexible and probably versatile. He wouldn’t be against some reciprocal action over the weight-lifting bench. Or even on the floor mats. Hell, this was Justin’s fantasy. Might as well imagine he was able to leave the house. Surprise Rex at the gym where he worked. Have an illicit interlude while trying to avoid any customers or Rex’s coworkers. Then Rex would play hooky for the rest of the day, and they’d go hiking. Or to the movies. Or even back home to fuck in front of a roaring fire in the fireplace.
Justin shivered and smiled. He wanted that so bad.
He peered down the street as best he could from his window, but there was no sign of Rex—of the jogger. Frowning, he checked his watch. Ten minutes late? That would be a first. Was the jogger changing up his routine? Or had Justin been so immersed in his fantasy he’d somehow missed the jogger’s return?
No. He didn’t believe he’d have missed the jogger’s return. Not when those few minutes were the highlight of his whole day. The snow on the sidewalk out front of his house, undisturbed except for the jogger’s footprints as he’d headed toward the nature trail, confirmed his conclusion.
Justin paced. And watched. He had the Willetts’ phone number, but the minivan wasn’t in the driveway, which meant it was unlikely anyone was home. And exactly how would he explain his concerns?
When another hour had passed, Justin couldn’t let it go any longer. He’d been made a victim along that very same nature trail, and he’d had a hell of a time making his way to the cul-de-sac to find help, even without having the additional worry of exposure and frostbite.
Consigning the rest of his work to the wayside, Justin picked up his phone without taking his eyes off the sidewalk. He hesitated for a few moments, but thinking of the jogger out there somewhere, needing help, he found the courage to make the call he needed to make.
“Hello?” Mark sounded gruff and impatient.
“Hi, Mark, it’s Justin.”
“Justin? This isn’t a good—” Mark coughed and cut himself off. “How are you doing?”
“Same old, same old.” Justin didn’t want to deal with this small talk, but he was about to ask Mark for a favor, and it had been a few weeks since he’d even talked to Mark. Mark had been the most adamant about trying to get him help, trying to get him out of the house—his paramedic training made him want to help everyone—but eventually Mark, too, had given up in the face of Justin’s resistance.
“What’s up? Ready to meet me somewhere for a coffee? Maybe a movie?”
Mark kept trying, even though Justin knew he really wanted to get Justin in with a psychiatrist. But he was willing to start with a coffee if it meant Justin would get out of the house.
Justin didn’t have time to rehash old arguments. The jogger, maybe, didn’t have time. “I need a favor, Mark.”
It took some time for Justin to explain why he was so worried for the jogger, but he felt he’d done a credible job. Mark was the perfect one to help him out, because he was a paramedic.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Justin.”
Justin’s eyes widened at Mark’s exasperated outburst. “What?”
“We’re heading to a multicar pileup on the highway, and you want me to wander around the woods because someone you don’t know decided to take a different route home?”
“He wouldn’t take a different route. There’s something wrong.”
“Yes, there is something wrong. You’ve built up that trail into something scary, and it’s affecting your whole life. Goddammit, you can’t stay cooped up in that house forever. You need to talk to someone, get some fucking help.”
“That’s why I called you. I do need help.”
“That’s not what I meant, and you fucking know it. You’re imagining things. But if you’re so worried, why don’t you walk down the street and knock on this dude’s door? You’ll probably find him at home. You might have to explain why you’re acting like a stalker, but you’ll set your mind at ease and get out of the fucking house. Win-win.”
“Mark, please.”
“Seriously, Justin, no time for this. I gotta go.”
Mark hung up, and Justin stood by the window, hoping he’d see the jogger return. There was no sign of a bobbing teal hat, and he had to do something. Had to. Didn’t matter if Mark didn’t believe him. There was something wrong. He couldn’t call 911, either. They’d be less likely to believe him than Mark, and if the road conditions were bad, they’d probably be stretched too thin to come search for a man only Justin believed was missing.
Pressing his lips together, Justin walked back to his desk and pulled out the tiny set of binoculars he’d ordered on a whim about a month after the jogger had started his clockwork jogs. But the first day he’d pulled them out, intending to get a good look at the jogger when he entered his house, Justin had been seized by shame. It was one thing to casually look out the window and watch the jogger as he ran past, but using binoculars pushed Justin into scary stalker territory. He’d shoved the binoculars in his desk drawer and, despite the burning temptation, had never pulled them out again. Until now.
He zeroed in on the jogger’s house. Even if the jogger had taken a different route home, there would be no reason to believe he’d enter the house anywhere else but the side door, which Justin had seen enough to know was a mudroom.
The snow outside the jogger’s side door had partially covered footprints heading only one way—out.
Heart pounding, Justin went to his front door and opened it. A biting cold wind whipped in, bringing up goose bumps all over Justin’s body. How long could the jogger stay out in weather like this if he was injured?
The answer was not long, and Justin had no one else he could call for help. What was he going to do?
HEART POUNDING and stomach twisting, Justin had managed to dig out his winter outerwear and put it on. He’d grabbed a few basic supplies, ones he’d need if the jogger was injured, hypothermic, or dehydrated, and put them in a knapsack. A knife too, just in case. All ready to go, but he remained standing in his front hall, sweat dripping down his back as he tried to dredge up the courage to go outside.
Hoping this was all unnecessary, Justin went back to his study and scoped out the jogger’s house with his binoculars again. Snow had drifted over the footprints he’d seen before, obscuring them further. Fuck.
Back in the hall, he opened the door. This time, the chilly winter wind cooled him off a bit, but the daylight would be gone soon. He’d dithered too long.
Clenching his hands into fists, he tried desperately to send the commands to his legs to carry him outside. Stubbornly, they disobeyed.
“That jogger needs me. Something is wrong. He could be hurt, dying. No one else knows, and no one else cares.”
His feet still didn’t move.
Then he imagined his day without seeing Raoul or Rex or Matty or Bernard. How unbearably lonely his day would be without that break in the monotony. Especially if something bad happened because he was too fucking scared to go outside.
If he left now, he could easily search the nature trail and be back before nightfall.
Nightfall. He couldn’t make the jogger wait that long. The temperature would only drop lower.
Light-headed, trembling, and afraid he was going to heave any minute, Justin plodded, step after step, toward the nature trail.
ON THE trail itself, Justin had to work harder to keep from running back to the safety of his home and to keep from falling flat on his face. The thaw and refreeze had made the trail treacherous and slippery. He had no trouble believing the jogger had gotten himself into trouble.
Although he didn’t know the jogger’s name, he wanted to call out. Ask if anyone was out there. But terror had dried out his mouth and constricted his vocal cords.
Over the crunch of dead, iced-over foliage, Justin heard it. A feeble cry for help. It was close, and that tangible sound gave him enough impetus to call out.
“Where are you?”
“Down here!”
Justin peered around and saw a mark that might have been made from a body sliding over the side of the trail. Hanging on to a tree branch, he leaned over. Teal knit caught his eye first, and he shook from the relief and adrenaline coursing through his system.
The jogger had slid down a steep hill, but fortunately they weren’t near the ravine. Justin spied another way down and made his way carefully to the jogger’s side.
“Hey there. How are you? Where are you hurt?” Justin’s teeth were chattering, but he wasn’t cold. He was too fucking terrified of the steel gray sky pressing down from above to notice the temperature.
“Oh thank God. My ankle. I think it’s busted.”
Justin cuddled up close to the man, still gorgeous even though his brown skin was ashen and his red lips were closer to blue. He pulled the knapsack off his back and got out the thermal blanket.
“Can you make it up with my help?” Justin didn’t know if he was going to be strong enough to help the jogger up the steep incline. After all, he hadn’t been strong enough to ward off his attacker. The memory of that night was enough to spur him on. Logically, he knew his mugger wasn’t waiting around in the wilderness for him to come back, but that didn’t change the fact that Justin was far, far away from his sanctuary and responsible for helping a guy who was clearly in trouble.
“I don’t know. I can’t put any weight on it at all. Believe me, I tried.” The jogger’s voice was weak and breathy. Justin needed help.
He pulled out his phone, hoping Mark would still be answering his calls.
“Mark, help me.”
“Jesus, Justin. It’s a madhouse here. I told you, go over to the guy’s house.”
“I went out on the trail looking for him.”
There was a pregnant pause as Mark digested that information. “You did? That’s… great. And your jogger?”
Great. Yeah, if Justin didn’t think too hard about what being out there meant, maybe it would be great.
“I found him. He’s freezing, and his ankle’s broken. I can’t get him out of here by myself.”
“Okay, okay. Keep him warm and awake. I can’t get away from the accident site yet, but I’ll make some calls, get you some help.”
Oh God. Justin hadn’t realized that finding the jogger wasn’t going to be the end. But he couldn’t leave the man there, cold, scared, and alone. Not just because Justin had been fucked in the head by some bitch of a mugger.
Justin gave Mark details on where he was, but Mark had jogged the trail with him before and didn’t need a lot of information.
“Help is on the way.”
Tears of relief traced their way down the jogger’s face. “Thank you. I think I fell on my phone, because it cracked and wouldn’t make any calls. I thought I was going to die out here.”
Justin wasn’t going to think about dying or the fact that the jogger could still do so—they both could—if help didn’t arrive soon.
“What’s your name?” If he was going to keep the jogger awake, he might as well satisfy his curiosity and see if he could distract his own demons.
“I’m Samuel. Samuel Lopez.”
Samuel. Not a name he’d dreamed up yet, and Justin was glad.
“Nice to meet you, Samuel Lopez.”
They shook hands.
“Who are you? How did you find me?”
Justin didn’t want to answer those questions—but they were stuck there, and he was supposed to keep Samuel alert.
“Uh, I’m Justin McCarthy. I live at number twenty-two.”
Samuel’s dark brown eyes widened. “Twenty-two? You’re the shut-in? But you’re young and hot!”
Justin chose to be pleased at the compliment rather than be annoyed by the disbelief in Samuel’s tone.
“Uh, thanks.” He hoped Samuel had forgotten about the “how” part of his previous questions, because as harmless as Justin was, the reason he’d found Samuel really did sound stalkerish.
“What do you do for a living, Samuel?”
“Computer programmer. I like it because I can work from home. Like you do, I guess.”
Samuel shifted a little so he could rest his head in Justin’s lap, wincing a bit as his ankle moved.
Computer programmer. Justin had come up with that as a possible profession for his fantasy jogger. Who now had a name.
“I’m a boring accountant. What sort of programming do you do?”
Justin was genuinely interested, and it was better for Samuel to keep talking, even though he was clearly uncomfortable and in pain. And listening to Samuel’s deep voice gave Justin an anchor to focus on, so he didn’t sprint back to the safety of his own house.
Less than fifteen minutes later, two male voices called out for Justin. When the men scrambled down the incline, he recognized them as cops he’d met at Mark’s poker games. When he’d still gone to Mark’s poker games. Judging by their lack of uniform, he assumed they weren’t working today.
In fairly short order, Justin had been returned to the haven of his home, and Samuel had been driven to the hospital.
After he’d thrown up and the shaking had stopped, Justin stepped into a scorching-hot shower. If he hadn’t been afraid to leave the house, if he hadn’t become entranced by Samuel, Samuel might be dead. Yes, his reluctance to leave the house had been a good thing, but considering how long it had taken him to overcome it, how close he’d come to ignoring those instincts that told him Samuel was in danger… that couldn’t continue. What if his house caught fire? Would he have trouble leaving even then? Although less important in the grand scheme of things, but high on his personal list of priorities, he didn’t think Samuel would be interested in dating someone who was unable to leave his fucking house. Which meant, as his friends had told him all along, things had to change.
Clean and dry, Justin marched back to his office and picked up his phone, leaving a message for the psychiatrist Mark had recommended.
SIX WEEKS later, Justin stared out of his office window. Spring had come, the street was greener, and he’d been making slow but steady progress with his therapist. He’d had visits from Mark, and even the two guys who’d come to rescue both him and Samuel had stopped by. He was slowly piecing his life back together, because that mugger had taken his money, but he didn’t get to strip him of everything else as well.
But holy hell, did he miss seeing his jogger sprint down the street with a ready smile. He picked up the thank-you card Samuel had sent him days after his “rescue,” tracing the ink where Samuel had signed his name, the edges of the card already becoming ragged.
One day, he’d be ready to march up to Samuel’s house and talk to the man. Hopefully one day soon.
The doorbell rang, startling Justin out of yet another fantasy. He wasn’t expecting a delivery, but answering the door would be a welcome change from his monotony.
“Oh. Hi.”
Samuel stood on his doorstep, looking as delicious as ever, a gray plastic walking cast encasing his lower right leg and a large bag in one hand.
“Hi.”
“How’s the leg?”
“Better. Can I come in?”
“Oh yeah, sure.” Justin backed away from the door. He had no idea what Samuel was doing there.
“I brought lunch. Since we both work from home, I thought maybe some company might be nice.”
Justin frowned. “It would be, but….”
Samuel gave him a little smile. “I had been hoping you’d come visit me in the hospital. Or maybe stop by my house. But when I was back for some outpatient physiotherapy, I ran into a paramedic friend of yours. He explained what a huge deal it was for you to come and help me. He also explained a little bit about how you knew I needed help and why you hadn’t visited.”
Justin’s face flamed in embarrassment. How could Mark tell a virtual stranger all about that?
“Don’t be embarrassed. I mean, I knew you were watching me, and Jane Willett told me you were a shut-in. That’s why I smiled at your window every day. I didn’t realize what had happened to you, and I was—am—grateful you helped me. But I wanted to get to know you better, and as soon as I was off the crutches, well, here I am.”
Justin was still confused, but Samuel stepped closer. “And if you aren’t going to come to me, I’ll come to you.” Samuel dropped the bag on the floor before capturing Justin’s lips in the sweetest, hottest kiss he’d ever experienced.
He didn’t know how long they kissed in his hallway, but eventually Samuel drew back. “Hungry?”
How was he supposed to answer that? He was starved—starved for Samuel.
Then his stomach rumbled.
Samuel laughed. “Maybe we’ll start with lunch.”
“Okay.”
Samuel looked around for the first time. “You’ve got a nice place here. Which is good. Since I hope to be spending a lot of time here.”
“You do?” The hope battering at his chest was painful. Was Samuel saying what he thought?
“Well, you don’t leave here, right?” There was no judgment in Samuel’s tone, and Justin thought he maybe fell in love right then and there.
“No, but….” Justin took a deep breath. “Maybe one day soon.”
Samuel’s eyes sparkled. “Yeah? I look forward to that. But until then, this is good, right?” He hefted the bag that Justin now realized smelled heavenly.
“Yes. This is good.”