What Remains (4 page)

Drip, beep, drip, beep, drip, beep.
Rupert counted the drops of clear fluid as they passed through the pressure-measuring device in Jodi’s brain. That’s right, they were clear now. The blood had faded away one evening nearly two weeks ago. Rupert recalled his surge of elation like it was yesterday, remembered every minute of the twenty-four-hour vigil he’d mounted after, waiting on tenterhooks for the moment when Jodi would surely wake up. But he hadn’t woken up. Not then, and not now, a month and two days since that damn fucking speeding car had catapulted him across the streets of Tottenham.

Rupert tore his gaze from the drip and focussed on Jodi. He touched his cheek with the pad of his thumb, and smoothed the scruffy beard that, despite the nurse’s diligent efforts, was now slightly longer than he’d ever seen on Jodi before. Rupert liked it. It would suit Jodi’s brown eyes, if Rupert was lucky enough to ever see them again.

Lucky. Ha.
Rupert clenched his teeth and turned his attention to Jodi’s shattered arm. It had been operated on again in recent days. The surgeons had inserted metal rods to keep the bones’ original realignment in place, but they wouldn’t know if Jodi had retained full function until he woke up.

If he woke up.

Rupert took Jodi’s good hand and squeezed, trying to remember what life had been like before the cramped ICU bay had become their home. But it was so fucking hard. Most of Jodi’s outward wounds had healed, but the ominous shadow on his brain remained, dark and deadly, and the doctors reminded Rupert every day that even if Jodi did wake up, there was every chance he wouldn’t be the Jodi that Rupert had loved—still loved so much he could barely breathe.

But he’d run out of time to grieve today. It was midday, and he was due back at work in ten minutes. He closed his eyes, still clutching Jodi’s hand. The brigade had been patient with him so far, but with Jodi’s business not earning, someone had to pay the bills—

Jodi’s hand squeezed his. Rupert jumped a mile, his heart in his throat. His eyes flew open, and he stared down at Jodi’s hand, his own suddenly red hot.
It moved.
But had it? It didn’t seem any different.

Don’t be a dick. You haven’t got time for imaginary drama.
Rupert counted to ten, praying he’d feel that brief pressure on his palm again, but nothing happened, because it was all in his damn fucking head.

Twat.
He looked down at Jodi one last time. For a moment, he dared to dream Jodi really had returned the death grip he had on his hand, but their grim reality wouldn’t quit. Jodi remained slack and lifeless, and Rupert had to go to work.

January 26, 2010

Rupert didn’t come back the next day or the day after that. In fact, it was nearly a month before his name flashed up on Jodi’s phone. The message was short, sweet, and perfectly timed.
Fancy a late night cuppa?

Hell yeah.

Jodi tapped out a reply, inviting Rupert to come over whenever he was ready, then shut down his computer and drifted to the bathroom to take a much-needed shower. He’d been on a deadline for the last few days, and things like eating, sleeping, and washing had fallen by the wayside.

Dressed in trackies, hair still dripping, he emerged from the bathroom to another text.
Twenty minutes.
He glanced at the clock: 2 a.m. Jesus. How had that happened? Last time he’d checked, it had been nine o’clock and he’d been considering ordering pizza. Or was that yesterday? Shamefully, he had no idea.

He padded barefoot through the flat to the kitchen and opened the fridge. The contents were uninspiring, but he had enough bacon left for sarnies. Poaching about in his neglected salad drawer revealed some tired mushrooms too. He was tipping them into the sizzling bacon fat when the doorbell rang.

Jodi turned the hob down and went to the intercom. He buzzed the exterior door open, put the front door on the latch, and returned to the kitchen. Rupert’s shadow appeared in the doorway a few moments later.

“Bloody hell. Are you trying to kill me?”

Jodi laid bacon rashers on slices of thickly buttered white toast without looking up. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those gym freaks who only eats nuts and organic spinach smoothies?”

“Fuck no. That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you—” Jodi’s words died on his lips as he turned around to find Rupert leaning on the doorframe, dressed in softly worn tracksuit bottoms and a hoodie—a far cry from the all-black bouncer attire he’d been sporting last time—and totally fucking gorgeous. “What did you mean?”

Rupert stepped forward and touched Jodi’s damp hair. “I meant
you
. I’ve spent the last week or so trying to convince myself you weren’t as fit as I remembered. Then I find you like
this
.” Rupert shook his head. “Not cool, mate. Not cool.”

Jodi snorted. “I never claimed to be cool, but if it’s any consolation, you’re pretty fit yourself.”

Rupert flushed and looked away. The bloke was beautiful, but it was clear he wasn’t used to people—to
men
—telling him so. Jodi took pity on him and let it go. “Wanna bacon sarnie, then? And I bought a box of PG Tips the other day. It’s around here somewhere.”

“Sounds great. Can I help?”

“You can put the kettle on.” Jodi rummaged in the cupboards for the tea bags while Rupert filled the kettle and flicked the switch. They didn’t speak, but the silence was comfortable, familiar, like they’d muddled through such domesticity a thousand times over.

Jodi put two plates on the breakfast bar. Rupert placed two mugs beside them and folded his tall frame onto a stool.

“So tell me,” he said. “What are you doing tucked up in your PJs on a Saturday night? Thought you were a raver?”

Jodi yawned. “Not this weekend. I had to work. And in my defence, you caught me on a particularly mad one when we met.”

“Where do you work?”

“Here. I’m a web designer.”

“Nice,” Rupert said. “What does that involve? All that coding and shit?”

“Yup. That’s me. Keeps me out of trouble.”

Rupert grinned. “I don’t believe that, but it’s nice to see you sober. You were right the other way last time I saw you.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. I don’t usually get that wasted. Just get a little cabin fever crazy when I’ve been stuck indoors working too much.”

Rupert picked up his sandwich. His silence told Jodi he knew exactly how hard Jodi had partied that night and that he perhaps didn’t approve. And he had a point. Jodi had given up party drugs years ago, and the week-long comedown he’d endured after his Boxing Day blowout had reminded him why.

Time for a subject change. “So how was work for you tonight? Was the club busy?”

“I wasn’t at the club. I was at my real job.”

“Which is?”

“I’m a firefighter.”

Jodi choked on his tea. “Seriously? You’re a fireman?”

“Aye.”

Something about the way Rupert’s gentle Irish brogue wrapped around that word made Jodi feel warm all over, but it was nothing compared to the image of Rupert decked out in full fireman’s kit. Jesus. If he hadn’t fancied the arse off Rupert before . . . “What were you doing at that wanky club, then? Moonlighting?”

“Something like that, though it’s not called moonlighting anymore. We’re allowed second jobs now. They prefer it to paying us properly.”

Jodi swallowed the last bite of his sandwich and reached for his tea. “How the hell do you find the time? Don’t you work shifts?”

“Four days on, four days off. Working at the club helps me keep my sleep cycle when I’m on nights. Besides, I need the cash.”

“Why?”

Rupert sighed. “Because firefighter pay is shite, especially when you have London rent to pay and an ex-wife crawling up your arse for maintenance.”

Jodi blinked. “Whoa. There’s a backstory if I ever heard one. You have kids?”

“A daughter, Indie.”

“How old is she?”

“Three. I split up with her mum last year.”

Jodi tried to picture a miniature, feminine version of Rupert. “Does she look like you?”

“See for yourself.”

Rupert retrieved his wallet from his back pocket and held up a photo of a tiny, fair-haired toddler. Jodi wasn’t much for screaming kids, but he had to admit the little girl was beautiful. “Sounds like her mum gives you grief.”

“Whenever she can,” Rupert said. “She’s never forgiven me for leaving her, which is ironic, because she never wanted me in the first place.”

“Ah, one of those.” Jodi stood and dumped their empty plates in the sink. “Let me guess: she kept you in a box and kicked you every time you tried to get out?”

“Kinda. She had a way of making me believe everything was my fault because she said so.”

Jodi touched Rupert’s arm. Hearing about his ex wasn’t easy, but it was plain to see that it wasn’t something he talked about often. That it still hurt. “My first-ever girlfriend cheated on me . . . like, not just physically, she had another boyfriend up north where her dad lived. Everyone knew, except me.”

Rupert winced. “Girlfriend? Bet that was messy.”

“Not in the way you’re probably thinking. I bounce both ways. It’s just taken me a while to figure out that’s as valid as being straight or gay. My other ex-girlfriend is my best mate. I love her to bits.”

“Then you’re lucky. Jen is a bitch. I’ve tried not to hate her, but it’s hard when she does everything she can to make my life miserable. Shit, why am I even talking about this?”

Rupert covered Jodi’s hand with his own, and, like the first time they’d been alone in Jodi’s flat like this, their fingers entwined with little conscious thought, on Jodi’s part at least. Something about Rupert made Jodi want to wrap himself around him and hold him tight until the hurt in his eyes went away.

“Do you want to come through to the living room?”

“Hmm?” Rupert’s distant gaze refocussed. “Oh, what time is it?”

“A little after three.”

“Damn. I should chip off home, then. I’m back on shift at eight.”

Disappointment flickered through Jodi. “Where do you live? I remember something about a bedsit.”

Rupert snorted. “I’m surprised you remember me at all, considering your eyes were pointing in different directions, but yeah, I’ve got a bedsit in Harringay.”

Jodi frowned. Harringay was a half hour night-bus journey, and Rupert seemed exhausted. “Kip here, if you want? Where’s your fire station?”

“Brixton, so it’s about the same whichever way you look at it. But, as much as I’d love to stay with you, couch or otherwise, my stuff is at home.”

Couch or otherwise
. Jodi’s breath caught in his throat, but Rupert was already getting ready to leave.

Jodi walked him to the door. “It was really nice to see you again.”

“Yeah? Even though I chewed your ear off about my ex-wife?”

“Of course. Seriously, mate. I don’t mind. Just wish you hadn’t had to go through all that.”

Rupert smiled, and the fatigue in his face seemed to fade. “You’re the first person to give a shit in quite some time. Question is: why do you?”

Jodi shrugged. “Dunno. I just do.”

And it was true. Rupert had been on his mind a lot since they’d first met. Their second meeting had proved nothing like his dirty, late-night fantasies, but in the dim light of the hallway, it felt right. Perhaps they’d never revisit that fuck-hot kiss, perhaps they weren’t meant to, but Jodi could live with being friends—

Jodi’s back hit the door. He sucked in a breath and suddenly found himself caged in Rupert’s arms, their faces—like that night—inches apart. They stared at each other, teetering on the precipice of something explosive, until Jodi remembered the distress in Rupert’s gaze when he’d accidentally shoved Jodi to the floor.

Slow. Don’t push him. Even if I think he wants me to.

Yeah, ’cause some days even Jodi was still learning. He took Rupert’s face in his hands and kissed him, lightly at first, but then deep . . .
slow
and deep, like he could calm his own hammering heart with the brush of his lips against Rupert’s. Like he didn’t know better. Like he didn’t know that Rupert’s touch, however hesitant, would light him on fire.

Rupert gasped and pressed his body into Jodi’s. Jodi lifted his leg and hooked it over Rupert’s hip, grinding them together until his every nerve was ready to combust.
Pull away, pull away.
But he couldn’t. Backed against the door, he had nowhere to go, nowhere he
wanted
to go, and his good intentions edged toward the proverbial window, ready to jump.

Just one more kiss . . .

Rupert withdrew. He laid his forehead against Jodi’s and inhaled a deep, shaky breath. “Jesus Christ, you get under my skin.”

Jodi shuddered and closed his eyes, absorbing the warmth of Rupert’s body, which was still keeping him upright. “Come back soon, yeah? We can get under the duvet instead.”