Page 21 of Baby, It's Cod Outside
“You don’t have to?—”
“I know,” Jackson says simply, holding Ben’s gaze. “I want to. Besides, we’ve got a lot of ground to cover if we’re going to sort things out for you on the corporate malfeasance front.”
Warmth crawls up Ben’s neck. He isn’t used to being handled this effortlessly. Or liking it quite so much. “Okay. Breakfast sounds good.”
“Good.” Jackson heads toward the bedroom, calling over his shoulder, “Don’t let Smokey boss you around while I’m gone.”
Smokey winds around his ankles and lets out a meow the second Jackson’s out of view. It’s definitely bossy. Ben grins, sitting on the cool kitchen tile. He strokes her silken fur absently, listening to the muted sounds of Jackson getting ready: closet door sliding, hangers tapping, drawers gliding open.
The quiet of the apartment wraps around Ben while he waits. It feels like calm, a reminder that not every place in the world feels on the verge of chaos.
He exhales, head bowed, and just pets the cat in his lap.
Maybe Jackson’s right.
Maybe itistime to rebel a little, against the panic, the pressure, the bone-deep expectation to always hold it together. Maybe it’s time to stop proving himself by how much he can endure. There are people in this world who could see him athis worst and still be there in the morning. The very, very early morning.
Chapter 15
Ben
Jackson’s apartment is close enough to The Twisted Anchor that Ben would have felt guilty not walking it, even taking into account the winter chill. It’s a frigid but peaceful morning. And Ben welcomes the quiet, content to take in the sound of their boots crunching, the dark storefronts and the fat flakes of snow drifting down around them.
It’s intimate in a way, the world reduced to just him and Jackson. Jackson, with that sure set of his shoulders, that full, quirked curve of his mouth, that?—
“Doing okay over there?” Jackson asks, mild and unhurried, like he’s caught Ben stealing looks but doesn’t really mind.
“Steady-adjacent,” Ben exhales, the words turning visible in the cold. They cross the street before he ventures, a little quieter, “Better than last night.”
Jackson nods, his expression seeming to relax slightly at the acknowledgement. Ben feels the opposite, like his nerves are much too near to the surface. But Jackson closes the space between them on the sidewalk anyway, their coats brushing every few steps.
“You sleep okay?” Jackson asks, slowing slightly as he tips his head back to catch a few flakes on his face. They vanish inhis dark hair, melting on contact. “It’s not the most comfortable couch.”
Ben hesitates, taking inventory. He’s wrung out, but that’s not the couch’s fault. “Yeah, I mean... eventually. Jackson, look, I’m sorry for…”
“Saying sorry so much?” Jackson cuts in. “Or for having a bad night? Because neither of those things require an apology, Ben. Definitely not to me.”
It’s said lightly, but the sincerity under the words staggers Ben.
“Come on, I totally lost it,” he counters, reaching for flippant. “You didn’t sign up for that. AndthenI passed out on your couch like it was the 19th century and my corset was laced too tight.”
Jackson smirks and bites a knuckle. “Are you saying you own a corset?”
“What!?”
“My readers count on me to ask the important questions. Leave no stone unturned, et cetera, et cetera.”
Jackson grins, softer than Ben expects. “Last night was fine, Ben. All of it. At most, maybe warn me beforehand to stock up on red wine next time.” His eyes fill with something dangerously close to tenderness. The kind of look that could undo a person, if they weren’t careful. If they wanted too badly to believe in anext time.
Ben looks away before it starts to feel needy.
Jackson’s just being decent. A kind host humoring the emotional wreck who broke down in his living room. Nothing more.
“You don’t have to apologize for being human,” Jackson says, each word deliberate.
Ben shrugs, small and guarded. Jackson wants him to believe it. He wishes he could.
Ben knows better than to get caught betting on long odds. He learned that calculation from his mother, painfully. Hope was too expensive, disappointment too devastating. He withdraws into himself, pulling his coat tight against the cold and everything else he doesn’t want touching him. Jackson lets it lie.
