“Well, I-I mean…what did you plan to do about it?”

James regarded his lover with some anxiety, his hands curiously unsteady. He tried to hide them behind his back, but Smoke was nothing if not observant. He grasped both of James’ hands in his, bringing them to his lips for a quick conciliatory kiss.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel threatened, Jamie.”

“I’m not,” James lied. “Why should I be?” he demanded almost arrogantly, hating the edge in his voice.

“All I said was…” Smoke drawled out in his lightly accented voice. “I want to go back to school.”

“To do what?” James asked rhetorically. “We’re happy now. We have enough money to get by on.”

“Just barely. But that’s not why I brought it up.”

James clenched his jaw and managed to look both stubborn and vulnerable at the same time. “You want to give up dancing?”

Smoke huffed softly, valiantly trying to stifle a burst of laughter. “I don’t think of exotic dancing as a career, Ja-mie….”

“Suddenly you want a career? Christ, I’m not enough anymore?” James snatched his hands out of Smoke’s grasp and threaded them almost painstakingly through his own hair. A sure sign of agitation. Where some people became flustered or out of control, James retreated to a state of icy rigidity.

Smoke shook his head sadly. “This isn’t about you, Jamie. It’s about me.” He wanted to reach out and touch his lover, but he might as well have been miles away. Instead, he plunged his hands into the pockets of his tight black jeans.

“I thought you’d want what was best for me. But I guess I was wrong.”

James mumbled something under his breath. Something Smoke couldn’t hear.

“What?”

“I said, I’ve been hopelessly selfish all these years, keeping you to myself. I don’t even have the excuse of being able to say, “I have your best interests at heart,” Pete.”

Smoke bit his lip. “It didn’t bother you that I kept dancing, Jamie? That other men were looking at me? Wanting me?”

James looked up, his heart caught in those vivid cobalt blue eyes. “No,” he whispered, “cause you always came home to me.”

“It was a job, dammit. Even I could see that’s all it was,” James commented bitterly.

“A job I’m getting a little too old for, Jamie.”

“Old? You’re not old, Pete! How can you--?”

A melancholy smile traced Smoke’s normally full mouth, thinning out his lips. “Would you want to be doing this at my age, Jamie?” he asked softly.

“I mean…” Smoke cast sorrowful eyes over his own still firm body, the slender frame showing surprisingly little wear and tear for someone close to 30. “…this won’t last much longer.”

Suddenly his head came up sharply, his light blue-grey eyes pensive. “I should be grateful that you still want me, Jamie.”

“Oh, Pete, what do you think I’ve been saying? I love you. I’ll always want you.”

James took a step closer to Smoke, but Smoke backed away. “Then what is it, Jamie? Is it that you don’t think I can do anything but this? You married a dancer. A dumb dancer at that.”

James couldn’t have been more stunned to hear Smoke castigate himself like this. Did he honestly believe that James stayed with him because it made James feel intellectually or morally superior to him? “You’re not dumb, Pete. Did I ever say that? Even once? Even when we were fighting?”

Smoke wrapped his arms around himself, almost vibrating with some kind of inner turmoil. As if it took a physical effort to hold himself together.

A deep frown furrowing his forehead, James gave his lover an incredulous look. “You believe it, don’t you, Pete?”

Smoke shifted uncomfortably under James’ intent blue gaze.

“Who told you you were dumb, Pete? Tell me. I know it wasn’t me.”

“No, it wasn’t you!”

Smoke seemed to shrink before his eyes. He who had always had such a wonderful sense of self-possession was insecure? In a way James had never dreamed.

“Was it your parents, Pete? Your father, maybe?” James inched closer, and he could see the growing terror in Smoke’s eyes.

“No, it wasn’t my father. I didn’t even know my father.” He didn’t sound sad. He sounded numb.

“It was him then, right?” James’ face grew colder, harder. “The one I can’t compete with? The love of your life? The one who drove you here?”

Smoke stared at James, tears welling up in his pale eyes. “He wasn’t the love of my life, Jamie. You are,” he whispered.

“Right.”

“You are. If your opinion didn’t mean so damn much to me, do you think I would be this upset? Please….”

James’ face reflected his anguish at hearing the pleading tone in Smoke’s voice. “But if I’m the only one who matters, Pete….”

“You are.”

“I don’t understand. I never said you were dumb, Pete. I just—“

Tears silently tracked down Smoke’s cheeks. “You just don’t want me to compete with you, Jamie. School is your thing. You’re good at it. But you don’t want me to have anything to do with that part of you.”

“That’s not true, Pete,” James automatically protested. But his heart knew better. He had never been less than honest with himself. Or with Smoke. Until now.

“Jesus, Pete. That’s like saying I want to keep you barefoot and pregnant and in the kitchen,” James snorted derisively.

“All this time, I thought you accepted me. What I was inside. What I could be. But you were just congratulating yourself on finding a…a…body slave.”

James paced several steps away from Smoke, emotion choking his throat. This was all going wrong. Horribly wrong.

Smoke advanced on James, his own anger triumphantly asserting itself over his pain. “Maybe you don’t think I’m dumb, Jamie. But you don’t want me to get any smarter. To me, that’s the same damn thing.”

Smoke hovered ominously over James for several seconds, his breath coming hard and fast as their eyes met. Close. They were so close, their mouths were inches apart. Cursing under his breath, Smoke spun away, damning himself for the desire that even now flared between them.

He strode to the door, slinging his fringed suede jacket over one shoulder. As he opened the door, he looked back over his shoulder, his eyes chilly.

“Where are you going? Pete, please don’t go. We need to talk.”

Now James heard the same pleading note in his own voice, and he hated it for the same damn reason that he hated hearing it from Smoke. Their relationship had always been so balanced. Now it was hopelessly off-kilter.

“I’m going to work,” Smoke clipped off. At James’ dumbfounded look, he put his jacket on and wiggled his hips back and forth, making the fringe dance. “You know. Work. Where I shake my ass. For money.”

“Pete….” James said in a disheartened tone that even gave him pause. He saw Smoke’s curious look, but he didn’t know what else to say.

Finally he said the only thing that came to mind and heart without question. “I love you.”

Smoke closed his eyes as a wave of pain crested over him with such intensity, he didn’t think he could bear it. When he opened his eyes again, the bleakness there matched the feeling in James’ heart. “I love you, too, Jamie. But it doesn’t change anything.”

James stared at the door long after Smoke left. He couldn’t get over the overwhelming sense of wrongness that pervaded his soul. You can’t leave me, Pete. God, I hope that’s not what you’re thinking. Cause if you do…I think I’ll die.

He found things to keep himself busy, but every half hour or so, he would stand at the door. Waiting. Which was stupid, he told himself. He went to work. A full shift is a minimum of eight hours. They work ‘em like dogs down there, remember?

He recalled the way Smoke looked at himself, sad eyes calmly appraising his body. Smoke thought everyone looked at him that way. Like an empty husk without feelings. So much flesh for the asking. For the taking. Oh, Christ, don’t let him go home with somebody else tonight. I couldn’t stand that.

The phone rang shrilly in the silent apartment. James dove for it, almost upsetting the kitchen table. “Pete?”

But it wasn’t.

He went to bed right after that, unable to spend another minute pretending to watch TV. But going to bed wasn’t much better. The sheets smelled like Smoke. That shampoo he used, the one that was scented with jasmine and some exotic Australian herbs, made his long silky hair smell like this. He buried his face in Smoke’s pillow, clinging to it for dear life. He felt like he was on emotionally shaky ground. But he wouldn’t cry. He refused to give in to tears.

***

Smoke glanced blearily at the stocky man behind the bar. “One more.”

“I think you’ve had enough, man.”

“Not nearly enough,” Smoke muttered, staring into the bottom of his glass. He could still feel. He wasn’t stopping until he couldn’t feel anything at all.

Smoke never drank. But when he decided that drinking was the only cure for what ailed him, he went at it wholeheartedly. That was why he was still at work. Finding a new place just to get drunk seemed like a waste of time. So after his shift was over, he simply drifted into the bar.

The bartender sighed and traded looks with one of the other dancers. Nodding his head, the dancer approached Smoke. “Hey, you’re here late,” he called cheerfully.

Smoke struggled to focus his eyes on the man who joined him. Attractive in an overblown way. Too much eye make-up. Too much highlighting in his hair. Oh, yeah, and he was constantly on the prowl for a new lover. Probably because he couldn’t hold onto one long enough to forge a relationship.

“Go away, Mark.”

“Hey, I’m wounded. Now is that any way to talk to a buddy?”

Smoke glared at him fiercely before resuming the contemplation of his still-empty glass. Mark was anything if tenacious. “Trouble at home?”

Smoke’s head slumped forward, which might have been a prelude to passing out, but as it turned out, it was merely an emotional reaction to the word “home”. “I don’t have a home.”

“You want one? You got it. Hey, Smoke, you know you got an open invitation to stay with me any old time you like.”

There wasn’t enough liquor in the world to make Smoke go anywhere with Mark, and suddenly, he didn’t care if Mark knew that. “Why don’t you go bother someone who gives a shit?”

Mark clicked his tongue against his teeth. “Tsk, tsk, Smoke. That doesn’t sound like you. Come on…whoever he is, I can make you forget him.”

Smoke’s head snapped around, making him unexpectedly woozy, but it did little to diffuse the anger in his voice. “I don’t want to forget him, and I’m sure as hell not discussing him with you! Now get out of my face!”

Mark put his hand on Smoke’s shoulder, and Smoke snapped. Wrenching the other man’s hand off his shoulder, he grabbed him by the wrist and twisted hard enough to make Mark shriek. “You broke my freaking wrist, you bitch! You’re gonna pay for that, Smoke! Just see if you don’t!”

Smoke pulled at his jeans pockets, searching for his hard-earned tips, and once he’d found them, he threw bill after bill at Mark. “You want money? Knock yourself out!”

Pointing a finger at Smoke, Mark continued to rant and rave. “You’re dead here, Smoke! I mean it!”

Smoke turned and walked away, curiously steady again, as if the adrenaline rush had purged his system of all the alcohol he’d consumed. Without even glancing back over his shoulder, Smoke gave Mark the one-fingered salute.

It didn’t take long for him to reach the office. Stopping in the doorway just long enough to utter two words, “I quit”, Smoke ended his long career as an exotic dancer.

***

By morning, James was singing another tune. He woke clutching the pillow. When he realized that Smoke was definitely not there, he began to lose control of every emotion he’d been concealing so carefully from everyone.

He started to call friends. No one had seen him.

He started to panic in earnest. He called the police. Either they weren’t particularly interested in his problem or they were telling the truth when they said that Smoke hadn’t been missing long enough for them to enter the picture.

He hung up the phone, devastated. Everything was coming crashing down around him. At work. At home.

James poured himself a glass of orange juice, but he pushed it away moments later, unable to eat or drink anything. He had gotten dressed out of habit, more than anything else, or he would still be in bed. He didn’t know what to do. Or who to call next.

When the door opened with a loud creak, James’ head came up sharply, away from its resting place on his folded arms. “Pete?” he whispered hoarsely.

“Nah, it’s me, Davenport,” said the big man standing in James’ kitchen.

James blinked. He didn’t know Davenport as well as the others, but he was surprised to find him in his apartment this early in the morning.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, wondering if the children were all right.

“I should be asking you that, son.”

“What do you mean?” James replied, his guard automatically asserting itself.

“I think I’ve got something that belongs to you.”

A disheveled Smoke peeked bleary-eyed at James, safely shielded by Davenport’s body. “Jamie?”

“P-Pete?”

Davenport neatly stepped away, and the estranged couple swayed toward one another with frustrating slowness. Giving Smoke a gentle push in the small of his back, Davenport made certain the two men were close enough to touch. Perhaps now they could work out their differences. With an enigmatic smile on his lips, Davenport waved farewell.

James wrapped his arms tightly around his lover, pulling whole handfuls of Smoke’s hair against his tear-stained face. “I thought you were g-gone for g-good, Pete,” he whispered. “I thought—“

“That I was with somebody else,” Smoke finished for him. “I knew you would think that. There was even a part of me that wanted you to think that. I wanted you to be so jealous, you’d come after me.”

James kissed Smoke’s hair reverently. “It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you came back.”

When the embrace finally ended, they stood there awkwardly, their former ease with each other a thing of the past. The silence was suddenly uncomfortable. “I…I don’t have a job anymore, Jamie.” Smoke sounded vaguely embarrassed, but he couldn’t say he regretted quitting. It was the one thing he managed to do right in a night that featured one complication after another.

James hung his head, and Smoke wondered if he was reconsidering the fervency with which he welcomed him back.

“Well, y’see, Pete, here’s the thing. I wanted to tell you last night, but everything drove to Hell in a fast car.” James raised his head, his deep blue eyes red-rimmed and openly tearful.

“I don’t have a job anymore either.”

“I wish you’d told me that yesterday,” Smoke said, a sullen glare marring his otherwise beautiful face.

James looked startled. He thought everything was okay between them again. Smoke came back home. He wasn’t with someone else. He…

…hadn’t changed his mind about things at all.

“Pete—“

Smoke shrugged off his lover’s attempt at another embrace and began to walk away. “I need a shower.”

“Pete!” James all but shouted.

Smoke stopped where he stood.

“Don’t you care about me anymore?” James hated sounding weak, but he felt like he was fighting for his life here. He would beg if he had to. Endlessly.

Smoke regarded his lover impassively. “I’m tired. I didn’t sleep much last night.”

“Neither did I, Pete.”

Smoke made a half-turn away from James and James grabbed him by the arm. The scorching look that Smoke gave him terrified him. Where was the man he loved? The man he committed his life to five years ago?

“We took each other for better or worse, Pete. Or doesn’t that mean anything to you either?”

Smoke visibly shuddered. “If you’ll let me use the shower, I can be packed and out of here in a couple of hours.”

“That’s your answer? Pete! You’re leaving me? Can’t we talk about this?” James didn’t even realize that he was crying. It didn’t matter. Nothing would ever matter again if Smoke walked out on him.

Smoke walked into the bathroom, again surprisingly steady on his feet. He closed the door and leaned on it, his hand splayed across the center panel. As if he could somehow touch James that way. “I’m sorry, Jamie,” he whispered.

He stripped off his clothing as quickly as possible, taking great care to avoid the mirror, for fear of catching a glimpse of the man who could break James’ heart like this. “It’ll be better this way. I’m just holding you back, Jamie.”

He managed to hang on to the last thread of his control until the water hit him in the face full force. Closing his eyes, he cried bitterly, great sobs wracking his slender frame.

Outside the door, James succumbed to emotional exhaustion, sinking to his knees on the floor. Defeated.

***

It wasn’t that easy to leave. Smoke had a great deal of himself invested in James and their relationship.

When he came out of the bathroom, he didn’t see James. He slowly made his way to their bedroom, steeling himself for what it was going to feel like looking at the bed they slept in. Swallowing hard, he pushed open the door with one tremulous hand. All at once he lost every bit of color he had.

He had found James.

Asleep in their bed.

His arms wrapped around Smoke’s pillow.

His face still streaked with tears. Tears that had yet to dry.

He had to pack. He forced himself to look away from the man in the bed. As quietly as possible, he pulled things out of drawers, struggling to fit his life into a small suitcase that had seen better days.

When he was done, he put down the suitcase by the door and looked back over his shoulder. He knew he should go now, while he still could, but he had to say goodbye.

Sitting gingerly on the edge of the bed, he bent over his lover, his salt-tinged lips caressing James’ flushed cheek. Resisting the urge to wake him, he stood up, feeling as if he had suddenly grown old.

“Goodbye, Jamie. I love you,” he whispered.

As if in answer, James groaned in his sleep, fresh tears appearing at the corners of his eyes. He was dreaming. Of making love to Smoke for the last time. Smoke was hovering over him, his long black hair trailing across James’ collarbone, his light eyes suddenly dark and all too serious. He was leaving him. James whimpered in his sleep, suddenly restless, almost agitated.

Moments later, he woke. Screaming Smoke’s name. “Pete!”

He was already gone.

***

Smoke found an unexpected ally in Davenport. When he left the apartment, he had no idea where to go. But the older man had been kind when he very much needed a place to sleep for a few hours.

Davenport wisely didn’t ask any questions. He took a long look at Smoke’s pale, drawn face and he knew something bad had happened. “You want to stay at my place?”

He saw the protest on Smoke’s lips and headed him off before he could utter a word. “Just for a little while.” He looked at the younger man, his black eyes filled with compassion and empathy for his plight.

“You said something about needing to find a job. I can give you something to keep busy. It wouldn’t pay much. But I’ll throw in a place to stay and all the food you can eat. Though from the looks of you, you don’t eat enough to keep a bird alive.”

Despite his initial reservations, he asked, “What sort of job?”

“I was planning to shut down the kennels. My wife and I don’t have the time or the energy to run after ten dogs all day long. But if you think you can handle it, the job’s yours.”

It sounded simple enough. Smoke wondered if Davenport was kind enough to make up something, just to allay Smoke’s anxieties. But he quickly decided that although it was probably true, it was still a good idea.

Physical work would be good for him. It would keep him in shape. It would tire him out. Hopefully enough to let him sleep. It would keep him occupied with something other than James.

As much as it hurt to try to shape this new life without him, Smoke was convinced that he needed this separation, no matter how temporary or permanent it might be. He needed time and space to work things through. His mind and heart were hopelessly overwhelmed now.

“If I wanted to—I mean, needed to take time to go to school, would I be able to do that?” Smoke asked softly. I may not be good enough for Jamie right now, but I will be. Someday.

“Of course,” Davenport answered.

“Then it’s a deal.” Smoke held out his hand for Davenport to shake, and the older man smiled as he shook the younger man’s hand.

He needed a little looking after, this one. Derry would like that. So would the twins.

“Welcome to the family,” Davenport said.

***

Birkoff rolled over, ready to hit the alarm before it woke Declan. True to form, he caught it just in time.

Yawning expansively, he made his way into the bathroom, taking a moment to relieve himself before washing, shaving, and brushing his teeth. Several minutes later, he heard voices outside.

Poking his head around the corner, he called in a carrying whisper, “Emmy, who are you talking to?”

His toothbrush still wedged in his mouth, he stood there, dumbfounded that James was in his kitchen at this hour. “James?”

Drawing closer, he abruptly realized that something was clearly wrong. “Emmy, go downstairs, honey.”

Emmy rolled her eyes. “Daddy, I’m not a little kid, you know.”

“I know, sweetheart, I just want to talk to James privately. Okay?”

His daughter nodded, her bright red curls tossed side to side. “See you later, Daddy.”

Birkoff leaned over and gave her a kiss, waving when she got to the door.

She was no sooner through the door than Birkoff turned to James asking, “What on Earth happened to you? You look like shit.”

James tried to say something coherent, but the words wouldn’t come. His cobalt blue eyes welled up with tears as he revealed, “Pete left me.”

Birkoff frowned. “Run that by me again? It sounded just like you said Pete left you.”

“He did,” James replied huskily.

“Damn…I’m sorry, James. What happened?”

“He…I…” James’ throat closed up, and he couldn’t continue. “Sey….” He didn’t even know what he was asking for, but Birkoff felt a tug in the vicinity of his heart.

“Come here,” Birkoff commanded, wrapping the young man in a tight hug.

James literally fell apart at Birkoff’s touch, and the two men clung to each other, Sey absorbing James’ pain almost instinctively.

That was what Declan saw when he finally managed to crawl out of bed. “Sey! What the bloody hell are you doing? And with who?”

But luckily, James turned his head at that moment, allowing Declan to see how badly he was hurting. With a soft exclamation, Declan was there, between the two men, holding both of them, but preventing them from touching each other any more closely than that.

“You don’t look well, James,” Declan offered, once he had a chance to get a closer look at James.

With that, James laid his head on Declan’s shoulder and cried.

Stunned, Declan looked helplessly at Sey.

Sey leaned on Declan, cupping his hands over Declan’s ear to whisper without being overheard. Declan’s eyes widened when he heard the news.

There had to be something they could do to help the couple work out their problems and get back together again.

There had to be.

Declan didn’t even need to hear the entire story behind the break-up of Smoke and James’ relationship before he acted. Slipping seamlessly into mission mode, he commanded, “Sey, sit him down and feed him.”

When James began to protest, albeit wearily, Declan put a hand up, signaling the effective end of discussion. “James. I’m not arguing with you. I’m telling you. You look like a strong wind would blow you away. Now sit down and let Sey feed you.”

At the curious look his lover gave him, Declan grinned sheepishly. “Okay, that came out wrong. Take him downstairs and let Emmy make him breakfast.”

James began to shake his head. “I don’t want to impose on you and your family, Declan.”

“Too late, James. You’re here now. You’re just going to have to deal with being fawned over and treated like visiting royalty,” Sey quipped cheerfully.

“I can’t believe you’re both being so nice to me. After what I—“

Sey glanced at the younger man sympathetically. “What did you do, James? Nothing anyone else might not have done. You had a good thing going, and you blew it.”

Declan winced. “Sey, honey, that doesn’t sound even remotely therapeutic.”

Sey shrugged, ignoring Declan. Crouching down to look James straight in the eye, Sey continued, “Sounds to me like you took Smoke for granted.”

James didn’t even try to avoid Sey’s critical gaze. “Yeah. I guess that was a big part of it.” He welcomed the numbness that crept over him, knowing the pain when he resurfaced would be ten times greater than before.

“Then you know how to fix things.”

James’ eyes unpredictably filled with tears again, the heartache dangerously close to overwhelming him again. “No, I don’t. I can’t.”

“Why?” Sey asked softly.

“I don’t even know where he is,” James uttered in a tortured whisper.

Declan sighed. “That’s my job. Don’t worry, James, I’ll find him.”

“And bring him back to me?” James asked, hope dangling from each word.

Declan didn’t want to lie. He couldn’t even promise that Smoke would talk to James, much less come back to him.

“I’ll try.”

Sey rubbed James’ shoulder affectionately. “Hey, you’ll feel better once you eat something.”

“I’ll throw up if I try to eat anything,” James confessed.

“You tried?”

James nodded silently.

“Then how about taking a little nap? I can take you home, and—“

“No, not there. Please. Not there.” James buried his face in his hands, though he had stopped crying.

“I can’t sleep in our bed. I just can’t. Not anymore.”

“You have to try, James. I’m sure Smoke doesn’t expect you to suffer like this.”

“He doesn’t love me anymore. Or he never would have left.”

Sey hated to point out that James simply wasn’t thinking straight. People who loved each other left one another all the time. “James, did you ever consider that there might be another explanation for Smoke leaving?”

That got James’ attention. He stared bleary-eyed at Sey. “Like what?”

“Like from wd hat you’ve told me…Smoke had a hard time growing up. Even harder when he hit the streets.”

“Yeah.”

With a concerned look at Sey, Declan left. From what James was able to tell him, Smoke somehow connected with Davenport earlier. That gave him a fair idea of where to start looking for him.

“I don’t mean to pry, James, but…do you know if Smoke was ever abused?”

James choked back an inarticulate noise. “I-I always assumed that he was. But…we never really talked about it.”

“Until last night,” James said flatly. “We argued. He kept saying something about being dumb. He made it sound…like that’s what attracted me to him. So I could feel…better than he was.”

Sey’s dark eyes gleamed with empathy for the man not present. “Is it true?”

James nearly exploded, his anger catching Sey unaware. “How can you accuse me of that?”

Sey blinked, his face carefully schooled to show no visible reaction.

James glared at Sey until he could hold the look no longer, his eyes closing unbidden. “How could he think that? I love everything about him, everything he is.”

“Did you tell him that?” Sey asked gently.

James’ eyes flew open, the bleak depths fathomless and aching. “N-no. I never got the chance. He left.” At the last word, his voice cracked. Left. Left. Left. The word reverberated in James’ head until he thought he would go mad.

Sey took a deep breath. “Right now, I know you’re not going to want to hear this, James, but…it sounds like Smoke has some issues he needs to work through.” He reached out and braced the younger man’s shoulder with his hands. “That means you’re going to have to give him a little space.”

James looked horrified. “You mean…I should leave him alone?”

“For now. Yeah. That would probably be the best thing.”

“But what if he doesn’t believe that I love him? That I want him back? That I’d do anything, anything at all, if he’d just come back?”

“You mean what if he finds somebody else?”

“Yesss…” James whispered.

“I don’t think that’s what he wants, James. I think he wants you, but for some reason, he doesn’t think he’s good enough.” Sey shifted restlessly, a little uncomfortable himself giving advice in matters of the heart. What if he was wrong? But then he thought, no, I have to stop second-guessing myself, I know I’m right, I can feel it.

“When he’s ready to listen again…you’re going to have your work cut out for you, convincing him that he is good enough for you.”

“How?”

“You two never dated, huh?” He could tell from James’ stupefied look that he was right. “You fell right into a serious relationship. I’m not saying you didn’t love each other. That much is obvious. But maybe what’s missing…is that sense of…I dunno…for lack of a better word…courtship.”

“Like bring him flowers and stuff?”

Sey smiled patiently. “If that’s what he likes. You have to find out what he needs and give it to him.”

“I don’t have any money. I don’t even have a freaking job anymore.”

“You’re missing the point, James. This isn’t about money. It’s about saying how much you value him in your life, and how much you want to keep him there.”

Comprehension slowly dawned in the younger man’s intense blue eyes. His gaze fell to Sey’s hands suddenly, noting the glint of silver on the left one. “You and Declan exchanged commitment rings.”

Sey nodded. “Yes. We needed…” He smiled again, remembering that long ago Christmas Eve. “No, I needed to let him know how serious I was about him.”

“And the bracelet? That’s beautiful.”

“That’s more recent. Sort of an affirmation. That came from him.” From the look on Sey’s face, it meant everything.

“I think I’m beginning to understand.”

“I’m glad.” Pause. “You’re going to get through this, you know.”

“You think so?” James asked hopefully.

“Hey, you’re lucky. Not everybody gets a second chance.”

James stood up unsteadily, his hands nervously plucking at his clothing. “I should get home. In case…he calls.” James gave Sey a long, hesitant look. “You think he’ll call?”

“I would.”

“Thanks,” James said breathlessly, feeling like all of the air in the room had been sucked out. The thought of going home made him anxious. What if? What if?

What if this wasn’t an ending at all, but a beginning instead?

“James?”

James paused at the door, turning to face Sey, a curious look on his face.

“Do you need some money? I know things are a bit rough right now—“

James almost backed up against the door, automatically protesting the offer. “I’ll manage.” Even if I have to eat peanut butter everyday. I’m not taking handouts. That’s not me.

“James….” Sey’s tone changed from sympathetic to exasperated. “You need to get over that. You could starve to death feeding your pride,” he pointed out wisely.

James merely looked discomfited.

“Did you talk to Michael? He’s so busy, it probably never even occurred to him that with all of the kids in school, you don’t have a job anymore.”

“What can he do?” James said huskily. All of that crying had ruined his voice.

An incredulous look passed over Sey’s handsome face. “You must be kidding. Michael’s…well, Michael.”

Never had a truer statement been uttered.

***

By the time he arrived at the apartment, James was feeling slightly more optimistic. It seemed that his past was just that now…his past. On Michael’s say-so alone, the University board voted to give James an entry-level position as an instructor. Oh, he wasn’t fooling himself. He knew he’d be doing everyone else’s scut work. But that didn’t faze him one bit. It was an opportunity. Like Sey said, he was getting a second chance.

When Michael got off the phone, he had laughed softly, telling James that from now on, whenever he wanted a day off, he would call James to take his classes. James literally bounced up and down, rocking back and forth on his heels, his manner not unlike Sasha’s when he had good news.

He couldn’t seem to stop thanking Michael until Michael brought all speech to an end with an affectionate handclasp, saying, “That’s what friends are for.”

James tossed his keys onto the kitchen table, curling a lip in disgust at the sight of the long-forgotten orange juice, now grown warm and vaguely unappealing.

Pulling his jacket off, he sank down into a chair at the table. A quick glance at the answering machine told him that no one had called. Why hadn’t Smoke called? Didn’t he know James would be worried? Wondering where he was? If he was safe?

***

Smoke pulled his hair back into a ponytail, fixing it there with a leather clasp. This was hot work, despite the chill in the autumn air. Six of the dogs were adults, a mix of males and females. Four of the dogs were puppies, surprisingly all female. All of them were jumping and barking and…well, pooping. Sometimes at an alarming rate. But that was to be expected. Babies did that.

He crouched down, offering his fingers to one of the puppies. She sniffed a few times before bounding away in zigzag puppy style. Smoke smiled. He could grow to like this.

Oh, not the cleaning up part. That wasn’t his favorite part. But it didn’t bother him either. No, the part he liked was discovering that he had an affinity for animals. He never knew that about himself. It was something of a revelation. He didn’t mean to go all mystical or anything, but it was as if the animals were drawn to him, and vice versa.

Davenport came around the corner of the dog run, a pleasant smile on his face at the sight of Smoke in the midst of puppyland. The younger man seemed genuinely happy taking care of the dogs. “Hey, you. Working hard or hardly working?”

Smoke’s head came up, a beatific smile in place, and Davenport was stunned by the beauty there. When Smoke was upset, near tears, that beauty had stayed hidden. But now…Davenport was taken aback. It wasn’t just a physical thing, either, he concluded. It was a mixture of physical and emotional elements that somehow combined to make Smoke one very charismatic young man.

“I love this. Thank you for giving me…all this.” Smoke seemed almost at a loss for words. It really meant that much to the kid. Damn. He’d been wounded by someone, someone other than James, a long time ago. That much Davenport had managed to pry out of the reticent young man before he refused to say anything more. And somehow that wounding had killed something in him. Killed the ability to find joy in the simplest things. Like this.

But if Smoke was working some kind of magic on the animals, it seemed as though the reverse was true as well. The animals with their responsive tailwagging and yips and soulful looks were healing Smoke.

“It’s nice, you know?” Smoke said shyly.

“Yeah. Dogs don’t fake it. They either love you or they hate you. But they sure let you know it.”

A somber look crossed Smoke’s face, and Davenport was sorry to see that, wondering if he’d brought it there. “What’s wrong? Would you like to talk about it?”

Smoke shook his head without speaking. All of his earlier enthusiasm faded as the memory of breaking up with James came flooding back.

“Smoke….” The older man touched Smoke’s shoulder, and the younger man flinched.

“Jesus, Smoke. Did he hit you? Did James hit you? Is that why you left him?”

Alarm ran rampant through Smoke’s slender frame, turning his body rigid and making him incapable of moving. “No,” he gasped out. “He would never touch me like that. He lo—“

“He loved you. Is that what you were going to say?” Davenport’s voice was the essence of kindness itself.

Past tense. He loved me. Oh, God. Smoke’s light eyes darkened with pain, and he had no idea how long he stood there, staring at the ground, trying not to think or feel anything.

He was saved from having to answer Davenport by the arrival of Declan.