Page 107 of Point of Contact

When Carl moved back out, he’d been emotional and in a hurry, definitely without his usual hyper-efficiency, and it had to have been killing him not knowing where those books were. Trevor shook his head, wondering if the urgency to retrieve them was because he and Greyson were moving in together. It wouldn’t surprise him; Carl had been ready to settle down for a long time.

Pulling the ingredients out of the fridge for an omelet, Trevor examined his feelings about that, deciding he was nothing but happy for him. His visit the day before had gone a long way toward clarifying things beyond a shadow of a doubt—it was over. But if they could somehow salvage a tentative friendship from the wreckage, Trevor would find a lot of comfort in that, and he thought Carl would, too.

As he flipped the omelet and poured himself a mug of coffee, sudden inspiration struck. He grabbed for his phone and dialed, frustrated when it went right to voice mail.

“Hey, it’s Trev. I, uh, could really use your help with something, if you have a minute to talk. Call me when you can.”

He hung up and braced his hands on the counter, blowing out a huge breath and praying for strength at what he was about to set in motion.

It was time.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Jesse rolled to a stop in Trevor’s driveway and sat for a moment looking up at the brightly lit, welcoming house. Eight p.m., and he couldn’t remember ever being so tired and irritated before. Ever. A fourteen-hour day at the restaurant, and he was ready to run screaming through the streets.

As he got out of his truck and grabbed his duffel, he snorted to himself. Firefights in Afghanistan had nothing on wrangling civilians all day. He was used to people trained to obey orders, even if they didn’t like them, so dealing with a hostess coming to work so hungover she could barely keep her eyes open, or a dishwasher who didn’t bother coming to work at all, or a querulous customer disputing a two-dollar charge on his bill made Jesse want to pull his hair out by the roots.

Working with the general public definitely wasn’t for him.

The front door was unlocked like Trevor’d told him it would be, so Jesse let himself in and made his way to the kitchen, following his nose. Something delicious was cooking, and Jesse’s mouth watered, both at the smell, and the sight of Trevor bending over to peer at whatever was in the oven. He was wearing a pair of jeans so worn and faded the seat was white, and a black T-shirt, the back of which was rucked up slightly to reveal the waistband of his underwear.

Jesse waited until Trevor straightened and closed the oven door before saying, “Hey,” gratified when Trevor spun around with a huge smile on his face. He wiped his hands on a dishtowel and came over to Jesse for a kiss.

“Hey yourself,” he murmured against Jesse’s lips, sliding his arms up around his neck. Jesse dropped his duffel to the floor and pulled him close, sighing at the feel of Trevor’s body against his.

“Long day?”

“The longest.” Jesse buried his face in Trevor’s clean-smelling hair, wincing at how he himself must smell—like grease, sweat and frustration.

Trevor rubbed the back of his neck. “Why don’t you go take a long, hot shower, and then come out to the patio for a glass of wine? Dinner’ll be ready in half an hour or so.”

Jesse nodded and let go of Trevor reluctantly, bending to pick up his duffel before trudging down the hall to Trevor’s room. He sighed at the sight of the bed, freshly made with the covers invitingly turned down, a robe and a couple of fluffy towels laid out on the end of it.

Unzipping his bag and reaching inside to grab his toiletry kit from it, Jesse paused as his fingers brushed over the small package that had been waiting on his stoop when he’d stopped by his apartment earlier. He pulled it out and turned it over in his hands, debating with himself. Giving the package to Trevor tonight meant emotion and tears, on both their parts. The thought of scrolling through the thumb drive Kimi sent and reliving the Korengal Valley, as well as seeing Riley, Patterson and Miller again, larger than life and unaware of their fates, made Jesse feel like curling up in a ball to weep.

Selfishly, all he wanted tonight was a shower, food and sex, in that order.

“You don’t mind waiting a little longer, do you, bro?” he whispered to the package, tucking it carefully back inside his bag, thinking how relaxed and happy Trevor looked, how much trouble he’d gone to in order to pamper Jesse tonight, which he’d declared he was going to do when Jesse called him earlier.

He didn’t want to spoil any of it.

Ignoring the robe, Jesse grabbed a towel and headed for the shower, groaning as he let the hot water beat down on his neck and shoulders. He wallowed in the spray for a long time, finally emerging to dress in a pair of comfortable sweatpants and a loose T-shirt before making his way out to the patio where Trevor was sprawled in a chair with his feet propped on the coffee table. He waved his hand at a glass of wine sitting there waiting, his own glass dangling loosely from the fingers of his other hand.

Jesse dropped to the chair opposite him and sank back with a sigh, sipping appreciatively at the wine. “How was your day?”

Trevor lifted his glass toward Jesse in a silent toast. “It actually wasn’t bad, very productive. I completely reorganized my office, called a few old clients just to touch base, and surprisingly enough got a few of them back.”

“That’s great, Trev.”

“But enough about that. I’d much rather hear about your day. You seem beat, honey.”

He looked so concerned, so encouraging, that Jesse found himself unloading all his pique and annoyance onto him, gratified by Trevor’s steady interest and his reasonable take on a few things.

“It’s hard to get people to care about a dead-end, minimum-wage job,” he said at one point, swirling his wine in his glass. “I used to have that argument with Riley when he’d want to blow off going to work at some fast-food joint. ‘I can just go find another one, Dad,’ he’d say.” Trevor shook his head at the memory. “I felt like I was always lecturing him on work ethic and responsibility.”

“Well, I’m used to telling people to jump, and they don’t even ask ‘how high,’ they just fucking jump,” Jesse said in disgust. “I definitely don’t have a career in restaurant management in my future, that’s for sure.”

Trevor gave a rueful chuckle. “I wouldn’t want to do it either. Customer service isn’t for everyone, Jess, but I have no doubt you’re doing a great job of it anyway.”