Page 110 of Point of Contact

So this is what it felt like to have everything he’d ever wanted.

* * *

Jesse woke in increments, blinking against the light streaming into the room. He glanced in panic at the clock, relaxing when he realized he still had over an hour before he had to be at work. Trevor still slept, his head pillowed on Jesse’s shoulder and one leg thrown across Jesse’s hips. Trying with all his might not to wake him, Jesse eased himself out from under him and padded to the kitchen to make some coffee.

As it brewed, Jesse wandered into the formal living room, trailing his fingers over the backs of the pristine couches, taking in the expensive carpet and subdued, tasteful artwork on the walls. Trevor’s office, just adjacent, was warm and inviting, and Jesse could tell he’d moved some things around since the last time he’d been in there. The desk was angled differently, and he now noticed some pictures of Riley displayed on the bookshelves, including one in an oversize baseball jersey, his chubby little-boy face full of hero worship as he posed with Todd Helton.

A dozen more steps took him down the hall to stand in front of the closed door to Riley’s room, and emotion welled up in his chest and surged into his throat, bringing tears to his eyes. Oh, how he dreaded the task of packing up this room, and he wondered when Trevor would finally ask him to do it. Leaning his forehead on the door, Jesse heaved a shaky sigh. It’d been hard enough the first time going through Riley’s clothes and handling his things, but Jesse’d done it in order to honor his friend. He’d been glad to help out the most important person in Riley’s life, even if that person had been all but a stranger to Jesse.

Now Trevor wasn’t a stranger anymore; he was the man Jesse loved, and Jesse had come to know intimately the anguish Trevor suffered over this room, this last tangible link to the beloved son who’d once lived here. Packing it away would be an emotional, daunting task for both of them and one Jesse wasn’t looking forward to.

Feeling a little overwhelmed by the changes the last few hours had wrought, Jesse tapped his fist on the door and pushed away from it, heading back to the kitchen to pour two mugs of the fresh coffee. He carried them into the bedroom and perched on the side of the bed, waving one of them under Trevor’s nose, chuckling when his eyes snapped open and his nostrils flared.

“What? Is it time to get up already?”

Jesse waited until he sat up and plumped some pillows behind him before handing him his mug. Trevor took a few tentative sips, blinking up at Jesse sleepily.

“You were out cold,” Jesse said regretfully, “but I didn’t want to leave for work without giving you this.” He stood to rummage in his duffel, pulling out the package Kimi had sent him. “This is the thumb drive from that photographer I told you about, the one embedded with our platoon.”

Trevor caught his breath, and Jesse laid it carefully on the bedside table. “I didn’t give it to you last night because—” Jesse broke off, feeling guilty and ashamed over his bout of selfishness and unsure how to explain it. He settled for shrugging helplessly. “If you want me to look at it with you, the assistant manager said she’d be there early today so it’s okay if I’m a little late.”

Trevor tore his eyes away from the package and shook his head. “It’ll keep, Jess.” He patted the mattress next to him. “Put your coffee down and come here.”

Jesse set his mug next to the package, waiting until Trevor did the same before sliding back into bed. Trevor cupped his cheek and leaned into him for a long, slow kiss. “Now that’s a proper good morning, and one I expect from now on. Although the coffee was a nice touch.”

Linking his arms around Trevor’s neck, Jesse gazed up at him. Trevor’s hair was a mess, his jaw stubbly, eyes crusty with sleep, but to Jesse he was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. And he was his.

“I love you,” he said tentatively, trying out the words, and the smile that broke across Trevor’s face warmed him from the inside out.

They finished their coffee, and Jesse made quick work of his shower before yanking on some clean underwear and black jeans, pulling his Jelly’s logo T-shirt over his head. By the time he’d donned his socks and tennis shoes, Trevor had disappeared into the kitchen, and Jesse could smell the scent of toasting bread.

He had a bagel and cream cheese waiting for him when he finally emerged, along with a fresh cup of coffee, and as Jesse ate, Trevor busied himself making a grocery list.

“What’re your favorite foods, Jess? Is there anything you absolutely will not eat?”

They bantered back and forth as they discussed food, discovering they had a mutual love for that ultimate guilty pleasure, Cheetos Puffs.

“Messy orange goodness,” Trevor declared. “I don’t share Cheetos, so I’ll make sure to get you your own bag.” He pointed his pen at Jesse. “And I’ll put names on them and everything, so hands off mine.”

He seemed completely serious, and Jesse couldn’t help but laugh at him.

When Jesse finished his breakfast and slipped his plate and cup into the dishwasher, he turned to see Trevor holding something out to him. Jesse took the house key and looked at it a moment before twisting it onto his own key ring.

“I’ll clear out a drawer for you, so bring some things over if you want.” Trevor’s voice was soft. “We’ll take it slow, okay?”

“Okay.” Jesse waited for Trevor to ask him about Riley’s room, but he didn’t, so Jesse pulled him close for one last kiss goodbye. “I’ll see you tonight, then.”

Jesse jogged to his truck, feeling like he was floating on air. The feeling lasted throughout the morning and into the afternoon, when Jesse’s phone rang while he was wolfing down a quick lunch.

“’Lo?” he mumbled around his BLT, washing the bite down with a gulp of Coke.

“Sami served me divorce papers, Byrney. Just now.” Watty’s voice in his ear was low and shaky. “She wants a fucking divorce!”

Jesse tightened his fingers around the phone, listening as Watkins ranted about flying to North Carolina to confront her. “I won’t let her take my kids from me. Fuck her!” Through the rage Jesse could detect his fear, fear of losing his family, of losing himself.

As he spiraled upward into hysteria, Jesse snapped, using his best squad leader tone, “Dial it down. Now.”

The clipped order did the trick, and Watkins subsided, his breaths coming in ragged gasps.