Page 89 of The Fire Line

“Did you?”

The question landed exactly where Harris’s own uncertainty had been sitting for days.

He looked down at the beer in his hands. He had not known what another man’s mouth would feel like. Had not known what it would do to him to have Jay look at him without hesitation or disgust or even surprise once the shock wore off. He had not known how much of himself he would want to hand over once he started.

But that was not the same as not knowing what had brought him across the space at the lookout.

Harris lifted his eyes. “I knew I wanted you.”

Jay stopped, and the room went quiet around the sentence. Harris had not intended to say it that plainly, but there was no useful way to take it back.

Jay’s anger did not disappear, though something warmer moved beside it.

“You should have trusted me enough to tell me you were uncertain.”

“I know.”

“You’re allowed not to know something.”

“Don’t particularly enjoy it.”

“I’ve noticed.” Jay returned to the couch but stayed turned toward him. “If you’d told me, I might have checked in more. I might have slowed down.”

“Didn’t need you to.”

“Maybe not. But I deserved the chance to know what was happening instead of assuming you’d done all of it before.”

“I got what I wanted.”

Jay nudged Harris’s boot with his bare foot. “Yes. That part was not subtle.”

Despite himself, Harris felt some of the tension ease.

“You being new to this wouldn’t have bothered me,” Jay said. “I’m less impressed by the lie.”

“Fair.”

The acknowledgment appeared to surprise him.

Harris set down the beer. “Nell knew.”

Jay went still.

“About men. She was the only one.”

The words felt different in the room than they had inside Harris’s head. More permanent. Jay could carry them away now, and Harris could not decide whether that felt like danger or relief.

“For how long?”

“Since I was sixteen. Maybe before.”

“How did she know?”

“Summer hand. I watched him too much.”

“And Nell noticed.”

“She noticed everything.”