Page 42 of Hot Times in Heart Falls, Vignettes Vol 3

The house, small and neat, had lights glowing in the windows and mismatched furniture visible through sheer curtains. Inside, it smelled like cumin and garlic and roasted vegetables.

The kitchen was half open to the living space, with Edison’s flair tucked into every corner. A string of paper snowflakes ran across the top of the window. Candles in odd glass jars. Art prints of constellations. A stack of board games on the table next to a record player spinning low jazz.

Kevin stood awkwardly, more aware than ever that he hadn’t brought anything to make the night special. The wine, sure, but beyond that, he had no game plan. Just himself.

And yet⁠—

Edison glanced from his spot in front of the stove with a warm look. Slowly, one brow drifted upward. “You’re wearing your thinking face. Brain still running on overdrive?”

Kevin blinked. “Sorry. I’m...I don’t know. Hoping I didn’t screw up.”

Edison paused, the spoon hanging precariously over the steaming pot. “Why would you think that?”

“Because I didn’t bring anything but wine. Because I didn’t plan something impressive.” Because I want this to matter and I’m not sure how to show that right now.

After carelessly tossing the spoon onto a bright red plate, Edison walked to him slowly, carefully, and placed his palms flat against Kevin’s chest. “You’re here. You’re honest. You let me drag you through snowy pine trees in a VR simulator and you listened to my commentary. You were wonderful.”

Kevin looked at him—really looked. “You think so?”

Edison nodded. “Yeah. I do. And I’m glad you’re here tonight.”

That, more than any snow globe or present, was the moment that lodged deep in Kevin’s chest and stayed.

Edison clapped his hands and tilted his head jauntily. “And now? Supper is nearly ready. Time to work.”

Kevin took a slow, deep breath. He couldn’t be sure of the future. He still hadn’t cracked the code on what to give Edison for Christmas.

But he knew this much; tonight felt different. The air between them shifted—just slightly—but enough for Kevin to believe that something was unfolding.

Something important.

4

Edison couldn’t stop smiling.

He’d been smiling since the moment Kevin showed up with that serious expression that made Edison’s chest ache in the best way. Since the moment Kevin’s fingers brushed his as they stepped into the gallery, warm and sure. Since Kevin had kissed him after the exhibit. No words, but a dictionary’s worth of meaning in his touch.

By the time they’d stepped through the front door of his home, Edison’s cheeks hurt from how much he’d been grinning.

And now? With Kevin rolling up his sleeves like the literal fantasy he was? Edison might need to lie down.

Distraction was needed, now. “Plates are there. Glasses in the top cabinet. Forks in the drawer to your right,” Edison reminded him before switching into danger mode. “And I swear, if you rearrange anything, I will haunt you.”

“Yes, Chef.” Kevin obligingly opened the correct doors and got to work. “I haven’t changed anything the other times I’ve been here,” he teased.

That was true. Which had to mean ironclad willpower on his part, since Kevin’s rooms at High Water were so spic-and-span tidy. Edison was always tempted to mess something up.

Hmmm. Which said more about Edison’s issues than Kevin’s.

Still, Edison gave him an approving nod. “Part of the reason you keep getting invited back,” he shared with more honesty than intended.

The kitchen was small, but everything in it was his. A deep red tea towel hung off the oven handle, and the small round table bore a hand-stitched runner he’d found at a thrift shop in Edmonton. The mismatched plates were vintage, and his wine glasses were etched with tiny maple leaves.

Everything in the room made him happy inside. As Kevin moved around the space like he belonged there—quiet, calm, competent—he too made the makes Edison happy list.

The man had loosened his collar, and those sleeves⁠—

Lord help me. Those sleeves were now rolled up just high enough to show off strong forearms and the faintest peek of veins.