Page 78 of Ask Me For Fire


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“It pays the bills.” The man’s smile grew wider. One of his front teeth was crooked. “And I’m good at it.”

“And you’re talking to me because…”Waine gave Barrett an up-and-down that made him want to crawl out of his skin. “I’m guessing you’re more than just the neighbor.”

“I’m a friend.”

“Right.”

At the edge of the porch, Dandi was watching them and she barked once. “I think that’s her lunchtime notification, Mr. Waine. So if you don’t mind, you can get off my property and stay off my neighbor’s as well.” Barrett narrowed his eyes and let his arms drop from where they were crossed over his chest. “I’m assuming even private dicks have to learn what constitutes trespassing.”

Waine chuckled. “You, I like. You’re tough, or you look it.”

“Good for me. Now fuck off.”

Barrett didn’t bother to watch Waine leave. He unclipped Dandi from her lead and took her inside, seeing Waine back off his property from the corner of his eye. But he definitely watched the man walk down the little lane leading to he and Ambrose’s homes, and then disappear around the bend and into the trees. He’d clearly parked up the road as to not make noise, likely hoping to sneak onto Ambrose’s property and peer in windows.

Unease gathered in his belly and he wanted to text Ambrose to let him know, but he was out with Raf on their hike. The last thing he wanted to do was interrupt that. Barrett quickly made notes of the interaction with Waine (just in case, his gut instinct whispered) before turning the podcast back on and returning to his painting.

There in the middle of his stick-straight lines was a dribble of yellow paint. “Motherfucker,” he muttered.

“Look at you.”

Ambrose raised an eyebrow at Raf. “Look at me what?”

“The flush of early love looks good on you, my friend.”

A few responses flitted through his mind but what came out of his mouth was not denial. Ambrose in the past would have denied, rebuffed, maybe even made a joke. “I’m guessing it’s pretty obvious.”

“On the contrary.” Raf turned and those deep hazel eyes gave him a once-over. “It looks natural.”

“Oh.” That was not what he’d been expecting. “Not going to tease me about being moon-eyed?”

That got him a laugh. “I don’t think you have the ability to look moon-eyed, my friend. But I do think you’re standing taller. You walk with a confidence I’ve never seen before. And you clearly adore that man. In short…” Raf stopped and faced Ambrose, putting his hands on Ambrose’s shoulders. “It looks right. Good. I like Barrett and I think you’re good for each other.”

His lips twitched. “So is that the best friend speech?”

“Trust you to mock my sincerity.”

“I’m not mocking, I’m checking.”

“Check all you want. But I’m serious.” Raf squeezed his shoulders and then let go, waving him forward. “Now come on, I want to see this river.”

Ambrose was taking Raf up the same trail Barrett had a few days prior. He remembered the way fairly easily and following their trail map past that river would lead them to an overlook. “Best view on the western side of the forest,” Barrett had said.

The overlook was half-hidden by a thick copse of pines. Traces of snow clung to the lowest branches, glistening in shadow as the sun’s rays were kept away by higher branches. Up this high, the wind’s teeth tried to gnaw through his thick fleece. They pushed through the trees and stopped.

“Wow.” Ambrose’s eyes weren’t big enough to take in all that sky. Clear as cobalt and dotted with frothy white clouds, the early afternoon sky was so bright it made him squint. Raf flipped down his sunglasses, slowly turning his head from side to side. Trying to give himself the panorama of a view that actually took Ambrose’s breath away. “He didn’t show me this when we were up here.”

There was a knowing curve to Raf’s smile. “He saved it for you.”

“For us.” Ambrose pulled him over and held up his phone, camera ready. “Like always.”

Like always. From the night of their first and only date and every year since, one picture together. The first one was grainy and square, from a flip cell phone with the numbers thumbed off and a cracked case to last year’s, outside a bar, with flushed faces and jackets flung over their shoulders.

“Best one yet,” Raf said as he smashed his face against Ambrose’s.

“Ow, brute.”

“Smile, you oaf.”

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