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New guydefinitely had atoneto it.
“Huh. Well, I suppose I should finish my coffee and get ready to check the damage.” He glanced out the window again to see it was just starting to lighten. “I think it’s safe enough now. I doubt there will be tree limbs flying around.”
Nick grunted. Martin decided to take it as agreement.
They finished their coffee and breakfast in silence. Martin wasn’t going to force conversation, but at least Nick was eating something. Rising to his feet, Martin set his mug in the sink to wash later.
“I’m getting dressed.” He eyed Nick. “I doubt any of my jeans would fit you, but I might have a pair of old running pants that would stay up.”
Nick was skinny. Martin hadn’t realized just how thin he was until he’d shown up last night with no shirt on and his pjs plastered to his skin. Nick opened his mouth—likely to argue or tell Martin off, if the look on his face was anything to go by—but Martin forestalled him by turning away and heading to his bedroom.
NICK - FRIDAY
Fact:Every so often (geologic time), the earth’s magnetic poles reverse. The north pole and the south pole swap magnetism. Scientists estimate this could happen again about 1000-2000 years from now.
Probably around the same time Nick Waugh’s attitude changes.
Nick made sure Martin knew he didn’twantto wear Martin’s borrowed clothing. It was that hehadto. Because he literally had nothing else to wear. The stretchy black running pants he’d been lent only stayed up because they had an elastic waist he could tighten and then fold over. Nick didn’t usually feel small; however, not only was Martin jacked, but Nick had lost a lot of his muscle mass since his injury.
He didn’tlikefeeling like a kid around Martin Purdy. He didn’tlikethe way Martin made him feelat all. Hereallydidn’t like that Martin made him feel safe. And he hated how hard it had been last night for himnotto crawl under the covers with Martin Purdy like a frightened child.
Last night had scared him more than he wanted to admit. He was aware enough to admit that—to himself. Screw the gunshot wound and nightmares from that FUBAR situation, he could have been killed by a fucking rando tree. Which, in the scheme of things, would have just been his luck.
Death by Pinaceae-cide. But he’d saved the cat. Or she had saved him. If Kitten hadn’t jumped on him when she did, digging her sharp tiny claws into his skin, Nick might not have woken up. Worried Kitten needed something, he’d grabbed at her, and the next thing he knew, the cabin was exploding around him. It had sounded like a bomb going off.
But he hadn’t died in his sleep and he hadn’t let go of the cat. Once he’d realized what had happened—that no, an airplane hadn’t crashed into his home—Nick had stumbled out of the debris in the only direction he’d known to go. Martin. Like a damn homing pigeon.
And Martin had been kind and had taken him, and the unauthorized feline, in. Even made sure they both warmed up properly. He’d been nice, even when Nick had made it clear he didn’t want or neednice.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“Fuck,” Nick said out loud.
Martin’s arms were crossed over his chest. “Fuck,” he agreed, with no idea that Nick was not referring to the damage they were assessing.
To Nick’s untrained eye, the destruction looked pretty bad. The massive fir tree hadn’t come down directly on the little house. If that had happened, he and Kitten really would be dead. Instead, the tree had fallen at an angle, landing with the trunk pointing northeast toward town. It was the midsize middle limbs that had caught the cabin roof, crushing that corner.
It wasn’t a total loss, but the bathroom and living room area would need to be rebuilt. Along with the roof. Okay, which, to be fair, was most of the cabin. Luckily, the mushroom-penis had survived. A phallic beacon.
“You’re a damn lucky man, Waugh,” Martin said grimly.
“I don’t feel lucky.”
“You’re alive, aren’t you?” Martin pointed out.
Nick shrugged. He was still jobless and now homeless again.Nope, not that lucky.
“I guess the thing to do,” Martin said, digging into his coat pocket and pulling out a pair of thick work gloves, “is grab what we can of yours and cart it back to my place to dry out. Then I’ll see about getting the cabin covered with a tarp. Sorry.” He turned to Nick, his brows drawn together as he pulled on the gloves. “There’s no way for you to stay here until repairs are finished.”
Nick had already reached that depressing conclusion. He was just lucky—that damn word again—he’d stored his laptop and the cameras he never used anymore in a waterproof go bag. As if he’d known something like this might happen. He hadn’t, of course, but he always stored his stuff in a waterproof case. When a person traveled as much as he did,as he had, it paid to be prepared.
“The other cabins are in much worse shape than this one was, you know that, right?”
Nick eyed Martin.
“Yeah.”
“You can’t stay in any of them either. They’re not livable, not safe.”
