Ethan moved first, lifting his head to angle his sunglasses at Jack’s face. “We should get inside before the rain reaches the plateau.”

Jack grunted agreement and they peeled apart. Ethan picked up Jack’s bag and walked out. Giving himself a self-indulgent ten seconds to let Ethan’s jeans-clad arse hold his attention, Jack closed the stall gate and followed him.

Ethan was right about the rain. The sky was darker and lower, the air heavier, and the sound of the approaching rain pummelling the jungle was impressively loud. Jack huddled under the eaves on the house while Ethan unlocked the door. When the sky finally succumbed to the pressure, a Biblical scale torrent of water fell in big, fat drops that hit Jack’s back like mini grenades.

The door opened and they entered into a dim space that felt vast. Jack peered into the shadows, making out the vague shapes of furniture in an open-plan room that seemed to span the entire length of the house. Ethan locked the door and turned on the lights.

“Holy shit,” Jack whispered.

“Take a look around. I’ll stow your gear and get some drinks. Is beer all right?”

Captivated by the sight before him, Jack muttered, “Sure.”

While Ethan walked away, Jack gaped. The room did indeed take up the entire width and breadth of the house, the walls behind him and at either end were the undressed bricks of the outer façade, a dark, greyish-brown shade in the glow of the lights. Canvases of landscapes crafted with rough, broad strokes that nevertheless effortlessly portrayed beaches, forests and deserts decorated the three walls. The fourth wall, in front of Jack, was an unadorned dull grey.

A large fireplace was embedded in the wall to Jack’s right, surrounded by a herd of plush leather couches, wingback chairs and coffee tables. The floor, bare boards polished to a high sheen, was covered in several large, thick rugs. There was an open space of bare floor boards between a baby grand and a dining table stained a deep, dark red, big enough to seat eight in comfort. At the other end of the open-plan was a generously sized kitchen. All surfaces were glossy granite with flecks of quartz, the cabinets the same wood as the dining table, the appliances stainless steel with a hammered finish.

Beside the kitchen was a cosy nook that could best be described as a library. Bookshelves lined the wall and there were two ridiculously large, comfy looking couches facing each other, a coffee table in between them.

Between kitchen and library was a staircase Ethan was currently descending. It had no railings but was wide enough to give an illusion of safety. It rose up to a loft that covered a third of the length of the house, hanging under a ceiling of exposed beams. Like the staircase, it had no railings around it. From his angle, Jack couldn’t see anything up there, but judging by the lack of his bag over Ethan’s shoulder, he guessed bedroom and bathroom.

“Do you like it?” Ethan asked, going into the kitchen.

Jack forced a nonchalant shrug. “A safety officer’s nightmare, but it’s got a bit of style.”

“Hmm, just a bit, yes. How about now?” He picked up a remote on the kitchen counter and pressed a button.

With a soft hum, the plain wall on the far side of the house began to move upwards. Not a wall but a series of roller-shields that retracted to expose a long, floor-to-ceiling window.

Jack strode across the room to the window. There was a balcony, unsurprisingly without a railing, but big enough to host a dozen people without fear of falling off. Currently, it was home to a pair of well-padded deckchairs and a glass-topped table between them, protected by a waterproof sail. The light outside was dimmer than that inside, but even through the shifting curtains of rain, he could vaguely make out the view. The river valley Tom had driven them through stretched out far below, more mountains in the far distance. Without the rain and cloud cover, the sight would be glorious. Even with it, Jack was entranced. He hadn’t realised just how high they’d come. He felt like he could have stood on the edge of the balcony and touched the clouds.

“We’re completely alone,” he said wonderingly.

“This is why I wanted you here,” Ethan said softly as he came up beside him. “There’s no one else on this mountain with us. No Office, no jobs, no one but each other. So we can sort things out.”

“What about Tom?”

“He won’t come back until the end of the week when he brings supplies.” Ethan smiled fondly. “I’m glad he got to practice his tour on you.”

The pride in Ethan’s tone unsettled Jack’s belly. It wasn’t exactly jealousy but the thought of Ethan spending time with the kid sparked his anger.

Turning away from the view, Jack leaned a shoulder against the glass and crossed his arms. “He’s one of yours, I’m guessing.”

“One my what?”

“I don’t know. Protégé? You taught him to drive.”

“Not so much to drive, but rather refined his existing knowledge.”

“And you did up his Jeep for him.”

The tone of Jack’s voice finally had an effect on Ethan. Shoulders stiffening, he turned away and headed back to the kitchen. “Was I not supposed to help a young man trying to better his lot in life, Jack? Or are we back to you believing I’m nothing more than a cold-hearted monster?”

After a moment, Jack followed him. He was ready for a fight but didn’t particularly want to start it off by shouting across a big room to be heard over the solid drumming on the roof. The shouting could be worked up to.

“Maybe.” Jack kept his voice even. “What else am I supposed to think? You said you cared for me, yet when I needed you, you couldn’t even be bothered getting in touch. Instead, you pissed off, like you always do. How do you expect me to feel knowing you were here all this time, messing around with an old car? Though it is nice to finally know just where on your scale of importance I actually fit.”

Ethan didn’t answer, just went about filling a kettle and setting it on the stove top. From the freezer he took a frosted glass and a beer from the fridge. Pouring it expertly, he slid the drink across to Jack.

“If you honestly believe that, Jack, then I’m surprised you’re here.”

Just because he was right didn’t mean Jack had to agree. He took a sip of beer, instead. Not a brand he was familiar with, it went down well enough all the same and the glass was half empty when he set it down. The cold weight in his belly anchored him in place and he pulled out a barstool and sat.

“Can you just tell me something,” he said into the silence.

“What would you like to know?”

Everything, but Jack said, “Something true.”

Ethan took a deep breath, held it, then let it out in a long sigh. “I haven’t been here the entire time. I arrived two days ago.”

“And you know Tom from . . .?”

“Previous stays. This isn’t one of my places but I do feel secure here. Before the road was washed out last month, Tom used to bring supplies up to the house. That’s when I helped him with his Jeep.”

Jack nodded, swallowed some more beer, then said, “And when you left Canberra, you went . . .?”

Ethan’s patient expression lasted until the kettle whistled and he turned to tend it. “Initially, to several other places.”

“Ethan.” He put some warning in the name.

“Plausible deniability, Jack,” Ethan replied with the same tone. Quickly assembling his tea, he turned back and set a teapot on the countertop to steep. “Eventually, I landed in Kuala Lumpur. I have a safe place there and . . . and it wasn’t so far from you.”

Unable to look at the dark planes of his glasses, Jack focused on tracing random lines through the condensation on his glass. “Far enough. Especially when you could have stayed.”

“Jack, you know . . .” Another deep breath. “You know I trust you, but the Office . . .” Jack looked up to see Ethan shaking his head in quiet but firm denial.

“Okay.” Jack actually agreed with that one. “You could have called, though.”

Rocking the teapot gently, Ethan murmured, “I could have. I wanted to.”

Christ. Pulling hens teeth would be easier. “But?”

Ethan poured his tea and took a sip, setting the cup down with a gentle click of ceramic on stone. “Partly, I didn’t know what to say. I have no experience in offering such comfort. I knew you were hurting and I wanted to be there, but I didn’t, and don’t, know how to be what you needed.” He picked up his tea and took several gulps.

Swallowing the urge to do a few incredibly stupid things, Jack chased it with most of the rest of his beer. He still needed answers. “And the other part?” he prompted.

To which Ethan replied by topping up his tea and taking a series of determined sips.

Jack waited him out. Normally, Ethan was the one with the endless patience, but this time Jack felt like the calm, rational one. Ethan, however, all but shouted his frustration by fastidiously aligning the teapot so it was perpendicular to the edge of the counter. By turning his cup three times clockwise before taking another drink. When he reached across to move Jack’s glass to make the third point of an equilateral triangle, he finally seemed to realise what he was doing and, leaving the glass where it was, curled his hands into fists and pressed them into the countertop.

“The other part was,” he eventually continued, “that I wished to know if you really needed me, or if I was just convenient.”

Jack grimaced. “You, Ethan Blade, are anything but convenient.”

“Poor choice of words.”

“Clearly.” The light was dim enough, so Jack leaned over and removed Ethan’s glasses. “Just spit it out.”

Blinking in, what was for him, the sudden brightness, Ethan nodded. “I’ve been coming to you for the past six months, and that was my choice. I have more freedom of movement than you do.”

Jack snorted.

“Relatively,” Ethan amended wryly. “I know I make it impossible for you to find me if I don’t wish to be found.”

“That’s some high opinion you’ve got of yourself,” Jack grumbled.

Eyebrow arching over one wide, white eye, Ethan merely said, “I never expected you to travel to me, but that didn’t stop me from wondering all the same if you would actually do it given the chance. And the previous couple of visits didn’t exactly prove I meant a great deal to you.”

Jack sat back on the stool, stomach tightening in surprise. “How the hell did you get that idea?” The last several visits were the ones where Jack had started to admit just how much Ethan had come to mean in his life. The fact Ethan thought otherwise kicked him in the guts. “Is that why you said you weren’t going to come back?”

Shoulders slumped, Ethan nodded.

“Christ.” The anger he’d thought gone for good back with a vengeance. “Explain this to me. Tell me exactly how I don’t care about you. Show me how little you actually mean to me, please, because I’m having a fuck load of trouble picturing it. No wait, let me try. Um, was it because I went to the Gold Coast with you, so you could do something you really wanted to do but that I had no real interest in? Was that it?”

“Yes, Jack, it was. Driving is the one other passion I have, and I wanted to share it with you, and you kept talking about leaving to go look at other men.” Ethan’s tone was about as cold as his white eyes. Why Jack had thought taking off his glasses would make anything better was beyond him.

“I didn’t, though,” Jack ground out.

“You took the policeman’s number.”

Guilt made Jack’s words sharper. “You let Brendon touch you.”

Ethan calmly picked up the teapot and his cup and turned away, going to the sink.

Jack was suddenly transported back to the Great Sandy Desert, when he was learning all about Ethan’s quirks. When he’d pushed and pushed just to get something other than an exquisitely controlled response. It had worked then, and he’d survived.

“Did you ever fuck him? Or maybe Vicky?”

The mixer tap was snapped on a bit harder than necessary. “I told you then, no, to both.”

“And I told you, that the policeman was nothing. Harmless flirting, on his part. I didn’t encourage it. Just like I told you there had been no one else for ages before that.”

“Actually, you didn’t tell me that then, Jack.” Ethan washed the teapot, movements precise and snappy. “You waited until you were delirious with fever to trot that one out.”

“And that makes it any less true?”

“It does lend it a certain incredulity. You aren’t exactly in control when you’re sick, Jack. You tend to say, and do, inappropriate things.”

“Holy fucking shit. I can’t believe you’re holding the flu against me.”

“I’m not holding that against you, Jack. It wasn’t your fault you got sick, just as you can’t be blamed for what you do or say while compromised. It did, however, open my eyes to certain aspects I’d previously missed.”

Jack gaped at him. “Really? What sort of certain aspects?” He exaggerated a British accent on the last words.

Clean pot and cup were set to drain on the sink and, drying his hands on a small towel, Ethan faced Jack. “Perhaps this isn’t the time to discuss it. You’ve been travelling most of the—”

“Fuck that. We’re talking now. I think we’re actually getting somewhere.”

Ethan quirked another eyebrow at him, lips pressed into a thin line.

“Seriously. I mean I don’t remember much from that visit, but I do know I apologised for a lot of shit I’m not even sure I did, so fill me in. What the fuck did I do that hurt you so bad?”

Shaking his head, Ethan walked out of the kitchen. “Forget I mentioned it. It was stupid, anyway.”

“Stupid or not, it meant something to you.” Jack slid off the stool and followed him to the middle of the open space between dining table and piano. “Just fucking tell me what I did.” Too late, he wondered if Ethan had picked this spot so he wouldn’t break anything when he took Jack down.

“It’s not what you did, Jack, but what you didn’t do.”

One of the clear memories Jack had of that time sprang out at him. Something he hadn’t been able to do, even after pretty much promising he would. Heat flooded his neck and cheeks. “Is this about the blowjob?”

Ethan frowned. “Pardon?”

“You know, when I got you all primed, but couldn’t . . . deliver.”

The pound of the rain was the only noise for a very long time.

“No, Jack,” he said, barely audible over the rain. “That wasn’t it.”

Not exactly feeling the relief, because what the fuck else had there been, Jack asked, “What then?”

Ethan sighed. “You tend to talk, a lot, when you’re very sick. You carry out these one-sided conversations with people who aren’t there.”

“Yeah, I do the same when waking up from anaesthetic.” Jack ran a hand over his face in resignation. “I said something, didn’t I?”

“No, as I said, it was something you didn’t do. In your ramblings, you mentioned everyone who was important in your life. Your father and sister, your directors at work. Hamish and Ian, whom, from context, I presume were past boyfriends.” With a sad smile, he added, “And Harry.”

Christ. Jack got it now. About to open his mouth to defend himself, he stopped when Ethan’s expression changed to a slightly puzzled frown.

“You even mentioned Scott and Stonebridge from Strike Back, but that was different from the others.”

“I should fucking hope so.” Jack felt like he was fifteen and Meera had found links to gay porn on his computer. “You’re pissed that I didn’t talk about you.”

Cheeks pinking up as they did when forced to talk about sex, Ethan ducked his head. “I told you it was stupid.”

“Yeah, well you did say that.” Jack wasn’t sure what to make of it. He could sort of see why it would have twisted Ethan up in knots, but at the same time, couldn’t. It felt a little bit . . . silly. Juvenile, even. But given the fact this was Ethan’s first attempt at a relationship outside of his job, and with the preceding slights from the Gold Coast trip, perhaps it wasn’t so unbelievable. In that context, everything else became clearer as well.

“So, this is what you do to find out for sure?” Jack gestured at the house around them. “Let me know where you are and see if I come running?”

“When the ticket I sent you wasn’t used, I believed you weren’t coming.”

“Then why send Tom to pick me up?”

“A last desperate grab at—oh!”

Jack had closed the distance between them and, arms around his waist, pulled Ethan to his chest with a bit more force than necessary. He didn’t let go or apologise, however, just held on until, after a startled half minute, Ethan embraced him back.