Chapter Six

 

 

A MANIC day had turned into an awful day. The type of day where Leo locked himself in a toilet cubicle and sobbed uncontrollably into his hands for five minutes before going out, washing his face, and heading back to work without a lunch break.

One of those kinds of days.

He used his personal phone for work since he hadn’t quite figured out how to untangle his professional life from his social life, so Jackson’s text message arrived at the best and worst time.

I’m in Spokane tonight. You free later?

It had been a couple of weeks since he saw Jackson. First study commitments, then hanging out with his parents had meant he didn’t have time to drive the hour or so over to Jackson’s home. Then it had been the full moon, and Leo wasn’t sure exactly what Jackson did while the moon was high. Mitch did his own thing that Leo was pretty sure involved a lot of fucking, but it was personal, and Leo wasn’t sure how to ask.

They’d sent text messages back and forth, and though all Leo really wanted to do was go home with a pint of ice cream and an enormous amount of tequila, he decided Jackson was probably a better option.

Yeah. Finish at 6. That would be good.

He pocketed his phone, straightened his spine, and put on his “I’m a professional, yes, I am” mask to help him face the rest of the day.

By the time 6:00 p.m. rolled around, things were marginally better. He’d read, but hadn’t had a chance to respond to, Jackson’s message telling him he’d be outside the staff entrance when his shift finished.

He was running late, which normally wasn’t an issue but it left him itchy and stressed as he raced for his locker, grabbed his jacket, and rushed down to the parking lot.

Jackson was leaning against the rear bumper of his truck, quietly playing with his phone. When he noticed Leo approaching, he smiled softly, hesitantly. Then frowned.

“You okay?”

“That obvious, huh?”

Jackson reached out, the movement tentative and clumsy as he almost abandoned it. A moment later Leo flung himself into Jackson’s arms.

“Hey,” Jackson murmured, patting Leo’s back awkwardly as Leo buried his face in Jackson’s neck and fought the urge to cry. “Hey, it’s all right.”

“Sorry,” Leo mumbled.

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to,” Jackson said. “I won’t mind.”

“No… no.” Leo pulled away. “It’ll be good to get out.”

“Okay. I was thinking of this little mom-and-pop Italian place. I’ve only been there once before, but it’s really good. Rosario’s.”

Leo gave him a watery smile.

“You know it?” Jackson asked, sounding hesitant.

“My parents have been going there for years. It’s a family favorite.”

“I can find somewhere else….”

“No, that sounds good,” Leo said, squeezing Jackson’s arm in reassurance. “I’ll follow you over.”

“Okay.”

Jackson didn’t look entirely convinced, but he got into his truck anyway. Leo’s car was parked a few spaces down, and he rushed to get in it, not wanting to fall too far behind Jackson. Rosario’s would be good for him tonight. He ignored the background noise of the radio and instead let his mind drift as he drove over to the restaurant.

When they walked in, the warm, familiar smell of tomato and garlic hit him. Leo didn’t recognize the server who showed them to the small table near the kitchen; she was young, maybe new.

Rose wasn’t new, though. Even with her dark hair pulled back into a severe bun, there was a warmth to her, and her red lips broke into a smile as she tugged Leo out of his seat and into her arms.

“Leonardo!” she cried. “It’s been too long, too long.”

“Hey, Mama Rose,” he said, smiling despite himself.

“Who is your friend?”

“This is Jackson.”

He stood, smiling warmly at her, and offered his hand. Rose grabbed it and pulled him into another shoulder-crushing hug.

“Jackson. Lovely Jackson. Sit down, sit down. I’ll get you some meatballs.”

“And wine,” Leo added.

Rose raised her eyebrow at him.

“I was twenty-two in April,” he said. “I have my driver’s license with me.”

“Okay, okay, I believe you. I’ll bring the Montepulciano. It’s good with the meatballs.”

Leo sat down and leaned back, stretching. “You said you’ve been here before?”

“Only once,” Jackson said. “I didn’t meet Rose, though. She must have not been working that night.”

“Rose has worked every night for the past forty years.”

“I can believe it.”

The first server came back with the wine and a basket of bread. She poured each of them wine into the wide-bowled glasses on the table and left the bottle with them. Leo sipped, pleased with the choice, then sighed.

“Are you going to tell me?”

“It’s not a nice story,” he warned. Oh, he wanted to get it off his chest all right. He just wasn’t sure it was the best thing to unload on Jackson.

“I don’t mind.”

Leo had been working with the little girl for a few weeks. She’d been diagnosed with a rare neurological condition at birth and had been given a life expectancy of only a few days. At two years old, she’d defied all expectations, but had been rehospitalized due to a host of complications.

Her parents knew it was likely the end, that they were going to say goodbye to the child they called their “miracle baby.”

“She loved music,” Leo said. “She was mostly blind, but her hearing was fine. I used to do all sorts of sensory and music play with her. When it came to the end, her parents wanted me there. I didn’t know… I’ve never been in that situation before. I just took my guitar in and sat and sang and played while she died in her dad’s arms.”

He stopped, pushed the tears out of his eyes.

“Afterward they thanked me. Which is—Jesus Christ. They thanked me. What could I say? I’d just watched their daughter die. And yeah, I cared about her too, she was a beautiful little thing. But she was their daughter.” Leo gulped his wine. “I knew a long time ago this was what I wanted to do, to help in some way. But I never knew it would be this hard.”

“I don’t really think I understood your job,” Jackson said. “But the impact you must have on families….”

“I don’t understand it most days,” Leo said with a laugh that felt more like a sob. “Some days I feel like my job isn’t even a real job. The doctors are the ones doing the actual work, really saving lives, and I turn up with a ukulele and a harmonica. I feel like they must all be thinking, ‘Who’s this freaking clown?’”

“I’m sure they understand what you do. Especially if they’re pediatric specialists.”

“You’d like to think, huh? Anyway. Sorry for just dumping all that on you. Probably not what you wanted.”

Jackson shrugged—not dismissively, though. “I was in the area. I’m glad I did contact you now. Sounds like you needed some time out.”

“Yeah. I really did.”

Rose arrived then with two bowls piled high with spaghetti and meatballs, drowned in her famous marinara sauce. It smelled amazing; the perfect comfort food to soothe his soul.

“Here you go,” she said, carefully placing each bowl down. “Big servings for growing boys. You let me know if you need any more.”

“This looks fantastic,” Jackson told her. “Thank you.”

She nodded, pleased, and left them alone again.

“More?” Jackson whispered across the table.

Leo snorted with laughter. Each of their plates held at least two servings, maybe three if he ate the leftovers for lunch instead of dinner.

“The portions here are generous.”

“I’d say,” Jackson mumbled as he wound spaghetti around his fork. He took the first bite and groaned.

“It’s good, right?”

“I’ve never been so happy to let someone bully me into food,” he said, mouth still half-full.

The meatballs here were the size of baseballs, perfectly brown and crisp on the outside and they fell apart as soon as Leo pushed his fork into one. The taste brought back memories of dinners for special occasions all through his childhood. There were nicer restaurants in Spokane, sure—the fancy French place a few streets over or the Japanese grill downtown. At Rosario’s, though, everything was made with love.

The restaurant itself had been built in the 1940s by Rose’s parents. Inside it was classic Italian: brick walls, white tablecloths, white candles flickering in old wine bottles. The booths were wide enough for a whole family, but the little tables were intimate. Perfect for a date.

Leo was happy to eat in comfortable silence for a while, noticing that Jackson was careful not to get sauce on his light gray shirt. It was cute, especially when he got a little fleck on his cheek.

“You’ve got, uh….”

Leo pointed to it.

“Oops,” he said and wiped at the spot with his napkin. “Gone?”

“Yeah.” Leo was smitten. “Why were you around today, then? I’m sure your incredible beer doesn’t make itself.”

“You’d be surprised, actually,” Jackson said. “I’m responsible for the bit at the beginning and the end. Everything in between the beer mostly does on its own.”

Leo grinned and started on his second meatball. “Sounds like a valid excuse.”

“I was meeting with some of the bars I supply,” he said. “There’s a couple downtown, and a few more pubs near the college campus. I try and keep it small and local. People seem to appreciate that.”

“Did you do much business?”

“Yeah. I have a few new brews that are almost ready to go out. I find it useful to let my clients sample the goods themselves before they make me an offer.”

Leo narrowed his eyes. “Is that code for getting them drunk?”

Jackson laughed brightly. “Not always. Sometimes, though. One of the first big deals I did was when both the owner of the pub and I were steaming drunk.”

“Sounds like a good way to seal the deal.”

“Well, I spent most of the next day panicking that he was going to back out of the contract on the basis of being incapacitated when he signed it. It didn’t help that I was nursing a massive hangover. He called me in the afternoon asking to double his order.”

Leo laughed at that. “How does one train to be a brewer?” he asked, tongue in cheek.

“I don’t think I ever did. I learned a lot online.

Jackson stretched, his arm muscles flexing with the movement, and nudged his plate away. He’d demolished it. The boy had one serious appetite.

“I was working at a bank, of all fucking places, helping people with loans and credit cards, that sort of thing. My heart wasn’t in it at all. One day I went in to my boss and sat down with a business plan I’d sketched up in one of my notebooks. Asked him for the startup loan. I thought he was going to fire me on the spot.”

“Did he?”

“Nope.” Jackson grinned, cocky now. “He agreed to the loan and asked if he could become one of my initial investors. He matched what my dad loaned me. I paid them both back years ago, but he’s still a pretty regular customer.”

“Wow.”

“I’m lucky,” Jackson said, his expression turning humble. “I needed someone to take a chance on me, and it was a serious risk back then. I was only twenty-five, with no real life experience and this dream of working for myself. He said he saw something in me, the potential to do it. I owe him a lot.”

“Sounds to me like you put the work in. The sort of business you have doesn’t just spring up out of nowhere.”

“It’s long hours,” Jackson admitted. “My sister says I’ve turned into a hermit. But it’s easy to get lost in work you love doing. It never feels like work to me, just a hobby that earns me money.”

They talked for a while longer, letting the topic of conversation stray to something easier. Leo finished his glass of wine and asked for the bottle to be stoppered, rather than finishing it at the restaurant. He didn’t want to drive home drunk.

Jackson wanted to cover the bill, almost insisted, but backed off at the expression on Leo’s face and let the server split it. Jackson didn’t seem ready to call what they were doing dating just yet, so it worked out to be a good compromise.

Leo still kissed him before he got in his car. It was just soft, sweet, a thank-you kiss on the cheek for saving him from himself. Going home alone after the day he’d had was a recipe for wallowing and misery; a few hours with Jackson had lightened his heart a little.

 

 

BY FRIDAY, Leo was starting to come to terms with his traumatic start to the week. He’d called his old mentor and spent a few hours talking with her, letting her counsel him through what was always going to be the hardest loss of his career. He’d been told the first would be difficult. That still hadn’t prepared him for how difficult.

At the hospital, Leo’s new mentor, Fiona, would partner with him until he got all his required supervised hours in, and then he’d be set loose on his own patients. They were a good team; Fiona had a gorgeous singing voice, all husky blues, and had already started teaching Leo more sign language. He knew the signs to a lot of children’s songs already, but expanding his skills was always a good thing.

Most of their work was pretty separate from the rest of the nursing staff. Occasionally he’d have a nurse helping a child with particularly complex needs, but most of the time he worked one-on-one or in small groups.

The nurses at the Spokane Children’s Hospital were incredible. Some days Leo wondered what his life would be like if he’d kept pursuing a clinical line of care. Others he was grateful he hadn’t.

Since he and Fiona could work anywhere in the hospital, he didn’t get to build relationships with the medical team in the same way he would have if he were a nurse. They might visit a ward one day and not go back for weeks. Their work meant flitting between departments, wards, even buildings on a day-to-day basis.

So when Leo was invited out to a birthday party for one of the nurses, he immediately accepted.

Since he’d moved to Spokane, he’d been working and studying almost solidly, which meant, apart from Mitch and the dancers at Flair, he didn’t have many real friends. The chance to go out with a new group of people would be good for him.

What was once the old industrial district had been severely gentrified, and Leo found himself sitting in what had once been a textile factory. Now it was a bar serving overpriced beer and twenty-dollar cocktails. All the booths were covered in different types of fabric, a nod to the former use of the building. The rest of the décor was distinctly hipsterish.

It was all right. Some kind of folk band was playing on an elevated platform, but it wasn’t overly noisy, and Leo had managed to hold a decent conversation for the past twenty minutes with Jen and Enzo from the pediatric oncology department.

The server covering their area was run off her feet, and Leo didn’t really know what he wanted anyway, so he took the opportunity for a bathroom break and headed to the bar to decide what he wanted next.

Leo spotted Jackson in a much more secluded booth just off from the bar, talking to two guys with beards and plaid shirts. He looked stunning in a button-down and dark jeans. His shirt was very light gray denim, a few more buttons undone than strictly necessary, showing off a toned chest and a light smattering of hair.

Leo paid for his drink in a daze and headed over. In the Pacific Northwest, werewolf and human society overlapped considerably, so he’d had a patchy education in werewolf culture and biology. Unlike in some parts of the world, wolves were accepted here, and not revered as gods or reviled as monsters. That didn’t mean werewolves and humans lived peacefully side by side, though. There would always be those who didn’t want the two cultures to mix.

“Hey,” Leo said, grinning at Jackson and lifting his glass. “Is this one of yours?”

Jackson scowled at the label. “I don’t think so.” He didn’t look pleased to see Leo.

A quick, hot rush of shame filled Leo’s stomach.

“Guys, this is Leo. Leo, this is Grant and Adam. They own the bar.”

“Nice to meet you,” Leo said, nodding at each man in turn. “Sorry to interrupt. Just wanted to say hi.”

Both men looked at Leo like he was some kind of worm crawling through the dirt at their feet. Jackson wasn’t doing anything to change that opinion. He sat in stony silence now, clearly waiting for Leo to leave.

Leo turned on his heel and shoved his way through the mass of people. What was he thinking? That Jackson was going to pull him into a kiss, introduce him as “soul mate” to his business contacts?

Jackson wasn’t that guy. He was barely coming to terms with the idea that Leo was his mate in the first place, let alone being ready to be publicly out about it.

Well, Leo was out.

And proud.

Not that that stopped the hot shame twisting in his stomach. Suddenly he wasn’t interested in socializing.

“Just bought this,” he said to Enzo, passing him the beer. “But my roommate called, I’ve got to run.” He grabbed his jacket from the back of the booth.

“You sure?” Enzo asked, checking out the label.

“Yeah. Someone might as well drink it.”

“Well, thanks. Sorry you have to go.”

Leo nodded. “I’ll see you on Monday.”

He raised a hand to wave at the others before he ducked out of the bar.

Stupid.