~*Chapter Seventeen*~


I'd called Alec to let him know Jasper had turned up bruised and bloodied, which didn't surprise him. He'd heard through his gay grapevine about some of the things Jasper had been doing and apparently a few bar brawls were only a some of the things. He offered to come over, which I declined. As much as I didn't want Jasper here, there was a bigger part that did. Alec was reluctant, but agreed, and told me to send Jasper over in the morning, telling me he could stay at his place until he was well again.

It was late into the night, and I hadn't been able to fall asleep yet. I was lying on the couch thinking over the conversation with my dad trying not to think about Jasper in my bed in the next room—I was almost positive I could hear him breathing. Life was so much simpler back then. Ignorance was definitely bliss or as Jasper put it, there was none of this shit that had gotten in the way of things. We were inseparable that summer he stayed with us. We worked at the same music store, we hung out every night and never once did we get sick of each other. I had my room and he had the spare bedroom, but most nights we were in the basement, hanging out, playing music and sneaking my dad's beers and we ended up sleeping on the couches down there. It became our own personal pad. We drove my mother crazy, but secretly I think she liked it... having that extra person to care for. At the time everything was natural, like there was nothing wrong with young men spending every waking and sleeping moment together. I'd never had a friend like Jasper, so it all seemed normal to me. Looking back at it now, it was anything but, and that's what my dad was not so subtly trying to tell me. It was so much more. Why couldn't Jasper see that?

I heard the shuffle of his footsteps before I saw him come around the corner. It was late and the only light in the room filtered through the blinds from the courtyard lamp outside my window. The sounds of the night had settled and the only other sound was the clock on the wall ticking.

"Hey," he said, looking down scratching the back of his head.

He was still in my sweats and he looked a little more rested, and he seemed to be moving easier. He slowly walked to the middle of the room and glanced to the table where I had spread out the photos after my dad left. He sat down in the chair and picked one of them up. He studied it for some time while I watched him, but this time his expression was guarded carefully. It wasn't until he moved to place the photo back on the table, pausing for a moment before letting it go that I would have known they affected him.

"Thank you..." he cleared his throat, "for calling your dad," he said. I hadn't moved. I was still lying down with my arm over my head and my legs crossed. I nodded a welcome to him but didn't speak. I knew his body, every movement and every action he did, and right now with his jittery knee he was nervous.

"What time is it?" he asked, looking around the room. I pointed to the clock across the room. "I slept for a few hours, sorry." He cleared his throat again. "You can have your bed back. I should get going anyway."

I swung my legs around and set them on the ground, sitting up. No more skipping around, I wanted some answers. "Where the hell have you been for the last few weeks? Everyone was fucking worried and you couldn't even pick up the phone and let them know you were all right? What the fuck were you thinking?"

The clock on the wall continued to tick and it was a good thirty ticks before he whispered a response.

"You think I don't know I fucked up everything that was good and right in my life?" He finally had the balls to look me in the eyes. "I fucked it allup. Why would anyone care where I was after what I've done?"

"Stop being so goddamn selfish. You're an asshole, but we still care about you."

"You shouldn't."

"Well, you're right about that."

There were more ticking sounds from the clock heard before he asked, "Do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Care?"

I thought about yelling at him and screaming, but the truth of it was, I didn't want to fight with him anymore.

"Yeah. I shouldn't, but yeah," I said and I felt my chest tighten. His cheeks turned red in the dim light and I thought I would just say it, put it all out there because there was nothing else. "Why did you come here? What do you want from me?" My voice was soft and kind, hoping he'd finally answer me with some truths.

His finger was tracing a bruise on the back of his hand, pushing the purple and testing it for tenderness. It was an absent gesture, and I doubt he even realized he was doing it, but I couldn't take my eyes off of his hands while I waited with my breath held for him to answer the question.

Eventually he stopped and looked up at me. "I don't know," he said, and I could tell it was the truth. He really didn't know. But the truth didn't make it any easier for me.

I stood up, giving him one last sad look. If he didn't know by now, I doubted he ever would. "You can take a shower to get cleaned up," I said. "I'll get your clothes out of the dryer, but that's it. I'm going to have to ask you to leave. Alec said you could stay with him."

"Isn't—," his voice cracked, "isn't it enough that I'm here?"

Yes, of course it was, I thought. "No."

He remained seated for a few breaths, and I could see he was battling his thoughts. It was odd that I was the strong one now. The dynamic in our relationship had changed, and it saddened me that I'd lost my friend. Finally he stood up, and his eyes remained downcast while he followed me to the closet and I passed him a towel.

"Soap and shampoo's in the tub," I mumbled. "You should shave. You look like shit."

~*.*~

The sound of the water running had lulled me into a trance like state. Everyone's words from the past few weeks plagued me. Between my Dad and Jared telling me to give Jasper another chance and my mother and Alec telling me I needed to move on, it was such a whirlwind of emotions, just like it always was when it came to him. He couldn't love me back, not openly the way I wanted him to at least, he'd made that clear. I needed to let him go, I didn't want him here even though my body was disagreeing.

The water shut off, and all my senses came alive. Everything was heightened and the hairs on my arms were standing up. I was standing in the kitchen with my hands gripped firmly to the counter. I could see the door from where I stood. One simple sheet of plywood separated him from me. He'd probably stepped out of the tub by now, his feet on the bath mat while he stretched to lean for the towel to dry himself off. The mirror would be fogged up, so he'd wipe it with his hand so he could see while he shaved the tiny bits of stubble that'd grown sporadically over his face. The tap water for the sink turned on confirming what I was imagining. He would be standing in front of the sink, with a towel wrapped around his waist. His hair would be towel-dried and slicked back with tiny water droplets dropping to his shoulders. I knew him. Everything about him. My cock knew him too.

I pushed myself against the counter, feeling the pain from the pressure. I heard the 'tap-tap-tap' as he banged the razor against the sink, and before I knew it I was standing outside the door listening to the swirl of the water as he rinsed the shaving cream off the blade. I leaned up against the wall, inhaling, wondering what the fuck I was doing. There wasn't an 'us.' Too many things had gotten in the way, just as they always would. I placed a hand on the bathroom door, remembering back to the peeling paint on our apartment door. My little finger twitched and I found myself thinking, This is the way it's supposed to be.

I moved to my bedroom to get away from him and get him his clothes. I saw his wallet and cigarettes on the side table. I'd removed them from his jeans so I could wash them. He still carried the same wallet he had back in College. There was a new rubber band around it still holding it together, and I was surprised he had it all these years later. I don't know why, but seeing it comforted me. He was that same Jasper who refused to buy a new wallet because this leather piece of shit was molded to his ass.

I had my hands against the dresser with my head down between my arms. From the corner of my eye, I could see the hallway and the door to the bathroom. The knob turned, and the steam misted through the doorway and Jasper followed. The blue towel was wrapped snugly around his waist, his hair was slicked back, and his cheeks were a shade of pink from the rawness of shaving. He was thin, having lost some muscle mass since the last time I saw him without a shirt on, and his body was bruised with shades of purple and green scattered around his ribs. He was startled to see me watching him and raised an arm across his chest as though for a second he wanted to cover himself up, but then his hand dropped and he raised his chin. His hands were at his sides and I watched the rise and fall of his chest for a few breaths before I straightened up and faced him. Neither of us said a word. I saw his eyes darken as he slowly started to walk toward me. I was frozen to the space I was in. My ears were pounding from the beating of my heart and I felt my temperature rise the closer he got.

He stood in front of me staring me straight in the eyes, and neither of us blinked. His hands moved to my belt and with a careful touch he started to undo the clasp. I finally took a breath, exhaling through my nose while I shut my eyes. He pulled my jeans down, and my cock sprang loose like so many of those clichéd moments in bad erotic literature... but that's what it did. I was hard and standing at full attention. I didn't dare open my eyes, so I waited for his hands but instead, the tip of my cock met warmth and I gasped from the wetness of his mouth. He swallowed me, and I cursed under my breath wondering if this was a dream and if I was still lying on the couch.

The more he took me in, the more I realized this was happening. His hands squeezed my thighs giving him leverage the further down on my cock he went. It was over a year since someone had done that, since he'd done that and it felt fucking good. So much better than a rough calloused hand. He hummed and the vibrations sent shivers up my spine, reminding me what it felt like that night back in Chicago. Everything came rushing to the surface. All the feelings: the fear, the pleasure, the love, the pain, the humiliation, the betrayal...

This man had ruined me and he would again.

I lunged for him, grabbing his head and pushed him away, holding tight to his neck. The anger seethed out of me.

"Edward," he managed to say.

"Don't! I don't want to hear it. This isn't what I want."

"Don't give up on me..." He dropped his arms in defeat and didn't struggle against my grip.

"Stop!" I hated the way he made me feel. I didn't want to relive the rejection of that night, it repulsed me. I was shaking, but still holding strong to him. We stared at each other while I gripped his neck.

"I love you." There was no fear in his eyes. I wish there had been. But his bruised face was calm and truthful.

"Why should I listen to you?" I choked down my tears and let him go. My fists came up to my eyes as I let out a frustrated howl and turned my back on him. He wasn't going to change. In the confines of this apartment behind closed doors, it was safe for him. But I wanted more than that. I wanted everything with him and he couldn't give me that. He'd leave me shattered again. "You only love me in here, not out there." I pointed out the window. "I want it all, and you'll never want that from me."

"I want it all," he said from behind me. "I want what's in those photos."

The room started to spin at the sound of his words. I was angry and frustrated with myself for letting him into my apartment. For wanting him despite how he'd hurt me. The asshole had a hold on me that I'd never get rid of. He would always be thatone, no matter how I moved on with my life, that hole he'd left behind would never be filled. I wanted him to know what that kind of rejection felt like, but he never would. I would never turn him away. I didn't want to love him. I didn't want to be a man and forgive him, I wanted him to hurt like I had.

Moments passed, and then I felt his hand on my shoulder. "Edward."

"Don't!" I yelled and before I knew it, I had a hold of him again and we tumbled to the bed with our limbs in a tangled mess. My lips crushed his, biting with need. I tasted blood but it didn't stop me. There was a hunger in me, driven by anger and pain and there wasn't anything I could do to quench it. I wanted to cause him pain like he'd done to me. It was my turn, my right to hurt him, not some stranger in the back of an alley. I was owed this. The hole in my chest had slashed wide open and it was raw, and dark and ugly.

He was pinned beneath me but I couldn't look in his eyes. I'd ripped the towel from his body and he lay naked on his back. My pants were still around my ankles, but I'd managed to stand slightly. I pushed him over so he was face down against the mattress. My chest was heaving, the tears were flowing as I tried to suck in some air. I grabbed hold of my cock and put it between the cheeks of his ass. I wasn't thinking straight. I was suffocating and I sobbed from what I was about to do.

"Do it," I heard him say. I shook my head to argue even though he couldn't see me. "Do it," he said again with conviction.

I cried out in anger with my teeth clenched and without another thought, I spit on my hand and spread it over my cock and him and drove myself into him. I wasn't sure if it was my cries or his, but the room was filled with sounds all around us. My ears were burning and then a darkness came over me and filled all my senses. I couldn't hear, or see, or taste the blood in my mouth anymore. There was only the pain and the anger present. I drove hard and fast trying to get rid of it. I wanted to overcome it so I kept going until I found a small spark of light. Harder and faster until the light started to spread, it burst through the black, and I felt the dark leave my body. White spots floated behind my eyes as I collapsed in an exhausted heap.

His body was splayed out underneath me, both of us were panting, trying to catch our breath. I had fallen on top of him with my chest flushed up against his back. His face was turned to the side and I noticed his eyes were shut tight in pain. I pulled out of him, and sat up in one swift movement. He'd grunted and flinched but lay still on the bed. My stomach dropped and the guilt and shame returned ten-fold. What had I just done?

"Why?" My voice cracked. "Why'd you let me?" I had my head in my hands with my feet planted firmly on the carpet. I didn't know what had come over me, but there was a dark part of me that had wanted to hurt him.

I felt his body shift on the mattress and saw him pull the sheet over him from the corner of my eye. He was still lying on his stomach, and the pain was etched across his face. "Edward," his voice rasped, "I'd let you do anything to me if it meant I could have a small piece of you again. If you'd forgive me."

I stifled a sob and turned to him. "That's what this was about?" I started to feel the anger rise in me again. "Why do I always feel betrayed by you? Like you're selling your body to me as an apology. That's not what I want!" I couldn't believe he'd done it again. How much more of this could I take from him?

"That's not what I meant," he whispered. "I wanted it... both times. Back in Chicago, and now. I wasn't offering myself up for something in return." He was talking with his jaw set, and I heard the certainty in his voice even through the tears. "I've always wanted you. I was just afraid of what came with it."

"And now?"

"I don't care. I can't walk away from it anymore. It's real... what I feel for you. Like nothing I've felt. You're a part of my life and whatever else comes with that, I'll just have to figure it out. I don't work without you." He moved under the sheet, shifting his weight around. He winced, sucking air threw his lips from the discomfort.

"I-I didn't mean to hurt you." I choked back more tears.

"Yes you did, and I deserved it," he said, moving to his side and he grunted from the pain. "I know what I did to you... what I've done to you. When you slammed the door in my face it was nothing less than I deserved. I stayed because I knew I was done running. I was too afraid to admit it."

"I didn't want it to be like th—"

"I know." He was moving slow, gingerly pulling himself up to a sitting position. "And it's not so bad."

"I'm sorry, Jasper, I'm so sorry." My head was in my hands, and I was shaking back and forth.

"It'll be all right."

"Will it?"

"Yeah," he said. "Just don't do it again." He started to chuckle and added, "Well, unless I ask you to."

"Did it... hurt?"

"Like a motherfucker." He coughed into his hand and leaned for his cigarettes that were resting on his wallet. "But... there was something else. There was... it felt..." he paused thinking of the appropriate word and then settled on, "good. I don't know how else to explain it." He lit his cigarette and I watched his lips wrap around it and inhale. Those same lips I'd been so aware of for all these years. The smoke left his mouth and trailed up his nose and it was the sexiest thing I'd ever seen him do. Maybe it was because of what had just happened, what I'd done to him and what he'd let me do to him, or maybe it was because he was leaning up against the headboard still naked in my bed. Whatever it was, I watched him with a trained eye, and the stirrings from earlier returned.

"Really?" I asked, wondering how what I'd done could have possibly felt good in any way.

"Yeah." He continued to smoke his cigarette and I continued to get aroused just watching him. "Maybe... next time, we can take it a little easier though."

"Next time."

His eyes narrowed, trying to suss me out. Moments passed until finally he leaned away from the headboard, and moved closer to me. His face was tense as his body slid across the mattress. "I'm not walking away this time, Edward."

"How can I possibly trust you?"

"I'll use the same words you said to me that night, 'I'm in this.' That is... if you still want me."

My elbows rested on my knees, my shoulders were hunched over and as I looked down at my hands, I couldn't help but laugh at the idea that I didn't want him. I could deny it all I wanted to in my head, but my body would always tell me differently... so would my heart. I wanted him. I loved him.

He sighed while he moved to lie back down and I watched as he threw the sheet over his nakedness. I kicked off my shoes and my pants and lifted my shirt over my head. I knew I'd regret this in the morning, but I didn't care.

"I tried," I said. "I tried to get rid of you... to forget you. I think you're just a part of who I am. I didn't want any of this without you." I stretched out beside him with my hand hovering over the bite mark I'd left on his shoulder. I gently traced my teeth marks and leaned down to kiss away the hurt. My lip was swollen as was his, but there was a small cut on his. It had stopped bleeding but it looked like it had hurt. I didn't even remember it happening. I placed my lips to his and his tongue met mine in a soft and gentle gesture.

"Fuck," I whispered against his mouth. "I love you." I leaned my forehead against his. "I wish I didn't. My life would be a hell of a lot easier if I didn't."

"Mine too." He smiled and the cut split open again.

"You can't push me away when things get tough," I said, dabbing at his lip. "'Cause they will."

"It's taken almost twelve fucking years for us to get here, we can't waste anymore," he said. "Twelve years of holding everything back. I'm in this."

"What made you come around?"

"This," he said pointing to his bruised face, "and this." He put a hand across his ribs. "I deserved every punch. These were what brought me to your door." He rubbed his hand across his chest, and I saw the distant look in his eyes and knew he was thinking of what else to say. "I followed you," he said looking away from me, "from Alec's a few weeks ago. I waited for you and when you came out of that building, I knew what you'd been doing. I saw the look on your face when you left." He lifted himself up, leaning on his elbow and he looked me in the eyes. I felt my cheeks go red at his insinuation. He'd been watching me and he saw me leave Jared's. My heart caught in my throat but then he whispered, "I wanted to be the one to make you feel like that."

I couldn't deny nothing had happened, I'd be lying and he'd know. I was done with the lies, so I chose not to say anything instead and he continued.

"But it was your dad that made me admit it to myself." I saw a faint trace of sorrow cross his face. "He called me 'son' and told me he loved me. He also said if I ever did what I did to you again, he'd cut off my balls." He started to laugh and I joined him. "Your dad has a very convincing scalpel in his bag." He stopped laughing and said, "I think I've always loved you." He smiled and the light was back in his eyes. "Ever since the day I walked into our dorm room and saw you unpacking your briefs, folding them neatly into the dresser, you anal bastard."

"I like them folded," I said shrugging and we both laughed again.

He was inches away from my face and leaned forward, placing a soft kiss on my lips. His voice was solemn again as he spoke. "He told me it was okay to love you." I returned his kiss and felt his tongue on mine. I kissed him deeply but he winced from either the cut on his lip or the bruising on his nose or his cheek. It was too hard to tell where the hurt was coming from.

I pulled back and asked, "You going to tell me what happened?"

"Yeah," he said, "but not tonight, okay?"

I nodded, believing him, but I wasn't okay with not knowing. "Fights? You?"

"Some days... yeah. Others, well..." He looked away for the first time and said, "I fucked up. It's an understatement, I know. And it'll take me a lifetime to right the wrongs I've done to the people I love. But I'm starting here," he said. "This is about all I'm sure of right now."

I was actually a little shy to say anything about love again. He'd said he loved me and I wanted to believe him, but I knew in this dark room words could be said without any meaning behind them. He was it for me, he was going to be my great love and he'd either destroy me in the process or love me back. I just wasn't sure which one it would be.

"So, this great love?" I said the words and then wished I could take them back. My heart sank waiting for him to answer.

"You remember that, huh?" He laid his head back down on the pillow. It wasn't the answer I was hoping for, but this was new for him, so the deflection was expected. It was new for me as well, but I'd come to terms with who I was and who I loved. It was going to take some time for him. I started to move away, but he gripped my arm. "I think so, yeah."

We lay next to each other for what seemed like hours. There had been nothing sexual about it, we just talked and held tight to each other. Sometimes we'd kiss, and then we'd lie back not saying a word. Neither of us slept, but our bodies were entwined held tight together with our cocks pressed against each other. It was strange, I had to admit that, but right.

"What was the hardest part?" he asked, breaking our embrace.

"What?" My voice was scratchy. The room was dark and I had to squint to see his face.

"You know... coming out?"

"All of it," I answered truthfully. "But really, the first time I actually said the words out loud was in the living room with you."

"Really?"

"It's been hard, but easy if that makes sense."

"Yeah, your parents are saints. They'll love you no matter what."

"Maybe, but it was still difficult admitting to my father I was in love with a man. Not to mention the other stuff that goes along with all that."

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you." I nodded, because I was sorry too. I'd be here for him though, and he was going to need it.

"I've been lucky so far, but I've not really been out there, you know?" I cleared my throat, wondering if I was even ready to tell our friends. "I think it'll be a lot to say goodbye to."

"Let's hope not," he said and then added, "I'm sorry."

"How many times are you going to say that?"

"As many as it takes."

I kissed his bottom lip, tracing my tongue along the outside of it. My balls were aching and I was getting hard and he was too.

"How did you tell—"

I cut him off by sticking my tongue in his mouth. I sensed his hesitation growing and I didn't want to think about what was going to happen out of the confines of this bedroom, and told him as much. It was me who just wanted to enjoy the moment and not think about what was going to happen tomorrow morning when the sun was shining through the window. I didn't think I would wake up with him lying next to me. I really didn't expect him to be here, so I was content just to live in the now. I wanted to take all this in. I was under no illusion that he was okay with any of this. He was still skittish and in the light of dawn, he'd probably panic again and leave. Lying here in this bed, I chose to ignore my head and go with my heart even if I was going to pay for it in the morning.

We experimented through what was left of the night, easy stuff that didn't make us uncomfortable. I'd like to think Jasper liked it, his moans told me he did. It was the first time my mouth had been on a cock and I didn't freak out like I thought I might have. I wasn't an expert by any means, but I was looking forward to getting better. Maybe it was the power it gave me over him. It was my mouth that caused him to beg and make the noises he had and I discovered that it excited me...tremendously.

It was late or early when we fell asleep in each other's arms, but when I woke, my fears were confirmed. The bed was empty.

"Fuck," I whispered to no one. I rolled over to the empty spot in the bed, and it was still surprisingly warm. I'd just missed him. I rubbed my hand over where he'd lain, smelling the scent of him. "Fucker," I said. My heart was heavy as I walked to the closet. I needed a shower to wash away the misery I was feeling, and wash away the traces of him. I was pretty numb to it all and knew it would do nothing to stop the sick feeling in my stomach. It was hard to take in everything that had happened last night. I'd forced myself on him, with the intent of hurting him, and he took it. How does one come back from that? It's no wonder he left.

I stood in front of my closet replaying the details of last night and I really did feel like I was going to throw up. I was pissed I was allowing the guilt and shame to return. I threw on some boxers, trying to convince myself that I'd known this would happen and I shouldn't have been surprised the bed was empty this morning. Grabbing my towel, I walked to the door to get away from the images of what went on in this room last night. I braced my hands against the door, and with my head down between my arms I took some deep breaths trying to still the erratic beats of my heart.

Coffee. I smelled coffee. And bacon. Opening the door, I followed the smells to the kitchen and found Jasper in a pair of my boxers, smiling with a spatula in his hand.

"I was fucking starved," he said. He poured me a cup of coffee, holding it out to me. I didn't move, just stood there dumbstruck with my stomach full of butterflies.

"What?" he asked.

"Um... nothing," I said scratching my head, then reached for the cup.

"You're staring."

"Um, sorry," I mumbled looking at my feet.

"Don't be." He was grinning at me, and the butterflies doubled and went straight to my cock. "Toast and bacon?"

I nodded.

"You, okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, I really am."

He walked toward me, limping slightly. It was shocking to see his bruised body in the daylight, but his light demeanor made the bruises seem less daunting than they had last night. I felt guilty for my part in his discomfort, but when he put his arms around me and kissed me it was forgotten.

"Morning," he said rubbing himself against me.

"You stayed," I said, still shell-shocked.

He reached down, placing his hands on my ass, and pulled me closer. "I told you, I'm done running. I know it's going to take a lot for you to trust me, and I'll do whatever it takes. I'm here... for good."

This time it was my turn to kiss him. I moaned at the feel of his tongue and all I wanted to do was drag him back to the bedroom, but I was still afraid of what that entailed. The light of day made me somewhat inhibited. Maybe I'd just been playing a role last night. Jasper had been the timid one, and I'd stepped up. Now he was the bold one, back to the Jasper I remembered, except he was standing in my boxers with his hands on my ass. I was sorry for what I'd done to him and I wasn't sure I would ever be able to go there again or if he would even want to. So maybe I'd be content for him to lead the way in that department.

"What's on your agenda today?" he asked.

"Umm... nothing," I said. "It's Saturday, I don't have the kids on Saturdays."

"Okay... then. Breakfast first," he said. "I need food, then we can come back to this." He grabbed my balls, squeezing them playfully before heading back to the stove. I flinched, sucking in a breath through my teeth. I was definitely okay with him leading the way.

He lifted the bacon from the pan, setting it on a paper towel to drain. He popped two slices of bread in the toaster and refilled his coffee, all the while I still hadn't moved from my spot. He buttered the toast and put a few slices of bacon on it making a sandwich for me. He gestured for me to sit and I complied. He stood.

We ate our breakfast chatting about unimportant things. I was still reveling in the fact that he was here. Last night seemed like it hadn't happened. And despite the bruises and the cuts, I managed to see glimpses of the man I knew, the man I'd come to love. However different the roads we took to get here, longer or shorter, harder or darker, it didn't matter, for in this moment in the light of day the unlikely seemed likely. Love did exist between the sexes.

"Edward," he said, snapping me back to the moment, "how about dinner tonight?" His voice was quiet and he was looking into his coffee cup.

"Yeah, we can get some takeout or something," I said absently.

"No," he said meeting my eyes. "Will you go to dinner with me?"

"Oh!" I realized what he was asking me. "Like a... like a date?"

His cheeks turned red, and he ran a hand under his chin. "Yeah," he cleared his throat, "I guess... a date."

"I'll up you one. How about a Ranger's game and dinner?" I asked, remembering I still had the hockey tickets in my jacket.

He grinned, his eyes bright. "Hell, yeah. That sounds perfect."