Jake now dressed, sitting at the kitchen table with Cal after they had put a destroyed Duncan to bed. The cottage is quiet, the only sound the low hum of the refrigerator and the occasional soft groan from the man upstairs. Cal is nursing a glass of water, his posture relaxed but his eyes still sharp.
Jake picks at a loose thread on the placemat, the events of the last hour replaying in his mind. He looks up at the older man, the pieces finally clicking into place.
"I think I work for you," Jake says, a small, ironic smile touching his lips. "Well, for the next two weeks anyhow. I'm on the Briarwood site, I work for Mick."
Cal's eyebrows lift in genuine surprise. He sets his glass down. "Samuels, Jacob, that's you?" he asks. Jake nods. "Small fucking world sometimes."
"Yup," Jake agrees.
"Mick likes you," Cal states, it wasn't a question. "You go to State?"
"Yup," Jake agrees. "Classes start in seventeen days, four hours."
Cal lets out a low chuckle, a deep, rumbling sound that seems to come from his chest. He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his broad chest, a look of amused approval on his face.
"You don't obsess much, do you, boy?”
Jake's head snaps up, the irony of Cal's question hitting him like a slap. He stares at the older man, his eyes flashing with a mix of exhaustion and defiance.
"I've been working two jobs, dead tired most of the time, and three days ago, I find out that my school bully is the love of my life," he says, his voice low and tight with emotion. "Then I submit to him, assist him in dominating one of his entitled experience-whore friends. Then I watch the love of my life take a severe beating from my boss—who made me strip and felt me up. So yeah, I obsess sometimes."
Cal pushed his chair back, the legs scraping softly against the floor. He stood, his large frame filling the small kitchen space. He looked down at Jake, his expression softening from the stern mentor to something more like a protective older brother.
"All right, boy, I'm gonna go," he said, his voice calm and steady. "Get my number from Duncan. Let's keep in touch. I will always add you to a crew when you need work," he added, a promise in his tone. He paused, his gaze turning more serious, more personal. "And if you need guidance about the whips, chains, and loving an impossible man, give me a shout."
With a final, reassuring nod, Cal turned and walked to the door, leaving Jake alone in the quiet cottage with his thoughts and the man sleeping upstairs.
Jake sat at the table for a long time after Cal left, the silence of the cottage pressing in on him. The adrenaline had faded, leaving behind a bone-deep weariness. He listened to the soft, even breathing from upstairs, a constant reminder of the man he'd just watched be broken for his sake.
Finally, he pulled out his phone. He stared at the dark screen for a few minutes, his thumb hovering over the home button. The world he'd known just a week ago felt like a lifetime away. He needed to touch base with something real, something solid.
He picked it up and dialed, the phone pressed tight to his ear. It rang twice before she picked up.
"Hey Mom, it's me Jacob.”
"Hey baby, where ya been," Jake's mom cooed, her voice a warm, familiar blanket over the line.
"Working too much," Jake breathed, the exhaustion finally catching up with him. "Sort of dating... too new to talk about, but I want to. But that's all I'm gonna say for now. How are you?"
"Oh, you know us," she said, her voice bright. "Your brother Zach just got a job at that fulfillment place, you know the one?"
"Yeah, that's good!" Jake said, forcing a smile into his voice. "So, Mom, I've got to go back to school in a couple of weeks, so maybe we should have the dinner we've been talking about all summer?"
"Pick a day sweetie!" she chirped, her happiness palpable through the phone.
Nothing is settled, no date certain, but that's how it goes. Jake ends the call, the sound of his mom's cheerful voice fading into the silence of the cottage. He sits for a moment longer, the phone resting on the table, a small anchor to the normal world he was trying to navigate.
Finally, he pushes his chair back and stands. He moves quietly up the stairs, each step deliberate and soft. The door to the main bedroom is slightly ajar. He pushes it open gently.
The room is dark, the curtains drawn against the late afternoon sun. Duncan is a still shape under the duvet, his breathing deep and even. Jake moves to the side of the bed, his eyes adjusting to the gloom. He can see the faint lines on Duncan's back, angry red reminders of Cal's cane.
Duncan stirs, his eyes fluttering open. They're hazy with sleep and pain, but they focus on Jake. A small, weak smile touches his lips.
"Hey," Duncan whispers, his voice raspy.
"Hey," Jake says back, his own voice just as soft. He reaches out, his fingers gently brushing a stray lock of hair from Duncan's forehead. "How are you feeling?"
"Like I got caned by my mentor," Duncan says, attempting a wry grin that quickly fades into a grimace. "You stayed."
"Where else would I be?" Jake asks, his hand lingering on Duncan's skin, a silent promise.
"so I was thinking," Duncan begins, his voice still raspy but laced with a familiar, mischievous energy.
"You might not want to lead with that statement," Jake teases, a genuine smile finally reaching his eyes. "And?"
"Well, I have to go back to school in three weeks, and this place is going to be empty," Duncan says, pushing himself up slightly on his elbows, wincing as the movement pulls at the welts on his back. "And well, if you give up your apartment you could live here. Your commute would be two minutes shorter," he pauses, a flicker of calculation in his eyes, "or is it five minutes longer?"
Jake lets out a small laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. "There's no way this place is cheaper than my apartment," he says, his voice dry. "A place you've never been, but have insulted no more than eight times in the last three days.”
Jake watched him, a slow, thoughtful smile spreading across his face. He didn't answer right away. He let the proposal hang in the air between them, a ridiculous, tempting, and utterly insulting offer all at once.
He looked at Duncan, really looked at him—pale, exhausted, the faint red lines on his back a stark reminder of the world they were building. He couldn't exactly kick a man while he was down, especially when that man was his... whatever he was. So, for now, he'd let it ride.
But his mind was already working. It was a balance sheet he knew by heart. Tuition for State, rent on his crappy apartment, the meager savings he was trying to build, the work opportunities that dried up every winter. For as long as he could remember, the key numbers on that sheet had always been red. Every month was a scramble, a calculation of how much he could afford to eat versus how much gas he needed to get to a job that barely paid minimum wage.
Duncan's offer, as condescending and entitled as it was, changed the math. It erased the biggest red number of all. It was a lifeline thrown from a gilded yacht, and as much as his pride screamed at him to reject it, his practicality, the part of him that had been working two jobs since he was sixteen, told him to shut up and take the rope.
He leaned forward, his voice low and noncommittal. "It's... a lot to think about, Duncan." He stood up, pulling the duvet higher over the other man's shoulders. "Get some rest. We can talk about it when you're not seeing stars."
