He wanted more alcohol, but they wouldn’t give it to him, not until he had water and coffee. They listened patiently while he rehashed the same complaints over and over, doling out alcohol enough to get him drunk but not enough to kill him.
Then, like the friends they were, they poured him into Gus’s car and took him home.
“Do you want me to stay with you?” Matt turned around in his seat. “Because I can. I’ll just set an alarm with enough time to go back and change.”
Jacob shook his head, carefully. “No. I’ll be fine. I’ll stumble through the shower, fall into bed, and have a headache in the morning.”
Gus glanced at him in the mirror. “Call us, okay? If you need anything. Always.”
“I know.” And Jacob did. He was grateful.
He lingered in the small parking lot behind the store as they drove away, first waving them on, then letting the chill permeate through him as he stared across the greenbelt park behind the businesses on his side of Front Street. He could smell the bay in the distance, its cold waters feeding into the frigid Lake Superior.
It had been a night like this, the Lake Michigan version, when he’d received the call about his parents.
What would his life be like, he wondered, if his parents hadn’t died? Would he have landed on this path anyway, only through a different route? Would he be happy with someone in a suburb, fighting over whose turn it was to mow the lawn or walk the dogs? Would he be disillusioned with life?
Would he have met Rasul? Would he have even cared who he was?
Am I happy with my life now? I always say that I am. I am lying, though, even to myself?
How could he possibly find the answers to those questions?
The wind picked up a bit too much, and Jacob decided it was time to go inside. He hurried up the stairs as best he could, almost falling down twice. That was the last thing he needed, to break his leg on his back stairs. He’d forgotten to bring his phone. He wouldn’t be able to call for help.
I wish I had someone waiting here for me. I wish I weren’t facing these questions alone.
He was fumbling with his key at the lock when the door opened. Startled, he looked up at Rasul, face framed by a pair of dark glasses.
You’re not alone, he told himself, then thought, no, I can’t just as quickly, and took a step backward.
He hit the railing and lost his footing, and for a terrible second he thought, This is how I’m going to die, falling drunk off my staircase because the man I’m in love with surprised me by being in my apartment.
Then strong arms surrounded him, righting him. The smell of Rasul enfolded him, undoing his defenses.
“I don’t want to be alone,” he said out loud, and sagged into Rasul’s sturdy chest.
Chapter Eight
THE SOUND of someone on the stairs had shaken Rasul out of a deep trance, but a glance at the clock drew him back to reality. Ten thirty? It was ten thirty? He’d known Jacob was going out, so he allowed himself some leeway to stay later, but he hadn’t realized it had gone this long. He’d been focused all afternoon ever since his phone call with Elizabeth, which for the first time in years wasn’t full of tension and threats but problem-solving and plans. Even the Adina news had been good: she was back online and singing the praises of Korean skin care products, never mentioning Rasul at all. He was close to the midpoint of his story, trying to weave everything to the big reveal where Adam finds out Milo has been consciously jumping universes with him, so he kept pushing himself a little more and a little more, until the sounds on the stairs.
Then he opened the door, smelled the alcohol coming off Jacob, and nearly lost him over the edge of the railing.
“Easy, babe,” he cooed, his tone belying the panic he knew at the thought of Jacob careening to his death before his eyes. “I got you. Come on inside.”
“I’m not your babe.” Jacob said this, but he clung to Rasul’s shirt front and put his head on his shoulder. “Why are you here?”
“I’m sorry. I got caught up writing and lost track of time. I’ll go, but let me make sure you’re okay first.”
“I’m fine. Just drunk.” Jacob righted himself and glanced blearily around the room. “There aren’t any dishes in the drainer. You didn’t eat. Why didn’t you eat?”
“I was really on a roll. I’ll eat now, if it’ll make you happy.” He led Jacob to the table and sat him down. “Would you like to eat with me?”
Jacob made a noncommittal noise but sat obediently where Rasul planted him. Rasul hadn’t even finished indexing the fridge, though, before Jacob spoke. “I can’t believe Rasul Youssef’s half-finished novel is sitting here on my kitchen table.”
“Rasul Youssef’s novel is half-finished only because of your kitchen table. And you.” He grabbed a few vegetables from the crisper and a brick of fried tofu. “What about some stir fry over noodles?”
“Are they right? Are you actually interested in me? If I asked you to take me to bed, would you do it?”
Whoa. Rasul set the vegetables on the counter and came back to the table, sitting in the seat nearest Jacob. “This is a conversation I would like to have, but perhaps we should have it when you’re not drunk.”
Jacob blew a raspberry and tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling. “If I were sober, I wouldn’t have it.”
“True.” Crossing his arms over his chest in a vain attempt to slow his galloping heartbeat, Rasul considered Jacob carefully. “I am interested in you. Very much. I’d go to bed with you if you crooked your finger at me.”
Jacob looked Rasul dead in the eye, his gaze hot and intense. Lifting his hand, he crooked his finger at Rasul.
Rasul shivered and took hold of it. “Not while you’re drunk. Not like this.”
Jacob regarded Rasul with frustration. “I thought if I kept you at arm’s length I’d be okay, but I’m not. I’m never going to be okay again.”
“I’m sorry.”
Jacob sagged toward the table, pushing Rasul’s laptop away. “I want to tell you some things.”
“I’m listening.”
It was a long time, though, before Jacob spoke again, and he didn’t look at Rasul. “I told you I discovered your first book in the hospital while my parents were dying. I don’t know what would have happened to me if I hadn’t gone to the gift shop when I did. You don’t understand how much you were with me that day, or rather, your words were. They changed everything.”
Rasul laced their fingers together. “Tell me. Because I want very much to understand.”
Jacob stared off into the distance, lost in the past. “Chicago had been in the deep throes of fall, but a freak snowstorm had raged down from Canada into Copper Point, making the lake road hazardous. My father had been going half the speed limit, trying to keep track of the lanes, but the oncoming car came at full speed, right into them. The other driver died on impact. My parents were gravely injured, my mother lucid enough to call for help before slipping into a coma alongside my dad. They were transferred to Madison immediately, and in a bit of irony, I drove like a bat out of hell to get there before they died.”
His face became incredibly sad. “They were excellent parents. Fully supportive of everything about me. When I moved into my first Chicago apartment, they came down to help me set it up. They never pressured me to come home, but when I needed to touch base, they welcomed me back, eager to hear about my adventures. Before they died, I was struggling a bit. Someone I’d thought I could have a relationship with turned out to be someone bad for me—nothing dramatic, only a disappointment. My work wasn’t fulfilling me like I thought, and I was getting depressed. For the first time, my parents urged me to take a vacation and come home, saying they’d help me figure things out. I didn’t go. I said maybe in a few months, but right now I couldn’t afford it. I was about to admit I should go anyway, that only they could shake me out of my bad place, when the accident happened.”