“Don’t apologize,” Naomi said, somewhat exasperatedly. “God, you’re freezing. You need to warm up, get some dry clothes.”
“Naomi?” Hobbes’s groggy voice called down the stairs. “Where did you go?”
“To answer the door! You sleep like a log.” She pushed Jax toward the steps. “Seriously—warming up.”
Jax stumbled at the first riser, his feet clumsy.
“Jax? What the fuck?” Hobbes came crashing down the stairs. Seeing Jax shivering and spaced-out sent him into doctor mode, and he tried to check for pupil dilation, tracking, and temperature in quick succession. “What the hell happened?”
Jax didn’t exactly want to talk about it. Especially since he suspected the answer wasI’m having a severe reaction to a bad breakup.
Hobbes glanced at Naomi, who said, “Hell if I know. But he’s freezing.”
“Right.” Hobbes wrapped one of his arms around Jax and practically carried him up the stairs. He brought Jax to his bathroom and stripped him—a former dream come true—and gently nudged him into a warm shower. Oh, the irony. Jax slowly turned under the spray, relishing the sting of the warmth on his chilled skin. He tried not to think, not to relive the evening. How could Ari just sit there when—
Jax ducked his head under the spray and wished he could wash away his thoughts. Why did he always fall in love with people who couldn’t love him back?
Hobbes came back with soft sweats and told Jax to get out of the shower. Then he stuck around to make sure Jax did. Normally being treated like a child who couldn’t be trusted to dress himself would piss Jax off, but today Hobbes’s judgmental company was a comfort.
After Jax was dry and dressed, Hobbes guided him back downstairs, where Naomi was waiting with a pot of herbal tea and three mugs on the coffee table. They settled around it, Naomi and Hobbes on the couch and Jax in an armchair. He wrapped himself around his mug and tried to think of anything but this evening.
Except the best distraction sat right in front of him, and the sight of Hobbes and Naomi side by side made his heart ache. Everything about their body language—the press of their shoulders and knees together, the slight angle toward each other—suggested familiarity.Intimatefamiliarity.
“So,” Jax broke the silence. “How long has this been going on?”
“Jax,” Hobbes huffed.
With a toss of her hair over her shoulder, Naomi said, “Since the barbecue.” She cast a look at Hobbes. “He looks pretty good in a soaked T-shirt.”
Jax smiled, albeit weakly, into his drink. “Don’t I know it.” Months. Hobbes had been dating someone for months and hadn’t told him.
“Is this what it’s going to be like now, you two ganging up on me?”
Naomi hummed. “Probably.”
Hobbes grumbled. “So, kid, you gonna tell us what’s going on?”
The thought of telling Hobbes about his Ari troubles when Hobbes was apparently happily coupled with Naomi, who was one of Ari’s oldest friends, filled Jax with dread. He ducked his face back into his drink.
“You know what, I’m going to go back to bed. Seems to me this is a you-two thing.” She bussed Hobbes’s cheek and then left with her tea.
Jax and Hobbes sat in silence as she worked her way upstairs.
When the sound of Hobbes’s bedroom door shutting floated down to them, Hobbes turned to Jax once again. “Start talking. Aren’t you supposed to be meeting the parents this evening?”
Jax’s face crumpled. “It was awful. They’re such snobs! His mother all but called me a dumb slut. They kept looking down their noses at me for being a bartender.” He curled tighter around his cooling mug.
“Okay. But they’re not exactly the first parents to not approve of your work,” Hobbes pointed out gently, as though making this about Jax’s mom’s disapproval would help at all.
“He just… sat there. He didn’t even say anything.” Jax pressed a hand to his eyes. He’d felt so alone sitting at that table, being attacked for his life choices while Ari didnothing—except betray him.
Jax heard Hobbes shifting, his mug set on the coffee table, a step, and then strong hands took Jax’s drink and pulled him out of his chair. Jax sagged into the hug and tried not to cry into his shoulder. Hobbes gave the best hugs—warm, firm. Jax burrowed in and let Hobbes comfort him.
After several long moments, he pulled back and Hobbes tugged him down onto the couch. Hobbes picked up his mug and took a sip—then made a face. “Cold.” He set it back down. Jax gave a weak smile.
“So, what’s next?” Hobbes asked.
The smile fell away. “Nothing. I can’t be with someone who can’t—” He choked on the next words, but Hobbes understood.
