Page 42 of Constantly Cotton
But it also had the side benefit of making their evening pleasant. Cotton came to Jason’s chair and held out a hand. “Need help up?”
Jason grunted. He just might. He was exhausted already, and it was barely eight in the evening. “Fine,” he grumbled, letting Cotton leverage him up and guide him to the living room.
The living room furniture was fittingly rustic—oxblood, to match the redwood paneling on the walls, with a smoke-colored Berber that would probablywillstains to jump off the floor, out of the house, and into the lake. Cotton and Jason had been wearing flip-flops anyway, but Burton had taken off his boots before he’d sat down to dinner.
It was that kind of house.
There were thick wool throws in a big wicker basket at the corner of the couch, and as Jason settled into a spot where the arm could support him, Cotton grabbed one of the throws and the remote and settled in next to him, covering them both with the throw.
Jason raised his arm and let Cotton snuggle in, and something about his weight was so comforting, so sweet, Jason closed his eyes at it.
“Dinner was great,” he said softly. “Thank you.”
“Like I said, I enjoy it.” Cotton held out the remote. “Any preferences?” He clicked the screen on and gave a pleased hum. “Apparently we have all the premium channels. All of them. Is there anything you’ve wanted to watch for the last thirty years and couldn’t? It’s here.”
“The Muppet Show?” Jason asked, grinning.
“That’s a real thing?” Cotton asked suspiciously. “I mean, I know they had Muppet babies and that movie with Jason Segel….”
“Heathen! Yes, it’s a real thing! My parents loved them. Back in the day before dirt and dinosaurs when we didn’t rely on streaming services and magic clouds to hold all our cultural treasures, my parents bought the DVDs. My sister and I still love them.”
Cotton chuckled. “Don’t sweat it. I can find them, see?” And sure enough, with the tech and media savvy of the young, he found the streaming service and the shows. He hit Play for the first one, and then, to Jason’s immense satisfaction, he settled down against his chest, concentrating on the screen. A few minutes later, after doing the dishes, that’s how Burton found them.
“Very nice,” he rumbled. “I like men who can follow orders.” He held out a glass of milk to Jason and a napkin of cookies to Cotton. “Share these,” he said. “Because I’m too lazy to bring out another cup.”
Of course Jason knew he wasn’t lazy in the least. He seemed to want to encourage whatever was happening between Jason and Cotton, and Jason wasn’t going to worry about why.
He was just going to enjoy the moment, Cotton tucked against him, the sweetness of cookies and the coolness of milk, and the gentle humor of old comfort TV.
HE WOKEup probably an hour later, missing the warmth of Cotton next to him. Burton was partially lifting him off the couch so he could move on his own power.
“Gah!” he muttered. “I’m helpless!”
“Yeah, you are. Remember that and listen to that kid when he tells you to eat and take your medication. I’m leaving in the morning after I introduce you to your security detail. I need to know you and that boy can function.”
“We can,” Jason said softly. “Where is he?”
“Straightening the bed and putting on his jammies. I asked him for a few minutes to talk to you alone, and he shadowed on out of here like that was his job. Creepy. I usually expect more backtalk than that.”
Jason smiled a little and got his feet underneath him. “Let him get comfortable. You’ve seen him stand up for me—he’s got backtalk in him.”
“Yeah, I just….” Burton let out a sigh. “I like this kid. And you obviously trust him, and your instincts haven’t let us down. But I need to know. Is he going to be okay? He looks a little fragile, Jase. I don’t want to break him.”
Jason nodded. “I think the world’s tried,” he said bluntly. “But he’s dealing with the eating disorder—calorie diary and a shrink. And after all the shit that’s tried to break him, he’s still standing. I think he’ll do okay. With any luck, this’ll be a vacation, a week or two of sunshine and good food and maybe some hiking and swimming. It’ll be like summer camp for the broken.”
“You or him?” Burton asked, helping him break into a shuffling walk.
“Both,” Jason said softly. “I’m so tired. I… I keep thinking, this can’t possibly be because I got shot. I mean, I’ve been shot before, right?”
“It’s mental exhaustion, you fucking moron,” Burton told him, voice icy. “You were the one who told me I needed to have a place to heal outside of the base, and thenyouspend all your time inside the base, letting serial killers burn out your brain. Jesus, you were probably losing your will to live for the entire last year!”
Jason grunted. “Wow. That’s, uhm, direct.” He hadn’t thought of it like that, but Burton wasn’t far wrong. The perpetual exhaustion had been weighing him down so hard. That moment in the desert, looking at the kids who had been on their way to an unfathomable nightmare and hearing his superior officer telling him he had to take them there himself—that had been the moment he’d snapped. He’d literally chosen death, any kind of death, before doing one more morally reprehensible thing in the name of being a good soldier.
“Am I wrong?” Burton asked. “By the way, you must have lost forty pounds in the last two weeks. You two need to put on sixty pounds of muscle between you before I get back here. Carbs are not a dirty fucking word!”
“No, you’re not wrong.” Jason sighed as they cleared the living room and entered the bedroom. “Point taken. We’ll have our very own camping retreat, right, Cotton?”
Cotton was coming out of the bathroom, dressed in basketball shorts and a tank top. He was shivering a little; the temperature had dropped in the evening and while the cabin had a heater, nobody had started a fire.