Page 35 of Fire and Smoke (Nothing Special #9)

Day

The city blurred past the windshield of the cab in watery gray streaks. The world was hazy from his fatigue and frustration.

God hadn’t even remembered he’d rode with him this morning and hadn’t thought about how he’d get home. The weight of his husband’s carelessness pressed against his ribs like a fist.

He didn’t want to go back to an empty house, to have another silent dinner, before he climbed into a cold bed.

He and God used to always go home together. It’d been a ritual he’d craved that got him through the hard days.

They would strip down in the foyer as if they could no longer stand the barriers of clothes between them, shower under steaming water with their hands roaming constantly, then fall into bed with the kind of slow, consuming passion that silenced the chaos of their jobs.

He would sleep on top of his husband, be his shield that kept the world from getting to him.

Day exhaled, trying to soften the lump forming in his throat.

Without much thought, he tapped a hidden contact on his phone and put it to his ear.

It rang once, twice, then—

“Leo?” came the deep voice, smoothed over like velvet and tinted with softness. “You okay?”

He hesitated, his throat dry. “I know it’s late. But um…I just…”

There was a pause at the other end. “You don’t sound good. Where are you?”

“Just left work… I’m so fuckin’ tired, Callum.”

“Jesus, Leo. It’s almost two in the morning. Are you just leaving work?”

He looked down at his lap, voice lowering. “Uh, yeah. Are you…alone?”

“Of course I am, same as you apparently.”

“Yeah. It was bad today, really bad.”

Another beat. Then that calming voice was a little more weighted. “It was a shitty one for me too. I can, um…I can come to you if you want.”

Day should’ve ended the call, but instead he said, “Usual place.”

“Be there in thirty.”

Day hurried and pressed the red receiver before he thought better of what he was about to do.

He got his Uber driver’s attention. “Can you take me to Haven Coffee around the corner instead of the destination I put in? I’ll tip you extra.”

“No problem,” was all she said.

He dropped his head back on the headrest, eyes slipping shut. It hadn’t registered until that moment how tightly he’d been holding himself together all day.

All week, month, maybe longer.

Day leaned against the wall outside the coffee shop, damn near dozing while standing up.

A sleek black town car pulled up to the curb and Day forced himself to stand upright.

The back door opened, and Callum stepped out.

He was midnight luxury—tall, lean, not bulky like God, or draped in a calf-length leather trench with weapons hanging all over him like ornaments on a deadly Christmas tree.

Instead, Callum wore an ivory turtleneck under a pecan-colored cashmere coat that flared at the bottom. His designer jeans were tailored to exactness and tapered into his leather boots.

He was bald, his beard impeccable, cologne subtle and expensive.

He looked as if he’d just stepped out of an editorial shoot, not his bed.

“Damn,” Day murmured under his breath before he could stop himself.

They didn’t say anything, just went into each other’s arms.

The embrace went on for a long time, the relief of it making it impossible for him to pull away.

“I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this, Cal. I’m so damn tired,” Day whispered.

Strong arms tightened around him.

“It’s becoming too much. The fighting, the shooting, the pretending I’m stronger than I am. Like I don’t feel every one of my forty-seven years in my knees when I’m in the field. I try to hold it together for everybody else, but no one’s holding it together for me.”

“I know,” Callum whispered back. “I hate that you’re carrying so much and can’t stop for even one day.”

Day trembled.

“Come on,” Callum’s suggestion was gentle. “Let’s go inside—unless…unless you’d rather go to my condo? I’ve got something stronger than espresso. And I don’t think you need more caffeine tonight.”

Day paused.

“We’re not doing anything wrong, Leo. My husband’s not home either. Honestly, if he was, he wouldn’t notice I was gone.”

That hit Day hard.

Because God wouldn’t notice he wasn’t home either. And that realization shattered him.

Day needed to feel important and wanted as well.

“Okay,” he whispered.

Callum placed his hand on the small of his back and guided him into the town car. The door closed, cutting off the chill of the night.

Inside was heated. Dark. Soothing jazz played low through the speakers. His favorite.

He leaned his head back, closing his eyes again, and when the man reached out and brushed their fingers together, Day didn’t pull away.

“You want another hug?” he asked in that soothing voice.

Day turned and slid into his arms, resting his head against Callum’s warm chest, letting the beating of another heart settle his aching one.

It wasn’t sex. It wasn’t deceit, nor infidelity. It was two souls in the midst of hurt, taking solace in each other.

Day curled his fingers into Callum’s soft coat. “Cash used to listen to me, now it’s like he can’t hear me. Or he’s just choosing not to.”

“I know. But don’t give up on him. Cashel sounds like a good man. He’s noble and selfless, putting his life on the line every day to save others.”

“Yeah he is…he’ll try to save everyone but me,” he said bitterly.

Callum kissed the top of his head.

“You just need to remind him of what he has…or he’s going to lose it.”

Nothing else was said for the rest of the drive, it was just silent peace and an understanding between friends.