Page 22 of When Ben Loved Jace

Waking up in his arms had been glorious. Especially when he got up to make us coffee. He’d looked so gorgeous, standing there at the kitchen counter while bathed in the morning light, my boner throbbing endlessly.

“Sounds good to me,” Jace replies. “I’m curious to see where you live.”

“It’s pretty cramped. But I guess you’re used to that.”

He studies me a moment. “Small things are beautiful.” Then he shrugs. “Or so I’ve always thought.”

“The bigger the better,” I reply breathlessly. “That’s my motto.”

He smirks at this but doesn’t seem the slightest bit intimidated.

“Speaking of which,” I say, my mind clawing its way out of the gutter, “how come you don’t live with Greg in his house?”

I’ve been dying to ask him, despite having ample opportunity, since we do talk on the phone when he’s out of town. Although never for long. We both seem to agree that the important conversations should happen in person.

“I like the Airstream trailer,” Jace says.

“Same here. But I also like taking bubble baths and doing jumping jacks.”

“At the same time?”

“I’ve got all sorts of talents.”

He laughs. “The trailer is special to me. That one in particular. When I told you that Bernie had an Airstream like it parked next to the river I jumped into…”

Realization dawns. “It’s the exact same one?”

Jace nods. “He gave it to me as a graduation present. College, not high school, or else I wouldn’t have had to live in a dorm. He knew I wanted the trailer, because it was part of a bigger dream.”

I pop a french fry in my mouth, eager to learn more.

“Victor was a strange guy,” Jace says, pausing to gauge my reaction to the subject. When I nod encouragingly and keep chewing, he continues. “To say that he was anti-establishment is an understatement. Victor believed that humans had lost touch with their roots, trading Mother Nature for an increasingly artificial life that dulls our senses and bleeds us for profit."

“Sounds terrible,” I reply, picking up my phone to swipe the screen as if in a daze. I set it down again when Jace chuckles. “The modern world isn’t perfect,” I admit, “but it’s not all bad either. Even the Amish go to a hospital when one of their own is seriously ill. Air conditioning is pretty great too.”

Jace nods. “I agree. Victor struggled with his own convictions and made compromises, but he tried his best to live off the land.”

“Oh! Like one of those off-grid types?”

“Sort of. He was more of a survivalist. For most of the time that I knew him, he lived in the woods by my house.”

That sounds more like a homeless person to me, but I try to be tactful. “In a tent?”

Jace shakes his head. “He had a lean-to.”

“A what now?”

“A lean-to.” Jace angles one of his hands forty-five degrees. “Picture a row of trimmed-down branches that form a slanted roof, providing partial shelter. Greg helped him build it.”

I shake my head in confusion. “Why not a tent?”

“I asked the same thing. Greg was an experienced camper and had all sorts of equipment he could have borrowed, but in Victor’s mind, a tent would have sealed him off from nature.”

“Uh, yeah! That’s the point. Bugs are icky!”

“Like I said, he was a strange guy. Which kept me coming back.”

We both chew in silence for a moment, although I’m digesting way more in my mind than in my stomach.