Double Room Page 3

  “Tomorrow… I just didn’t want to worry you about it today. You had so much else—”

  “You’re more important to me than whatever else I occupy my time with. Got that?”

  Blair nodded, yawning.

  “Let’s go back to bed. It’s after four. How are you feeling?”

  “Better. Just nerves, I guess.” He pushed back away from his partner, looking up at him. “Thanks.”

  Jim shrugged as he stood up. “You ready?”

  “Give me a minute and I’ll be right out.”

  “Okay.” Jim smiled down at him. “Don’t be long. The night is disappearing.”

  “Sure.” Blair closed the door after him.

  “Is he okay?” Simon asked, staring blindly across the room toward Jim.

  “He’ll be fine. Thanks for talking to him.” Jim moved to the other side of the bed, so Blair could get in on the closer side.

  “I was surprised you hadn’t filled him in on what’s going to happen with the case.”

  “I didn’t think it would come up this quickly. The trial crossed my mind yesterday, but I figured I’d have time after the weekend to sit down with him and the prosecutor to discuss it all. I didn’t want him to have to think about it this whole weekend.”

  “Still—” Simon’s voice cut out when the door opened.

  Jim had fixed the blankets, then turned them back. “Just walk straight ahead, Chief,” he said softly, making sure his partner made it to the bed safely and was settled and covered.

  “Thanks.” Blair hardly moved once he lay down. “Good night,” he whispered, then said louder, “Good night, Simon. Thanks.”

  “No problem. Sleep well, Blair. Good night, Jim.” Simon turned over, away from them.

  “Night,” Jim responded, but didn’t close his eyes, looking across the darkness to the young man beside him.

  Blair’s eyes were also open, staring at nothing, seeing nothing, just blinking back the fear and embarrassment and profound sadness. “Jim?” he breathed after awhile.

  “What is it, Chief?”

  “Can I— I mean—”

  “What would you like?” he asked, resting his hand on his partner’s shoulder. Blair mumbled something into his pillow, and at first Jim didn’t think he’d heard right. “What was that?”

  “Can I have fifteen minutes?” Blair asked in a rush. “Well, one or two will be enough, I’m sure, but—”

  Jim reached over and pulled Blair closer, feeling the shivering increase for a few moments, and then gradually taper off as the feeling of security registered and Blair knew to the depths of his soul that it was Jim he was with, not Crawford. It was Jim who held him, who brushed the hair back from his face. The detective wrapped his arms around his partner, finally smiling when he felt the corded muscles relax and Blair shift closer. Long fingers loosely gripped Jim’s T-shirt, asking for and receiving the comfort that he needed. A few tears soaked through his shirt.

  They said nothing to each other, just lay listening to the sounds of the room, the soft snore indicating Simon was asleep again, Daryl’s muttering as he dreamed. When Blair gave a little sigh and fell asleep, his head pillowed on Jim’s shoulder, then Jim closed his eyes, feeling his own leftover tension from the prison seep away from still-aching muscles.

  Breathe out the anger and hatred. Breathe in the security and love.

  Blair’s heartbeat resounded through Jim’s body and grounded him. Tears formed in his eyes at the precious gift of life and he said a prayer for the friend he held in his arms and for the friend of long ago who had died so needlessly. It took Jim almost an hour to fall asleep himself, but he knew the time spent relaxing, arms encasing what mattered in his life, was healing his own soul. The middle-of-the-night traffic on the streets around them, the waves lapping in the harbor, raccoons scurrying in the bushes between the hotel parking lot and the waterfront. It reminded him of a similar time, almost a year before, when he had been in another motel room on a surveillance mission, and had listened to the night music with the heart and soul of a Sentinel, with his Guide safely sleeping up against him.

  Hope took hold. They’d do this. They’d make it through the Crawfords and Starkvilles and whatever else was thrown their way. They’d stumble maybe. Fall. Trip over their own feet. But whatever it was that bound him to this young man — his Guide — would reach out and pull them back together, put their feet back on the right path, nudge them in the direction they needed to go.

  His eyes opened suddenly at the new sound. A rumbling purr from somewhere near the window.

  Jim smiled and turned onto his side, his arm draped over the warm body sleeping beside him, curled within his protection and care, and surrendered to sleep.

  *

  Daryl

  Morning light worked its way between the folds of the drapes and Daryl woke, pulling himself from a sound sleep. What time is it? Did my alarm go off? School? Wait, what day is it? … Tuesday? No… Saturday. Yes… He opened his eyes and blinked in the unfamiliar surroundings, his eyes falling on the newly purchased Jaguar’s training jacket on the chair at the foot of his bed, and the Canucks jersey he had bought to wear to the game that night. Oh, yes…

  He glanced over his father’s shoulder to the clock. 07:45

  What? Already? With a leap, he jumped from the bed and over to the window, pushing back the drapes and grinning at the early morning sunshine lighting up the mountains before him, the sunrise coloring the snow-capped peaks pink and orange. “Cool.”

  Turning, he frowned at his father sprawled over two-thirds of their bed and the two bodies lumped together on the other bed. “Hey! Wake up. All-you-can-eat pancakes, remember? That place across the street from here? Are you guys going to sleep the whole day?”