Fireside Romance Book 2: Burning Brighter

Chapter 1 “There’s that fallen tree we sat on last time,” I said. “Do you want to rest for a while?” Mark and I were walking through the woods on Boxing Day. He smiled. “I guess I should call it my confession log.” “If you want to sit somewhere else….” “No, no, it’s okay,” Mark said, resting his head on my shoulder. “Last night was wonderful for me. It was like my first time all over again.” I grew embarrassed and found myself apologising. “You must think I’m…stupid for not being able to go all the way. I just—” “Stop it.” Mark gave me a squeeze. “Our friendship grew over time, so it seems only right our love life should do the same. And besides, I don’t have any condoms.” Mark had refused to put me at risk. Although he’d undergone some blood tests in hospital, which had come back negative, he still worried that something from his former clients might still lie dormant inside him. Despite this, the previous night had been much more than I could have ever hoped for. The loving, the tenderness, the tears. Throughout, Mark had been gentle, kind, and supportive. Never in my wildest fantasies could I have believed being with another man could be so wonderful. Mark started to shiver. I kissed his neck. “Want to walk again?” He leaned up and kissed me. “Please.” We got up and I dusted him down. It being fairly thickly wooded and with no one else about, we put our arms around each other. “Do you think the nurse will keep your bandages off next time?” “I don’t know. My hands keep itching. She said that was a good sign. If I tell her that I’ll be careful, maybe she won’t wrap them. It’ll be great to be able to use them again.” “It must be frustrating. The ward sister told me you might get upset because you couldn’t do things for yourself, but I don’t remember you getting that way.” “I’ve felt like I was going in that direction a time or two, but you’ve been absolutely great. You should have gone into nursing.” I shook my head. “I couldn’t. I think the main reason why I’m able to help you is because I love you.” I got a thrill saying that; I’d never said it to another person, apart from family members of course. Mark—who had been forced to work the streets due to his dad kicking him out of the house—had suffered chemical burns to his hands when there’d been an explosion at his pimp’s house. Jake—the pimp—had died, releasing Mark from the financial hold he’d been under. After I’d learned about Mark’s accident, I’d rushed to his bedside and persuaded him to come and live with me. One thing had led to another and on Christmas morning we’d declared our love for each other. Wow, I thought, it’s only been twenty-four hours. I can’t believe it. “Did you always want to work in a library?” Mark asked, snapping me back to the present. I nodded, embarrassed. “What?” “Remember, I’m a pretty repressed kind of guy. I didn’t play outside much when I was little. When I was naughty, Mum would make me go outside as punishment, rather than send me to my room.” Mark chuckled. “I’ve always liked the smell and the…I don’t know, the potential for learning of a room full of books. That’s why I studied library science at university.” “You went to uni?” he asked. I nodded. “It was okay, I didn’t join in the social activities as much as I should have though.” Feeling the depressive thoughts—that were never far away—crowd in, I continued, “Look, Mark, I’m a boring, stay-at-home person. I hope I don’t stifle you with all that.” “Stop it,” Mark repeated. “Remember, I’ve known you for a few months now. And I’ve come to love that person very much.” “Thanks,” I said softly, giving Mark a squeeze. We walked a little further before he said, “The main reason why I left our house so often was to get away from Dad. I had a few friends in Newcastle, but no one really close, you know?” “I know. I had one close friend, Patrick. I even thought at one point that I might have had a crush on him.” “What happened?” “We were watching the telly one night, and something about the Stonewall Riots in New York came on. Patrick came out with some pretty horrible things about gay people. I was grateful for that programme. I slowly edged myself away from him after that. Saved me some heartache down the line I suppose. Anyway, his family moved down south and I haven’t heard from him since.” “No great loss,” Mark said, giving me a hug. “No.” I let out a breath. “Want to head home?” Mark asked when we came to the edge of the woods. “Might as well. I could do with a cup of coffee.” “Me, too,” Mark said. On the way home, I asked, “So, now you know all about my boring early life, what about your past?” “You already know the basics; you wrote them on the unemployment benefit forms. I left school at sixteen with a small handful of O levels, nothing to get excited about. I worked in a café for a while, then got a job at a supermarket, stacking shelves, that kind of thing. It wasn’t that interesting or well-paid—but I was glad to have a job. So many of my school friends just went straight on the dole.” “You were lucky. So was I. I couldn’t believe it when I got the job at our local library. I thought I’d have to move. Hopefully one day I’ll get a promotion. I’ve got the qualifications and now the work experience. Just waiting for the right opening I guess.” “Would you move?” Mark asked. “I’d have to think about it, but I’d rather not. I’m settled where I am. I make enough to get by on, but it’d be nice to have a bit more to spend, and now I’ve got someone to spend it on…” “So long as I can spend money on you, too, when I get some,” Mark put in. “Maybe I’ll let you,” I said with a chuckle. “The one thing I would do though, if I had the money, would be to buy a car.” “Have you passed your test?” “Mum and Dad gave me a course of driving lessons as a present for passing my A levels. I thought about getting a car then, but everything was within walking distance at the university, and once I’d graduated I had enough debts without adding the costs of running a car.” Mark nodded. “I’d take a refresher course before I got back behind the wheel. I don’t have much practical experience of driving.” “I never learnt,” Mark said. “When mum died, dad spent all his money on booze, and I didn’t earn enough for lessons, much less for a car, insurance and the like.” “Well, once you’ve got yourself settled in a job, you might want to think about learning.” “We’ll see.” We ambled back to the house in silence, each with our own thoughts. Once inside I took off our coats and asked Mark if he wanted a coffee and something to eat. “Have we got any of that boiled ham left?” “Yeah,” I said after looking in the fridge. “A round of sandwiches will finish it off.” We’d just finished eating when there was a knock at the front door. I went to answer it. It was Paul Bates and his fourteen-year-old son, Sam. “Sorry to bother you,” Paul said in a rush, “but Helen’s waters have broken, and—” “She’s early,” I said, then realised Paul didn’t have time to debate such things. “Sorry. How can we help?” “Would you mind looking after Sam? My parents are on holiday and—” “No problem,” I interrupted. “Thanks.” Paul dashed back down the street, leaving Sam standing on the doorstep, not looking terribly happy. I gave Sam an encouraging smile, then stuck my head out of the door and called, “Paul! If you need to stay with Helen overnight, Sam can bunk on the sofa.” “Thanks.” He waved before disappearing into his house. Turning around, I saw that Mark had come into the living room. “This is Mark…a friend of mine.” I told Sam, beckoning him inside. “Are you excited about having a baby brother or sister?” “No, not really,” came the meek reply. Sam’s eyes were hiding behind long lashes, which I suspected many girls would envy. “Why’s that?” Mark asked. “He or she will probably cry all night.” “But it’ll be nice to watch the baby as he or she grows up, starts crawling, walking and talking.” “Suppose,” Sam said with little enthusiasm. “What happened to your hands?” he asked Mark. “Someone I knew was playing around with chemicals, and things went wrong. I should be okay in a week or so though.” “That’s good.” Sam smiled; he seemed to be warming up to Mark. “Would you like anything to eat?” I asked Sam. “No thanks. We just ate when Mum decided she needed to go to hospital.” “What about watching some television, or maybe a video?” I asked, pointing at the shelves of tapes. I felt out of my depth, never having had to keep a teenager entertained before. He shrugged and walked over to the shelves. “So, Sam, what are you studying at school?” Mark asked. He shrugged again. “Oh, you know, the usual boring stuff.” I sighed. This wasn’t going to be easy. “There must be something you’ve done that you’ve enjoyed.” Mark wasn’t giving up. “We’ve just finished a project on 1930s Britain. The differences between those who had a job, and those who didn’t.” “My grandfather went on the Jarrow March,” Mark said. “Really?” Sam turned from examining the rows of video tapes. “Did you know the march was fifty years ago this year?” “Really?” I asked, “Yeah, 1936,” Sam said. “Did your granddad say much about the march?” he asked Mark. “He said he felt betrayed.” “Is your grandfather still alive?” I asked. Mark shook his head. “He died a couple of years ago.” “Sorry,” Sam said. The subject moved back to the Jarrow March and Mark told us more about how it had affected the area where he’d grown up. “…basically the government couldn’t have cared less about conditions in the traditional industries.” I had no idea Mark was so political. “Things were a lot better for the newer industries like car making and electronics,” Sam said. “But most of that was in the Midlands and the South,” Mark pointed out. “That’s true,” Sam nodded. The room grew quiet. Then Sam, who had gone back to choosing a film, said, “Can I watch this one?” He’d pulled out an action movie I’d bought for Mark but we’d never gotten around to watching. “Of course,” I said. “Put it in the machine and come and sit on the sofa.” Sam sat in the chair looking at first Mark then me. “Is there anything wrong?” I asked. “Erm…I, are you…I mean do you mind me asking, is Mark your boyfriend?” I looked at Mark. He gave a slight nod. “Would it bother you if we were?” “God, no. My uncle Steve is gay, he’s cool!” “Do you get to see him much?” Mark asked. “No, he lives in the north of Scotland. He doesn’t have a boyfriend though. How long have you and Simon known each other?” “A few months, but we only became boyfriends yesterday.” “Really? Wow, that’s great!” “I think so, too,” Mark said. I smiled, touched that Mark would say such a thing. But thinking we should change the subject, I said, “Shall we watch this film?” * * * * After rewinding the video cassette, putting it in its case and back on the shelf—in alphabetical order, resulting in much teasing from the other two—I got us something to eat. Sam was amused at first with me having to feed Mark, but after a while offered to do it. We chatted a while longer about various things, until the phone broke in on a discussion we were having about Sam’s teachers. Most of them I knew, as I’d gone to the same school. Mark of course couldn’t add much to the conversation, so in a way I was glad of the phone interrupting us. It was Paul. He told me Helen was in labour, but the midwife didn’t expect her to deliver for a while yet. He reconfirmed that it was okay for Sam to stay with us, and then asked to speak to his son, so Mark and I went into the kitchen to give Sam some privacy. “Seems like a good kid,” Mark said. “Yeah, I was amazed he had the balls to ask about us though. He’s always seemed pretty shy to me. He seems to have taken a shine to you…asking if he could feed you. I hope I’m not going to have to fight him for your affections,” I laughed. “You don’t think he’s got a crush on me do you?” “I couldn’t blame him if he has, you’re a real stud.” I squeezed Mark’s crotch, making him jump. Sam chose that moment to walk in on us. He reddened, and started to back out of the room. “Sorry, I just wanted to tell you that I was nipping off home to get my sleeping bag and some other stuff.” “It’s okay, Sam,” I said. “Uh, yeah.” His blush increased. “I’ll be back in about ten minutes.” “Leave the door on the latch, so you can let yourself back in.” * * * * The three of us spent an enjoyable evening watching telly and talking. Sam was a very intelligent young man. He’d visited the library a few times, and had borrowed books on a wide range of subjects. Mark asked Sam what he wanted to do after leaving school. “I suppose I’ll go to university.” “What will you study?” I asked. “Probably history. I don’t really fancy ancient or medieval much. We did some stuff on the Romans a few years ago, but I like the more modern stuff better.” “What would you say was your favourite period?” Mark enquired. “Erm, the Second World War I think. We went to the Imperial War Museum in London on a school trip once. That was great.” “Would you like to work in a museum?” I asked. “Hadn’t really thought that far ahead, but it’s something to think about.” I’d visited some museums in York, and a few had really made an effort to engage the visitor. Very few things were stuck in glass cases. I’d found the whole experience to be quite fascinating. The clock eventually showed it was bedtime. I asked Sam to go to the bathroom first, then Mark and I would use it. After we had all washed and changed into our night attire, we bid each other goodnight.