“I swear on Bing Crosby’s balls if you don’t get me on a goddamn plane, I will transfer every single mile and make this shit stain of customer service go viral.”
Jim wasn’t sure what was more impressive–the use of Bing Crosby in an oath or the fact that the guy in front of him–stubbled, built, with just enough southern twang to sound polite while he was cursing you out–looked so good while doing it.
He missed what the concierge said, which was a shame because Jim would have liked to tape that reaction and play it whenever he felt pretty fucked up.
“Can I help you?” The next concierge asked, taking his hopeful boarding pass and ID.
“I’m sorry, sir. We’re completely booked due to the delays.”
Now it was Jim’s turn to curse.
Two hours and two shots later found Leo at the rental car desk. He was sober, thank fuck, but he was boarding on livid, ready to throw a temper tantrum that would have put Joanna’s three-year-old ones to shame.
“I’m sorry, sir, but I just gave my last available car–a Honda minivan to that gentlemen.”
Leo swiveled his head with such speed that might have been comical if he wasn’t ready to pounce on this asshat who took his ride. He needed that car. Without a word to the clerk–and really he knew it wasn’t their fault for weather delays–he stalked toward the blonde man in the leather coat (who the fuck wore a leather coat in Iowa in the Winter?)
The guy, a few years younger and most definitely not a kid, blinked at Leo with the most beautiful blue eyes that Leo had ever seen. His words caught in his breath.
The man sighed. “Where you going?”
“You want to buy these kids. They’re not for sale. But I might be able to drive you halfway.”
“Hell no. I’ll drive myself. And everyone has a price.”
“I need to be somewhere, same as you. No price. Where are you going? I’m only offering once. I’ve got to get on the road.”
“Georgia. Just outside Atlanta. You?”
The kid’s grin was slow and delighted. “Georgia. Just outside Atlanta.”
“Turn that goddamn music off for Christ’s sake.”
Leo was sleeping off his hangover with his head reclined on the passenger headrest, his scarf over his eyes. He had dozed for a bit but woke up to an annoying off-key rendition of White Christmas along with the radio.
Jim, his new traveling companion, gasped. “You don’t like Buble?”
Leo grumbled in response and reached down for the cup of donut holes, popping a powdered one in his mouth.
“So, what are you risking life and limb for with a rackish yet impossibly handsome stranger?”
Leo chocked on some powder and Jim reached over and thumped him on the back.
“What are you risking life and limb for?” Leo countered.
“Touche.” Leo watched as Jim starred ahead, the light from the passing cars lighting up his eyes briefly. “I’m half Jewish and half…well, we celebrate Christmas. I mean, technically I’m more agnostic but…” Jim shrugged. He cleared his throat. “Anyway, my mom and dad met around Christmas and Hannukah and it was their things for years. And then he died. If I don’t get home this will be the first Christmas my mom will spend alone.”
Leo nodded, looking out at the passing snow drifts as they drive farther and farther down the interstate.
“My ex-wife and I got divorced last year. This is the first Christmas that I won’t be living with my daughter. I couldn’t not be there.”
Jim flexed his fingers on the steering wheel, changing lanes to get around a semi.
“Good reasons,” Jim said finally.
Leo popped another donut in his mouth so Jim wouldn’t be able to tell how raspy his voice would get.
Two flat tires, one near accident and a terrifying moment when Leo, now Bones, had to jab a epi-pen into his new friend’s thigh and they were crossing the boarder into Georgia.
Jim whooped from the passenger side. He had refused the hospital but Bones didn’t trust the pale complexion and bruised skin below his eyes so Bones forced him into the passenger seat.
Bones pulled into the nearest rest stop and took a shaky breath.
If Bones got off this exit, he’d be to Jo in a half hour, a day and a half before his worse case scenario had planned for.
If he continued down the thruway for another hour and then got off an exit then, he’d get Jim to his mom just before sun down on the first night of Hannukah.
“Hey,” Jim said, suddenly, reaching a hand out to pry Bones’ white knuckled grip on the steering wheel. “It’s okay. You take the car.”
“What?” Bones exclaimed, wrenching the emergency break on.
“If you say something as asinine as hitchhike, so help me, James T. Kirk.”
Jim ducked his head. “You sound like my mom.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment. Now let’s go get something to eat, you look like death and if I don’t piss now we won’t be getting our deposit back on the rental.”
A half hour later, Jim was dozing in the car when it eased to a halt, a street lamp burning bright behind Jim’s closed eyes.
“Hey,” Bones, this stranger, accidental new best friend and potentially the love of his life, said softly, one hand gently nudging him awake.
He blinked his eyes, passing a hand over the grit collected there, and found that he was staring at his mother’s new house. The one she had bought because Iowa was getting too cold, too lonely, too full of memories of a husband that had died years ago but had lingered for years like a vengeful ghost, kept alive by her guilt and refusal to move on. Jim had found the house and called the broker and had moved her down here himself, somewhere warm and bright and as far away from the gossip and shadows of Riverside as they could get. It didn’t matter if Jim couldn’t leave behind the Kirk homestead quite as easily, his mom deserved a change.
“What?” He asked, blinking again just in case he was seeing some other house or the bus station that Bones had agreed to drop him off at an hour ago.
The door opened and his mother stepped our, wrapping a coat around herself as she raised a hand in greeting but not to him–to Bones.
“How?” He asked, his voice a tired wave of confusion and wonder.
“Made a phone call. Your mom is quite lovely. Not sure where a shit stirring menace like you comes from.”
Jim laughed and got out of the car. His mom took a step out onto the lawn, which was damp, and then ran to him, engulfing Jim in a bear hug that only people who claimed you as theirs were capable of.
“Jim,” she breathed. “You made it.”
“I did,” he said, still full of wonder. He squeezed her for a few moments, taking in her mom scent–from lemon from her favorite dishwashing soap, to lavender and vanilla from her shampoo, and cinnamon from her homemade crust and morning buns.
“But, Jo?” Jim asked when he finally pulled away.
Bones pursed his lips, his eyes a happy glint of mischief. “Apparently, my dear ex’s new in-laws live about ten minutes from here? And they’re spending the holidays with them?”
Jim threw his head back and laughed. Then he reached forward and grabbed for Bones’ hand just as he wanted to since they first got into the car, and every time in between.
“Nah. I think it’s you I have to thank,” Bones said and squeezed his hand back as they all walked together toward the house and toward whatever their first holiday together would bring.