The Same Place (The Lamb and the Lion #2) - Gregory Ashe Page 0,100

had slipped. Jem shrugged a wordless apology, winked, and let Tean lead him away from the beer.

After a few minutes of observation, Jem guessed that the celebration of life had drawn over a hundred people. He wasn’t sure if that was a lot or not; he’d never been to a funeral. But with only the light of the fire painting the scene, sudden tongues of illumination lapping up the darkness and then retreating, human faces bright and crisp one instant and then gone, it seemed like a lot. A lot of people to drive out to a ranch in Summit County, with minimal planning, to drink and dance by a bonfire, supposedly while mourning Joy Erickson.

Tean’s arm was around his waist, and he squeezed Jem now and nodded at the other side of the fire. “I just saw Zalie.”

Through the dancing flames, Jem could make out a dark-skinned woman seated on a log. He let Tean guide him around the bonfire, and when they were closer, he could see that Tean had been right. Zalie’s long frame was stretched out, her legs extended in front of her. Tiny red stains marred the bandage that still wrapped one foot, and her bare toes stuck out toward the fire, probably to ward off the cold. She gripped her cane with both hands. Her gaze was fixed on the burning logs.

“Ms. Maynes?” Tean said.

She stirred and looked over at them. It seemed to take a moment for her to recognize them, then she nodded. “I thought you two might be—” She waved at them, standing together, with her cane. “I wasn’t sure.”

“We’re not—” Tean began.

“We’re not always public about it,” Jem said over him. Then, not letting himself stop to think, he kissed the side of Tean’s neck and bumped him affectionately with his head. The doc’s whole body went rigid. “Play along,” Jem whispered before kissing his neck a few more times. To Zalie, he added, “It’s new, and things are complicated.”

“It’s very new,” Tean said flatly.

“He won’t even kiss me in public yet,” Jem said, hugging Tean to him and peppering more kisses on his cheek, his ear, the crazy brushed-back hair. “But at least he wanted me to put my arm around him. It’s little steps, you know?”

“You’re about to take a little step back into the fire,” Tean whispered.

Zalie stared at them.

“Mind if we sit?” Jem asked.

She waved to a couple of empty stumps, and Tean tried to use the opportunity to break away. Jem let him slide free, but then he rolled his stump next to Tean’s and put his arm around the doc. He only grunted a little when Tean elbowed him in the ribs.

Over the blaze’s crackle, Jem almost missed Zalie’s words. “Joy was like that.”

“Like what?” Jem asked.

“Like you. You should’ve seen me the first time we went out in public. Black and queer with a pretty little ginger on my arm. I thought I’d be lucky if all they did was crucify me. But Joy didn’t miss a beat. She was always very affectionate. Demonstrative. Kisses and handholding in public, no matter how people looked at us. It took me a long time to realize that she loved people the same way she hated them—it was always all or nothing with her, never anything in between. Being loved like that, it’s like a drug. Have you ever felt like someone loved you, the real you? Knew who you were, really knew, and loved you for it? That’s powerful stuff.”

Jem thought about how Tean laughed when Jem insisted on fixing the blinds. Jem thought about how Tean ordered an extra hash brown because he knew Jem would want a second. Jem thought about how Tean knew when Jem was frustrated with reading, knew when to push him to work through the frustration, knew when to pull back and let him rest. He thought about how Tean had asked Jem to stay at his apartment, turning it into a favor, making it possible for Jem to say yes without sacrificing his pride. Jem felt like he was seeing all of it happen again from the bottom of the ocean, the light refracted, everything on the other side of a barrier.

“Yes,” Tean said. “It is.”

And then Jem thought of Ammon, thought of Tean thinking about Ammon.

Zalie leaned forward, poking the fire with her cane. “It makes it hard to see her for the bitch that she was.”

“What do you mean?” Jem said, clearing his throat when he