Patchouli For Christmas by Bren Christopher

much. We can call it something else if you want. A couple of guys having a beer and talking about football.”
    “Know a lot about football, do you?”
    “Never watch it. You?”
    “No. I like baseball, though.”
    The sudden ring of Michael’s phone made him jump. “It’s too late to be work.” He pulled it from his pocket. “It’s my brother.”
    Jude nodded. He rose and headed for the kitchen to start the dishes and give Michael at least a semblance of privacy.
    Michael answered the call. Before he could get a word out, Doug was speaking in rapid, slurred tones. “I went to visit tonight. The kids asked when I was coming home. They don’t understand.”
    “Of course they don’t. We didn’t at their age.”
    Doug didn’t seem to hear him. “I tried. I swear. She shut me down even though she looked like she was about to cry or something.”
    Doug sounded like he might be the one crying. The shaking voice hardly seemed like his brother. “Have you been drinking?” Michael asked.
    “Why won’t she give me another chance if she’s so upset about getting divorced?”
    Michael stood and paced the living room. “Doug. Listen to me. Where are you?”
    For a moment he heard only heavy breathing. Then a loud thump, followed by a creaking noise.
    “Doug! Where are you?”
    “I’m on the crappy couch in this crappy apartment. Where the hell else would I be?”
    Relieved, Michael listened as Doug continued speaking. His words were almost too indistinct to understand, but at least he was safe at his place. “…goddamn vodka bottle fell off the goddamn table. Goddamn empty anyway.”
    “Why don’t you stretch out on the couch for a while?”
    “Sorry, Mike. Gotta go. I think I need to lie down. I’ll call you back tomorrow, okay?”
    The phone clicked. Michael stared at it for a moment, then shook his head and sat on the couch again. He leaned back and gazed up at the ceiling.
    A solid, reassuring presence settled next to him. Jude took his hand. “Do you want to tell me about it? If not, that’s okay.”
    Did Michael want to tell him about it? What kind of impression would whining about family problems make on someone he’d just met? He had no idea if that constituted proper dating etiquette, but it seemed unlikely.
    He looked over at Jude. Their fingers were still entwined, and Jude returned his look solemnly. His long lashes were dark. Michael would have thought they’d have more red in them, like his hair, but they were almost black.
    “Shit,” he muttered and pinched the bridge of his nose sharply to keep from making a fool of himself.
    Jude remained quiet, giving him time to collect himself. Michael took a deep, shuddering breath and leaned against the hard body next to him. Jude slung an arm around him, and that was all the encouragement Michael needed. He found himself telling Jude about Doug, his family, and the impending divorce.
    Jude listened in silence. When Michael ran out of words, Jude pulled him close. “I’m so sorry. I can see how much you care about them.” After giving him a brief kiss, he asked, “Have they considered a marriage counselor? I know someone.”
    “Have a lot of need for one, do you?” That thought made Michael smile. Proper dating etiquette or not, he felt better, and Jude seemed to be okay with listening to him go on about his family.
    “Don’t be an ass.” Jude shoved him onto his back and landed on top of him. Michael’s breath left him with a grunt.
    Jude eased up a little but didn’t get off. Michael wrapped his arms around him to make sure he wouldn’t.
    Jude stretched out on top of him and tucked his head under Michael’s chin. “She’s the wife of a therapist I know. A guy I went to for a while.” He sounded hesitant. Michael stroked his back encouragingly. “My grandma sent me to see someone. I had a hard time after my parents died.”
    “Jeez. Of course you did.”
    “I was only fifteen. I couldn’t understand why I walked away with