His Steady Heart

By Nell Iris

Ashley "Buck" Buchanan moved back home to take care of his sick mother when he was 22. That was the first time he met Pippin, the neglected 6-year-old boy next door. Fifteen years later, Buck, a caretaker by nature, offers up his couch for Pippin, who needs a break from his mom and a quiet place to sleep.


Pippin Olander is a ray of sunshine despite his emotionally lacking upbringing and works hard to make a better life for himself. Even though he's fiercely self-sufficient, he learns to accept help from Buck, his rock and the only steady presence in his life.


Their friendship deepens and grows into something more as they spend time together. But when other people try to throw a wrench in the works, when Pippin's independence is triggered, can Buck and Pippin trust in the love they've found?

• Language: English
• Publisher: JMS Books LLC
• Release date: May 25, 2019
• ISBN: 9781634869690

Nell Iris

Nell is a forty-something bisexual Swedish woman, married to the love of her life, and a proud mama of a grown daughter. She left the Scandinavian cold and darkness for warmer and sunnier Malaysia a few years ago, and now spends her days writing, surfing the Internet, enjoying the heat, and eating good food. One day she decided to chase her lifelong dream of being a writer, sat down in front of her laptop, and wrote a story about two men falling in love. Nell writes gay romance, prefers sweet over angst, and wants to write diverse and different characters.

Book preview

Chapter 1

I see him immediately as I turn my truck onto our street. Huddled under a threadbare blanket, he’s curled into a ball at the top of the stairs leading to the tiny, rundown house he shares with his mom. He has a paperback open on his lap and he’s using the flashlight on his cell phone to read since it’s still dark outside.

Frowning, I grip the steering wheel until my knuckles whiten. It’s too cold for him to sit there. It’s the second week of January, and even though we still haven’t gotten any snow—it was our first green Christmas in years—the temperature is hovering in the low thirties. Even in the dim light, I can see him shiver.

With a huff, I park on my driveway, throw open the door, and step out. Hey, Pippin, I holler, and his head shoots up. How he missed the rumble of my truck is a mystery, but he tends to shut out everything around him when he’s got his nose in a book.

His generous mouth stretches in a wide smile, and he raises his hand in a wave.

Get your butt over here, I call.

He pulls the blanket tighter around his narrow shoulders. I’m okay. You must be tired after your shift.

I roll my eyes, not caring that he can’t see me. That darned, stubborn man! So adamant to not be a bother, not realizing he never is. Not when I first moved back in with my ma to take care of her when she was sick—I was twenty-two and he was six the first time I found him on the stairs because his mother had a gentleman caller, as Ma used to call them—and not now.

Don’t make me come get ya, Pippin Olander. That’ll make me grumpy for sure. I cross my arms over my chest and glare at him, but that only makes him laugh.

Imp.

But my words have the desired effect. He closes the book, tucks it under his arm, and shuts off the flashlight before he jumps to his feet.

I can’t help smiling at him as he crosses the lawn. He never regained his coordination after hitting a growth spurt when he was sixteen, and five years later, he still reminds me of a newborn foal taking his first steps on long wobbly legs.

Darned adorable is what he is.

I step inside and kick off my boots, happy to be able to wiggle my toes again. A second later, Pippin stumbles through the door and bumps into me.

Sorry, he says with a grin.

I huff out a fond chuckle and shake my head. You’re hopeless.

I know. He grins again and pulls the blanket tighter around his shoulders.

With a scowl, I yank open the coat closet, grab a charcoal gray fleece jacket worn soft over the years, and toss it to him. Put this on. You’re not freezin’ to death on my watch.

He lets the blanket fall to the floor and puts on the garment. It’s huge on him; he’s only a couple inches shorter than my six four, but where I’m wide and muscled, he’s slim and lanky. Willowy, borderline skinny, with narrow shoulders, thin hips, and the legs of a giraffe. The jacket hangs off his frame, making it look like he stole his dad’s clothes. As usual, the sight of him like that fills me with an urge to feed him and put some meat on his bones.

Thank you. He smiles and throws his arms around me, squeezing me in an affectionate hug. Ever since he was little, he’s always been a touchy-feely kind of guy and takes every chance to hug or express his emotions with a touch.

After he pulls away, he neatly folds the blanket and puts it on the floor next to the door, and I shuffle into the kitchen. Hot chocolate? I open the fridge to take out the milk, but his hands on my biceps stop me.

I’ll do it. He turns me around and gives me a little push toward my bedroom. Go change. Take a shower, if you wanna.

I don’t argue; I really wanna wash up after work. Make some for yourself, too. If I don’t remind him, he won’t do it.

Moments later, I stand in the cramped tub and a contented sigh slips out of me as the water beats down on my head. I could use the shower at work, but I’ve always preferred going home to clean up. My house may be tiny and plain, but there’s nothing wrong with the shower. The water heater is about as big as the house and I haven’t managed to use up all the hot water once.

After a quick wash, I pull on a pair of lounge pants and a hoodie and rejoin Pippin in the kitchen. He’s perched on his usual stool by the breakfast bar with the book opened in front of him and a steaming cup of chocolate in his hand. I sit, grab my mug, and take a sip.

It’s perfect. Not too hot and extra sweet, just the way I like it. Thanks, I say.

He looks up from his book and shoots me a smile.

What’cha readin’?

Pink spots appear on his cheeks. "Twilight, he mumbles and shows me the cover. I didn’t buy it, he hurries to add. Someone forgot it at work last month and hasn’t been back to claim it, so Maggie said I could have it."

Maggie is Pippin’s boss at The Friendly Bean, the coffee shop where he works as a barista, and she knows how much he loves books. That’s nice of her.

He nods.

What’s it about?

You haven’t heard of it?

I shake my head.

It’s uh… He squirms on the stool. Vampires.

Like Dracula?

He snickers. Not quite. They’re teenagers. And the vampires glitter in the sunlight.

Sunlight? I thought vampires melted in the sun?

So did I, but apparently we were both wrong.

Huh. Glittery vampires. Who woulda thought? I yawn and rub my eyes with the heels of my hands until tiny spots start dancing in my vision.

Long night? He closes the book and peers at me under the unruly bangs hanging over his eyes. He could definitely use a haircut.

Mhm. I yawn again. We had a monster clog. Took me forever to fix. Almost expected to find a lost piece of luggage stuffed in the pipes. It wouldn’t be totally improbable. People try to flush all kinds of shit at the airport.

He wrinkles his nose. Sounds unpleasant.

It was. I cross my arms on the breakfast bar and rest my forehead on them.

You should get some sleep. I’ll go, Pippin says.

No. I straighten and rub my eyes again. Then I make a quick decision; I pull out the drawer and grab the extra key for the house, and put it on the bar in front of him. Stay until you need to go to work.

I’ve meant to give it to him for a long time, but getting him to accept stuff, even little things, is a struggle. His pride’s got pride, so just reaching a point where he accepts a hot drink without me having to twist his arm has been an uphill battle.

His fingers twitch as though he wants to take the key, but he just keeps looking at it. I put my index finger on the key and nudge it closer to him.

I… He lays a fingertip on the metal and frowns.

Pippin. I soften my voice. "I worry when you’re sittin’ out there freezin’ your butt off, strainin’ your eyes