Wrapping Up: A Rainier Family Novel

by Ashton Cade

  “Look, I’m willing to concede on you coming out and not keeping Eli a secret, but antagonizing voters is where I draw the line. If you want my help with this, you need to stay professional, okay?”

  I groan exaggeratedly, getting an exasperated look out of him before I chuckle.

  “Fine, fine. You win. I’ll be boring and shove a stick up my ass. Will that make you happy?”

  Clary groans. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

  “Is that why I’m your favorite cousin?” I tease back.

  “I’m starting to wonder…” he grumbles, making us both laugh, the earlier discord fading as we get back to work. Serious work.

  Eli

  After two days off resting in bed, recuperating with Garrett as the sweetest nurse ever, I’m finally feeling up to going back to work the third day. Or I thought I was. The moment I see Dr. Peterson, I feel queasy and want to back out. How many days can I get away with before it jeopardizes my job?

  Stop it, I scold myself. Despite the misgivings I’ve had about working with him, Dr. Peterson’s been nothing but professional to me. Unpleasant at times, sure, but what old, entitled guy isn’t? Dr. Barnes wasn’t a walk in the park either, for that matter. I just have to suck it up and keep doing my job without letting the memory of the past get in my way.

  “Feeling better, I see?” Dr. Peterson says with a nod. His voice is pleasant enough, and if I weren’t looking at him, I might not think anything of it, but there’s something in his eyes. Something that makes my chest tighten, a little voice in my head screeching out a warning.

  “Much, thank you. Sorry you had to cover for me the past couple of days.”

  “I managed,” he answers, still with that look that’s making me want to turn heel and run. But that’s ridiculous. That’s just old panic talking. It’s not an appropriate response to this situation. Breathe.

  “Perhaps we should check you over before you see any patients, hmm? Make sure you’re not contagious,” he says with a small smile.

  Cold fingers of fear creep up my spine, sending goosebumps through my whole body. My chest is tight, I’m having trouble breathing, and all for… what, exactly?

  I’m so in my head about this whole thing, about this secret that’s been weighing on me, this sword hanging over my neck. Right now in my sickened and weakened state, I just can’t push the fear and panic back anymore. I know it’s not rational, I know it’s not reasonable, and yet here I am, verging on a full anxiety attack because my boss—a doctor—offered to check me out while I’m sick.

  There’s no reason to turn him down. If it were Dr. Barnes, I wouldn’t think twice about it. She’s diagnosed all kinds of things for me, and when she had bronchitis, it was me that made her realize the severity of it.

  It’s not unusual at all for Dr. Peterson to want to clear me before seeing patients.

  Yet no matter how many times I tell myself that, it doesn’t stop my heart from beating too fast, my palms from sweating.

  “Sure,” I croak out finally, realizing it’s been too long without a response. If I keep acting like this, he’s going to send me for a CT scan.

  Dr. Peterson leads me into exam room number three, and pats the examination table, paper crinkling under his hand. I swallow, throat tight, still sore and raw, and it makes me wince. He closes the door, and starts taking my temperature, listening to my heartbeat.

  “Fast pulse,” he remarks quietly, a hint of smugness in his voice I’m sure isn’t my imagination. The stethoscope is like ice against my chest, and when I shiver he chuckles.

  “No fever,” he says, discarding the disposable tip of the thermometer. He pulls out a tongue depressor, and I open my mouth. “Come now, I know you can open wider than that for me, Eli,” he says, the words making me feel dirty in an instant. Like they’re slime under my skin. He’s got me helpless though with the wooden stick pressing my tongue down, his hand forcing my jaw wider. Panic spikes through me. I see the shift in his eyes, from playing innocent to letting the act drop, the monster beneath finally making his appearance. I whimper despite myself and try to squirm away, but he holds me firm and there’s nowhere for me to go.

  “Be honest with me, Eli. You got this sore throat from deep-throating some big, fat dick, didn’t you?” he coos, pushing the stick back further until I’m gagging, my throat closing up violently.

  “I remember all too well those sweet lips wrapped around my cock,” he says, dragging his thumb over my bottom lip. I shudder, try to pull away, whining when he squeezes my face harder. Tight enough I think he might bruise my cheeks, but that doesn’t stop him.

  “What’s your going rate these days, Eli? How much to have that mouth again?” he asks, replacing the tongue depressor with his finger, shoving it roughly toward the back of my throat. I snap my jaw shut, ignoring the pain from his grip, and he howls, yanking his finger out of my mouth.

  “You seem to be under the wrong impression, doctor,” I hiss. “I’m not in that business anymore, and you don’t have a chance in hell with me,” I say, pushing past him to get off the exam table, hurrying for the door.

  “A shame,” he says, tsking casually. “It’s a virus, shouldn’t be contagious,” he adds, back to business. “I see no reason you shouldn’t be able to see patients today.”

  I narrow my eyes at him, not really sure how to deal with the sudden flip-flop. “Thanks,” I grumble, yanking the door open, walking too fast out of the room, my head spinning, my stomach turning. All that fear, all that panic, it wasn’t misplaced. Now I have to stay here caged with this man, trapped for hours, with no way out.

  I want to curl up in a ball and hide. To cry, to scream and rage. I want to run to Garrett’s arms, for him to hold me and keep all the awfulness of the world out.

  I swallow thickly at that thought. Garrett has no idea what he’s gotten into with me. I haven’t told him anything about that part of my past. How can I? It’s not exactly something you want to bring up with the guy you’re falling for. How could he still want to be with me after knowing that?

  I don’t know how it’s possible. I don’t know how anyone could be that forgiving, and it’s that kind of knowledge that’s had me thinking I’ll never find the kind of happiness that I’ve found with Garrett. But is it really fair if there’s this big part of me he knows nothing about? He’s told me about his ex, and how hard it was for him to move on and accept another person in his life. I just hope when he finds out, he’ll understand why I hesitated to tell him.

  But I think I should tell him. I think it’s time. If I’m really serious about wanting this to be something, about letting Garrett in, then I have to do it all the way. No half-assing it.

  Thankfully, Dr. Peterson is completely businesslike and professional in every other one of the few interactions we have throughout the day. Of course there are almost always patients around, and I try my best not to put myself in a position where he can corner me or find me vulnerable, but he doesn’t even seem to be paying me any attention.

  Maybe he’s taking my rebuff to heart. I wouldn’t have expected a man like him to take no for an answer, but maybe I misjudged him.

  God, I hope so.

  I’m just packing up my stuff to leave when my phone rings, Garrett’s goofy face showing up on the screen. While I was passed out sick, he took a bunch of silly selfies on my phone and set one as his display photo. His eyes are crossed, tongue sticking out, eyebrows all akimbo, but it’s the cutest damn picture I’ve ever seen. I almost forget to answer because I’m just smiling at it.

  “Hey,” I finally answer, right before it goes to voicemail.

  “Hey, how was work?” he asks, his voice enough to warm me from the inside.

  Yeah, I think I’m definitely falling for this guy. Why does it feel like that’s a scary thing?

  “Work,” I mutter with a shrug he can’t see. I’m looking over my shoulder, trying to spot Dr. Peterson, but he’s presumably locking everything up for the night.

 
“Well, I figure you’re still not feeling great, but you’re probably sick of soup—”

  “You’re right about that,” I laugh, even that reminding me how dang tired I am. Working at the clinic is always hard work, but doing it while recovering from being sick is exhausting. Running around, being on my feet all day, never really having a chance to sit and take a break—it all means when I finally do stop, it all hits me at once like a Mack truck.

  “So why don’t I grab some grub from Aunt Sheryl’s and we eat in?”

  “Sounds perfect,” I say with a happy sigh, heading out the door, pulling my coat tighter at the nip of cold in the air. “You’re amazing.”

  “I dunno about all that,” he says, chuckling. “See you in a bit, babe.”

  “Bye…” I hang up with butterflies in my chest, a huge smile on my face, all my troubles from earlier forgotten.

  That’s what Garrett does to me. That’s the magic of that man and the way he makes me feel. As I’m slipping my phone back into my pocket, I hear the keys in the front door and realize Dr. Peterson’s behind me closing up. He pulls the keys out of the door and turns to me, that mask of his falling away again.

  “I’ve thought about our little discussion earlier, Eli, and I’m afraid it’s not going to work for me,” he says, his cold eyes making me want to squirm. I don’t though. I hold my ground. I’m tired of letting this guy making me feel like trash. And what the hell is he even talking about?

  “If I’m going to keep quiet about your past indiscretions, I’m going to need a little incentive,” he says, lips curling up on one side.

  I swallow, my skin cold, the harsh winter wind not helping things. I don’t have a lot of money, and I sure as hell don’t want to give any of it over to this sleazeball, but if it’s going to make this problem go away…

  “How much?” I grumble. At least I can see how insane he is.

  Dr. Peterson chuckles, reaching out to grab my shoulder, squeezing it painfully despite the cheerful smile that doesn’t go to his eyes. “Dear, sweet Eli. You think I have interest in anything other than that body of yours? You’ll give yourself to me when I demand it, and I won’t tell everyone in your new hometown all your dark dirty secrets,” he says, eyes glittering with malice.

  I glance at his fingers, his knuckles white from their grip on me. Dr. Peterson is older now—so am I, no longer a scrawny, underfed kid scared to stand up for himself—but he’s still in good shape. I don’t want to know what would happen in a physical altercation between us, and I know what it would look like to most. He’s the sweet old doctor with the gleaming reputation and the perfect Stepford family. Even if what I did happened when I was a kid and I didn’t have any choices, that’s not going to matter to people.

  “I need time to think about it,” I say finally, shaking him off of me, pulling away quickly before he can grab me again. But he doesn’t make a move to follow me. He stands there looking as unassuming as ever.

  “You have until closing tomorrow to decide,” he says, his twisted smile making me feel sicker than I have in days. I rush back to my car, peeling out of the parking lot as fast as I can, not looking back. My hands are sweating, my heart’s racing, head reeling.

  What am I going to do?

  He’s bluffing, right? He’s got to be. There’s no way he would risk outing himself…

  Unless he has some way of outing me without implicating himself. Then it would just look like I was trying to lash out at him when I pointed a finger back.

  Fuck.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  I always knew my past would catch up to me, but did it have to happen when everything’s going so damn well?

  When I get home, Garrett’s truck is in my driveway and I curse again, hitting my palm against the wheel. I was so excited to see him, and now he’s the last person I want to face. I don’t know how to tell him about all of this now. I should have told him sooner. Before it was a problem.

  Now it’s something I need to figure out on my own.

  I take a deep breath, doing my best to put on a brave face before I go inside—Garrett’s already in there, as he’s had a spare key since I’ve been sick.

  “Heeey,” he says, greeting me with a kiss soon after I’m in the door. I kiss him back, wrap my arms around his neck and hug him tight. I don’t mean to, I don’t even think about it, but he’s here, and I need him. I need to feel him pressed against me, comforting me, giving me his strength and support.

  “What’s up?” he asks, sudden concern crossing his features, furrowing his brow.

  “Nothing,” I sigh, shaking my head. “Long day,” I add.

  Garrett nods, but I can tell he doesn’t really buy it. He leads me over to the couch, takes my boots off, props my feet up on an ottoman, and hands me a blanket.

  I really don’t deserve him. He’s so good to me, and I can’t even tell him what’s going on with the doctor. My throat tightens as tears push up in my eyes and I try to shove them away, trying to not give in to the despair clawing its way up my chest.

  “Burger or pot pie?” he asks, dropping down next to me on the couch with the take-out bag. They’re both my favorite, yet the thought of eating anything right now doesn’t sit well with me.

  I shrug. Garrett frowns.

  “You sure nothing’s wrong?” he asks, brushing my hair away from my forehead gently, sweeping it to the side. There’s concern in his eyes, pulling at the corners of his mouth.

  “Yeah,” I sigh, leaning in for a quick kiss. “Just wiped out. Will you hate me if I go to bed early?” I ask, guilt gnawing at me.

  “Of course not,” he says, still frowning. “Let me know if you need anything, will you?”

  I nod, kissing him again. “You really are the best.”

  He smiles, eyes softening, some of the worry fading. Good. I’m doing enough worrying for the both of us.

  I head into bed and collapse, but sleep’s nowhere to be found. As tired as I am, as exhausted mentally and physically as I am, I’m not sleeping. I’m worrying.

  Would it be the worst thing to give in to Dr. Peterson? To just give him what he wants so he’ll leave me alone? I know how to disassociate from it. I know how to go somewhere else and just let it happen, but there’s no way I could do that to Garrett.

  Especially not after what he told me about his ex, how much he hates cheaters. No matter how good my motives might be, there’s no way Garrett could forgive me for doing something like that. And I’m not sure I’d be able to forgive myself, either.

  I left all that behind me for a reason. I moved on; I decided not to look back. Dr. Peterson’s making that a challenge, but that doesn’t mean I have to give in. The past is the past and I can’t change it. I know there are going to be people who will judge me for it, who might even decide they don’t want to be in my life anymore—maybe even Garrett, as heart-wrenching as the thought is—but that can’t stop me. I can’t let that fear get in my way and force me into making more choices I’ll regret later.

  More of the same is not the solution.

  If Dr. Peterson wants to reveal me to the town for not sleeping with him, then that’s a consequence I’ll have to face. But I’m not doing it. I’m not giving in to him. I’m not letting him have that power over me. I’ll face whatever comes of that choice, and it might be bad, but at least I’ll know I did the right thing. Even if everyone abandons me and I have to move to another town and start this path alone again, at least I won’t have given in. At least he won’t win.

  I just hope Garrett will forgive me.

  Garrett

  “The hell…?” I mutter on my way through town the next day. Suddenly, there are signs everywhere for my opponent when there were none before. I’m headed to the library for the “debate” that I didn’t figure Tommy Maroney would show up to, but there’s a crowd of people gathered outside with signs and angry scowls.

  Then I start to read the signs and all the things begin to click.

  The old ladies at the cafe ye
sterday must’ve gotten more offended by what I said than I even realized. Looks like they’ve called all their bigoted friends to come out and picket with them, their signs saying terrible things about how God feels about gay people. It’s enough to make me sick. And I know I shouldn’t give a damn about what these people think of me or about getting their votes, but I also don’t wanna cause some big rift in Umberland for everyone else I know in a same-sex relationship.

  It’s time to stop antagonizing them and to try to build a bridge between us.

  I step outta my truck and the screeching reaches a new level, red, angry faces shouting vitriol and hate at me—even death threats if you can believe it.

  These religious folks are out en masse to tar and feather me, and if I don’t do something to calm them down, I’m likely to find myself run out of town instead of representing it.

  “Hey there, folks!” I shout over their protesting cries. Jeers and insults are lobbed my way, some people trying to encourage others to vote for my opponent, but most just happy to spread their hate at me.

  “Seems some things I said the other day might’ve been taken out of context. I was joking around, you see—”

  “You won’t be laughing when you’re burning in hell!” a faceless voice cries out at me.

  Clary appears from inside the library and drags me through the crowd, giving me this “I told you so” look that makes me furious. But not at him. At myself. I should’ve tried harder. Listened better. He tried to tell me, tried to warn me, but I didn’t take it seriously. I made myself a target, and this is what I get.

  Once the door closes behind us, the chanting and yelling of the crowd is muffled and harder to hear. Clary runs his hand over his face and sighs.

  “I was worried about this…” he mutters.

  “I know,” I grumble back. “I know, okay? I messed up.”

  He doesn’t try to argue with me, just gives me a look that tells me he totally agrees, but is too nice to say it.