Bet On Us

by deMora, MariaLisa

Maybe.

  ***

  Trent

  “How’s the arm feel? Is it weird?” They were on their way home from visiting the doctor, and Trent carefully watched traffic as he drove, eyes on the cars ahead of and beside him. Jericho sat in the passenger seat, and from the corner of his eye, Trent saw him moving and stretching the arm so recently released from the imprisonment of the cast. Said cast was in the back seat, the stinky carcass encased in plastic for now. The doctor had been amused at Jericho’s insistence on keeping it, until Trent had explained the signatures. Then the man had explained what they could do to lessen the smell so the trip souvenir could be displayed however Jericho wanted.

  Even Jericho had been surprised at the smell, and at how his arm looked coming out of the cast after almost six weeks. The first thing the doc had done was hand Jericho a dampened cloth, telling him to “Scratch that itch that’s been making you crazy. Gently now.” Trent had tried not to laugh, but Jericho’s eyes had rolled back in his head as he scraped the cloth along his arm, and the almost orgasmic expression was comical.

  After that, the visit had gone quickly, the doctor asking empathetic questions, having clearly read the history Trent had been so persistent in providing. At the end, Trent had been walking up the hallway to pay at the window when he’d overheard an exchange between the doctor and Jericho that had both hurt his heart and helped heal it all at once.

  “Your uncle seems nice. I’m sorry for your loss, but you could have landed in a very different spot, so it’s good that when you needed him, he’s been there for you.” The doctor’s murmur hadn’t been for Trent, but he’d appreciated the sentiment.

  It was Jericho’s response that had torn Trent up. “My uncles.” There’d been a pause, then Jericho continued, “Uncle Trent is married to Uncle Jake. I know I’m lucky to have them. They dropped everything and came for me, made it so I won’t ever be alone again. He’s more than just nice. Uncle Trent is everything.”

  Trent’s phone rang, interrupting the memory, and he thumbed the control on the steering wheel, answering with a “Trent Conway,” in case it was a client. Jericho knew the drill and stayed silent on his side of the car.

  “Mr. Conway, this is Nadine from the Evergrowing Family Clinic.” Trent froze for a long moment, then jerked back into movement, belatedly jamming on the brakes just in time to avoid rear-ending the vehicle in front of him as traffic stopped for a red light. “Is now a good time?”

  “Uh, yes. No. I don’t know.” No, it’s not a good time. This was the fertility and surrogacy clinic calling, and Trent definitely couldn’t do this now, not driving and not without Jacob. “Not really. I’m in traffic. Can I call back in fifteen minutes or so? It’ll take me that long to get home and get my husband on the phone, too. Do I need to get my husband on the phone? Is this bad news? It’s bad news, isn’t it? I should just take the call now.”

  “Uncle Trent, the light’s green.” Trent glanced at Jericho and then out at the street, seeing the vehicles in front of him had somehow disappeared.

  “Oh, sh-rap.”

  The woman on the phone laughed softly, and Trent immediately tried to analyze the laughter. Was it at his abbreviated swearing or was it about him being so distracted he didn’t realize the light had changed? Was it in judgment of his ability to parent a child? If they could see us with Jericho, they’d realize we have this parenting thing in control. “Calling back is fine, Mr. Conway. You have the number?”

  Trent stared at the display, trying to memorize the number showing there. “Yeah, I think so.”

  “Okay then, I’ll wait for your call.”

  “Wait, what was your name again?” Panic set in, because what if he called and talked to the wrong person and somehow made a life-altering decision for a different couple.

  “Nadine. It’s Nadine, Mr. Conway. And it’s not bad news. Just breathe, get your husband on the phone, and call me back. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  The call disconnected, and the car was filled with the overly peppy J-pop Jericho claimed to like today. Trent stared through the windshield, turned on his blinker, and eased around a corner, pulling the car to a stop along the curb.

  “Holy shit.” He fumbled with the steering wheel, unable to feel the buttons that would disconnect the phone from the car’s system.

  Ringing filled the car and he panicked, believing he’d called Nadine back prematurely. He shoved the gearshift all the way up and threw open his door. He was still trying to climb out of the vehicle while buckled in when he heard Jericho’s quavering voice, “Uncle Jake. Something’s wrong with Uncle Trent.”

  Then Jacob’s voice was there, all around him, smothering the fear that had been driving Trent from the car. “What’s wrong, Jericho? Trent? Trentie? Babe, you there?”

  “Yeah.” He sounded like a dying frog, croaking out his last. “Yeah, Jakey. Jakey, Jakey. I’m here.”

  “What’s wrong?” A car horn drowned out Jacob’s voice, and Trent yanked at the door, slamming it closed, shutting himself in with the welcome sound of Jacob. “Babe?”

  “He got a call from someplace called the Evergrowing Family Clinic. A lady named Nadine. He just started freaking out.”

  Thank God Jericho could still talk, because Trent wasn’t capable right now.

  “Trent, the clinic called? What’d they say?”

  Trent turned to look at Jericho. The boy was plastered against the door, face paler than his arm, which hadn’t seen the sun in a month and a half. Trent opened his mouth, then closed it. Opened, and closed.

  “She said it wasn’t bad news. Uncle Trent told her he was going to get you on the phone and call them back.” Jericho shook his head, staring at Trent. “Who are they, Uncle Jake?”

  “It’s the agency that handles surrogacy. She said she had news?”

  “Yeah.” Trent’s voice returned, finally. “Yeah, she’s got news. Why does she have news, Jakey? I don’t understand.”

  “You turned in our application, babe. Remember the picnic we didn’t go to? It’s been months, and I don’t know why she’s calling now, but we’ll figure it out together. Are you okay now? Can you drive?” Jacob didn’t wait for him to respond, continuing on in a take-charge tone that did more to settle Trent’s nerves than he’d ever admit to his husband. “Where are you? I’ll come get you. You’re not okay to drive.”

  “I’m okay.” Even Trent didn’t believe his statement, and he felt a moment of amusement when he saw Jericho’s massive eye roll in response. “Okay, maybe I’m not there yet, but I’m better. Just hearing you makes it better, Jakey. I’ll pull it together. Promise. We’ll be home in a few minutes. It just took me by surprise.”

  “Surprise, so that’s what you call it?”

  Jericho’s sotto voce mutter had been the go-signal for Trent’s laughter, and that sound must have convinced Jacob, because he grudgingly gave permission for Trent to continue on their way.

  “Come home to me.”

  It was closer to thirty minutes before they returned Nadine’s call, not fifteen, but the delay didn’t change the news.

  They’d been approved for the program, and a surrogate had already selected them.

  ***

  Jericho

  Lying on top of the covers on his bed, Jericho tried hard not to listen to the conversation from the kitchen. But, even through his closed door, there was no mistaking the excitement and fear in both men’s voices as they again talked about the call with the clinic.

  “I know we can, but should we?” Trent’s voice carried best, his expressive tone filled with both anxiety and excitement. “Right now? We’re not even going to be here this time next year. We’ll be in Memphis. Why would the surrogate say yes to that?”

  Jake’s words were spoken with clarity and sincerity, stating what he thought and felt without downplaying Trent’s worries. It was a balancing act Jericho had watched him demonstrate masterfully throughout the weeks he’d known them, and tonight when the emotions were so high, he’d be
en in awe of how Jake had been able to hold it together in the face of Trent’s doubts and fears. “Why wouldn’t she? Not every couple is involved in the pregnancy to a great extent. I know Cooper and Marie were with Jaime, but that’s not a gold standard. If we’re here or there, in Memphis, it doesn’t change our commitment or support. If we’re in this, then we’ll be in it a hundred percent, no matter if it’s physically at the sonogram or via video chat.”

  “But we’d miss out on so much.” Trent’s voice had softened, become less strident, and Jericho hoped it meant his uncle was coming to terms with whatever drove his anxiety.

  “No, babe.” Jake’s tone dipped lower, and the rest of what he said was lost to the distance, a muffled mumble that still conveyed reassurance and trust.

  Jericho stared up at the ceiling, running his hand up and down the arm that had been broken. The sensation was still novel, weird. Glancing down, he noted again how different it looked. White and withered, so much smaller than the other one. He tightened his fist as hard as he could, holding it until the muscles shook with the strain, and then released it with a huff of air. It didn’t hurt, not exactly, but it didn’t feel right, either.

  His phone buzzed on the nightstand next to the bed, and he rolled over, marveling at how much easier it was to maneuver just that much without the cast. He looked at the screen, and with a grin, pushed up in bed and grabbed the phone, swiping to answer the video call.

  “Hey, Nate.” He started talking before the video had fully resolved. “Got my cast off today and man, it feels weird. Check it out.” Holding the phone away from his body, he scanned up and down his arm. “Look how freakish it is. All tiny and stuff.”

  Turning the phone back to his face, he froze, his wide smile slowly fading.

  Jordan was grinning at him from the phone.

  Jordan, whom he’d been trying unsuccessfully to ignore, not wanting to hear another rendition of “I’m sorry” from the man who featured nightly in Jericho’s dreams.

  Jordan who was hot as sin, good as the day was long, and—straight as an arrow.

  “Hey.” Jericho hated how stilted he sounded, the three-letter word coming out garbled somehow, like his lips and tongue didn’t work right while barely looking at Jordan’s face. Imagine if he had to actually talk to him. In person. I’d forget to breathe or something. Fall dead at his feet. “I’m not dead.” Oh, God. Kill me now. “I mean, not that it was an option or anything.” No, the better option would be to disconnect the call and hide under the covers. Where his dreams happened. Every single night. “What are you doing on my phone?” On my phone while I’m in bed. Oh, God. I don’t have pants on and I showed him my arm. Did he see my underwear? Oh, God.

  “Hi, Jericho.” Jordan’s voice was soft, rolling through the video like an impossible wave of caramel-smooth charm. “You weren’t answering my texts or calls, so I got Nate to let me use his phone to call you. I hope you don’t mind.” Mind? Of course I don’t mind. I’m just going to die now. “I mean…” Jordan glanced away, then back to the camera, looking straight at Jericho. “Of course you mind. If you didn’t mind, you would have picked up at least once, right? But I—” Jordan’s head dipped to the side and he glared at something off camera. Raising his voice, he called, “Nate, get away from the door. I can hear you breathing, bud. Come on. Give a man some privacy.”

  “Nate’s not there with you?” Jericho didn’t know if that raised or lowered the insane factor of this call. He’d assumed Nate had called and Jordan had somehow commandeered the phone away. “Are you in the bathroom?” If he’d locked himself into the bathroom alone to make the call, things went from insane to insanely weird. And this was plenty weird to start with. “By yourself?”

  “Yeah, by myself.” Jordan’s brows drew together in an endearing expression of confusion. He even scowls cutely. I’m dead. “Why would I want anyone with me when we’re talking?”

  “I don’t know. He’s your friend.” Jericho stopped himself there, trapping the “not me” part of what he’d been thinking. “You call him bud. That’s cute.” Abort! Straight guys don’t like to be called cute. “I mean, friendly. That’s friendly.”

  “Jericho, can you let me talk for a minute?” One corner of Jordan’s mouth lifted, a dimple on that cheek winking into existence and immediately becoming the only thing Jericho could focus on. “I’ll take your silence as agreement for now.” A pause, then Jordan’s voice dipped an octave, coming out growly like Jake’s did when he was teasing Uncle Trent. “But only for this. I’ll need affirmative consent for other things.” Jericho made an embarrassing squeaking sound and Jordan blinked, the dimple disappearing. Jericho decided to mourn it later; he needed to focus right now. “I call and text because I want to get to know you better. I know it won’t be long until you guys are here in Memphis, but I don’t want to wait, Jericho. I just—” The camera jostled, and Jordan ran a hand through his thick hair, making Jericho wonder immediately if it was as soft as it seemed. “I just want to talk to you, but you keep ghosting me. Jacob told me to wait—”

  “You talked to Uncle Jake about me?” Jericho pulled his legs up, folding his arm across them and transferring the phone to that hand. “Why would you do that?”

  “I don’t know.” Jordan looked baffled. “Because you’re cute and I wanted to make sure you were okay. I know I’m older, but—”

  “Three years isn’t that much older. I’ll be sixteen in a couple of months.” Jericho’s eyes widened as he realized how that sounded. “I mean, you and Nate are friends, and he’s a lot younger than you are.”

  “It’s nearly four years, but you’re right, it’s not that much older.” The smile was back, and Jericho watched with held breath until Jordan’s lips curved enough to waken that dimple. Oh God. “But Jericho, Nate and I are just friends. He’s a cool guy who understands a lot about me. We’ve been buds for a long time. And we’re friends, yeah. But we’re just friends.” Jordan blinked, and Jericho saw it in slow motion, the brilliance of his blue eyes disappearing for an instant, then back and directed on him, Jordan’s full focus aimed his way. The smile changed, turning a tiny bit sly, something Jericho would have killed to experience in person. “I want to get to know you a different way.”

  “Different?” Jericho closed his eyes instead of rolling them at himself. Oh, different? I speak words. Yuk, yuk, yuk. God. “What does that mean, Jordan?”

  “Look at me and ask that again.” Jericho opened his eyes and stared; Jordan’s gaze still locked on him through the camera almost felt like a touch across his skin. “Ask me, Jericho. I’m not afraid to tell you exactly what it means.”

  “You’re straight.” The numero uno reason he’d been not answering the calls. “I’ve read about boys crushing on their straight friends. It never ends well.”

  “What?” Jordan’s laughter hurt, physical pain lashing across Jericho until he wanted to drop the phone and smash it, pulverize it underfoot until it was shards of nothingness. “No, Jericho, I assure you, I am not straight.”

  Pounding in the background had Jordan’s head whipping to the side, and he snarled—even his snarl is handsome—at the door. “Not now, Nate.”

  “Okay.” Nate’s voice sounded deflated and sad, and Jericho saw Jordan’s expression change. “I’ll just go wait in my room. Where you and I will be in a few minutes. Alone. Nothing to see here, Jericho.” By the end of Nate’s little speech, Jordan’s face had turned red, and instead of looking at the camera, he was glancing around. It seemed like he was doing anything to avoid looking at Jericho.

  “Jordan.” Jericho waited, holding his breath until Jordan looked up, uncertainty written on his expression. “Nate’s a little turd sometimes.”

  “He is.” Shaking his head, Jordan snorted. “Love the turd, though. He’s like a brother to me.” As Jordan stared into the camera again, his voice did that dip thing when he spoke. “He’s nothing like you.”

  “You’re…you’re not straight?” Jericho needed confirmatio
n. Again. Certainty that his mind wasn’t making him hear what he wanted instead of what was said. “Really?”

  “Really. I’m gay.”

  Jericho stared at him for a moment, sweat breaking out across his neck at the idea of saying those words aloud again. For only the third time ever. “I’m…Jordan, I’m gay, too.” His breath was coming in great whoops, like there wasn’t enough oxygen in the room. He sucked air in and in, only blowing out enough to make that switch to drawing it in again. Things started going out of focus, dark and sparkly at the edges, and he remembered suddenly when he’d passed out in the hospital the night before his mother died.

  “Jericho.” Jordan’s voice was filled with concern, shouting Jericho’s name over and over until Jericho looked at him. “Jericho, are you okay?” He nodded, not willing to trust his voice. “Is that the first time you’ve told anyone?”

  “No.” He shook his head, surprised he’d gotten even the one word out through his clogged throat. Another attempt at speaking wasn’t as successful, and he waved his hand dismissively, covering his eyes when Jordan angled closer to the camera to try and peer into his face.

  “It’s okay. I got you.” Jordan’s voice was quiet, soothing. Seeming to instinctively realize Jericho couldn’t continue right now, Jordan quietly filled the silence that threatened between them. The topics varied as he moved from one to another, talking about inconsequential things like the weather and classes, his car, his sister, Nate and Matt, or Coach and Jaime. It took a while, but finally Jericho felt like he could say what he needed to without fainting or puking, both of which had been in question earlier.

  “Jordan?” The blue eyes hadn’t left him, but the stare intensified when Jericho called his name into a brief break between stories. “You aren’t the first. I told Uncle Jake and Uncle Trent before we left Knoxville.”

  “But outside of them, I’m the first?” Jericho nodded. Jordan’s chin lifted, and a muscle jumped in his jaw. “In that case, I’m honored you trusted me, Jericho. Honored.”

  “It’s not… It shouldn’t be such a big deal.”