by T. M. Smith
“Yes.” Adam pointed toward the kitchen and Dean looked over his shoulder. Sitting at the bar were Jon, Kory, and Jordan with his phone pressed to his ear.
Jordan turned and looked his way then stood and walked over to where Dean, Dusty, and Adam were in the living room, phone held to his chest. “Hey Dean, I’m so sorry for your loss, I know you two were still close.”
“Thank you.”
“Victor is on the phone and he asked to speak with you. I, well, I hope it’s okay, I told him what happened.” Jordan held his phone out to Dean and he took it, nodding. He hoped Jordan understood the nod was in response to his statement; words eluded him at the moment.
He stared at the phone for a minute, exchanging a curious look with Adam before putting it up to his ear. “He…hello?”
“Dean, it is Victor, we are hearing this terrible news and wanting to tell you how sorry we are.” There was a sadness in Victor’s tone Dean hadn’t heard before.
“Thank you,” he muttered. They seemed to be the only two words he remembered how to say.
“Listen, when the press is getting this story they are being relentless and I am thinking our boys need to be at a place that is safe. Would you consider coming here? We are having more than enough room,” Victor offered.
“No, I…well…can you hold on for a minute?”
“Absolutely,” Victor said quickly.
“What’s up?” Adam asked him.
“Victor wants us to come out there and, fuck, Adam, this is so insane and I don’t think it’s really hit me yet, but…he might be right. When the press picks up the story and starts digging like the vultures they are…” He thought about David and the baby and how upsetting it would be for them to be hounded by the media over this.
“Tell him we’ll be there in a couple of hours.” Adam seemed to agree with Dracula.
“I’ll go tell David to pack a bag for him and Dusty and ask Kassie to get the baby’s things together,” Jordan said, already halfway across the living room.
“Well, all right, then.” Bringing the phone back up to his ear, he told Victor what Adam said and hung up, tossing Jordan’s phone onto the coffee table. Tears stung his eyes but he fought hard to hold them in. He needed to be strong for his son and the baby. Later, when he and Adam were alone, he’d allow himself to have the breakdown he deserved.
~ Chapter 17 | Broken ~
A loud clap of thunder woke Adam from a fitful sleep. Reaching for his phone on the bedside table, he checked the display for the time—ten in the morning. It was well past midnight before he and Dean had gone to bed, and longer still before Dean’s trembling body had settled in his arms. He’d known when they left the city, Dean staring aimlessly out the window of the Denali, that his lover would eventually cave to the storm of emotions he was keeping bottled up inside. It was understandable that Dean would want to remain steadfast and strong for his son; Adam had expected that, welcomed it, in fact. As soon as Dean stopped moving, once he and Adam were alone in the dark room, the door closed to the rest of the world, his lover had fallen apart in Adam’s arms and cried himself to sleep.
Rolling onto his side, he finally noticed that the other side of the bed was empty. He’d hoped Dean would sleep longer, the past twenty-four hours having taken its toll on them all. Climbing out of bed, he grabbed his jeans and T-shirt, dressing quickly and heading toward the stairs by way of the bathroom.
Adam hadn’t known what to expect the previous afternoon when they’d arrived at the big house in Mamaroneck, but the peaceful quiet was a bit of a shock. He’d never been to the house when there wasn’t the constant cacophony of people that came and went. Victor met them on the porch, pulling both Anderson men into his arms and hugging the shit out of them, whispering something in Romanian that Adam didn’t understand but made a mental note to ask about at a later time. Andrew was pulling a pan of homemade cinnamon rolls from the oven as they entered through the back door, the house smelling delicious and the atmosphere inviting.
“Mattie is upstairs with Astrid; why don’t you take baby Xan up there, Kassie, and they can play while the rest of us talk?” Andrew asked Kassie, smiling sadly and heading toward the stairs carrying the baby in his car seat. Andrew tossed the oven mitts onto the kitchen island, reaching for Dusty and wrapping both arms around him, kissing the top of his head and telling him, then Dean, how sorry he was for their loss.
“I am having hard time with believing in this. They were just here,” Victor said, his usually boisterous tone dimmed with an edge of pain. Adam saw the big man at the head of the All Cocks family in a different light then. Victor was always the pillar of strength for everyone around him, especially his husbands and now Astrid. But yesterday when they arrived, he didn’t stand as tall.
***
Wanting to check on the baby, Adam stopped at the nursery door, gently pushing it open and stepping into the room. Astrid and Xander lay sleeping, not a care in the world, on their sides facing each other. He envied the little ones for a brief moment, wanting to do nothing more than stick his head in the sand and pretend the last forty-eight hours hadn’t happened.
“Morning,” Kassie whispered, coming into the room with two mugs in her hands, giving one of them to Adam. “He has been a perfect little angel; both of them have, actually.” She leaned over the crib, patting each baby in turn on their back softly.
Adam grinned, taking a sip of the heavenly smelling black liquid. “How did you know I like my coffee black?” he asked.
“Dean told me. He’s downstairs on the back porch with Dusty, David, and Mattie.”
He reached for her, rubbing his hand over her swollen belly. “How are you doing, Kassie? This isn’t too much for you, is it? You have to take care of you and this baby as well.”
“Babies,” she said, sipping on some kind of tea if Adam had to guess, the color of the liquid in the mug she held having a pink tint to it, the warm smell of cinnamon and plums tickling his nostrils.
It took a minute for his exhausted brain to catch up with what she said. “Wait, babies, plural?”
Her smile was wide and beautiful. Definitely a welcome change to all the sadness they’d been enveloped in since the previous day. “Yes, twins,” she said a little louder, almost squealing. They both held their breaths a few seconds when baby Xander jerked, rolling onto his belly with his legs tucked up underneath him before he stilled again.
“That’s wonderful news, Kassie.” Jerking his head toward the door, they left the nursery and headed down to the kitchen. “Have you and Jordan told anyone else yet? Or is it a secret?” Adam asked, walking down the stairs right beside her, suddenly worried she might slip or fall.
Kassie shook her head. “Not yet and I’m not sure that now is the best time either.”
Adam nodded his agreement; she was probably right. Topping off his cup, he walked around the island and straight out to the back porch to find his guys. The three of them were sitting on the porch swing, watching the rainfall around them. Dusty was leaning against his father and David lay across them, his head in Dean’s lap. Jordan sat in one of the two large wicker chairs with his feet propped up on the small table, so Adam took the empty one. Dean looked his way, their eyes meeting and Adam’s stomach fell. There was so much sadness and pain in his lover’s usually beautiful brown eyes that it gutted Adam. But then, there was also some semblance of peace lurking in the deep brown pools as well. More than anything, he wanted to stand and go over to him, pull Dean into his arms and hold him and promise him that everything would be okay. But in all honesty, it wouldn’t. Nothing would ever be the same again.
***
The room was still shrouded in the darkness of early morning when Dean climbed out of bed. Pulling on a pair of sweats and a long-sleeved T-shirt, he moved as quietly as possible, careful not to wake Adam, leaving the room and making his way downstairs. It wasn’t a surprise to see the light from the kitchen spilling out into the foyer at the bottom of the stairs. Mattie sat at the
large dining table feeding both babies. A sudden pang in his heart almost left Dean doubled over in pain. Mags would never see her beautiful baby boy grow up. His mind was flooded with images of Maggie, Dusty, and himself in their kitchen cooking dinner, at PTA meetings, and peewee football games. Maggie crying like an idiot when her son went on his first date with the quarterback of the football team in high school. Maggie livid, her face red and splotchy with anger when their son snuck out, stole their car, and drove it into a ditch. Maggie would never cry like an idiot or get pissed off again because she was gone, and Dean was so overwhelmed with emotions in that moment that he had to stop and sit down on the bottom step.
He was angry, sad, pissed off, and terrified, all at the same time. How will that baby ever know how wonderful his mother and father were? Why Lord, why did this happen? Dean raised his head to the heavens, thinking of cursing God for a split second before realizing his anger was misplaced. A quick prayer for forgiveness and guidance in his and his family’s time of need, and a few deep breaths later, he rose and walked into the kitchen.
Astrid and Xander were in their carriers which were set on the table, Mattie holding a bottle for each child, smiling down at them. As soon as Dean walked into the kitchen, Mattie looked up and smiled. “Hey you, awake already?”
“More like still,” Dean muttered, heading for the coffeemaker to start a fresh pot. He leaned against the counter, waiting for the coffee to brew, watching Mattie lift Astrid to burp her before setting his daughter back in her carrier, then repeating the motions with Xander. It was a small piece of happiness in the middle of the storm raging around them, seeing Mattie care for the little ones like it was second nature.
“Hazlenut creamer is in the door, just a splash, no sugar.” Mattie waved his hand toward the fridge and Dean chuckled. He took the seat next to Mattie, passing the half-assed requested cup of coffee to the young man a couple of minutes later. Mattie inhaled the rich aroma, eyes closed, a grin on his lips. “Perfect.”
The younger man that fit flawlessly into the role of parent stood then, heading for the back door. “Let’s sit outside; the babies will be fine.”
Early morning was beginning to break, a sliver of light on the horizon the only indication. Surrounded by near-darkness and the occasional clap of thunder and lightning parting the sky like the red sea while rain fell in rivulets in the yard, right outside the screened porch they sat in, Dean allowed himself a few moments to grieve. It was odd really, the much younger man being a rock for him to slam against while he rode the waves of sadness racking his body. Neither man spoke because right then, no words were necessary. Mattie held him close and let Dean cry it out, for the second time in not so many hours. He hadn’t allowed himself to break down in public, only behind a closed door with Adam, wanting to be a rock for his son who had lost so much more than Dean.
Yes, he and Mags had shared a lifetime of memories, but losing a lover and losing a parent were wildly different things. Dean could remember how devastated he was when his mother died, so he could empathize with his son, almost. His parents had died of natural causes, more like old age, but the mother of his son…she was taken from them in an act of violence. “Jesus Mattie, we still don’t know the circumstances of their death. Only that Jon said they were murdered. Did they suffer? Oh my God, Mattie, I…I don’t know if I can do this.” Dean choked the words out around the lump of sadness in his throat threatening to strangle him slowly, painfully.
“None of that now,” Mattie said before gently pushing Dean off him. Turning sideways, Dean tried to focus on the stern glare he was receiving but his eyes were blurred by his tears. “Now you listen to me, Dean Anderson. What you, your son, and that baby have been forced to endure is horrific and terrible and I can’t even begin to imagine what you are feeling right now. But you need to be strong for your boys, you hear me?” All Dean could manage was a jerky head nod in response.
“What you need to remember is that you are not alone. The whole of our family, everyone that works with us bleeds with us, and we will all do whatever we need to do to make sure that you and Adam and those two boys and that beautiful baby have the support you need to get through this. We are your family now and always.” Even through the river of tears he was trying to keep at bay, Dean could see the raw honesty in Mattie’s eyes as he spoke. It was all too much; he was cut open and exposed, metaphorically bleeding. He tried to turn away but Mattie wouldn’t let him.
“You need to get it out Dean, the anger, the vitriol, all of it. Let it go now when it’s just the two of us and there’s no one around that could accidentally be hurt by what you’re feeling, what you’re trying to sort through right now. Let. It. Go.” Mattie spoke tenderly, but curtly, leaving no room for argument. And so, he did. He let the tears flow and the anger seep from every pore. Mattie’s T-shirt was soaked with tears before Dean came up for air.
“I’m so angry Mattie; why them? I don’t understand the hate in this world sometimes. But more than that, I’m angry for Xander and Dusty, the boys she left behind.” It was getting harder for him to breathe, and there were spots littering his field of vision.
“Whoa, here, lay your head in my lap and try to breathe slowly before you hyperventilate.” Mattie pulled him over and Dean fell sideways. It was god-awful uncomfortable, sitting sideways with his head in Mattie’s lap, his feet still firmly planted on the concrete porch. “There’s a line Dumbledore says at the end of one of the Harry Potter movies that I’m reminded of right now.”
Dean snorted. “Harry Potter, really, right now?”
“Shush!” Mattie smacked him on the arm. “He tells Harry, ‘There comes a time in everyone’s life where they have to make a choice between what is right, and what is easy’ or something like that.”
Dean chortled then, for which he was rewarded with a harder smack on the shoulder. “My point is,” Mattie sighed, obviously exasperated, “this is that time for you Dean. Are you going to be the father that all three of those boys need, even if only one is actually yours? Or are you going to curl up into a ball and retreat?”
Sitting up, Dean stared at the young man beside him. “How in the hell did you get to be so smart, Mattie?”
“Dad, is everything okay?” Dean and Mattie both turned toward the screen door, Dusty standing there staring at them uncertainly.
“Yeah kiddo, it is; come here.” Dean smiled, waving his son over.
Mattie stood, grabbing his cup of coffee, he scooted past Dusty and David as they moved toward the swing where Dean sat. “I’ll leave you guys to it, then.”
As the early morning dusk gave way to the dawn, still gray and angry, rain spilling from the sky, the three of them sat in silence and wept for what had been taken from them. Andrew came out with a tray holding three cups of coffee and a plate of biscuits and honey at one point to fill their bellies and give them at least a modicum of strength to face the day. None of them were able to do much more than sip and nibble. When Victor came out to take the tray and leave three fresh, steaming mugs for them, Dean grabbed one then stood and walked over to the screen door that led out into the yard. He watched the tire swing sway in the breeze, another flash of lightning making the yard look like something out of a comic book, the colors odd and striking. His heart hurt when a vision of Isaac pushing Mags and the baby in the swing the day they came out for the BBQ danced through his head.
His feet moved on their own, his brain in a fog, down the steps and over to the tire swing. “Dad?” He could hear Dusty calling out, but couldn’t make himself stop moving or turn to look at him. No, he had to be in that swing, now. It was a tight squeeze, the tire barely fitting his larger frame, but he managed. The storm waging around him couldn’t compare the one he felt bone deep. He allowed himself another moment of weakness, away from prying eyes, crying until he couldn’t tell if the wetness littering his cheeks was from the rain or his tears.
From one second to the next, the rain eased to a slow patter and a soft breeze blew through
the tree the swing was attached to. Dean felt certain there were words floating in the air with the falling leaves. “Mags?” he whispered, feeling her presence all around him, engulfing him in a blanket of love and warmth. It was in that moment that he finally felt some peace. Climbing out of the swing, he stood there, arms outstretched to the heavens, and he promised Maggie that everything would be okay.
“Dean! Get your ass in here before you get washed away, or worse, catch a cold.” Mattie hollered. As soon as he was under the cover of the porch, safe from the rain and wind, Mattie shoved a sweat suit into his arms, pushing him toward the house with an angry scowl marring his usually beautiful face. “Go change, dumbass.” When Dean grabbed Mattie and hugged him, the look he got was equal parts trepidation and curiosity. Changing into the dry clothes—probably Victor’s since they were long enough but snug—he was back outside on the swing with the boys not more than ten minutes before Jordan, then Adam joined them; the five of them sitting quietly, contradictory to the storm that was now raging around them once again.