Dare to Hope

by Caitlin Ricci

  Trent left the house with another slam, and under different circumstances Samuel would’ve felt sorry for the piece of wood.

  Trent’s words hit home, because Bran burst out in fresh tears while Kaden tried to calm him down without success.

  “I’ve got to call him. To apologize and tell him I didn’t mean it.”

  He grabbed his cell phone and walked into the kitchen, where they could hear his voice but not the words he spoke. A few minutes later, he appeared from around the wall, still very upset.

  “He’s not answering. I left a message.” Bran climbed on Kaden’s lap and started crying against his neck.

  “Bran, don’t take this all upon yourself. I’ve let Chris down too.” The guilt lay heavy on Samuel’s soul.

  “I’m his best friend, Sam. Best friends don’t do what I did today. They stand by their mates, no matter what. For him to hide something from me like his visit here, I should’ve known it was serious. I behaved like a selfish child. I’ve failed him so badly.”

  Bran’s pain echoed through his own heart.

  “Me too. Look, I’m gonna head on home and try to get some rest. I don’t know what we’re gonna do right now. Going after him will only push him farther away. I need time to think. See you guys later.” Samuel let himself out of the house and closed the door softly, despite wanting to punch a hole in it or rather break his hand against the solid wood.

  Exhaustion weighed him down as he drove the short distance home, and when he walked into the house, he wanted to cry. Even with only a short stay there, Chris had left memories behind for Samuel to revisit. The couch was no longer just a seat to relax in—it was a piece of furniture reminiscent of heartbreak, affection, comfort, and desire.

  The kitchen came across empty without someone sitting at the table keeping him company while he cooked something to eat. Hearing Chris’s voice behind him would’ve been a hell of a lot better than the still emptiness now surrounding him.

  He drew the curtains and toed off his boots before lying down on the couch despite the ache it brought to his heart. An arm over his eyes somehow relieved some of the pressure behind them and the throb in his head. His concern for Chris in his current mental state had him on the edge, but he knew there was nothing he could do about it right now. Chris was probably at the airport or already on his way back to Manhattan. Phoning him or texting him wouldn’t get an answer after what went down that afternoon.

  If he was Chris, he would never speak to them for the rest of his life. Where Chris had needed if not support then understanding at least, they had given him nothing to work with. No encouragement or kindness, and although Samuel had meant every word he said to Chris, his timing had sucked so soon after Bran going apeshit on him for lying and hiding his problem.

  Trent had been spot-on, they had fucked things up badly, and Samuel honestly didn’t know if Chris would let them make it up to him. He was not so sure he would have given them a second chance if he’d been the one on the receiving end of their selfishness. His best guess was that he’d probably blown his chance to ever have a relationship with Chris. Since day one, all Chris had wanted was to be with him, and he had to go and put some conditions on them being together. Like hoops a dog had to jump through to get a treat. What an ass he had been. He deserved to lose Chris, if he had to be honest, because if anyone had told him he had to do this or that, or attain certain things before they’d be with him, Samuel would’ve told them to go to hell. Plain and simple.

  The few relationships he’d had before were all of the serious kind, but Samuel hadn’t meant as much to those guys as they had to him. He gave his all and received second best in return. In his opinion, a relationship took hard work, and unless both parties were willing to give it, they didn’t have a fighting chance to make it succeed. So why even try? None of those guys had looked at him and treated him the way Chris did, but he had treated Chris as if he was the type of people they were.

  If he had learned anything about Chris, it was that the man was the most self-sacrificing guy he knew. His life was a mess because he cared more about his parents than he did for himself. Chris had hidden his issues from Bran to protect his friend and not burden the new couple with his problems. Samuel should’ve seen Chris was sincere, despite his emotional baggage. Chris might be broken, but he was loyal, hardworking, dedicated, and loving. Not the self-seeking jerk Samuel had treated him like.

  As he replayed the whole mess in his head, trying to figure out how the hell he could make things right, the tiredness caught up with him and he succumbed to a restless sleep.

  Chapter Twelve

  CHRIS HAD turned his phone off while he was on the planes and didn’t turn it back on until the taxi had dropped him off in front of his apartment building. But once he did, he could only stare at his phone as a voice mail notification from Bran blinked up at him. He couldn’t handle being yelled at by his ex–best friend again, especially not so soon, and quickly shoved his phone back in his pocket before getting out of the taxi.

  His building was the most modern on the block, all light gray cement and steel beams. And he’d missed it, right down to the coffee house music on the elevator up to the third floor. There were only four apartments on each floor, giving them all their own little corner of the building. His views weren’t great, but they were something, and sometimes the yoga studio across the street left their blinds open and he could watch the cute guys stretching from his couch.

  He was so tired, so completely out of it, that he nearly ran over a boy sitting in front of the door to the apartment next to his, a soccer ball held tightly between his crossed legs.

  Chris crouched down to get Mikey’s attention and waved his hand in front of the little boy’s face to say hello. Mikey smiled at him, then pulled out a pen and pad of paper, something he always had with him, ever since he and his mom had moved into the building two years before.

  How was New Zealand? Mikey wrote, then showed it to him.

  Chris stood and motioned Mikey up as well. If he was going to have company and force himself to interact with someone, then he sure as hell was going to do it while being comfortable. Mikey followed him into his apartment and plopped down on Chris’s sleek black sofa. It was his usual spot. Chris dropped his duffle by the front door and poured himself a glass of soda before coming over to sit next to him. He desperately needed the caffeine, and the sugar would help perk him up. Mikey knew where everything in his kitchen was if he wanted to get himself something.

  He pulled out his phone and typed back to Mikey, holding it up for Mikey to see as soon as he was done. Far away. Glad to be home.

  Mikey nodded as if he, being only twelve, had any concept of what the hell a thirty-hour trip felt like. To Chris it was like being dead, then left somewhere in a tiny compartment filled with a bunch of other dead people. He desperately needed a shower to get the airplane funk off his skin.

  Where’s your mom? Chris asked him before Mikey could write anything else to him.

  He wrote quickly. Work.

  Chris really didn’t need this right then, especially when he only wanted to crawl into bed and forget about all the shit of the last few days. On Monday he’d still had Bran, still had a chance with Samuel and a place to go if things ever got bad. By Friday he’d destroyed it all and his friends had turned against him. Sitter? Chris typed back.

  Mikey shrugged, and Chris quickly dialed the boy’s mom.

  “Chris? What’s up? I didn’t think you’d be back already. But maybe I’m getting my days mixed up.”

  He could hear the sounds of the hospital where she worked as a nurse in the background. “Hey. I found Mikey in the hallway. Mind if he hangs out with me for a bit?”

  She sighed loudly and mumbled something he wouldn’t have expected the petite, pixie-like woman to know how to say. He felt like laughing and probably would have too if he didn’t feel so miserable.

  “I’m firing that babysitter. I know he’s old enough, at twelve, not to need one
, but I feel better with him having someone there with him. Maybe his dad can take him tomorrow. Or I’ll try to switch my shifts to overnights while he’s mostly asleep. Something. Are you really okay if he stays there with you? Just for an hour? I’ll call my sister to pick him up today. I’m pretty sure she has the time off.”

  Mikey wasn’t any trouble for him, and in a way, it was nice not to be so alone for a little while. “Yeah. It’ll be fine. I’ll give him beer and take him to a strip club.”

  She snickered. “Of course you will. Make sure he doesn’t spend all of his allowance.”

  Chris liked that she didn’t take him too seriously. She was a good neighbor like that and a great mom for Mikey as far as he was concerned. Not that he had much experience in the parenting department.

  “Thanks for letting him hang out with you for a little bit. I promise it won’t be more than an hour. At the absolute most. And I’ll pay you for watching him.”

  “I’m not taking your money,” Chris told her. He’d never let her pay him for watching Mikey before.

  “You’re a good guy, Chris. Find a husband and adopt a lot of kids someday, okay?”

  That definitely wasn’t happening. “I’d rather have a dozen deadly spiders attacking me in my sleep.”

  Miranda laughed like she thought he was joking. Too bad he wasn’t.

  “Sure…. Whatever you say. I have to get back to my rounds. Take care. Thanks for being a lifesaver. And tell my kid I love him.”

  “See you.” Chris hung up, then looked down at Mikey, who was watching him intently. He typed quickly so the kid could get caught up. Talked to your mom. Your aunt is coming to get you in a bit. Mom says she loves you.

  Mikey grinned and nodded, letting him know he understood. Chris erased the words and wrote another message. I need a shower. Food’s in the fridge. Order a movie if you want.

  He showed Mikey the text, then got off the couch while the kid got the remote and started going through the animated movies. There was a whole section of movies that came with text, something that hadn’t cost him more than a few dollars extra on top of his already expensive package. He figured it was worth it so that Mikey could see the new movies his friends had, and Miranda couldn’t really afford what he paid to be able to watch TV in his limited downtime.

  He headed into his bedroom, making sure to close the door behind him, and ignored his phone when it beeped. He couldn’t stop his curiosity for long, though, and before he got into the shower, he was looking at a text from Samuel.

  Did you get back safely?

  Chris shook his head and deleted the text. Samuel didn’t get to ask that, didn’t get to care about him. Not anymore.

  The shower felt good and helped him feel human again. So did changing into slacks and a button-down shirt. Shorts were for vacations and going out with friends. He’d have a vacation again in a few months, but friends were off the table for him, at least for right now. When he came out of his bedroom, Mikey had finished off the rest of Chris’s soda and made himself some microwave popcorn. Chris tried not to care about the mess Mikey was making with the loose kernels as he sat down next to the kid on the couch.

  Mikey’s aunt showed up about ten minutes later, looking a bit frazzled with her hair in a messy bun and her mismatched socks, but she seemed happy to see Mikey as he ran to her, dropping popcorn after him. He signed excitedly to her, and she was just as fast with her responses. Chris wished he’d been able to pick the language up easier. His sign language skills were limited to hello, good-bye, I love you, and fuck off. The last one he’d learned by accident when he’d been trying to copy Mikey’s movements and done one of them wrong.

  “Hey, Stephanie,” Chris said, holding the door open for her if she wanted to come in.

  She patted his shoulder. “Hello. I somehow thought you’d look better after your trip to…. Now, don’t tell me. Miranda said you were visiting friends in… New Mexico?”

  That would have been a much easier trip. “New Zealand.”

  Her eyes got big. “World traveler. That’s nice.”

  “Not so nice on my back. Airports are not the most comfortable places in the world. Thanks for coming to get him. I’m probably going to head into the office in a bit.”

  She shook her head at him. “You just got back. Relax for a few days. And don’t thank me. You should be getting all the thanks for letting him stay with you for a little while.”

  It really hadn’t been a big deal, as luckily Mikey was pretty self-sufficient. “I won’t be working too late,” he promised. He had things to do, though, notes from meetings to catch up on, probably a whole pile of paperwork, and hundreds of e-mails from clients, all demanding attention at once. That last bit always took the longest and drove him completely nuts.

  Stephanie smiled at him. “Good. Also, there’s a new guy at the art studio I work out of on the weekends. He’s pretty cute. I can get you his number if you want.”

  Chris appreciated her thinking of him, but he shook his head. “Thanks, but I’m off dating for a while. Too much work to do,” he added quickly, in case she thought to pry. They were good people, but the sisters spent far too much time thinking about hooking him up with the guys they knew for his taste.

  “Poor baby. But okay. Go be whatever the gay version of a spinster is when you’re sixty and only have your career to keep you company.”

  He rolled his eyes and waved at Mikey. They bumped fists, something that made Mikey smile, and minutes later he was alone in his apartment. He sighed and started the laundry, took stock of his groceries, and cleaned up the popcorn. An hour later he was bored and staring at a picture on his phone of himself and Bran from their trip to Key West while he tried not to cry.

  “Get it together, asshole,” he grumbled to himself. He needed a distraction, and work would be perfect. It was usually easy to get lost in the problematic lives of his clients while he tried to forget about his own.

  The office was a quick five-minute taxi ride from his apartment when there wasn’t snow everywhere. That afternoon it took him nearly twenty. He didn’t have a set time to be there and wasn’t even expected to come back until Monday, so that only left him staring at the hundreds of pictures he had of himself and Bran as he waited for the traffic to clear. If anyone looked through his phone they would have probably thought he was with Bran, judging by how many pictures he had of them with their arms around each other. And in every damn one, they were both smiling. Because that’s what best friends did when they were together.

  He exited out of his pictures and shoved his phone back into his pocket. Screw that. If Bran didn’t want him in his life anymore, then Chris wasn’t going to mope either. Over a decade of being friends and Bran was the one that had thrown their friendship away, not him. He was a stupid, mean…. He was Chris’s best friend, and now he was gone, and Chris felt completely alone.

  He texted Misha and gave him an update, knowing Misha would want to know the latest happenings in his life. You got your wish. Bran is out of my life. He threw me away.

  Misha wouldn’t be texting him back until tomorrow, as was his pattern over the last few months. And it was only ever one quick text to let him know Misha was okay. He needed those texts more than he was sure Misha was aware.

  After getting out of the taxi in front of the historical brick building in the heart of Manhattan, Chris quickly made his way up the half-dozen steps and into the lobby, where the receptionist gave him a nod. And he walked up another set of steps to his office at the end of the row of offices completely identical to his own. The only thing that made his office different was the brass plaque on his door that said his full name, followed by the shiny italic title of Attorney at Law.

  As predicted, there were files stacked on his desk, but instead of letting that pile of work fill him with dread, he welcomed the distraction from thinking about the mess he’d made of everything in New Zealand. It wasn’t even like Bran and everyone being mad at him was his fault. They were the crazy ones,
not him.

  He sat down at his desk, started some low, soft music, and got started. He wasn’t even through answering his first page of new e-mails when his dad came into his office without knocking.

  “Hi,” Chris said, moving back from his desk and getting to his feet to greet him.

  “I see you’re back. I wasn’t happy about hearing the news from my assistant, though. You’re expected to come straight to me. We have cases to go over.”

  Chris nodded and retook his seat as his dad sat down too. He went on vacation so rarely he’d completely forgotten what his father wanted from him as soon as he was back in the building. He’d only been focused on getting to his office to see how much work had piled up in the less than a week he’d been gone.

  “Where did you run away to this time?”

  Running away was a pretty appropriate description, unfortunately. He wouldn’t be going anywhere for a long time, though. Vacations were lonely, boring things without a best friend to take them with.

  “New Zealand.”

  His father’s expression turned sour. “To be with that faggot, no doubt. When are you going to grow the hell up and figure out he’s a toxic disease for you? He’s a horrible person, and he threw his whole future away last year. I should have dragged you out of that damn college the moment you told me about him. If you’d never met him, I could have grandchildren by now. Lord knows your brother isn’t giving me any with that woman of his.”

  Chris sat back, the chair squeaking under him as he shifted his weight over the springs. “Bran didn’t turn me gay. I’ve told you that before. That’s not how it goes.”

  His father’s expression turned sour. “That faggot brainwashed you into believing that. I know how their kind works.”

  Normally he would have just brushed all of his father’s hateful words aside. He was a mean man, but he was his father, and Chris only had one of those. And after losing Bran and Samuel, he really didn’t have anyone else left but his dad. Misha certainly wasn’t coming back home anytime soon, his mom was always busy, and Chris liked being around people.