by T. J. Klune
Hypocritical, yes.
But I know that.
I wanted the Kid to avoid the mistakes I’d made.
And in doing so, I made things worse.
There had been times I’d let the Kid down. I knew that. He’d been disappointed in me before.
“NOW YOU listen to me,” I said, feeling angrier than I had any right to be. But the Kid was handcuffed in the back of a cop car, and I could see the whites of his eyes. Either he was panicking, on his way to panicking, or had just gotten finished panicking, and I wasn’t thinking rationally. “You haven’t been around for the past four years and—”
“That wasn’t my choice,” Dominic said in that strangely broken voice of his.
I narrowed my eyes at him. “I didn’t say it was. Don’t interrupt me again. We clear?”
He nodded at me, though it looked like it cost him.
“You haven’t been here, Dom. I know that’s not your fault. I’m not blaming you for anything.” Mostly. “But things are different now. We make the choices we do to protect those we love. You, of all people, should know this. The Kid might be a pain in my ass, and he might not think things through all the time—”
The little shit muttered something under his breath, but I ignored him.
“—but he is my brother and he belongs to me. I’ve raised him. I’ve cared for him. I’ve held him when the panic attacks became so fucking strong he couldn’t breathe. He’s stronger than anyone else I know, but he can still break, and if you’re the one to break him, then may god save you from me. You’re still a member of this family, and I love you, but if you hurt him, Dominic, I will end you.”
And I was feeling pretty good about myself. I was a badass. I was standing toe to toe with a cop the size of a goddamn yak and giving him a piece of my mind. I meant every word. He belonged to us, but I would spread parts of his body all across the county if he hurt the Kid in any way.
I was fierce. I was hard-core.
And then I said the stupidest thing I’d said in a very long time. “Do you need us to pick up Ben? It has to be close to the end of your shift.”
Dom shook his head. “He needs his routine, you know? Can you call Anna? He knows her. She’s on the emergency contact list, and it’ll be easier.”
And I agreed. Like it was nothing.
“You’re wrong, though.”
“About what?” I asked, ready to kick him in the motherfucking balls, not caring if I’d get arrested for assaulting a police officer.
“About Tyson belonging to you,” he said, eyes flashing. “You know as well as I do that from the first moment I laid eyes on him, he belonged to me too. Maybe even more than you. The moment he followed that ant outside, he was mine.”
Dominic Miller was a big guy, possibly even bigger than Otter. He was in his prime, healthy, and extraordinarily intimidating when he wanted to be.
He had also just pissed me the fuck off.
Which meant I started forward without thinking, aware that he could probably take me down with a single swing of his fist but needing to do something.
Thankfully, Otter liked my face shaped the way it was and pulled me back before I could move any farther, stepping out in front of me, blocking my path to Dominic. “Now might be a good time for you to leave.”
Damn right it is, I wanted to snarl over his shoulder. You better run before I attempt unsuccessfully to harm you physically.
“Please don’t attack the police officer that we know and love,” Otter muttered to me, which for a brief moment, made me angrier before I deflated. He was right, of course. Besides, I’d made it this far without getting arrested, and knowing Dominic, he would totally do that just to prove a point.
So I said the only thing I could. “All you need to do is remember to just breathe, okay?”
The Kid nodded at me, and I let Otter start to pull me away. And because I needed to make sure Dom understood that none of this was okay, I snapped over my shoulder, “And take those cuffs off him. As much as he deserves them, they’ll only make things worse.”
I didn’t look back after that.
“I AM going to kill him,” I growled to no one in particular as I paced back and forth in the kitchen of the Green Monstrosity.
“Is he talking about Hot Cop or Tyson?” Kori whispered to Otter.
“Hard to say at this point,” Otter whispered back. “Probably both.”
“Ah. That… doesn’t clarify anything, actually. Dammit.”
“Yeah, you’d think you’d know that by now.”
“Throwing shit through windows? Who the fuck does he think he is?”
“Ah,” Otter said. “We’re on Tyson now.”
“Thanks for clarifying,” Kori said. “Because I never would have figured it out on my own.”
I whirled around on her. “And you.”
“Eep,” she said. She cleared her throat. “Let me try that again. You startled me.” She coughed before she squared her shoulders. “Me? What about me?”
“You should be on television,” Otter said.
“Thank you. I think so too.”
“You let him throw a rock through a restaurant window! I know he can be stupid sometimes, because it’s genetic, but I expected more from you.”
Kori squinted at me. “Did—did you just insult yourself while also trying to make me feel bad? Because that’s impressive. And to reiterate, Tyson didn’t throw anything. It was the beach hippies.”
“Who couldn’t be bothered to also be arrested,” Otter said. “I never get to do anything fun.”
I glared at him. “You’re going to be in trouble too if you keep talking.”
“That was surprisingly attractive,” Kori said. “You two should seriously consider making a sex tape. For science.”
“Well, we tried once—”
“Otter!”
“I mean, we’ve never done that before nor have considered it. And we certainly have never set the camera up but then just forgot to turn it on.”
Kori gaped at us. “I’m going to go masturbate—meditate. I’m going to go meditate. At the idea of your sex tape.”
“You sit your butt down,” I said. “You’re in trouble too.” I turned and gripped the edges of the kitchen sink, trying to calm myself down.
“Ugh. That’s unfortunate.”
“Hey,” Otter said, coming up behind me and hooking his chin over my shoulder.
“Hey, yourself,” I said back.
“It’s okay.”
“Right.”
“They need to work this out on their own.”
“But he’s—”
“Not as fragile as you sometimes think he is,” Otter said gently. “He’s been through a lot, sure. But he’s always been stronger than people give him credit for. You have to trust him to know what he’s doing.”
“I don’t know if I can do that. Not yet.”
Otter sighed. “I don’t blame you for that. And part of me agrees. But this isn’t about you or me. Whatever happens with Dom and the Kid isn’t something we can have any control over. I know it’s hard, Bear, but sometimes you’ve got to let things go.”
“That’s terrible advice.”
“But it’s right.”
“I disagree with you completely.”
“I can work with that,” he said, nose in my hair, breath against my ear. I felt him grin when I shuddered just a little bit.
“You cheat,” I muttered.
“And I feel real bad about it.”
“So much meditation,” Kori breathed behind us.
Otter smacked a kiss to my check and stepped away. “You need to call Anna about Ben.”
I was starting to get a headache. “Yeah. I should—”
“Who’s Ben?” Kori asked.
“Dominic’s son. He’s at day care.”
And Kori made a sound then that honestly gave me fear for her life. Like she was choking and imploding all at the same time. “His what?”
It hit me then, jus
t what we’d forgotten.
After everything we’d been through, after all that we’d had to focus on, the one thing we should have talked to Tyson about was the one thing that we’d let fall through the cracks.
I turned slowly to look at Otter, who was already staring at me, eyes wide.
“Oh shit,” we both said at the same time.
“Jesus Christ,” Kori said, glancing between the two of us. “Are your lives always this dramatic? Who the hell are you people?”
IT WENT as well as expected.
Which is to say it didn’t go very well at all.
Especially when I said, “I did what I thought was best. What I thought was right. I will do whatever I can to keep you safe. To keep you from hurting.”
And the Kid said, “No more. You don’t get to decide for me anymore.”
It felt like I lost something that day. Something I wasn’t even aware I could lose.
IT SEEMED like I didn’t see him much that summer. We’d always been so intertwined in each other’s lives that I felt the loss keenly. It probably wasn’t the healthiest relationship, but for a long time, it felt like all we’d had was each other. That wasn’t necessarily true, but I hadn’t done anyone any favors by pushing those around us away all those years before and clutching the Kid close to my chest.
“It’ll be okay,” Otter told me late one night. “He’ll come around. He always does.”
“Your optimism is annoying.”
He chuckled quietly in the dark. “You love it.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I grumbled as he pulled me closer, making sure my head was on his pillow, just how he liked it. My back was against his bare chest, and I grabbed his arms, making sure they were tight around me.
And it was later, when I was about to drift off, when he said, “It’s going to be like this, you know. Sometimes.”
“Hmm?”
“When we have a kid.”
I was wide-awake after that. “It is?”
He snorted against my neck, which was both disgusting and amazing at the same time. “I’m pretty sure having a child means that they may love you, but they don’t have to like you all the time. And I’m pretty sure the opposite is true.”
“Then what is the point? I thought having a kid meant you would always have someone who reveres you? Why would I want to bring someone into the world who’s going to treat me like I’m the asshole?”
“Sometimes, you are the—”
“I’m pretty sure sleeping on the couch is an option right now.”
“Why would you want to sleep on the couch?”
“I didn’t mean me, you—and now you’re laughing. You suck.”
“You never complain.”
“That was terrible. You should feel embarrassed.”
“And yet.”
I absolutely did not have to smother a laugh, because he wasn’t funny.
“You….”
“What?” I asked.
“You haven’t changed your mind, have you?”
And he sounded so unlike himself, so hesitant, that I had to turn around just so I could see his face and he could see mine. He grunted as my elbow went places that were undoubtedly uncomfortable for him but still looked slightly apprehensive as I faced him, so close that our noses brushed together. His eyes glittered in the dark, and I reached up to trace my fingers over his brow, smoothing it out.
“You’re stupid,” I told him. It sounded more reassuring in my head.
He rolled his eyes. “Thanks.”
“No, listen. You’re stupid.”
“Got it the first time.”
“Well, stop it, then. I told you I wanted this. With you. Okay? And I wouldn’t take something like this back. This is a big thing, Otter. And it’s terrifying and ridiculous and I’m sure I’m probably going to freak out a billion times more.”
“Maybe a little more than a billion.”
“You know me so well. It’s like we’re married or something.”
Oliver Thompson seems simple on the surface. He’s big and strong and smiles like the sun. He’s well-spoken and handsome, and I could understand how people would look at him and just see the superficial. It’d be so easy to dismiss him as a pretty face who never seems to let a single thing get to him.
But he is so much more than that.
Little things make him happy. He likes the sound leaves make under our feet when we walk in the fall. He likes the way the ocean smells, salt carried on the wind. He loves his brother fiercely but laments at times that he’s not sure he knows who he is anymore. He likes drinking beer and has an obscene number of beer cozies, most of which he can’t even remember where he got them from. He loves it when I sit on his back when he does push-ups, no matter how much he complains about it. He likes hugs and the way sand feels between his toes and eating crunchy peanut butter directly from the jar.
But there is more.
He’s never completely forgiven his parents for their treatment after he came out, even though they supposedly had their reasons, however ludicrous they were. He loves them, but they hurt him, and hurt is not so easily forgotten.
He sometimes doesn’t know his own worth, and I decided a long time ago that I was going to do my very best to make sure he understood he is worth everything.
He can be shy, especially when meeting new people, because he doesn’t want to say the wrong thing. It’s why he always finds himself behind the camera rather than in front of it. Things are easier when they’re filtered through a lens.
His leg bothers him more than he likes to admit, because he doesn’t complain about anything.
He’s stubborn and too self-sacrificing.
He has the biggest heart out of anyone that I’ve ever known.
He’s good. He is kind.
And for some reason, he’s mine.
Which is why I knew exactly what I was doing when I said, “It’s like we’re married or something,” because Oliver Thompson loves being reminded of that fact. For some reason, the idea of being married to me will always put a smile on his face, no matter how serious the situation.
I knew him. I knew his heart. His fierce, breakable, unfathomable heart.
And he did. How he smiled at that.
“Yeah,” he said. “Like we’re married or something.”
“We’re going to be parents,” I told him. “I promise. I don’t care how long it takes or if we have to sell my kidney, we’re going to have a kid that will one day hate us for being reasonable because we won’t let him try crack or get on the back of a motorcycle.”
“Those… aren’t even remotely related.”
“Sort of.”
“Him, huh?”
“What?”
“You said we won’t let him try crack.”
“Our conversations are so weird.”
He laughed. “Don’t I know it. But… that’s what you want? A boy?”
“Honestly? I don’t know that I’ve thought about it one way or another. I guess I’ve always just thought…. I have no idea.”
“Ever since we’ve started this, it’s always been a kid, or it. This is the first time I’ve heard you say he.”
I was starting to feel a little cornered. “What about you? What do you want?”
He knew I was deflecting, but he let it slide. “I’d be happy either way.”
“Liar. Tell me.”
“I’m not lying.”
“Otter.”
“I would. I promise. I just—it’s dumb, right? Boy, girl, anything in between, it wouldn’t matter to me. I just—” He averted his eyes.
I took a little leap. “You want a son?”
He shrugged but didn’t say anything.
“I could see that,” I said slowly. “A little you running around underfoot.”
“It’s stupid, right?”
I kissed his forehead. “No. It’s not stupid. I like that idea.”
“Really?” And he sounded so damn hopeful that my heart broke just a little.<
br />
“Really.”
“Okay. Okay. That’d be—okay. But a girl would be okay too,” he added quickly.
“Yeah.”
“And I think I’d want it to be a little you instead.”
I snorted. “Yeah, because that wouldn’t be a fucking nightmare.”
“So we’re going to do this?”
“I thought we’d already decided to.”
“No, I mean here. Because if we use the Northwest Surrogacy Center, then we’d have to stay in Seafare. We wouldn’t go back to New Hampshire. It’d be—we’d stay here. Is that what you want?”
I hadn’t even thought about that. Sure, some part of me must have realized that, but on a subconscious level. Is that what I wanted? To stay in Seafare? What if the Kid wanted to go back to New Hampshire? Could I really let him go?
I opened my mouth to tell him I didn’t know. I really did. Instead, I said, “Anna said there’s going to be a teaching position opening up at the middle school. She’s already talked me up to the district, apparently. I think they’re scared of her.”
And there it went again. That crooked smile. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. I could—well. We could do this. If that’s what you wanted. Stay in the Green Monstrosity. Start here.”
“What about the Kid?”
I took a deep breath and said the one thing I never thought I’d say. “We can’t let him decide what our future is going to be. He’s… old enough. To make his own decisions. To make his own mistakes. The best we can do is be here if he needs to come home again. And I’m probably going to contradict that daily, so. Fair warning.”
“Even if he wants to go back to New Hampshire?”
“Even if,” I said.
Liar, it whispered.