by Jay Bell
Chapter Twelve
When Jason awoke, he was alone. The light in the room was brighter, the clouds having left the sky. The afternoon sun shone directly through his window on its journey toward the horizon. Despite the cheery atmosphere, he still felt upset. The memory of the buck remained painful, and now he faced other complications, the most immediate being a call of nature and his unwillingness to leave the room. He could hear the others, Peter’s voice the loudest. Jason could imagine his smug expression and how cocky he’d be for doing what Caesar had failed to do. Everyone seemed to be in the kitchen, meaning Jason could probably sneak down the hall and return undetected.
Jason successfully navigated the hall to the bathroom and made it back, thinking he had pulled it off, but a few seconds later he heard a light rap on the door. When it opened, he was relieved to see the knocker was only Caesar—which was funny since lately he’d been the person Jason avoided most.
“Feeling better?”
“No,” Jason said honestly. “Can I stay in here?”
“For today, maybe. After that…” Caesar exhaled, as if this were a tall order. “I could drain my college fund. Buy this cabin so you can live forever in this room.”
Jason managed a fleeting smile. “I don’t want to face the others. Are they…”
Caesar shut the door behind him. “Peter is still bragging. He’s not really interested in how you acted because he wants all the praise he can get from Dad. He’ll probably say something snide when you do come out, but you shouldn’t react to it. Don’t give him the satisfaction. Dad worries this trip traumatized you, but luckily, he’s more preoccupied with his disappointment in me. So really, the heat is off you.”
“Sorry,” Jason said. “For what it’s worth, I’m proud of you. I saw what you tried to do.”
Caesar shrugged and leaned against the closed door. “Didn’t do much good. You want me to bring you dinner when it’s ready?”
Jason swallowed. “Are we eating the buck?”
“Not tonight. Dad had a guy from the hunting lodge pick it up and it’s being… uh, prepared.”
“Butchered,” Jason said. “I’m okay with that. I don’t want it to have died for nothing.”
“Oh, okay. Yeah, so we’ll get the meat, and Peter wants the head mounted, but I can promise you that my mom will make him keep it in his room. She’s not a big fan of hunting.”
“Fine with me,” Jason said. “I won’t be hanging out in his room anymore.”
“Listen,” Caesar said, “about tonight, maybe I can talk Peter into bunking with me. I’m sure he’d love to hold me captive and flaunt his big achievement. Can’t say I’m looking forward to it, but that way you don’t have to be around him.”
The idea of staying with Mr. Hubbard didn’t sound appealing either. He wasn’t the kind of guy Jason felt like being vulnerable around. The only person he wanted to be with was standing right in front of him. “Let Peter stay with your dad tonight.”
Caesar balked. “But that would mean… Oh. I’ll take the couch so you can—”
“Stay with me,” Jason said. “Please.”
Caesar put his arms over his chest, started knocking one heel against the door as if nervous. Then he nodded and turned around. “I’ll see what I can do.”
* * * * *
Jason stared at the shadows on the ceiling. Outside the open window, bugs hummed in the early summer heat, interrupted now and again by sounds from the forest. The hoot of an owl, a chase through the brush, the high-pitched growl of some unidentified creature. Jason found himself wishing for the white noise that air conditioning provided, but he knew this wasn’t the reason he couldn’t sleep.
During the brief moments of silence outside, he could hear enough to tell he wasn’t alone in his insomnia. Caesar’s breathing wasn’t deep or restful. He kept tossing and turning. Jason bit his lip before deciding to roll over and face in his direction. The comforter lay crumpled on the floor, only a sheet remaining to cover Caesar’s waist. His former lover was lying on his back, one arm draped over his eyes.
Jason felt feverish with desire. He suspected he could creep out of bed and take what he wanted, but only one thing stopped him. Nathaniel. Jason was sure he and Caesar were in a relationship. If something happened tonight, Jason would be the one Caesar was cheating with, instead of on. Revenge? Probably not, because he was pretty sure from Nathaniel’s reaction at the library that he hadn’t known. Jason couldn’t claim such ignorance. Not this time. If he took what he wanted tonight, he would be helping someone cheat.
And yet, Jason still needed what he needed. The comfort physical closeness could bring, the dream of Caesar holding him until morning finally realized. Jason cared about Nathaniel getting hurt, and yet it didn’t matter because his own feelings were so much more present and demanding. He wondered if that was how Caesar had felt, if he had considered how wrong and hurtful sleeping with both of them would have been, but still felt compelled by emotion and lust to do so anyway. Maybe this made Caesar’s actions forgivable. If he were to sit up in bed right now, turn to Jason and ask forgiveness, he would grant it. Hell, there wasn’t anything Jason wouldn’t give to him right now.
He needed to. Body, heart, and even his occasionally reasonable mind all wanted this. Jason got out of bed, walked to Caesar, and took hold of his wrist to move away his arm. He wanted to look him in the eye before they kissed. Caesar jerked away, but his expression wasn’t entirely surprised. Jason bent over to bring their lips together, Caesar dodging. Then he swung his legs around to sit up.
“What are you doing?” Caesar asked.
“You know what I’m doing,” Jason replied.
“Don’t.”
Jason reached out to brush a hand against his cheek, thought fading as his body filled with desire. Caesar grabbed his wrist to stop him, so Jason used the other hand until that arm too was captured. Jason wasn’t discouraged. He stepped forward, bringing his body close, using his weight to push Caesar back onto the bed, laying on top of him. Caesar, still holding Jason’s wrists, forced him to roll over and pinned him to the mattress.
“I told you to stop,” Caesar said.
“I don’t care,” Jason replied.
He could feel Caesar’s hardness pressing against him, so Jason lifted his head to try for a kiss.
“Nathaniel.” Caesar said the name like a warning, or maybe a reminder of all that had gone wrong.
“I don’t care,” Jason repeated. “I need you. Please.”
Caesar searched his face. He was clearly conflicted, which hurt and was endearing and didn’t matter anymore, because Jason thought he’d go crazy if he didn’t get what he wanted. He felt so damn much right now that there was only one way to verbalize it.
“I love you.”
Caesar released his wrists, splayed a palm beside Jason’s head to support himself before bringing their faces together, but they didn’t kiss. Not yet.
“This is the last time,” Caesar said. “Promise me.”
“I promise,” Jason said, and in his heart he knew it was a lie, so he made up for it by repeating the truth. “I love you so much.”
Caesar kissed him, and while their lips were busy, Jason put his hands all the places he had longed for. Mostly he held on to Caesar, clutching him tight as the night wore on. Jason did anything he could think of to bring him close, did things that hurt and felt good at the same time. Even after they were both exhausted and Caesar tried to roll off him, Jason wouldn’t allow it. The comfort of his weight pressing down was too important, helped maintain the illusion that they could be like this forever—that willpower alone could stop them from being torn apart.
* * * * *
The creaking of the floorboards awoke Jason. He wondered if Caesar was trying to sneak out, or maybe back in after using the restroom. Except Jason was still wrapped in his arms, body warm where their skin touched and chilly elsewhere because they’d lost the sheet sometime in the night. Caesar was breathing heavily into his
ear, drool dripping down Jason’s neck, but he was too happy to mind. Instead he tugged on one of Caesar’s arms to pull him closer, trying to use him like a blanket.
Then the floorboard creaked again. Jason raised his head in puzzlement and saw Peter standing not far away, pocket knife in hand. He was smiling, looking even happier than he had yesterday when he’d taken down the buck. Jason’s eyes darted back down to the blade, wondering if Peter had developed a taste for blood.
“Oh, don’t worry,” Peter said, gesturing at him with the knife. “This isn’t for you. I used it to get the door open. My clothes are still in the drawer and I couldn’t figure out why you two were locked away in here. Of course, I had my suspicions.”
Next to him, Caesar was stirring. Jason had the urge to cover them both, even though it was pointless now. He could feel Caesar’s erection against his hip, both exposed to air. There would be no explaining this away, no twist that could make the scene innocent.
“Just go,” Jason whispered. “Please.”
Peter stopped smiling. He looked at Jason with something nearing pity, and for a moment, he even seemed to consider leaving. But then Caesar woke up, starting when he saw Peter and the knife. He was on his feet in seconds.
“What the fuck are you doing in here? What’s with the knife?”
Before Peter could respond, Caesar was on top of him, grabbing his wrist and forcing him to drop the blade before pinning his arm behind his back. Peter was crying out in pain and humiliation, Jason shouting at Caesar to leave him alone. He watched helplessly as Peter was shoved out the door. Caesar slammed it shut behind him, then turned to face the room.
“Fuck!” he growled. As Caesar’s brain kicked into gear, his anger turned to panic. “Fuck!” he repeated. “Oh fuck fuck fuck.” He locked eyes with Jason and shook his head. “How much did he see? Do you know?”
“Enough,” Jason said. “He used the knife to pick the lock. That’s all. He wasn’t trying to do anything.”
Caesar had his hands over his mouth and nose, his head shaking back and forth.
His expression of terror made Jason feel dread. “Do you think he’ll say anything?”
“It’s Peter!” Caesar said bitterly, moving his hands away. “Fuck! Listen, you’ve got to get in the shower. Don’t put any clothes on first. Just run. That way when my Dad comes in here, I can say—”
“Caesar?”
A fist pounded on the door before it started to open. In his panic, Caesar spun around and shoved it closed again, keeping his hands pressed against it and his arms straight. He must have realized how damning this was because he hung his head. Then he looked back at Jason with an expression of pure apology.
“Put your clothes on,” he said. “I have to let him in.”
“I’ll go out the window,” Jason whispered as Mr. Hubbard continued pounding on the door.
Caesar laughed hollowly and shook his head. “Won’t make a difference. They’ll believe Peter. After all, this has happened before.”
Jason pulled on his boxers. “We’ll both go. We’ll run away.”
Caesar turned and pressed his back against the door as it tried to open again. Then he just stared sorrowfully. Jason wanted to comfort him somehow, even to kiss him despite this being the absolute worst time for such a thing. Instead, he locked eyes with Caesar and saw the stillness of resignation. Caesar took two steps forward. Jason thought he was coming to embrace him, but then he stopped. And waited.
Behind him the door opened. Mr. Hubbard took in the scene, then grabbed Caesar by the arm and pulled him out of the room, slamming the door shut. Through the wooden wall, Jason listened to the one-sided shouting, pictured Caesar standing there naked and listless as his father berated him for something that couldn’t be changed.
Their voices moved away, so Jason got dressed and opened the door, glancing down the hallway. He could see Caesar on the couch, a blanket covering him, his head low as the lecture continued. Then Jason turned and found Peter standing with his back to the wall, a smug expression on his face. Like he had made two kills this trip.
* * * * *
Mrs. Hubbard stood before him, mascara running. Jason felt uncomfortable—had felt that way the entire day. The drive back had been five hours of awkward silence. Caesar was told to sit in the front passenger seat, Peter taking his place in the back, but even he was smart enough to keep his mouth shut. Why draw attention away from the transgression he and Caesar had committed? Mr. Hubbard had nothing to say either, scowling grimly at the road ahead.
Once home, they were each told to go to their rooms. Eventually, Mr. Hubbard had come for Jason. The house was eerily silent as they walked down the stairs. Mrs. Hubbard was crying when they entered the living room. She left a flustered mess, but whatever she did in the other room didn’t help, because she returned just as tearful as before.
“We need you to tell us the truth,” she said. “When Peter found you this morning…” She shook her head and fumbled with a tissue to blow her nose.
Mr. Hubbard cleared his throat. “We just need to know how all this got started.”
“Started?” Jason asked. He shook his head, feeling overwhelmed by the question. “The same way it does for anyone, I guess.”
Mr. Hubbard narrowed his eyes. “Meaning?”
“People…” Jason hesitated. “People just fall in love.”
Mrs. Hubbard looked at her husband, who nodded meaningfully. She cried some more, but Jason realized these were tears of relief. They were trying to figure out if Caesar had done this against Jason’s will, as if he had been molested or something. “I care about him!” Jason said in his defense. “It’s just like when a guy and girl fall in love. There’s nothing wrong with it.”
“He’s your brother!” Mrs. Hubbard said.
“He’s not my brother!” Jason leapt to his feet. “And you aren’t my parents! What we did isn’t sick or unnatural. It wasn’t against my will or his! You can’t punish us for having feelings!”
“Sit down,” Mr. Hubbard said.
“No!”
“Sit down!”
Suddenly Mr. Hubbard looked a lot bigger than he usually did, his chest puffed up and huffing, so Jason did what he was told. Mr. Hubbard watched him to make sure he would stay put, then took his wife’s arm and guided her to the other side of the living room. After a hushed conversation, she nodded and left, but not before she shot Jason an accusatory glare. He wondered if Nathaniel had gotten the same treatment before he’d been sent on his way, if all the blame for Caesar’s unwanted behavior had been placed on his strong shoulders.
Mr. Hubbard returned to stand over him, arms crossed. What he had to say didn’t surprise Jason in the slightest.
“You’ve struggled to fit in with this family since day one. We like you, Jason. We really do. But considering everything that’s happened, I think we both know what would be best, don’t we?”
Jason shook his head. He wasn’t going to make this easy by being the one to say it.
“Very well. My wife and I think you’d be happier at another home. I’m going to call Michelle in the morning and have her come by so we can all talk. Okay?”
Jason refused to nod or agree to any of this. “Can I go back to my room now?”
“If you wish,” Mr. Hubbard said. “We’d like you to stay there until dinner. There are other conversations that need to take place.”
Jason stood and went upstairs. Then he pressed his ear to the door, wondering if they would drag Caesar out of his room. Jason couldn’t hear anything. Chances were they had questioned him already. When dinnertime came, Jason forced himself to go downstairs, if only to see if Caesar was doing all right. He wasn’t at the table. Not wanting to be around the family, Jason asked if he could eat in his room. Mrs. Hubbard seemed relieved to see him go.
Jason spent the rest of the evening packing his things. He left the suit, the squeaky shoes, and the other clothes the Hubbards had bought him behind. That just left his old clothes, h
is guitar, and a pair of lime green Converse. Jason was sitting on the edge of the bed, considering these few possessions, when he remembered the bandana hidden between the mattress and box spring. He dug it out and tied it around the neck of his guitar. When the house grew silent, he quietly opened his door and walked down the hallway to Caesar’s room.
He didn’t try to knock. Just as he always did, Jason placed his hand on the knob, felt a familiar stirring in his chest, and turned it. Or tried to. The knob didn’t budge. He tried again with more force, stepping back when this didn’t work to consider the door. Locked. From the inside. Caesar didn’t want to see him.
Taking a deep breath, Jason turned and walked back to his room.
* * * * *
“I’m sorry.”
These were the first words Michelle said when he opened his bedroom door. He gestured for her to enter. Instead she stepped forward and hugged him.
“I’m so sorry,” she repeated.
“It’s fine,” Jason said, lump in his throat. “I’m an old pro at this.”
“I don’t mean the foster placement,” Michelle said. She stepped back and double-checked the hallway. Then she shut the bedroom door and sat on the edge of his mattress. “I mean I’m sorry for what you’re going through. The heartbreak you mentioned last time, you were talking about Caesar, weren’t you?”
“Yeah,” Jason said, maybe a little defensively because she hurried to explain.
“There’s nothing wrong with being gay or having feelings for him. You know that, right?”
“You’re cool with it?”
“I mentioned that you remind me of my brother. He’s gay too, and yes, I’m cool with it. But when I said last time that everyone goes through heartbreak, I didn’t mean like this.” Michelle considered him and sighed. “What a nightmare.”
“It’s fine,” he lied.
“On the other hand,” Michelle said, trying to appear optimistic, “I get to see a lot more of you again. That’s a silver lining, right?”
He smiled for her sake, knowing she meant well. “Is there going to be some horrible meeting downstairs, or can we just go?”