Dreamspinner Press Year Six Greatest Hits

by JD Ruskin

  When I stood up, Vanessa was hanging onto my neck, and Victoria decided she was going to hold my hand, and Pip the other, as I walked over to the tree where Tristan and Micah were. Tristan wanted to ride, but Micah just shook his head.

  “You ain’t stuck up there, are ya?” I stared up at him in the tree.

  He shook his head.

  “You sure you don’t wanna come?”

  He nodded.

  “All right then.”

  We sent Tristan back to the house to call his mother to the backyard to watch over Micah. After a few minutes, the back deck filled with people. Mr. Benning called over to his wife, at least I thought she was his wife (he called her honey so I certainly hoped so), that he was taking the kids riding and would be back.

  “And who’s that with you?” A beautiful woman asked, obviously Victoria and Vanessa’s mother—same black hair, same pale blue eyes.

  “This is Weber, Cyrus’s friend.”

  “Nice to meet you,” she called over to me. “I’m Rachel.”

  Oh, perfect Rachel, the sister-in-law. I looked at Carolyn, and she smirked at me. It was nice that we had an inside joke already.

  “My girls get attached kind of fast,” Rachel continued.

  “Which is real nice, ma’am,” I told her.

  Her smile was big and bright before I turned away, her youngest with a death grip around my neck, her oldest with her hand in mine.

  As we walked, Mr. Benning told me about his home, the ten acres the house sat on, the stables, how close it was to running trails and riding trails, and how much he loved the Farmer’s Market on Sunday. He was making conversation, and I appreciated it.

  The horses were gorgeous, the stable nicer than some of the hotels I had slept in, and Mr. Benning enjoyed watching me saddle the mare I was going to ride. The four kids listened as I talked, and after a quick game of rock-paper-scissors, I had Tristan and Vanessa with me and Mr. Benning the two youngest.

  We rode back up toward the house, and everyone waved as we passed by.

  “Grandpa,” Tristan called over to him. “Who’s that man standing by Uncle Cyrus?”

  He cleared his throat. “That’s a friend of your Uncle Brett’s that he invited up for the weekend.”

  “Oh.” Tristan nodded and then turned where he was in front of me to look up at my face. “Uncle Brett and Aunt Rachel, that’s Van and Vicky’s mom and dad, they invite their friends up sometimes to meet Uncle Cyrus.”

  “I see.” I smiled at him, the man of the world at eight.

  “They didn’t know you were coming along with Cy, Weber,” Mr. Benning said, which was really decent of him.

  “Course not,” I said huskily.

  “What is it you do, Weber?”

  “I’m a ranch hand,” I told him, since that would be the next thing I would be.

  “I see.”

  I wondered what the blind date did but guessed it was better than out of work drifter, which was why I had thrown out employment that I didn’t have yet when I answered Cy’s father.

  “Weber, how come the horse can’t go fast?”

  “Because I don’t wanna lose y’all,” I told Tristan.

  “Oh.” He seemed disappointed.

  When we got back, I showed the kids what we had to do for the horse at the end of a ride, and they watched in rapt attention. As we were walking into the backyard, I saw Cyrus, his mother, the date, Rachel, and the man who I knew now was Brett, her husband, all standing under the tree where Micah still was. Brett was getting ready to scale the tree after his nephew.

  “Are you coming down?” I called up to him once I was directly underneath.

  He nodded.

  “When?”

  “He’s scared,” Carolyn told me.

  “We’ve been trying to coax him down, get him to let go,” Cy said, putting his hand on my back, “but he just won’t.”

  I grunted and noticed that Micah was starting to tremble.

  “Cold, ain’t it?”

  Another nod.

  “Well, if you’re comin’, hurry up,” I grouched at him, holding up my arms. “Just let go. You know I’ll catch ya.”

  He rolled sideways and fell from the thick branch twelve feet or so above me, and I caught him easily and set him on his feet. Kneeling down in front of him, I saw him bite his bottom lip.

  “You’re sad you didn’t go ridin’ now, aren’t ya?”

  He nodded.

  “Next time tell me the truth if you’re stuck. You got no call to be lyin’ to me.”

  He lunged at me, arms tight around my neck, and I lifted him up, holding him tight as I walked around the others and started for the house.

  “Who is that, exactly?” Either Rachel or Cy’s mother asked.

  “Weber!” the girls shrieked, chasing after me with Pip and Tristan bringing up the rear.

  In the house, I put him in a chair at the kitchen table, quickly washed my hands, and then took the seat beside him as the rest of the kids sat around us. The moment Cyrus’s mother walked in, I asked her if we could all have something to drink.

  “Of course.” She smiled at me, her big powder blue eyes glinting, crossing the room to offer me her hand and introduce herself. “Please call me Angie.”

  I stood up and squeezed her hand. “Then call me Web, and it’s a pleasure, ma’am.”

  “For me as well.” She smiled at me, studying my face. “That was wonderful outside.”

  What was? “Ma’am?”

  She sighed. “And you have no idea what you…. Oh boy.”

  I waited for her to stop talking to herself.

  “My grandchildren are all in love with you, as well as my dogs.”

  “I do well with kids and animals.” I chuckled. “They don’t care ’bout the same things adults do.”

  “But they should,” she said in a way that left no room for argument.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Sit down,” she told me. “What would you like to drink?”

  I ended up with ice tea and afterward was dragged to the living room where Tristan pushed a controller into my hand and I was supposed to drive.

  “You gotta hit the boxes ’cause there’s stuff in ’em.”

  What?

  “Weber, you hafta steer with your left hand and push the A button with your right to make the car go,” Victoria instructed me.

  “Why are you driving into the wall?” Vanessa wanted to know.

  Pip flopped down into my lap and tried to explain it to me again. At four he knew what he was doing better than I did.

  Tristan was cackling, Micah was giggling beside him, and Victoria, who was logical and thoughtful, figured that she would show me how to work my car, demonstrating with her controller. Tristan kept making suggestions, interrupting her tutorial as I started to laugh. I gave up, told them all that Pip was driving for me, and told Vanessa, who was draped over my back, that she was strangling me. Once I stretched out, she lay down beside me.

  “Hey, you guys, why don’t you let Weber come talk to the grown-ups?” Carolyn asked them.

  I excused myself instead, because watching Cyrus talk to the set-up guy was bothering me more than I thought it would. It was why I had not been able to give Mario Kart my full attention. I kept glancing over at him out of the corner of my eye.

  It was one thing to hook up and fuck each other’s brains out, but it was another to be at his parents’ house and pretend that I could compete in any way. In the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face, I stood staring at my face in the mirror and wondering why the man had ever even looked at me in the first place.

  My eyes were plain faded denim blue; my hair that looked ginger when it was long was now a darker red cut short, with eyebrows, lashes, sideburns, and stubble all the same rusty color. I had a square jaw, a nose that had been broken many times and thin lips. Why did the man want me?

  Sticking around was a mistake, but bigger than that was coming along on the weekend. Heading for the door,
I heard voices in the hall.

  “Jesus, Ross, I’m sorry.”

  “Forget it,” a man said, chuckling. “You had no idea your brother was into guys like that.”

  “Shit.”

  He laughed. “It’s fine. We’ll try again when the cowboy leaves.”

  “Really? You’d give this another shot?”

  “Brett, are you kidding? I know you don’t get it, but unlike you, your brother is really hot, and on top of that, he’s a neurosurgeon.”

  He laughed. “You’re a stockbroker. You make a fucking mint. What do you care?”

  “Because dating someone who has their own money and isn’t looking for me to take care of them would be a really nice change, let me tell you.”

  “But Cy was such a dick to you.”

  He scoffed. “The man is a world class surgeon. I think the ice queen thing is part of it. You don’t see it because you’re family, but I bet that’s how he is with everyone he doesn’t know well.”

  “I just thought, ever since I met you, that you guys would make sense together, you know? I mean you guys both live in the city, you both—”

  “Give it a rest.” Ross sounded so amused. “I’m gay and your brother’s gay—that’s all you thought.”

  “Well, yeah,” he admitted with a laugh.

  “Listen, I’m really glad to be one of you and Rachel’s only single gay friends so I could have the chance to be invited up here to meet your brother.”

  There was snickering. “I just—I didn’t even know he knew someone like Weber whoever.”

  “See, it just goes to show, you never really know your own family.”

  “I guess not. God. I’m surprised my folks even let him bring him in the house.”

  I leaned my head against the door and listened to the two men laugh over me some more before they walked away and their voices trailed down the hall.

  Waiting, I finally came out and walked back out into the living room. I took a seat down on the floor between Micah and Tristan. In seconds, Pip was in my lap.

  Angie called us to dinner, and I sat on the end with the kids even though Cyrus looked over at me before Ross took the seat beside him. I talked to the kids, and when Tristan was done, he started to just stand up.

  “Where are you going?”

  His head snapped up to me. “I’m done.”

  “Oh?”

  “What?” He was irritated with me, ready to go do something else, and his tone was defiant and snide.

  “Don’t say ‘what’, say ‘pardon me’.”

  “Wha—pardon me?”

  “Exactly right.”

  He was squinting at me. “So I’m supposed say pardon me?”

  “Yessir.”

  He scoffed and got ready to get up again.

  “I ask again, where are you going?”

  “I’m done,” he barked, annoyed.

  “First,” I began, leaning forward, “you thank your grandmother for the fine meal you just had, then you ask to be excused, and finally you carry your plate to the sink, because neither your grandmother nor your mother is your maid.”

  He looked at me hard, and I arched an eyebrow for him.

  “You’re not my father,” he whispered.

  “No, sir,” I agreed, waiting on him.

  The room was quiet around us.

  After a minute, he took a breath. “Nana,” he said, turning to look down the long table at her.

  “Yes, Tris?”

  “The chicken was really good. Thank you for making it.”

  “You’re very welcome,” she answered, and I heard her voice quaver.

  “May I please be excused?”

  “Yes, you may.”

  His eyes flicked back to me, and I nodded. He got up and walked his plate to the sink.

  “Nana,” Pip said, “me and Micah liked the food too. Can we go?”

  “Yes, dear.” She chuckled.

  He nodded and leaned into my side. “Did I do good?”

  “Yessir,” I told him before turning to Angie. “Ma’am—”

  “Thank you, Weber,” she smiled at me. “We haven’t had manners in this house for some time.”

  “Oh yes, ma’am,” I agreed, leveling my gaze on Brett. “I am aware.”

  He had the good grace to blanch as I rose and carried my plate to the sink, listening as the girls asked their grandmother to be excused behind me.

  As I turned on the water to rinse the dishes, arms were wrapped around my waist and a head pressed into the middle of my back.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Nothin’ to be sorry for,” I told Tristan.

  “Are you mad?”

  “No, sir,” I assured him. “Come help me with this.”

  “Yessir,” he said, smiling up at me.

  “Smartass.”

  He grinned wide, his eyes lighting up.

  “Weber, you don’t have to do that,” Angie called over to me.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said to acknowledge her.

  I had all the kids helping when Angie joined us after a few minutes.

  “Weber.”

  I turned to look at her.

  “I am enjoying having you here very much.”

  “Thank you.” I smiled at her as Cy joined us.

  “I need to speak to you right now.”

  “But I’m washing the—”

  “Brett and Rachel can take over,” Angie said flatly, her voice rising.

  I heard the quick scrape of chairs on the wooden floor as I rinsed soap off my hands and dried them quickly before following after Cy.

  He led me out onto the patio, and after I closed the door behind me, I realized he was still moving. Catching up fast, I was surprised when he rounded on me.

  I crossed my arms and looked at him.

  “I had no idea that man was going to be here.”

  “What man?” I teased him.

  It took a second, but the tension drained out of him and he smiled at me.

  “Ass.”

  I smiled at him.

  “I didn’t, though. I would never try and make you jealous or—I don’t play games.”

  “Yes, I know that.”

  He stared up into my eyes. “You realize, when you’re with me, you’re the only one I see.”

  “Which is real nice, Dr. Benning,” I told him, putting a hand around his throat as I bent to kiss him.

  Quick whine from him as his eyes closed and his lips parted. I sank my tongue into the wet heat of his mouth, claiming, taking possession, feeling more raw and vulnerable than I thought I would.

  He melted against me, arms wrapping around my neck as he gave me his weight, and I bent him back, clutching at him as I ravaged his lips. He always tasted so good, kissed me like no one ever had, like I was all there was.

  It went on, and long minutes passed before he broke the kiss to gasp for breath.

  “Jealous,” he heaved out the word.

  “Pardon?” I growled at him, leaning my forehead against his, our noses side by side, touching, bumping.

  “Even though I had nothing to do with it, you’re jealous of what’s his name.”

  “Ross,” I provided.

  “Yeah.”

  “He’s a stockbroker.”

  “Uh-huh,” he agreed, his thumb sliding over my bottom lip, his groin grazing my thigh.

  “Well, I’m not.”

  “You’re not what?”

  “A stockbroker. Pay attention.”

  He huffed out a breath “No, you’re not.”

  “We both know you can do better’n me.”

  “We believe two completely different truths,” he assured me, hand on the nape of my neck, stroking, the other now clutching at my shirt.

  “I—” What was I going to say?

  “You?” He prodded.

  “Even when I’m gone—that guy doesn’t deserve you.”

  “Say what you mean.”

  I cleared my throat. “Don’t ever kiss him.”

&
nbsp; “Or?”

  “Or fuck him or do anything with him at all.”

  He licked his lips. “Okay, cowboy, it’s a promise.”

  I walked him back into the wall, and when I pinned him against it, the moan he released made me smile down into his eyes.

  “It’s nice that you’re making demands,” he told me.

  At which point I realized how ridiculous I was being. “Shit. I—”

  “No—” His voice hardened. “—you can’t take it back.”

  “But I have no right to say anything to you at all.”

  His hands lifted to my face, and he eased me down to him. “I say what you do and don’t have, cowboy.”

  I didn’t want to argue with him, so I kissed him instead.

  IT WAS nice to sit and listen to everyone talk. Even listening to Ross chime in, as he was funny and engaging, was okay. I sat between Carolyn and Cy on the couch, had a cup of tea, enjoyed the sound of the rain pounding on the roof and the glass, and reveled in being inside, warm and clean and safe. I watched the dogs lying beside the crackling fireplace and decided that someday I would have the same thing. Smaller and probably just one dog, but the same warm family home. It was my dream.

  “You’re smiling,” Angie said out of the blue, which brought the conversation to a halt as she zeroed in on me.

  “Yes, ma’am.” I sighed, so comfortable with Cy leaning on me, his thigh and knee pressed to mine.

  “Why?”

  “It’s just nice to be inside on a rainy night, makes you thankful.”

  Her breath quavered. “Yes, it does.”

  “Where is your family, Weber?” Mr. Benning asked me.

  “I don’t have any family to speak of, sir.”

  “Oh?”

  I shook my head.

  Cy cleared his throat. “Weber’s mother passed away when he was fourteen, and his father, who was a roughneck on an oil rig, was killed in an accident a year later.”

  Angie’s eyebrows furrowed as she looked at her son. It was nice to see her worry for me.

  “Weber and his older brother Spencer were alone after that, and so Spencer, who was seventeen at the time, looked after Web.”

  “And where is Spencer now?” Mr. Benning asked his son instead of me.

  He cleared his throat. “Spencer was killed in Iraq when he was twenty.”

  The room was silent until Angie coughed softly.

  “You must have things of your mother’s and your father’s and your brother’s kept somewhere, don’t you, Weber?”