“Uh, thanks. And thank you for inviting me. And feeding me. And thanks for—”
“Whoa. Too thankful!” Jackie said. Niles stared down at his feet and fluttered his hands. Rusty shot daggers at Jackie with his eyes, and she winked at him. “Don’t sweat it. Come on in. You guys can keep me company while I finish cooking. I hope you like spaghetti, Niles. Rusty will only eat it if I make salad too because he’s a fun sucker who is all about ‘balanced meals.’ Whatever the heck that means.”
Jackie plunked down a bottle of wine in front of Rusty and Niles on the breakfast bar, and then passed Rusty two plastic cups. She’d gotten the cups from a restaurant in Stillwater, Rusty’s college town, and had a cupboard full of them. Rusty poured some wine into Niles’s cup and laughed when he didn’t flinch at their redneck wine glasses. Jackie liked to drink out of the plastic cups because she said it reminded her of college, which she’d never technically attended, and it had always bothered Todd so much. She smiled at Niles when he took a dainty sip without comment.
Margo ran into the room and stopped dead in her tracks when she spotted Niles. She was shy and cautious until she knew someone, which was probably a good trait for a kid to have.
“Hi, Margo,” Niles said to her, and she skittered into the kitchen to latch onto Jackie.
“Margo, this is Uncle Rusty’s friend, Niles. Do you remember him?” Jackie said.
“You had a flat tire and a cowboy hat,” Margo said.
“That’s right! How are you?” The way Niles was talking to her like an adult was oddly charming.
She skipped to the counter directly across from them, put her hands on it, and her chin on her hands, like a little meerkat.
“Good. We learned about tornadoes today,” she informed them. Jackie rolled her eyes behind Margo’s back and started cutting up a tomato for the salad. Rusty had already heard all about Margo’s tornado lesson and how Jackie was aggravated that she hadn’t been able to talk to Margo about tornadoes before she was scared shitless at preschool. “The sky turns green.”
“Green?” Niles said. “I guess I can see why some people might think it seems green. What else did you learn?”
Margo launched into a detailed description of tornado-drill protocols and all the things that could happen to a person if they didn’t follow the rules and listen to the teacher during a tornado, mainly that they’d get sucked through the roof. Rusty couldn’t imagine the teacher saying that. He suspected a fellow classmate had planted that little nightmare.
Niles gaped at her.
“They’re really scary and dangerous,” Margo finished.
“Oh, um …” Niles faltered. Jackie turned around and raised her eyebrows at him as if to say Do you know what to do to fix this? He cleared his throat. “You know that room you said you were supposed to go to during a tornado? The one with the dinosaurs on the walls? That’s a safe room, which means that you are perfectly safe in that room during a tornado. Nothing can happen to you there.”
Margo nodded. She’d surely been told that at school.
“And here at home, there’s the storm cellar in the garden,” Rusty added. “You’ll be safe there as well.”
“There’s lightning and thunder during tornadoes too,” Margo said.
“Okay, I’m out of my element here,” Niles whispered to Rusty. “I could teach her to start a fire or clean a fish, though.”
Rusty laughed, but Margo continued to stare at them with wide eyes.
“Come here, sugar pea,” Rusty said. Margo walked around the counter and climbed onto his lap. “So normally when there’s thunder and lightning, there is no tornado. It’s simply rainy and stormy, which is important because rain makes our food grow in the fields, remember?” She nodded, and he brushed her hair out of her eyes. “Your mommy and I have been in a tornado. Did you know that?”
Margo and Niles both gasped, and Rusty smiled over the top of Margo’s head at Niles.
“It’s true, Margo,” Jackie said. She added the ground beef in with the tomato sauce and set it to simmer. “And neither of us were hurt or in any danger. If you’re in a safe place—and I promise you will be in a safe place at school or here at home—there is nothing to be scared of.”
“What happened?” Niles asked.
“We were teenagers and there was a tornado warning,” Rusty said. “Our parents were at work, so Jackie and I went down the street to the closest neighbor with a storm shelter. The tornado didn’t touch our house, but did hit several on our street. And you know what, Margo? We were in a safe place underground, like the shelter here at home, so it was okay.”
“Were you scared?” Margo asked.
Rusty didn’t want to lie to her. He’d been terrified. The tornado had been deafening, and it had rattled the metal door of the underground shelter. His ears had popped from the change in air pressure, and he’d felt like his heart would explode from his chest. He’d been scared the metal door would rip off and they’d all be sucked out of their hole in the ground. Not that he’d tell Margo that in a million years.
“A little bit. But I was with your mommy, so I knew I’d be okay.”
“I would be scared,” Margo said.
“It’s okay to be scared sometimes,” Niles said. Rusty turned toward him sharply because his voice sounded so kind and impassioned and true, suddenly, but Niles didn’t look away from Margo. “That’s the great thing about having people who love you as much as your mom and Uncle Rusty love you. They love you, and they’ll always be there. Even if they’re not in the room with you, their love is there with you. It’s always present. And that love is a lot bigger than fear.”
Rusty had to swallow the lump in his throat. It was such a sweet thing to say.
Oh, shit. He was totally falling for Niles Longfellow.
No. He’d fallen already, and wasn’t sure if he should shout it out or hide it forever. Niles glanced up at him, and Rusty was positive all of those feelings bursting inside of him were written on his face.
“And Uncle Todd,” Margo said brightly. Niles blinked at her, and his eyebrows twitched. Rusty tensed. “Uncle Todd loves me too. He plays songs for me on the piano.”
Niles smiled at her. “Right. Uncle Todd too.”
Margo nodded and jumped down, obviously done with the conversation. She ran into the living room, and within seconds was talking to herself in her kitty-cat voice, all tornado fear momentarily forgotten.
Niles avoided his eyes and took a long pull from his plastic cup of wine, and Rusty could practically hear his own heart splat on the cheap linoleum floor.
Niles’s heart raced as he said goodbye to Jackie and Margo. Jackie hugged him, which was a surprise, and he patted her back a couple of times, like a bro hug, so he was obviously still an awkward nerd. As he walked to his car, his palms tingled and sweat broke along his spine and the backs of his knees.
Dinner had been fun, which made the storm of insecurities and confusion and recriminations brewing in his mind all the more painful. Jackie had been sassy and sarcastic and a bit of a hard-ass, and he’d wanted to impress her so badly. And Margo had been shy and sweet and wrapped up in her own little kid world.
But Rusty had been stiff, and not in the fun way either. Something had him on edge, and Niles had a sneaking suspicion he knew what it was.
Because Niles was on edge too.
Rusty followed him back to his house in his own car, but Niles had a slight head start. He climbed out of his Mazda and watched the wind rustle the leaves of the oak tree in the front yard. He remembered sitting under the tree with his mom during summer evenings where the air had been so sticky you’d practically needed gills to be able to breathe. They’d sat out there and watched lightning bugs flash their love songs to each other. He’d missed his chance to do that this summer. Now it was October, and all the lightning bugs were dead.
Niles walked toward the rotting wooden bench under the tree. No one had sat on it in years. Rusty arrived and settled in beside him a couple
of minutes later. It was romantic—the cool breeze and the bright moon painting the dark yard with soft light. It would have been perfect, a perfect moment, if he wasn’t so confused.
Niles leaned his head against Rusty’s shoulder, and Rusty held his hand.
“I used to sit here with my mom in the summers, waiting for my dad to get home from the Tire Shop.” A calm pressed in on Niles, but not the pleasant kind. It was the shutting-down-so-you-don’t-have-to-deal type of calm.
“It’s beautiful,” Rusty said against the top of Niles’s head.
“My dad’s not getting better. He’ll eventually get an infection or there will be some complication, and that will be it. He’s dying. Part of me wishes it would happen soon. He’s just a shell, it seems. It’s like no one is home, and I hate seeing him like that. That’s selfish, isn’t it?”
Maybe if he talked about his dad, he could postpone the pain threatening to overwhelm him.
“I don’t think it’s selfish. It’s life, which is hard and unfair sometimes, and I’m so sorry that you’re going through this.”
Niles nodded. A gust of wind shook several leaves from the oak, and they fluttered close enough for him to touch before landing at his feet. This time of year always made Niles sad—there was something formidable about summer turning to fall—but Dad had always loved it. When Niles had been a kid, Dad had enjoyed growing these misshapen, hulking, heirloom pumpkins, and he’d harvested them in October. One year, he’d handed his weirdest, most bizarre pumpkin to Niles and said, “Go scare your mother with this alien life-form.” And when Niles had shown her, bellowing, “This is Blorb. He does not come in peace,” Mom had pretended to defend their home against the pumpkin invasion.
Dad had stopped growing pumpkins after she’d died, but this year, before his stroke, Niles had caught him reading in the Old Farmer’s Almanac for the best day to plant them.
Tears threatened to choke Niles, but he wasn’t going to cry. Not right now.
“How long were you with Todd McGower?” he asked instead.
Rusty flinched, so Niles met his eye. Guilt colored Rusty’s handsome face.
“Over three years,” he gritted out.
“When did you break up?”
“April.”
Six months ago. Jesus Christ.
Niles’s stomach plunged, but he wasn’t surprised. He just couldn’t believe he hadn’t figured it out earlier. He was a rebound, and there was no way he could ever compete. And Rusty must still love Todd. Who wouldn’t love Todd? He was beautiful, and musical, and they had been together for ages. Why else would Rusty have hidden it? Why else would he have lied so explicitly?
“Ah,” Niles said, trying to shut down the churn of emotions in his chest.
“You’re scaring me, Niles,” Rusty whispered, clutching his hand.
Niles didn’t know how to respond to that, so he glanced around the yard wildly.
It was beautiful out here. He should definitely string a line of Edison lights between the porch and tree. Clean up the junk. Plant an herb garden or some shit. Get his life together, and stop being so pathetic.
“He was close to Jackie and Margo?” Niles asked finally.
Rusty gripped his hand harder. “Yes. It’s been difficult. We’ve told her that Uncle Todd isn’t my boyfriend anymore, but it’s confusing. She sees us together after school, and I don’t think she quite understands.”
Oh, hell. There was so much to unpack from that. Rusty had called Todd “Uncle Todd.” And he saw Todd every freaking day! Couldn’t Rusty see the obvious? His and Todd’s lives were entangled, stitched together by family and years of commitment and shared interests. Niles could never live up to that.
“I’m sorry,” Niles said. What was he apologizing for? He wasn’t the one who’d lied.
Rusty cupped his cheeks and held his face, utterly trapping him. “I don’t want Todd anymore. I want you. You have to know that, after everything.”
After everything? What was everything? Some Netflix, a few weeks of hooking up, a very blatant lie, and dinner with his sister. Rusty’s everything wasn’t shit.
He shook his head, trying to dislodge Rusty’s hands. He couldn’t do this right now, couldn’t handle being the rebound or the consolation prize or knowing that he’d never measure up to Todd fucking McGower.
“I think I want to be friends again. Only friends.”
Rusty stared at him, and the shock and pain on his face was so transparent that Niles almost said Just kidding! because he hated being the cause of that hurt.
“I’m so sorry I lied, Niles. Is that why you want to break up? I just wasn’t thinking and then before I knew it, my lie had kind of spiraled out of control. And I’ll do whatever I can to make up for that, but we should talk about this instead of ending it.”
“No. I mean, that’s not why—the lying. I don’t like the lying, but it’s not why.” He took a shaky breath and tried to organize the thoughts firing through his head. “I just can’t do this. Not knowing you’ve been with him, and—”
“So that’s it?” Rusty interrupted. “You find out I have an ex-boyfriend and you don’t want me anymore?”
“No! I guess I—”
“I don’t know what the hell you’re so scared of. Why do you keep running from me? Did something bad happen to you? Did some guy abuse you or what? I don’t understand what I’m fighting against here! Why is your gut reaction to give up when it gets hard?” Rusty stood up and paced away.
What an insensitive jerk.
Niles glared at his back and took a deep breath—if he cried, his emotions would be too scrambled for him to have a conversation. But, damn, did that strike a nerve.
Nothing bad had happened to him, not like Rusty meant. But he’d always felt ugly and dorky and wrong. He’d never liked the cool things or been good at anything besides being a hopeless nerd, and not the trendy type of nerd, either. He’d always had low self-esteem. Even though his parents had loved him and thought the sun had shone out of his ass, he’d been invisible in school, except to the bullies who’d only seen a target on his back. He’d been invisible in his college classes next to the students with social skills, and internships, and potential. He’d been invisible to the men he was attracted to, unless he’d been on his knees.
And Rusty was maybe the only man Niles had ever wanted to whom he’d never been invisible. Rusty had seen him from the beginning, and there was absolutely no way Niles could allow this wonderful man to damage him. He wasn’t sure he’d recover from it. It was better to keep Rusty at a distance, to be friends, than to find out Niles didn’t measure up to Rusty’s standards.
To find that he was invisible after all.
Rusty rushed back to him and gently grasped his hands. “Oh, God, I’m such an asshole. I’m so sorry, Niles. Did something bad happen to you? I shouldn’t have asked you all mad like that.”
A slightly horrified laugh bubbled out of Niles, and he shook his head. “No, nothing bad has happened to me.”
“Oh. Thank God.” Rusty sat back down.
“I just have a lot of stuff I need to figure out. To come to terms with. My dad and the house, you know? Not sure I can handle anything else right now.”
Rusty’s jaw ticked under his beard, and Niles wanted to press his thumb against it.
“You’re using that as an excuse.”
“No, I’m not,” Niles lied.
“Okay.” Rusty’s eyes dulled, like he’d shut down completely too.
“So, we can go back to being friends?” Niles asked.
“Yeah, sure,” Rusty said, but it was dismissive.
Niles’s calm shattered and his body clenched, like he was going to have a panic attack. And when Rusty swiped his thumbs over the freckles on Niles’s cheeks and kissed him softly, kissed him goodbye, Niles felt every touch and breath against his lips like it was the first and last kiss that he’d ever have.
Then Rusty walked away like their relationship was nothing, like it didn’t mat
ter, and Niles made his way into the house and then his parents’ bedroom. With his back to their closet door, he let the emotions crash over him and cried.
The sympathy present from Victor came a couple of days after Niles and Rusty had broken up. The guy must have express-shipped it. It was a box of sex toys, of course. Pokémon butt plugs to be exact, which made Niles laugh and then cry pathetically when he remembered using his toys with Rusty. He was pretty sure he’d never use the Pokémon toys. Though, the Bulbasaur one was oddly intriguing.
He thought he’d been coping surprisingly well. Yes, he cried every once in a while, like when a memory kicked him in the gut. And before bed. And every time Victor called to check on him, which was at least once a day. But that was to be expected with his first breakup, right? Mostly, he moped around his house, visited his dad, didn’t watch any sci-fi, and worked his ass off.
Rusty hadn’t responded to his calls or texts, which Niles probably deserved, but it surprised him. He had naively thought they could go back to those weeks when they’d been friends—real friends—who didn’t fuck or lie or break each other’s hearts. Rusty did send a message to Niles’s work email that morning—108 hours post-breakup, not that Niles was counting or anything—verifying his choir’s time slot, equipment needs, and paperwork for the Bluestem Bluegrass Festival. The email was so dry and impersonal Niles could almost trick himself into pretending he hadn’t sucked the guy’s cock.
The signature—Sincerely, Mr. Russell Adams—made all of Niles’s hope shrivel up and die, so he closed the email, locked his office door, and cried into his hands for about ten minutes.
He was dressed full cowboy for his Living History of the Plains demonstrations today, and there was something especially pathetic about crying in a historically accurate prairie-settler outfit. But it was Homeschool Day, which they had once a month and was generally very well attended, so he needed to pull his head out of his ass.
During his demo an hour later, Niles handed out his usual array of animal pelts for the kids to pass around, and then he exhibited how to cook common cattle-drive meals over an open fire, including sourdough biscuits, beans, and coffee. It was one of his favorite demonstrations. The script wasn’t too corny, the adults in the crowd were always hilariously willing to try the atrocious coffee, and the kids liked the fire.
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