“I have to ask you something, Adam,” I said.
“Anything.” He pulled out one of the wood chairs from the dining table, gesturing for me to sit down. I sat, and he perched on the kitchen counter, hoisting himself up in one fluid motion. He was still close to me, since the kitchen was tiny, looking down at me from up on the counter.
I gave him a look. “You don’t wanna sit at the table?”
“Can’t. That other chair is broken. Figured I’d give you the better seat, though,” he said with a grin. “What did you want to ask me?”
“Oh yeah. How the fuck did you get Chewy to be so comfortable around you? Usually she’s a nut case around anyone but me. I’m just… impressed.”
He puffed out a laugh, leaning back a little on the counter. “Well, she was nuts the first ten minutes. It was making me crazy that I didn’t get your phone number before, because I didn’t know how to deal with her. She was kinda growling and swiping at the door. But I lured her in here with a piece of chicken, and then once she was happy with the food I started playing guitar and… she likes it.”
I stared at him, hitching up one eyebrow. “She likes guitar?”
He nodded, taking a swig of his beer. “She loves it. Can’t get enough.”
“I didn’t even know you played. I thought you were like… I don’t know… a teenybopper.” Shit. I bit my tongue in my mouth, hoping he didn’t find that rude.
“Mm,” Adam said, “Well, I was kind of a teenybopper, years ago.”
“Yeah,” I said, dragging my finger through the condensation on the beer bottle. “5*Star was kind of a big deal when I was in middle school.”
“Middle school?” Adam said, his voice rising an octave. “Jesus, you really are young. Um, you can legally drink the beer I just gave you, right?” he asked, leaning toward me.
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” I said, “I’m 26. You definitely don’t have to worry about giving me beer.”
“Thank God,” he said, exhaling and running a hand back through his hair. “Last thing I need is to be illegally giving beer to attractive young men in my house.”
I almost choked on my sip. I turned my head away from him slightly, unsure if I’d heard him correctly.
Did Adam Fara really just call me attractive? Heat flooded through my body and it wasn’t from the beer.
“But yeah,” Adam was saying, “it seems like Chewy really just has a lot of energy that she needs to get out.”
I finally looked up at him.
“I know,” I said, “she can be a nightmare. Someone brought her into the shelter in a box with other dogs, and I think she misses them. She’s lonely. Took us weeks to get her to act normal, and the other puppies got adopted but she never did. Finally I just offered to take her myself, against my better judgment.”
“You work at the shelter? How many jobs do you have, Grey?”
I smirked. “Just the two. And the shelter is volunteer work a handful of hours every week. But that’s part of the problem. Chewy really needs to go on long walks, daily, and I just don’t have the time to do that every day. Half the time I don’t get home until late.”
Adam met my eyes, and it seemed like he was deep in thought for a second. “I mean… I’ve got nothing but time,” he said, eyeing me.
“Hm?”
He sat forward. “I work from six to two every day, and that’s it. I barely know anyone here yet. Grey, if you want, I’d be glad to take Chewy for some walks in the afternoons.”
“Oh,” I said, looking down. “I don’t actually have enough cash to pay for a dog walker, sorry.”
“Are you kidding?” Adam said, and out of the corner of my eye I saw him slide down off the counter and approach me. “I’d practically pay you. It gets me out of the house, she’s a great dog once she calms down, and I’ve wanted a dog for years but couldn’t because of the travel I did.”
I opened my mouth but my breath caught in my throat. “I—ah—I can’t just let you do that for me and not give you something in return,” I said, my cheeks hot again.
“Why not?”
“It just… doesn’t feel right,” I said.
“Well, okay. I don’t want you to do anything you don’t feel comfortable with. But I’m just letting you know that I’d love to walk her and help out.”
I thought for a moment, turning over the possibility in my head.
It was weird, having an offer like this from someone like Adam. I already felt like I owed him something simply from the sheer fact of being inside his house. He was older than me, clearly cooler than me, and I kind of couldn’t believe that he’d even offered me a beer. How could I handle him literally performing a service for me, and not give him something back?
But I looked to Chewy, on the ground at Adam’s feet, tail wagging gently against the laminate kitchen floor. Really, all she needed to keep from being insane was to be walked, properly, for at least an hour every afternoon. And I couldn’t do that for her every day.
“Okay,” I said finally, “Okay. But I’m going to pay you.”
He held up a hand in protest. “Grey, you just said you don’t have cash and it’s fine—”
“Yeah, I don’t have cash,” I said, “But I’m going to pay you somehow. It might not always be money. And I sure hope you like ice cream, because I feel like it’s gonna be ice cream, like, a lot of the time. But I’m not letting you do this for nothing.” I stood up, finished my beer, and set the empty bottle down on his table.
“Has anyone ever told you how sweet you are?”
My head snapped up and I looked at him with my head cocked to one side. “What? No. What? Literally no one tells me that.”
Adam had a slight smile playing at the corners of his lips and he leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms in front of them, only highlighting how goddamn good the lines of his muscles looked.
“Well, it’s the truth,” he said. “Pretty sure you’re adorable, Grey.”
Oh God. I leaned one hand back onto the kitchen table for balance, suddenly finding myself in need of something to grip onto as heat surged through me, from my chest, to my arms, and my face. “Oh. Um. People usually tell me I’m a weirdo or a downer or something. But—uh—thanks, I guess, and enjoy the cake. Or don’t eat it, whatever, it’s no big deal, like I said—”
“I already know I’m gonna love the cake,” Adam said and even though I couldn’t look him in the eye, I could practically hear the smile in his voice.
“Okay,” I said, the word coming out high-pitched and a little breathy. “So, I’ll take Chewy home now, thanks again for watching her and just give me a call to set up a walk if that’s still something you’d wanna do—”
“Hey,” Adam said, and suddenly I felt his hand on my shoulder, its warm weight making my heart skip.
I met his eyes, and found him smiling gently down at me.
“I don’t even have your phone number. But I left mine on your door. Listen—text or call me, tell me when it’s a good time to come over to get her, and I would love to take her for a walk. I’m looking forward to it already.”
I swallowed hard. Somehow his hand on my shoulder had both comforted me and sent my heart rate into the stratosphere. I felt at once skittish and like I wanted to nuzzle up against his chest and proclaim it my home. The smell of his skin and clean laundry scent was practically hypnotic, reminding me of how long it had been since I’d been physically close with someone.
Too long. Long enough to send me into a tailspin just from this, this moment in the kitchen that probably meant nothing to him.
“Okay,” I said, impressed that my voice came out finally sounding normal. “Okay. I’ll give you a call to set something up.”
He nodded, finally dropping his hand from my shoulder, which was a slight relief but an even greater disappointment. “I’m also home in the evenings. You can stop by anytime.”
I gave him a brief nod, then bent to wake up Chewy. “C’mon, Chew-Chew, let’s go home,” I said. She
followed me to the front door, but whined and looked back to Adam when we walked out the front door.
“Aw, she finally likes me,” he said.
I think I might like you too.
“Night, Grey.”
“G’night, Adam,” I said, and before I could say something to embarrass myself I jogged down the steps and back to my house.
Three
Adam
“Good evening, this is Deborah Fara.”
“Hi, mom.” I cradled my phone near my ear as I lay down.
There was a crackle and a pause on the other end of the phone. “Adam? Is that you?”
“Yep, it’s me. How are you, mom?”
“Adam. It’s been weeks since I’ve heard from you. Months, maybe?”
“Yeah, well, not much has changed,” I lied.
“Well, clearly your phone number has changed. What is this 360 area code?”
“It’s for Washington. I got a new phone a few weeks ago.”
“Hm,” she said, curt. “Washington. What are you doing in DC?”
“Not DC. Washington State. I’m in between Portland and Seattle.”
“Oh,” she said, sounding completely uninterested.
“So how is Stephanie doing, mom?” The real reason I’d called was to find out how my sister was with her new twins. Well, I guess they weren’t new anymore, seeing as they were over a year old. “I need her phone number—I didn’t have it memorized and it got lost with this new phone I bought.”
“Well, if you called more often, you’d know how Stephanie was doing. The twins were in the hospital with the flu last week. Luckily they’re out now and recovering well.”
“Jesus,” I said, “I’m so glad they’re okay.” I was lying down on my newly purchased bed, with my feet up against the wall.
“Yes, they’re doing fine. I was talking with my financial advisor about setting up college funds for them the other day, actually.” Her voice was cold and clipped. It seemed like every time I called her, she’d gotten more bitter.
“College funds already? They’re still babies...”
“Well, of course, Adam. It’s the same way we did it for you, shortly after you were born. Not that you’ve done anything with that money….”
“And I’m not going to touch it.”
“And what are you doing now for work, Adam? It isn’t too late to go back to college. People do it in their thirties all the time.”
“I’m getting by. I definitely don’t need dad’s money. I’ve told you, I’m never touching it.”
I heard the clink of ice in a glass, and I could almost picture the clear tumbler of vodka soda that she was undoubtedly holding. “Well, I’d say your kids would inherit it, Adam, but I know that’s just wishful thinking.
“Why is that?”
“You know why. You’ll never have kids.”
My blood began to boil. I was typically a calm person, almost too calm, but speaking to my mother was a rare occurrence that could make me insane—could almost make me forget the adult version of who I was, hurtling me back through time to the years when I had to live with her as a teenager. I kept thinking it would get better as I grew older, and it hadn’t, the wounds fresh every time we spoke.
“And what makes you so sure that I’ll never have kids?”
“Well, other than the fact that you’ve told me before you don’t want any, I also don’t think you’ll ever settle down, Adam.”
Settle down. The implications in her words were staggering.
Because to her, settle down meant quit being gay. And that was something that no matter how many times I told her—that I’m gay, I always have been—she wouldn’t accept. And neither had my father, when he’d been alive.
“Can I please just get Stephanie’s phone number?” I said, ice cold.
“Let me find it. But do consider college, Adam. You know you’re the only one in the family who hasn’t gone. Your inheritance is waiting for you, all you have to do is ask.”
I could hear her rustling through papers and I tried to keep my anger measured and contained.
I was resolute that I would never take inheritance money from a family that had never accepted who I am, and now well into my thirties, still didn’t. Because no matter how modern my parents might have seemed in other ways—my dad had been an award winning electronics pioneer and made his own way to riches—they had never gotten over the fact that their only son was gay.
She finally gave me Stephanie’s number. After a few more perfunctory exchanges and audible, deliberate sighs, we hung up.
And I felt hollowed out.
I turned over onto my stomach in bed, burying my face in one of the new pillows. I thought I had been prepared to talk to her—I’d even psyched myself up, reminding myself that I lived far away now and she had no control over me—but here I was, practically numb after speaking with her for only a few minutes.
I got up and crossed over to the kitchen, searching the fridge aimlessly. I opened up the freezer and pulled out the ice cream cake, taking another slice from the rapidly dwindling delicious cake.
And slowly but surely, as I ate it sitting at the kitchen table, my anger started to fade.
Because this week, I had started to feel like I could call Fox Hollow home. I was building a life for myself unlike anything I’d ever had.
Granted, it was the first place I had even tried to make feel like home in years, but I still had been able to develop a sort of routine after the first week of being in town.
And I was enjoying my job working at the cleaning company more than I could have imagined. We had recurring weekly and monthly jobs at nearby schools and facilities, and then also picked up one-time jobs to deep clean houses or various other buildings. It wasn’t the kind of job where I got to talk much with my coworkers—even during lunch breaks, most people on the crew seemed to prefer reading newspapers over socializing. But it was oddly calming. Sure, cleaning up a kid’s puke off the floor at an elementary school wasn’t fun, but those extreme cases weren’t the norm, and it felt infinitely more right to be a glorified janitor than it would to take the money my father had left for me.
And yesterday we had cleaned a gorgeous house in Tarringville, the wealthy neighborhood that Grey’s ice cream shop was in. It was a veritable estate, and we’d been hired to deep clean it after the 98-year-old owner had passed away in a nearby nursing home. As we left the house and drove through the surrounding town, I kept my eyes open for Freezy Sweet, and finally saw it on an otherwise nondescript corner, its sign glowing in the foggy afternoon light.
Grey hadn’t contacted me since that night at my house. I saw him outside every day, taking Chewy out or in the backyard by himself, but I never received a phone call, or message from him.
I’d almost been convinced he wanted nothing to do with me. But that night, after hanging up with my mother, eating ice cream cake, and cracking open a book, I heard a rapping knock at my door.
It was Grey, looking much the same as he had the last time I’d seen him, soaked with rain in his black hoodie. He was slumped, barely meeting my eyes.
“Grey. Come on in. Don’t you own a raincoat?” I said, opening the door wide for him.
“Oh. Uh, no,” he said as he stepped inside, and I heard a distinct waver in his voice. His hands were pressed into the front pocket of his hoodie, and when he finally looked up at me I saw that his eyes were reddened, maybe like he’d been crying.
“Jesus,” I said, taking a step closer to him. “Are you alright?”
“It doesn’t matter,” he said, with a shake of his head. “Listen. Did you really mean what you said about walking Chewy?”
“Of course I did. I’ll walk her anytime you need.”
He took in a breath. “Okay. I might have to take you up on it, then.”
“Sure. I’m ready whenever,” I said.
He nodded. Now not only did I think he'd been crying before, in fact I worried he may begin to tear up again at any moment, the lin
es of his face straining and tightening one moment only to collapse again a second later, seemingly too weak to even bother with worry.
It was painful. I felt deeply for him, too deeply for a person I'd only recently met. He was in his twenties with the weight of the world upon him, too young to have reached resignation but old enough to be so weary.
“Grey,” I said, “Why the sudden change of heart?”
“I just… don’t know if I can even be around in the evenings for Chewy anymore. I have to up my hours even more at the shop because I just… I can’t afford this new medication my mom needs and basically I’m just fucked and if I’m at the store from 9 a.m. until 9 p.m. I’m not gonna be able to take care of my dog and I just—”
“Hey,” I said, pushing in close and putting a hand to his shoulder. He finally met my eyes again. “I would love to walk her. Consider it a done deal. But are you okay?”
He pulled in a shuddering breath. “I mean, no? Not really? But I’m not going to put that on you, Adam. I’ll be okay, I just need help with the dog.”
“Your mom is sick?”
He paused for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah. She had this thyroid operation a couple years ago, and they haven’t been able to get the meds right ever since, and they keep switching them on her and it’s awful, and finally they have this new one for us to try but it’s expensive as hell and my shitty insurance doesn’t cover much and I need to work more hours.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said, wishing there was something I could do more than just promising to walk his dog. “Is there anything else I can do to help?”
He leaned back slightly, pressing his hands to his temples. “Only thing that would help is me getting the fuck out of this town. Which it’s starting to look like will never happen.”
“What’s so wrong with Fox Hollow?” I asked.
He practically glared at me. “Everything? I still don’t even know why you came here. I’ve been trying to get out my whole fucking life.” His voice was harsh as I’d ever heard it.
Wild Star: Under the Stars Book 3 Page 4