by A. J. Thomas
“He’s insightful.”
“Well, he doesn’t have to live with them. He gets to sit in Oregon ranting about social justice issues for fifty weeks out of the year. Are you going to tell me what to bring, or just risk me showing up with a bottle of wine and making a fool out of myself?”
“No wine. Hawk’s okay around alcohol, but it feels mean, you know? And we’re just going to do it at the shop. We’ll just pull down the storm shutters and set up a table and stuff in front.”
“Thanksgiving dinner surrounded by all those pictures of tattoos? Is Tonya’s family cool with that?”
Sean stared at him curiously. “It’s what she does, why wouldn’t they be? Besides, her folks have got plenty of ink between them.”
Nate smirked. “That doesn’t answer the food question. I know what not to bring, that doesn’t tell me what I can pick up?”
“I’ve no idea,” Sean admitted. “The last time I had a regular Thanksgiving dinner was at the Perry Street shelter when I was ten. Good mashed potatoes, but if you bring that, I’m fucked, because I don’t know how to make anything else.”
Nate considered the family dinners he could remember. “Then I’ll bring broccoli rice casserole. It’s one of the top holiday side dishes of all time, and it’s one I can actually make.” He considered the ornate whole-food dishes his mom had been organizing recipes for. “Admittedly, I can only make the version that relies on canned soup and Cheez Whiz, but it’s really good.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“Home, then? Should we bring some pizza back for Hawk?”
“Nah. He’s still at his girlfriend’s. He actually called to tell me he’d be back late, but that he could bring me food if I was hungry.”
“So he won’t care if I keep you overnight? I already know you said you can’t, I’m just planning ahead.”
“I can’t stay tonight,” Sean insisted. “Hanging out is fine, but I need… stuff.”
“Stuff?” Nate chuckled.
“Hibiclens, an accessible shower, and a clean, dry liner to cover up my stump each day. If I let things go, especially with the prosthetic, there’s a big risk of infection. Something as simple as a blister could introduce bacteria into the bone, and….” He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, trembling. “I don’t want to do that again. Another surgery, and more skin grafts, and another half a year to heal. I can’t.”
“Hey,” Nate whispered, pulling him close. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad about not being able to stay. Not ever. I was hoping we might get to the point where you’d be comfortable keeping some of the things you need over here, that’s all.”
“But then you’ll see,” Sean said.
“Yes, I would.” Nate nudged his chin up and kissed him softly. “That’s why I said I’m hoping you’ll become that comfortable with me. But it’s okay if you can’t. Although if you’re only comfortable staying at Hawk’s, I might look for a place in the city. You’re worth the extra commute, but it’d be nice to spend more time with you and less time driving back and forth.”
“You’d do that?”
“Yes,” Nate said without hesitating. “And, speaking of driving back and forth, we should find clothes and head out.”
It was almost midnight when they made it back to Houston, and Nate found himself wishing they could both fit on Sean’s cot.
After they got Sean’s wheelchair out of Nate’s trunk, they stood in front of Hawk’s, Nate enjoying the chance to share a few slow, less frantic kisses before Sean finally pulled away with a smile. “We can’t spend the night in the parking lot. You going to be okay driving back?” he asked as he pushed his wheelchair in front of him.
Nate held the door for him, his gaze drawn to Sean’s ass as he moved past. “Not much choice. You don’t exactly have room for two, and Galveston is home for now.”
“I’d invite you to stay for some coffee, but the shop’s been empty since yesterday and I don’t know if the shit that’s in the pot still counts as coffee at this point.”
“That depends on how badly you need coffee. But I need to sleep. And to go find Cheez Whiz and canned soup. What time tomorrow should I come by?”
“Anytime. Hawk said dinner around five so we could cook and get a table and some chairs set up down here, but you’re welcome to come by whenever.”
“Just to hang out?”
“Or to let me ink a giant kelp forest on your back, whichever.”
Nate didn’t mean to cringe, but when he saw Sean’s worried expression, he smiled. “I’ll need a little time beforehand, but I’m game.”
“Huh?”
“Friday night, I was turned on the entire time,” he admitted with a quiet laugh. “I’ve thought about you going down on me in that damn dentist-chair setup so many times that even the pain from the tattoo didn’t help. I’m up for letting you put anything you want on my back—I trust you and you’re an amazing artist—I’m just kind of dreading sitting there with a hard-on again.”
“That’s why you couldn’t sit still?” Sean asked, scratching the back of his head.
“It’s only when it’s you. I’ve watched Hawk and Tonya do tattoos, and while it was still cool to see, I only react if you’re involved. Or in the room. Or if I think about you.”
Sean chuckled and ran his fingers down the lapel of Nate’s jacket. “If it’s a problem, we can try to take care of it in advance.”
“I tried that Friday, and it didn’t do any good.”
“Hmm. You did more than shave to prep for our session?”
Nate leaned close and nodded, then kissed Sean gently. “But if you’d be willing to lend a hand next time, I’m sure we can help each other focus.”
“Yeah, maybe. But tomorrow I might ask you for help with something else.”
“Hmm?”
“Have you ever done anything mechanical?”
“If I ask you to define ‘mechanical,’ that would probably be a solid no, huh?”
“It’s just that Tonya’s car still isn’t running. We had it towed to the shop because I was going to replace the alternator, but the flywheel on the replacement got crushed in the accident. When Hawk called he said he picked up another one, and I wanted to install it for her.”
Nate wanted to volunteer, to reassure him that he was totally at home working on cars, but he didn’t want to risk it. “The closest I’ve ever come to fixing my car is paying somebody else to do it. But if you tell me exactly what to do, I can probably provide a second set of hands.”
“That puts you on par with Hawk,” Sean announced, laughing. He tugged on Nate’s lapels, pulling him in for another kiss. “Come on, I’ll walk you out.”
“Nice to be able to say that again?” Nate asked, holding the door for him.
“You have no idea.” Sean glanced around the lobby. “Something as simple as a different line of perspective seems like a gift right now. It was awesome. I know it’s shitty timing, with the trial coming up, but I haven’t felt this good in months. I’m exhausted and sore, but good.”
Nate ran his fingers down the side of Sean’s arm and over the outside of his hand, down to the tip of his pinky. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Yeah.”
He waved as he got into the car. As he backed out into the almost empty parking lot, he wondered what might have happened if he’d met Sean when they were both in college, or even in high school. He wanted to think they’d have figured things out. Except, wishful thinking aside, he knew better. He’d never risked more than a quick glance at a guy like Sean in high school because he’d always been too worried about the possibility of disappointing his dad. He’d have never considered getting a tattoo, either. Walking away from Mercer, Delany, and Goodman had been one of the rashest decisions he’d ever made, but with the constant threat of his father’s contempt no longer looming over him, he could finally be himself. For the first time ever, he could make decisions based on what he actually wanted.
It was all kinds of messed up
to think about the accident that had nearly destroyed Sean as something to be grateful for—but if not for that horrific day, they might have spent their entire lives in the same city without ever knowing the other existed. The thought of never having Sean in his life made his chest ache.
Chapter 10
“IT’S A torque wrench—you’re not going to overtighten it. Just give it another turn.”
Nate glared at him from beneath the hood of Tonya’s lime-green Volkswagen. He pulled up on the wrench again, grunting with the effort. “I’m trying. You sure it’s on there right? And it’s in the right place?”
Sean checked the light on the battery charger, but he didn’t bother trying to get up from the back steps. The alley behind the shopping center was quiet and empty. Every shop, including the Chinese restaurant, was closed for the holiday, and Sean and Nate were the only ones around. “There’s nowhere else the alternator can go.”
“Then why the hell do they make it so hard to get this pulley on? What sense does it make to shove it under this damn thing?” he asked, flicking the intake manifold tubing.
“Older cars used to have a bit more space between components, but it was still tight. Since everything is stacked in there like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, it’s a bit trickier. It’s a more efficient design, and lets everything fit in the new chassis shape, but Tonya pays for it in terms of maintenance costs. It’s twice the cost of a normal alternator replacement.”
Nate leaned in with the wrench again, trying to see the almost-hidden bracket. “I hope you realize I have no idea if I’m doing this right,” Nate said, tugging the wrench up another quarter of a turn. The torque gauge on the handle clicked.
“There you go.” Sean leaned in beside him to route the alternator plug.
“Car places really charge a couple hundred bucks to do this?” Nate asked, glaring at the engine.
“Three hundred plus the cost of parts, because it’s hard to get to.” When Sean finished with the alternator wires, he hooked up the new battery and offered Nate a towel to wipe his hands. He closed the hood and leaned on it, watching Nate with an admiring eye.
“What?” Nate asked, smiling at him.
“You look good,” he said, gesturing to his slacks and dress shirt. He’d rolled up his sleeves, and at Sean’s insistence he’d left his tie in the shop with his jacket, but he still looked amazing. “I thought it was the suits, but you look good in anything. Doing anything.”
Nate set the towel on the car and turned toward him, setting his hands on Sean’s hips. “I think this is one of those pot-and-kettle moments,” he said, leaning into Sean and kissing the spot beneath his ear that always seemed to leave him giddy. “I admit I don’t feel at home with this kind of thing, but imagining you doing something like this for a living… that is an enticing image.”
“A ship or a rig is a little different. This is simple stuff.”
“Aww,” Tonya called from the back steps of Hawk’s. “You two are adorable together.”
He noticed she had her phone out and pointed at them, and groaned. “Aren’t you supposed to be resting? Playing on your phone doesn’t count as rest, your doctor said so.”
“I’m just taking a picture. I’m….” She hesitated, bringing her hand to her temple.
Using the car for balance, Sean retrieved his cane from where he’d left it leaning against the bumper and tried to get to her quickly. Nate was faster, catching her elbow before she stumbled down the stairs.
“You okay?” Sean asked, helping hold her steady.
“Dizzy.”
“Come on.” Nate carefully turned her toward the door. “Back in to the couch.”
“But there was something—”
“Boys!” Hawk shouted from the front. “Get your asses in here for food!”
“I’m not leaving my socket set out here!” Sean shouted back.
“How about you help her, and I’ll pack up your tools?” Nate offered.
He shook his head, trying not to look horrified. “Not a chance. I have a hard enough time keeping myself upright.”
“I’m okay,” Tonya insisted, swaying again.
“Much as I don’t want to have to replace my shit, I can’t replace you,” Sean said, taking her left arm while Nate took her right.
“You see how sweet he is?” Tonya asked Nate. “He’s cute, too. Makes you wonder how such a doll’s still single.”
“I’ll get your tools,” Hawk volunteered, slipping out past them.
“You should totally ask him out,” Tonya said to Nate. “He’s so into you.”
Nate grinned and turned to Sean with raised eyebrows. “Your turn.”
“Are you sure?”
“No, but I’ll take the next one.”
“Tonya, honey, Nate and I are hanging out and seeing where things go…,” Sean said for the third time that day.
“You’re together?” she asked, genuinely surprised. “Are you kidding me? You finally nailed the badass lawyer, and you didn’t even tell me? That is so not fair.”
Tonya’s dad glanced up from the counter where Hawk’s girlfriend, Marci, and Tonya’s mom were chatting and arranging more bowls, platters, and casserole dishes than Sean had ever seen.
“I’m sorry,” Sean said, forcing himself to sound sincere this time. “I should have told you. I figured you’d embarrass me by shouting about it at the first Thanksgiving Hawk gets to share with Marci, and she’d be so mortified she’d never come near the shop again.” He looked pointedly at Hawk’s date.
Tonya turned toward Marci, her eyes wide with panic. Hawk came in with Sean’s socket set, blushing a deep shade of purple. His girlfriend, who wore a pink skirt and a crisp button-up blouse, looked more like a conservative librarian than someone who’d actually spend time with Hawk. And she was laughing. “Don’t worry about it, dear. I’ve been hearing about how they’ve done nothing but dance around each other for months.”
Tonya’s mom took her arm and helped her to a chair while Sean and Nate retreated to the sink to wash the grease off their hands. The turkey was already carved, and a long folding table had been set up in the waiting area between the peeling leather couches. Twenty minutes after Hawk had put up the table, Marci had managed to turn the entire space into something that might have been pulled from the pages of a magazine—albeit with a tattoo parlor digitally edited into the backdrop.
“Kid, do you want me to grab you a plate?” Hawk asked, gesturing to the spread.
“Uh….” Sean considered it. He wasn’t sore, wasn’t too tired, and the more he used his prosthetic the easier it was. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to walk at a normal pace, but there were other amputees out there who managed to run, so he wasn’t going to dismiss the possibility. He was at least eighty percent sure he could keep his balance and hold a plate. “I think I’m good,” he said, shifting his cane to his left hand. Tonya was sitting in the middle of the table on the opposite side, so this way they’d be close enough to talk and she could still sit with her parents. That left Nate and Marci sitting on the ends, but it was that or separate Hawk and Marci and shove them into quasipaternal roles, and that was just too weird to fathom.
He grabbed his plate and followed Hawk and Marci to the buffet, making as many appropriate comments about how great the food looked as seemed reasonable, then made his way back to the table. He managed to set his food down without falling on his face, and even managed to get into the folding chair without making a fool out of himself.
“You okay?” Nate asked, touching his arm once they were both seated.
“Yeah. Armrests….” He tried to explain. “You’d never think armrests would be a big deal in terms of accessibility, but they make life easier.”
“Shit,” Hawk swore. “I didn’t even think about that. I’ve got a drafting stool upstairs that might work.”
“Nope. Sit down. I’m already sitting here, and I’ve got food. I’m good. I’ll tackle getting up again eventually.”
“It�
��s still weird to see you walking again,” Tonya said, picking at her food. “That is… I mean, you weren’t, right? Am I remembering that wrong?”
Sean gave her a sympathetic smile. No one had been able to guess how long Tonya’s symptoms would last. Her doctor had explained that healing from a traumatic brain injury was as much a product of time and rest as anything a neurologist could do. She didn’t seem to have any trouble remembering events from weeks before, but when she tried to remember the accident itself and the days on either side, she ended up with major headaches and no memories to show for the pain. Her short-term memory tended to come and go, and those moments when she realized she was missing something were the worst.
“It’s only been a couple days. Today is Thursday. You took me to my prosthetic fitting Monday. Tuesday night you got into an accident and bumped your head.” He’d repeated the same basic facts many times since Tonya was discharged, and he knew her parents had done it twice as often as he did. “It’s okay not to be able to remember stuff right now. It’ll get better,” he promised, even though he honestly didn’t know if it would.
“I’m….” She squeezed her eyes shut and smiled. “I’m just glad. I know you hate that chair.”
“Thank you,” he said.
“That’s what we should do!” Marci almost squealed. “We should go around and give everybody a chance to say what they’ve been most thankful for over the year. It’s traditional, after all. Of course, if you don’t want to share, you can just pass, but it might be fun.” When everyone awkwardly voiced, or in Hawk’s case, grumbled, their agreement, she looked delighted. “How about I start us off? I am so thankful for Alcoholics Anonymous. Quitting drinking is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, not so much because of the alcohol, but because so much of my social life revolved around it. And once that buffer was gone, I realized I didn’t particularly like the person I was or the people I had surrounded myself with. But luckily, AA gave me a chance to meet some truly amazing people who’ve shared the same struggle,” she said, taking Hawk’s hand. “And for that, I am very thankful.”