Shattered Glass

by Dani Alexander

  “Sounds like she’s trying to make things right for at least one of her kids.”

  “Yeah. Hard to stay angry with her after that,” I agreed. Actually, it was hard to stay angry with her at all. It wasn’t her fault she was fertile.

  “Where is he now?”

  “Boarding school in the UK. She said he knows about me.”

  “I don’t get someone who doesn’t want kids having a second one.”

  “She was nineteen when she had me. Married to a man who worked ninety hours a week. She said she was star struck by my father and his money and position. Then they tried reconciling a few years ago. She said he just wanted her half of the business.” I told him about my uncle.

  “That explains her being okay with your being gay.” He was smiling, but the way he pushed his French fries around the plate, I knew the smile was for show.

  Looking down at my plate of lasagna, I felt queasy. “Which of us is going to address the elephant in the room?”

  “Which one? I see a dozen elephants.”

  I picked the first one to come. “We can still…”

  “There it is.” He shoved his plate away roughly and picked up his phone. I blocked his screen with my hand.

  “Don’t.”

  “Don’t what? Be angry you’re breaking up with me? Think I’m going to beg you, Austin?”

  “I’m not breaking up with you. I— Jesus Christ, I found out an hour ago that I have a six-year-old brother and ten minutes after that I was getting custody. Can you cut me some slack if I don’t want you to feel obligated to—”

  “I don’t feel obligated to be with you, Austin Glass. How many times do I have to say it, you fucking moron!”

  The hush that fell over the restaurant had me looking sideways and lowering my voice. “You’re twenty years old. I can’t expect you to be prepared to raise a six-year-old boy with me.”

  “Yes, absolutely. Because my track record proves that I have a problem parenting, and I so dislike the idea of children altogether. By any chance was that degree you keep bragging about honorary?”

  “Touché and ouch.”

  “You can break up with me because you think we won’t last and you don’t want to subject a six-year-old to that. Or you can break up with me because you can’t handle being gay and raising a six-year-old. Or that you can’t handle a relationship at all. But don’t blame me! I’m twenty, Austin, but I’ve lived more in my twenty years than you have in your thirty.”

  “Twenty-six! I’m twenty-fucking-six.”

  “You’re exhausting me. I’m worn out fighting for this relationship. You need to fight for it. It’s your turn.”

  “I worry we won’t last, and I have no idea what being gay means or raising a kid or if two men can do it—or should. I feel selfish for even thinking of trying to make a relationship work with all that.”

  He looked everywhere but at me. Then he pulled his fingernails into his palms and stared at his fists. “Be selfish, Austin. That’s the only begging I can do. Be selfish.”

  There was a stutter of my breath as my heart sped up. The noise around us seemed to dim as I asked the one question that was vital to my decision. “Can you tell me you love me, Peter?”

  He spread his fingers. His hands shook so hard they drummed against the table, vibrating the silverware. “Do you think I’d be this terrified if I didn’t?”

  I put my hands over his. It wasn’t much of a help, mine were shaking just as much. “Wanna raise a six-year-old with me?”

  He exhaled slowly, each second marked by the tick in his breath. “I think I owe it to humanity to undo whatever influence you have on him.”

  “Hey, Peter Rabbit.”

  “What?” He looked up, his hands flipping to take mine.

  “Don’t you want to ask?”

  “If you’re ready for anal?”

  Maybe we would make it after all.

  Epilogue

  Ass Hair Spawns the Weirdest Discussions

  Peter sat on the bed, leaning back on his hands provocatively. I ignored him as best I could. I needed to get out of the house, and sometimes that wasn’t feasible when Peter looked like he did. “I can do it for you really fast before you go,” he offered when I turned my back.

  “No you can’t.”

  “I’ve done it before.”

  “No. You shaved half of my ass before. Then you buried your tongue in it for twenty minutes and your cock for another half hour. After that, you fell asleep. I walked around with ass itch for a week from having stubble on one side and hair on the other.”

  He bit his lip which did nothing to hide the grin. “You weren’t complaining at the time.”

  I finished buttoning my shirt and began tucking it in. I was doing my best not to focus on his lips or the way his jeans molded against his legs. “Your ‘come hither’ thing,” I pointed at the way he’d leaned back on his elbows and spread his thighs, “isn’t going to work.”

  “No?”

  Yes. “No.”

  “Why are you unbuttoning your shirt then?”

  I looked down and quickly re-buttoned the tail end of my shirt. When did I untuck it? “Fucker.”

  “We have,” he looked at the clock, “twenty minutes.”

  “Which I’m going to use to eat before my two-hour ride to the penitentiary.” Every fourth Sunday I visited Dave in prison. He was to be released next month. After that he was off to Sweden. “I can’t miss today.”

  “I could eat you now, and you could eat a hamburger on the way.”

  Damn his smile. I hesitated while buckling my belt. My eyes floated to his crotch. “Tonight,” I said breathily. “Cai will be home tonight. He can babysit.”

  “He’s getting in from Europe. Twelve hours of flights and airports. I don’t think he’ll be into much more than sleeping.”

  I gave up and went over, pressing our hips together as I lay atop him. “Then Darryl can babysit.”

  He locked his legs around my waist and slid his hands up my sides. “Did I say happy birthday?”

  I scowled. “I thought we decided we weren’t mentioning it?”

  “Twenty-nine. A year from thirty. Maybe we shouldn’t have sex. We have to start thinking about your heart.”

  “If I didn’t have to go, I’d show you exactly how virile I can be.”

  He leaned up and whispered into my ear. “You could spend that two-hour ride with my come inside you.”

  “You’re killing me,” I groaned, inhaling raggedly.

  Peter and I had finally settled the monogamy argument. We didn’t choose it because of society; or because we needed to be faithful to prove anything. We chose to be monogamous because we didn’t want to worry about condoms and HIV. It was hedonistic, really. But it worked for us. Which is why Peter surprised me with his next statement.

  “Marry me.”

  My head jerked up from the crook of his neck. I stared into the depths of his eyes. “What?”

  “Deaf in your old age?”

  “Marry you?”

  His hand rested on my chest. “Your heart is beating really fast. Is that fear or excitement?”

  “It’s both. And confusion.” When Peter said he was romantic, it was in the way that I was romantic. A blow job and an “I love you” before rolling over and falling asleep. ‘Marry me’ was definitely outside our normal routine.

  “Stuart asked…he asked if I wanted to adopt him.”

  “Oh.” I climbed off him to think. I needed to get my head in gear. The other one.

  “Do you not want me to?”

  I smiled and laughed, shaking my head. “I brought with up to him last week.”

  “Okay.”

  Inscrutable bastard. “Okay?”

  His nose twitched. “I want to adopt him. Legally, marriage makes sense.”

  That was the Peter I knew. “That settles that then.”

  “Okay.” He smiled and bit his lip. That was when I knew it meant more to him than a legal issue.

&n
bsp; “How do you manipulate me after three years?”

  He pushed to his knees and wrapped himself around me from behind. “Because you love me.”

  “I love your cock.”

  DWS—Driving While Stunned

  By the time Cai turned seventeen, he was six foot two inches tall. He seemed to tower over me even back then. I thought he was well over that when I picked him up at the airport.

  “I thought teenagers stopped growing at eighteen?” I hauled his bags into the trunk. He must have brought half of Europe with him.

  “It’s only an inch and half?” He opened his winter coat and looked down at his, in my opinion, too tight jeans. “Am I too tall?”

  “No,” I assured him. “But did you eat in Europe? You’re a stick with a head.”

  “Oh. Um. There wasn’t a lot of time for food.”

  I took off his hat and mussed his hair. The snow looked strikingly white against the black sheen. “You look great.”

  “Peter couldn’t come?” He checked the front seat and scrunched into my Aston Martin.

  I shut the door after joining him in the car. My new baby purred to life. “He has finals. We were expecting your flight later tonight. How did you get here two hours ahead of schedule?”

  “Money?”

  “You had money left after you bought most of Europe?” I pulled onto the highway.

  He laughed. “Most are presents for Stu.”

  The thing about Cai was that his moods were unstable. I never knew what his reactions would be to something. The roads were icy and the weather snowy and cold. I was reluctant to upset him while driving in sleet. But Stuart was excited about the adoption, and it was likely the first thing he’d hit Cai with.

  “We have news about Stuart.”

  “I already know. Stuart texted me. I think it’s cool.” He blew steam on my window and drew a skewed heart.

  “It doesn’t mean…”

  “Austin,” he said, smiling at me, “Peter loves me. You love me. We all love Stuart. I’m not threatened.”

  “Peter is it? That’s new.” The new, adult Cai apparently had decided ‘Rabbit’ was juvenile.

  “I have news, too.”

  The heart. “You met someone?” Thank God. The reason we had sent him to Europe for a year was to get him over Agent Riley Cordova. Maybe that was why he seemed so grown up, despite the innocence and sweetness of his smile.

  “No,” he said quietly. “You and Peter never did understand. I belong to Riley.”

  Christ. “Cai, he’s my age. He’s rejected you three times. You need to get over it.” I didn’t mean to be harsh, but those rejections had nearly broken Cai. And dealing with a depressed, suicidal teenager was not fun.

  “I was underage. Now I’m nineteen.”

  “And he’s thirty. That didn’t change.”

  “I never told you. I never told anyone.” He pulled out a beaded black necklace from beneath the neck of his sweater. I’d never seen him take it off. “He kissed me.”

  I nearly ran us off the road. “What?”

  “He kissed me?” Cai looked sideways at me while grabbing the dashboard for dear life. “Just a kiss.”

  “I think you’d better tell me your news before I drive us into a ditch.”

  “Oh. Um. Maybe I should…so you don’t…I don’t want to die.”

  “Cai,” I warned.

  “Pull over?”

  I took the next exit and stopped in a motel parking lot. “Please tell me you didn’t shoot anyone.”

  “Shoot? Oh. No, I didn’t shoot anyone.” He scraped his teeth along his upper lip. “But um. I’m um… kind of in… not trouble. Not really. Maybe a little. But…Well. Interpol has a file…”

  I gaped at him. There weren’t words enough to describe how utterly devastated I felt. “Now is where you tell me you’re innocent.”

  “Oh, well, Um. I’d like to tell you that. I really would. But if they question you…” He lifted his shoulders and winced a smile with raised brows. “Plausible deniability and all that.”

  About the Author

  Dani Alexander is an American living way out in the boonies of Scandinavia. Dani has long since terrified all the introverted neighbors with bright smiles and the American Ways of bringing cookies and muffins over to their house. Sometimes they run when they smell baking. The neighbors find respite often, as Dani is almost always cloistered away in the computer room, fiendishly typing up new characters and figuring ways to torture them.

  Oh yeah, there’s also two cats, a dog and a put-upon husband.

  For news and information visit Dani’s website at http://slashfiction.org.