by Rhys Ford
“First off, you weren’t around when I started it. Second point, you two couldn’t even look at each other, so how the fuck were you going to ink him? You’re just pissy because I got his thigh. What’s left on him? Shoulders? Upper back? Lots of room. If he’ll even let you near him with a needle.” Ivo nodded at the small maroon compact pulling into their driveway. “Looks like the kid’s here. God, what an asshole you’re not out there to help them get Chris out of the car. Such a dick.”
“God, I hate you. I’d tell you to watch the dog so he doesn’t go outside, but he’d have to be conscious first.” Gus’s hand was on the door handle before Jules’s mom finished her turn into the drive. He checked his hair in the mirror, smoothing it before he headed out. “Kids are easy, right? I mean, they’re small. Shit, Rey pulled in right behind her. Tell me I can do this, dude.”
“Sure. Nothing like your ex and the chick you banged when he broke up with you meeting in the driveway while she’s coming over with your secret love baby to spice up your day,” Ivo called out behind him. “Piece of fucking cake.”
“I really fucking hate you sometimes,” Gus muttered under his breath, shutting the door firmly behind him. “Goddamn it, he’s already out of the car.”
Rey was at Jules’s door, introducing himself with a broad smile and a sensual swagger. His hands were out, guiding her carefully over the curb. Then he reached in to grab her crutches. They were laughing about something, a merry little song bright enough to make Gus even more nervous. Wiping his hands on his jeans, Gus hurried down the stairs, nearly tripping on the last uneven step. Lynn was getting out of the car by the time Gus crossed over the walk, and Rey’d gone over to the other side, chuckling at something Jules said to him.
He’d meant to slip out of Rey’s apartment before Mace woke up, but his damned older brother’s sleeping habits were unpredictable, so Gus found himself face-to-face with a very amused, shirtless Mace as soon as he’d opened Rey’s bedroom door. Neither of them spoke. Then Rey cleared his throat behind Gus and Mace chuckled, scratching at his bare, lightly furred stomach while he padded back into his bedroom across the hall.
The drive back to the brothers’ house had been done in near silence, but Rey’s hand drifted over to Gus’s thigh, and the light squeeze he’d gotten went a long way in calming the ravenous butterflies in Gus’s stomach. Their kiss goodbye had been done in the driveway, and then again a few feet away from the road when Rey stopped his car, got out, and ran over to rip Gus’s breath away. He’d let go, took a deep breath, then made a quick hopping trek over the rough ground, making hissing noises when his bare feet found a nest of tiny pine cones hidden beneath a spread of fragrant, drying evergreen needles.
The look Rey gave him over the maroon compact’s roof left him as breathless as their last kiss, and Gus couldn’t stop a silly grin from forming over his face.
“Gus!” Chris screamed from the car’s back seat. There was a burble of sounds, something about a horse, then possibly hotdogs, but it was hard for Gus to follow. Kicking out at the front seats, he struggled to undo the latch at his waist. “Out, please!”
“Hold up, little man.” Gus gave Jules’s mother a quick kiss on her cheek, then opened the door. He froze, wondering if he’d overstepped. He didn’t have any rights to parent Chris. Not officially. Hesitating, Gus took a step back, but Lynn’s hand was already on his shoulder to stop him. “Um, sorry. I just—”
“Go on, take him out.” Jules’s mother was a brace of warmth and smiles, a tiny slip of a woman who’d made his life both wonderful and horribly complicated. “I’m going to get your boyfriend to help us get the potato salad and pies from the trunk, since Jules is still on crutches. Doug said he’ll be by after he finishes his round of golf, so I expect we’ll see him in an hour or so.”
“Okay, kid, stay still while I figure this out.” Ducking his head into the car, Gus studied the straps holding his son in. Chris’s fingers were grimy, sticky from the half-eaten candied orange slice he’d shoved in his mouth when Gus reached in to undo his restraints. “Jesus, it’s like you’re flying a fighter jet or something. Cthulhu has less arms than this da… thing.”
“Here.” Chris stabbed at a button. “I’m not big enough.”
“Yeah, and when you are, you’ll not have to use this.” He scowled, hitting the latch. “I’m going to have to grab a car seat if I’m…. God, there’s a lot of crap I’m going to need.”
“Crap’s a bad word,” Ivo’s mirror announced from his perch with nearly the same snarky tone as the original Gus left behind in the house. “Mom says shit, but crap’s bad too.”
“Oh yeah, you’re definitely our kid,” Gus muttered, working the straps loose. “Okay, do you need me to grab you or—and you’re climbing—okay, hold on. Let me get out of the way. Hang on.”
“There’s a dog in the window.” Chris slid off of the seat, impatiently patting at Gus’s hands when he grabbed the boy to help him out. “Are we going to see him?”
“Yeah, that’s Earl. He lives here. You’ll meet him in a bit,” Gus promised. “Stay there. Do not move. Actually no, give me your hand. There’s cars.”
Sure, the road was a bit away and clear, but there were… possibilities, dire ones. The house seemed too far away, too unprotected. There was a fence around the backyard, high enough to keep the dog in, but Earl barely stirred himself, where Chris would probably view the perimeter as a challenge. There was way too much of himself in his son. He’d have to be blind not to see it, and at that point, standing in the driveway having a small battle over hand-holding and dogs seemed like the opening skirmish of a long, heart-wrenching war between two strong wills.
“Dude, I’m serious. Give me your hand.” Gus held his out. “It’s either that or I carry you. Your choice.”
“God, you sound just like Bear right now. Chris, hold on to your dad’s hand. We’re right next to a road, and you’re stressing him out.” Jules hitched around the back end of the car, the gravel scattered on the edges of the drive crunching beneath her crutch tips.
“He’s too tall.” Chris raised his arms over his head, waving his hands in the air. “Can’t reach.”
“Now.” Stone hard, Jules’s voice drew a line in the sand even Gus could see. Clamping his mouth shut, Chris shoved his hand in Gus’s, but a defiant glint remained in his enormous dark blue eyes. Stopping, Jules tilted her head up and wrinkled her nose at Gus. “So you give my mom a kiss but not me?”
“I can either keep an eye on him or kiss you on the cheek. Can’t do both.” He gave her a quick peck. “Let’s get you guys into the house before I have a heart attack.”
“Yeah, welcome to being a parent,” Jules muttered at him, maneuvering carefully around her son. “Everything’s sticky, you watch the same movie five hundred times, and wearing Batman pajamas to the grocery isn’t laziness but a fashion statement. Try to keep up, August. It’s going to be a very long, hard ride.”
LATE AFTERNOON was one of Gus’s favorite times in the city, especially right after a bit of rain. The air was clean, brisk with a slightly cold wind, but the sun was strong enough to keep the chill from settling. Most afternoons were spent at the shop, slogging ink or chatting up tourists ambling by 415 Ink’s open doors, so having a bit of time with the rest of his brothers in the backyard they’d busted fingers to the bone to fix up was nice. Even when it meant herding a three-year-old little boy who’d apparently found a soul mate in the scruffy dog they’d brought in out of the cold.
Or maybe the herding, three-year-old, and the dog simply made it even better.
He’d thrown up in the bushes Earl plowed into to retrieve the ball Chris threw from the top lawn. A few feet away, the garage held bits and pieces of his bike, small pieces of metal left behind when his motorcycle mechanic picked it up after the accident, and the rainbow-thread hammock Ivo lounged on was the spot Gus’d learned just because he could imagine having sex someplace, didn’t mean the reality would necessarily match.
&nb
sp; Rey, Bear, and Mace were standing near the grill, listening to Jules’s father, Doug, tell them about a place in San Jose they could go to get fantastic shrimp tacos and discussing the merits of cooking with canned beer. Luke and Lynn were standing by the rock face water feature they’d gotten for practically nothing at a home improvement store that sat unassembled in the garage until Mace was finally tired of hitting it with his car when he came home.
Leaning on the upper deck’s railing, watching Chris stomp through the grass with his bare feet speckled green from the lawn and a bright pink ring around his mouth from the strawberry popsicle he’d shared with the dog, Gus knew he’d lost a piece of his heart. Probably even two, because when he glanced at Rey holding his own against Bear and Mace, the ember he’d protected in his chest flared, stroking him with its warmth. The wink Rey gave him was wicked, and his cock throbbed when his mind came up with all kinds of things Rey could do with the tip of the tongue he’d stuck out in a mocking, childish gesture behind Bear’s back.
The railing held when Jules appeared at Gus’s side, her elbows resting on the broad flat plank running along the deck’s spindles. A delicate, pretty woman with gorgeous inked sleeves mostly done by Bear and a soulfulness in her heavily lashed eyes, Jules had been a balm to the rawest of wounds he’d carried, and even now, with the years between them, Gus was grateful for her holding him together on a night when his world fell apart.
“You’re like a lion looking over your kingdom over here. Plan on grabbing Chris and holding him for the elephants to bow down to?” Grinning at him, she leaned hard, taking the weight off her legs, and he grabbed her arm, shock hitting him when the railing held up.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, letting go. “Damn thing leaned for so long, I though it was going to give. Forgot we replaced it after Ivo pushed it over a few months ago. Landed in Bear’s tomatoes. He was not happy.”
“Bear or Ivo?” She shot him a grin, eyeing Ivo trying to coax Earl into chasing a tennis ball.
“Bear. Ivo mostly swore, then went to pick tomatoes out of his butt. He grabbed one and threw it, so it was war.” They’d had a fight with the smashed fruit, pelting one another until bruises welted their arms, shoulders, and back. “Damned things were green. Hard as shit and they hurt.”
They stood silent for a long time, probably longer than the hot, desperate sex they’d had that night. Then Jules spoke up, a quiet murmur barely audible over Chris’s shrieks of laughter, “He’s a good kid. Mom gave me a lot of shit for keeping him from you. I owe you a shit-ton of apologies for that. I made you miss so fucking much but… I wasn’t sure, you know? I mean, I wasn’t sure you’d want to be a part of his life.”
“No, I get it. It’s okay.” There was a lot of truth in her reasoning. Gus couldn’t fault it. Three years ago, his head hadn’t been on straight, and the pain of Rey’s rejection was fresh, an abraded raw wound that wouldn’t heal. He’d run from the pain, taking solace in road trips and long shop hours, numbing himself with exhaustion. “When you called—well, when you got a hold of me—it was a good time. I needed to stop… moving. You telling me about him gave me something to focus on… something outside of myself. So, it’s good.”
She sipped at her iced tea, rattling the ice around in her tumbler. Her eyes were on Chris, but her attention was somewhere else, someplace Gus couldn’t go. Something simmered beneath her expression, and the whispers started in Gus’s mind, small flights of darkness with tiny teeth and claws, tearing into his confidence and letting doubt seep in through the rents.
“Lawyer for Child Protective Services called to talk to me today. About you.” She wasn’t meeting his gaze. Just continued to stare out onto the backyard. “For the court case. Mom said it’s routine but… the caseworker got on the phone too, and she was worried—”
“That asshole Bulcher came at me first,” he tossed in quickly. “Even the cops said he’d crossed the line. Your mom said that too.”
“No. God no, he’s a creep,” Jules said, pulling a face. “Mom filed a complaint against him, but you know how the state is, they’ll just move him around a bit until he can retire. It wasn’t about Bulcher. It was about your brother… and your mom. About how they died. The lady was worried it affected you and that you’d… she wanted me to know what happened.”
His world went quiet, a curtain settling over the activity around him, shoving back the sounds of Chris playing and the rest of the family’s discussions. Swallowing around the lump in his throat, he looked over at his son. Chris and Ivo were holding their own against Earl, the dog’s mouth clamped firmly around a rope toy. The dog hunched and scooted back, dragging them a few inches forward. Gus was amazed at how much he adored the boy. How the family’s lives were beginning to be shaped around the existence of a young human being with little logic, a lot of arrogance, and a generous heart he was willing to share with anyone around him.
A woman—a faceless woman in an office—threatened that, her words slithering around Jules’s ankles, a snake in the garden he couldn’t kill. Tilting his head back, Gus stared up at the sky, fluffy white clouds tumbling across its blue expanse, and exhaled out the curdled anger building inside of him.
“What did she tell you?” His palms hurt, and Gus loosened his grip on the wooden railing. “Actually it doesn’t matter what she told you. The question is, how is it going to affect me and Chris?”
He didn’t want to fight with her, didn’t want to have to battle for a son he didn’t even know about, but in the few months since Jules reached out to him about Chris, something inside of him changed. Something oddly Bear-like emerged from somewhere in him, and he wasn’t about to let Chris slip out of his life.
“I didn’t know you had a twin. Or that he died.” She set the tumbler on the rail and turned, leaning on one elbow to face him. “And your mother… you never told me.”
“Not something you bring up in casual conversation.” The simmer in his guts was still there; then Jules put her hand on his arm and Gus sighed. “I would never hurt him. Ever. Not like—”
“I never thought you would.” Jules shook her head. “I got angry. Like really fucking pissed off about… hell, everything, everyone. That asshole Bulcher, the caseworker, and anyone else who shit on you. I know you. I worked with… okay not so much worked with as worked for… but it still counts. I’ve watched you tell someone not to get a guy’s name on her ass because she’d regret it and talk down a guy who came in smashed off his ass and wanted to fight the whole shop because we wouldn’t ink him. Those people don’t know you. I do. You were hurting that night, and we’re going to have to talk about Rey, because I don’t want him around our kid if he’s going to pull that shit again.”
“We’re working on things. It’s different. We’re both different.” Gus’s attention drifted from the pretty violet-haired woman next to him to Rey taking the tongs from Bear to man the grill. “I love him. I mean, as stupid as it is, I do. I finally get why people put a guy’s name on their skin because it’s so damned much. It fills you up with something I can’t even name. I get that way about Chris. That overflow of emotion and it tightens your skin. When I got him out of the car today, I was scared my heart was going to explode. I felt that much. I love my brothers beyond any words, but Rey and Chris… I’d die for them.”
“You’d die for your brothers,” Jules snorted.
“Yeah, but I’d complain about it.” Puck loomed above the conversation, and Gus looked away, looking for something to say about the ghosts clinging to him. “My mother probably needed mental health help, but I don’t know for sure. Anyone who could tell me is either dead or just not talking. After she… did what she did, no one told me anything. Hell, only reason we knew where my mom and Puck are buried was because Bear found out for me. I don’t want that kind of life for Chris.
“I don’t want him to know what it’s like to move from house to house, shoving all of your shit into a trash bag and hope no one steals your stuff while you’re at school. You don’t own
anything when you’re in the system. You’re nothing but a blip and trouble on someone’s desk.” He blinked, alarmed at the sting of tears in his eyes. “Life is funny. People die, and suddenly your world is all fucked-up. Bear lost two people and ended up in the crappiest place ever, and I was born into it. Every choice my mother made, she heaped more shit on top of me. I survived her, and I’m good with who I became. Now I want my kid to be safe and happy. That’s all I want, Jules.”
“Don’t take this wrong, but your mother was a fucking bitch, Gus,” Jules murmured, then hugged him, nearly toppling them both when her cast struck his leg. “I told the CPS lady thanks for worrying, but I’m the one who knows you. Yeah, I get they want to make sure you’re not a danger to my kid… to our kid. My mom was the first one to say you should have parental rights, but she wanted to have you checked out.”
“Not blaming her for that,” he admitted. “Not like I was too thrilled about it, but I understand.”
“I want them to go ahead with the custody hearing. I want you to be able to see him, and like you said, someone dies and it fucks up a kid’s world.” Jules nodded toward Chris, who’d apparently conned Bear into listening to a long, drawn-out story involving wild animals, if his facial expressions had anything to do with it. “If he’s got you on record, he’s got your whole family. That’s five more people he’ll have in his corner if things go to shit. I want that for him. I want you for him. You’re a good guy, Gus. The kind of guy I’d want my son to grow up to be.
“Also, just so you know….” She gave him a mocking snarl. “I love you, dude. I couldn’t have made a better mistake than sleeping with you, and I got the best of kids out of it, but if Rey hurts you again—”
“You’re going to have to get in line behind Bear, Ivo, and Luke.” Gus laughed. It carried, drawing attention, and Jules waved at everyone else in the yard. “Don’t know about Mace, but Rey’s his best friend, so I can’t blame him. We’ve talked a lot about this… about us. I don’t know where we are right now, but we’ll get there. We have to.”