by B. Cranford
Just as he was getting ready to reply that he hadn’t—and wouldn’t, God willing—forget, his phone buzzed again. The simple sexiness of it had his heart-pounding and his dick hardening within moments.
Odie: Wish you were still here. I want you again.
He typed out several replies—most of them dirty—before settling on a simple, “Me too,” and plugging his phone in to charge. He was afraid that if he got too caught up in texting, or better yet, sexting, with Odie, he’d never get to the front of house.
It had been four weeks and six days since Ashton had had her baby—not that everyone in their family was obsessively counting how old Kennedy Marie was. In that time, there’d been an endless amount of “practice runs” for making their own baby, an idea that might be too soon if you didn’t take into account the fact that Austin had loved Odie for more than half his life.
Looking back down at the phone laying on the desk, he couldn’t resist tapping out a reply after all.
Aussie: Maybe instead of going home tonight after I finish here, I’ll come back to your place.
Aussie: You won’t care that it’s two in the morning, as long as I wake you up with my head between your legs and an orgasm on the horizon, right?
He pushed the phone back to the side, and tried to concentrate on paperwork. He had more new employees since Ashton had given birth, which, in addition to giving her more time at home with Kennedy, gave him more time in the office to do the boring stuff.
Balance sheets. Inventories. Marketing shit. All kinds of stuff that didn’t have his attention because he was doing something that was the opposite of boring.
Thinking about Odie.
Their relationship was perfect. Mainly because of her.
Okay, solely because of her.
She’d saved the day the week after Kennedy was born, finding a store that would exchange his online swingy-thingy purchase and getting a ton of baby things to make the biggest hamper—she’d told him it was called that—he’d ever seen. Baby clothes, pacifiers, a snot-sucker device that thoroughly grossed him out until he figured out the snot wouldn’t actually end up in anyone’s mouth.
She’d also gone ahead and made a bunch of purchases for Finn—acting on instructions from Aaron and Simon, she’d found him superhero bedding and action figures, books and other assorted toys. When he and Odie had delivered them to Aaron’s house, Finn flew at them both, clearly beside himself about all the new stuff.
The boy still had his moments, but was otherwise settling in so well, that Austin felt like he’d always been there. Especially when he and Odie together babysat Finn, acting out their roles as Superman, Captain America and Wonder Woman.
It was the ultimate superhero crossover.
To add to all that, Odie was also spending extra time at The Avenue, working shifts while Austin was still trying to hire new staff and accommodate Ashton, who’d decided she wanted to take an even bigger step back from the bar than originally planned.
He knew that Odie was hoping to do the same—her personal training was attracting more attention and more new clients every week, and still she’d come in and stand behind the bar with a smile.
Austin made sure he paid her handsomely for her time.
And rewarded her lovingly if dirtily when they were off the clock.
His phone beeped out a reply.
Odie: Maybe I’ll wait up for you, so when you open the door I can pounce.
Odie: Against the door is kinda our thing...
It damn sure was, and he loved it. He’d lost count of how many times he’d barely made it through the door to her place or his before he’d stripped her bare and fucked her until she called his name.
Aussie: We should branch out.
Aussie: Try other doors.
Aussie: The bathroom door.
Aussie: Shower door.
Aussie: Door to the pantry.
Aussie: That’s a good one when you think about it.
Odie: Because once we’re done we have easy access to snacks?
Aussie: Exactly!
Aussie: You get me. I love that about you.
“Hey, Austin?” Bodie walked into the office, raising his head in a brief nod of greeting. “Someone out here to see you.”
“Thanks, man. I’ll be out in a second.” Austin replied, quickly turning his attention back to his phone.
Aussie: I love everything about you, Garfield.
Aussie: I’ll see you later.
He set his phone aside again, checking to make sure it was still charging and idly wondered who was waiting for him out in the bar area. He half hoped it was Odie, though logically he knew it wouldn’t be.
After all, they’d just been texting and he knew she was planning on an early night despite their dirty texts implying otherwise.
Making his way out of the back area, his other thought—that his visitor was some kind of wine or food rep—shot out the window when he strolled into the busy, bustling bar.
Even before she turned, he knew who it was.
Her hair was shorter, greyer, but her build was much the same. Hard to tell from the back, but her shoulders were set firm and stiff, and he could practically feel the judgment rolling off her.
His mother.
It had been a good ten years since he’d seen or spoken to her—at the very least, it was probably longer—which left him with one pressing question. Why the hell is she here?
He took several long breaths, watching her as she watched the early Saturday night crowd. The Avenue would be filled with people from now until close, and would only get louder and more hectic as the night wore on.
She barely moved. She didn’t sit, she didn’t speak or give any indication that she was staying for long. She simply stood there, facing toward the front of the bar—the entrance—as if poised to make her escape at any moment—and waited.
For him.
Steeling himself for what was sure to be an unpleasant confrontation, he walked up to her, making sure that she didn’t see him approach. He wasn’t sure it would give him the upper hand, but on the off chance it did, he wanted that advantage.
He needed it.
I need Odie, he thought fleetingly, wondering how different this interaction would go if his girlfriend was there to support him.
Funny that he should think of her, and not his siblings, but he wanted someone on his side—not his brother or his sister, who he’d worry about the entire encounter. They each had enough on their plates with their families without adding a potentially poisonous interaction with their mother to it.
If he could have the strength of Odie, while protecting Ashton and particularly Aaron from their mother, he’d take it in a heartbeat.
Instead, he was on his own.
“Patricia.” He couldn’t bring himself to call her “Mom”, since she hadn’t been one to any of her children for more than a decade. “What are you here for?”
She turned at the sound of his voice, and it took Austin a moment to find his bearings again.
Her face was lined—far older than it should have been, far more wrinkled than the last time he’d seen it. Her features still echoed those of her daughter’s, but where Ashton always looked happy unless she was actually mad or sad or feeling bad, their mother’s face looked pinched. Unhappy.
Bitter.
“Austin, that’s not how you should be greeting me. I am still your mother.”
He scoffed, and didn’t respond, waiting instead to see what she said about being there. If she said anything at all.
“Can we sit?” she asked, the smallest hitch in her voice telling Austin that maybe she wasn’t as impenetrable as her posture and her tight countenance made her seem.
“Yes, fine. We can go to the office. Follow me.” He turned, not waiting for a response and walked back through the door he’d just walked out of minutes earlier. His one concession was to hold the door for her—he was angry at her, and would happily see her leave and not speak to her for another
fifteen years, but he still had his manners.
He settled into the chair behind the desk in the office he shared with Ashton, and waited for his mother to get comfortable in the old chair that sat opposite. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his phone screen flash with a reply from Odie.
Hearts and a kissing face.
It made him want to smile—such a sweet move from a girl that many people would think was anything but.
He knew though. She could and would throw down with the best of them, but with the people she cared about, she was soft and kind and, if necessary, fiercely loyal.
She’d give his mother what-for, he had no doubt.
He didn’t smile, however, not wanting to give Patricia any reason to think he was happy to see her. Instead, he leveled a look at her that he hoped conveyed his willingness to listen—but nothing else.
He would be willing to forgive, if he thought for a second that she would make amends, but somehow, he doubted it.
Which is why the words that fell from her mouth had him leaning back in his chair, shock radiating from his body.
“I was wrong. All those years ago.”
Austin blinked, trying to process what he was hearing.
Wrong? Such a simple word for such a complex situation.
Except . . . was it so complex? His brother had come out to their parents—told them he was gay, and had met someone—and they’d cast him aside. Without thought to the damage they were causing, they’d told him to leave.
And it hurt.
It hurt to watch Aaron shove clothes in his bags, his face reddened with anger and flushed with sadness.
It hurt to walk into Ashton’s room and find her gone, too.
It hurt to be the one who had to listen to the bitterness their parents, mainly their mother, had spewed when he’d asked a simple question.
“Why?”
His mother reared back, the look on her face telling Austin that she thought her reasoning was obvious. “Because it’s unnatural.”
“Love isn’t unnatural, Mom,” he began, trying to help her see, knowing that it was an impossible task.
“That boy—”
“Your son,” he interjected, only to be flayed by the blistering look he was given. If looks could kill . . .
“Not anymore. Not my son, not when he wants to lay with a man. Disgusting.” She drew in a deep breath, and launched into a hate-filled speech, and Austin felt sick to his stomach.
He stopped listening, catching only occasional, hateful words.
He stepped back, wishing he’d never asked.
He stepped back again, hoping she’d stop.
He stepped back one more time, finally working up the courage to say what needed to be said.
“Aaron isn’t the disgusting one. You are. You are, for making him leave and saying he isn’t one of us anymore. He is.” Austin felt a lump form in his throat, and knew he needed to escape, but not before he said one more thing. “If he’s not your son anymore, then neither am I. Because he’s still my brother.”
His mother’s voice, demanding he come back, telling him she wouldn’t let him leave, wouldn’t allow contact with his brother, followed him as he raced through the house to the front door.
He knew he was stuck—a few more months and he’d be eighteen, old enough to leave for good and never look back. He’d have finished high school and could move on. Until then, he needed somewhere to go.
Somewhere he’d be happy, and could pass the time until he was properly free.
Somewhere he could pretend that the foundation of his life—his family—wasn’t crumbling beneath him.
So, he did the only thing he could.
He went to Odette. Because she’d make it right.
She always did.
“Austin,” his mother said quietly, but loud enough to break through his memory of the night he’d first sought solace from Odie. “Did you hear me?”
“Yea–yes. I heard you, I’m surprised, is all.” Which was one hell of an understatement, but what else could he say? “Why now?”
“I ran into Odette’s mother the other day. We talked a little about their vacation”—her mouth tightened on the word vacation, as if she didn’t approve—“and, of course, we talked about you kids.”
He barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the way she said “Of course,” like she talked all the time about her children. He doubted that.
Oblivious to his reaction, she kept talking. “Karen told me you two were . . .” He filled in the blanks with ease. She’d heard about him and Odie.
What about Aaron? What about Ashton? Did she know about what was happening in their lives?
“And?” he asked, just for something to say. Something that wasn’t rude or angry. Because although she’d apologized to him, ultimately, it wasn’t him who deserved the apology.
“I’m glad you two finally got together. After all this time. I always thought you’d be such a lovely couple.”
“Why?” he asked again, wanting to add, “Because I’m a man and she’s a woman?” but checking himself before it escaped his mouth.
“Because you were always so close. How is it–how are things?”
“Good.” He paused, remembering her sexy messages and the sweeter one—kissing faces and hearts—and the way she’d kissed him goodbye after their quickie that afternoon. “Great, actually. She’s . . . perfect.”
His mom nodded, a small smile forming on a mouth that looked like it didn’t know the right way to move. It came off more like a grimace. Still, it was something.
Something ruined by what came next.
“Will you two get married, do you think? We’d be so happy to see one of you finally married, finally in a real relationship.”
“What?” Anger rising, as the implication of the words set in fully, he stood, towering over her, before abruptly sitting again, trying to calm himself and think about what she was saying from all angles.
Maybe it’s just wording, maybe it’s not what I think.
Except he didn’t believe that. Still, he asked her to explain. And her explanation stuck in his chest.
“Well, I know that the other two aren’t living the right way, Lord knows I’ve long ago given up on them. I heard about Ashton and the baby.”
The baby. Kennedy. Her grandchild.
She spoke with a nearly saccharine tone to her voice, as if she were trying to channel sweet-but-exasperated grandmother and not vile witch judging her happily-married-but-gay son and her new-mother-out-of-wedlock daughter.
“Why are you here?” he asked as calmly as he could instead of yelling at her to get out, which was his first instinct.
“Well, I know you’re headed over to the Peterson place for dinner tomorrow,” she started, reminding Austin that the abandoned dinner had been rescheduled, “and I thought perhaps you and Odette would like to come by and visit with us first.” She smiled—actually smiled at him, like he wanted to have anything to do with her.
“No.” His answer was simple and to the point. And far nicer than it could have been, all things considered.
“No,” she parroted, as if she couldn’t believe his answer. Which she probably couldn’t.
He didn’t try to disguise the disgust he felt when he repeated his answer, with a little extra flare. “Fuck no.”
“Austin Everest Andrews—” she started, offended and clearly not grasping that she was still wrong, despite her earlier admission that she was wrong back then.
“Don’t even start. You’re not here because you were wrong about Aaron, are you?”
She scoffed, which was answer enough for Austin.
“You were wrong to take out your anger on me and on Ashton, because we supported our brother. But that was a minor, minor, mistake compared to what you did to him. And yet, here you are, looking for forgiveness. From me? Me?” He shook his head, standing from his chair, and this time, staying on his feet. “Not happening. If you can’t see that what Aaron and Simon ha
ve—”
“I’m not here to talk about them,” she interrupted, and Austin felt his fist clench as adrenaline coursed through his veins.
“Of course you aren’t. Because you don’t see that you’re still in the wrong. That you’re still the same bitch you were fifteen years ago, and nothing, not even a half-assed apology to me is going to change that.”
“How dare—”
This time, it was he who interrupted, holding up a hand to stop her talking, and firmly telling her to leave. “Get out. Get out of my bar. Get out of my life. And don’t ever come back.”
His mother—Patricia, he thought, because she’d never, ever be his mother again—stood from her chair and stared at him for a moment. Her face pinched in further than it had been earlier, her eyes flattening as if she didn’t care to keep up the façade any longer.
Which was probably true.
She’d come to get back the one child that seemed to meet her standards for an acceptable life.
Well, fuck that. He stared right back. When she finally left, her parting words a promise that she would never again speak to him, to any of them, he reached for his phone, sending Odie a quick message letting her know he wouldn’t be over after he closed the bar.
And then, he kept staring.
Chapter Sixteen
The car rolled up not on time but early. Which, considering that Austin was behind the wheel, was surprising to say the least.
Odie smiled at him as he climbed out the car, walking around the front to give her a gentle kiss, but the smile soon gave way to a frown when she took in how tired he looked. “Everything okay?” she asked, lifting her hand to brush along his cheek. The feel of his stubble tickled at her palm and she wished the worry that was beginning to grow would subside.
She wanted to be able to enjoy these quiet moments with him.
He shrugged in response, before adding, “Tell you in the car,” and turning to open the door for her.
A white pastry box sat on the seat, evidence that he hadn’t forgotten to grab the dessert. That was promising—if there was one thing you could almost count on when it came to Austin, it was his ability to forget things.