by Ily Jacks
“You put the effort in when the mood strikes you.”
Declan doesn’t react to my words. Then as if his mind zeroes in on where mine is, he shakes his head and fights a smirk.
“I guess I do.”
Scratching at my chin, I feel a day’s worth of scruff. I better shave before dinner so people don’t think Declan took in a homeless man.
“Where do you want to eat tonight?” Declan asks before going to the sink and washing his hands.
“I don’t care.”
“Don’t do that,” he grumbles, glancing back at me. “Maura did that shit all the time and made me choose. I don’t want to make a choice. You do it.”
“I will.”
Declan studies me until I feel small under his gaze. “Are you capable of telling anyone no?”
“Sure.”
“You haven’t once told me no.”
Startled by his sudden anger, I can only shrug. “You haven’t wanted anything I didn’t want.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“That’s on you, man.”
“Don’t call me man.”
“Why?”
“It’s a stupid deflection. The real reason you don’t say no is because you’ve always been someone’s bitch, and now you’re mine. Isn’t that right?”
“Why are you acting like this?”
“I tell you to pick the place to eat, and you look ready to sob like a kid.”
“I’m not going to cry,” I say, crossing my arms tighter as if the gesture will protect me from his anger.
“Probably because I’m a better boss man than the one you ran from?”
“Are you asking me to leave?” I ask, staring into his eyes and waiting for the big “fuck you” I get from everyone eventually.
“Yeah, get upstairs and rest. Your legs have been shaking for a fucking hour without you asking to sit down.”
“Are you telling me to leave your home?”
“Adam, do what you need to do,” he says, waving me off, “but you know I’m not telling you to leave my place. I’m telling you to stop acting like a child desperate for love. Shake off that shit and learn to be a man. That means don’t piss yourself when asked to make a decision.”
“I didn’t.”
Declan exhales hard, and I brace for violence. He looks at me like a man ready to lash out.
Rather than hit me, he takes a knife and begins cutting vegetables. I take the hint and leave the kitchen and then the restaurant.
Standing outside, I consider if I should leave Declan and Haystack. The way I’ve stayed alive this long was to realize when the shit was about to hit the fan and take off before I got covered in it. I did it with my uncle and then Leto. If trouble with Declan is coming, how long before I need to run?
♂◈ Declan ◈♂
Adam looks like a kicked puppy when he shuffles out of the restaurant. I’m glad to see him go after watching him for hours miserably play my assistant. I can’t tolerate seeing him nod dutifully at every fucking instruction. By the time I ask him to pick a restaurant, I wonder if Adam owns a spine.
I'm probably too hard on him. No, I definitely am, and I’m mostly feeling guilty at taking advantage of him. Is Adam really onboard with our relationship or does he simply cling to the one person offering him a life preserver? How the fuck can I know when he nods dutifully at my every suggestion?
I finish up the evening shift prep and head upstairs once the night chef shows up. In the apartment, I find a stretched-out Abbott snoring on the couch. She barely opens her eyes when I enter and quickly returns to sleep. I walk past her and to Adam’s room. Half-expecting him to be packed up and making a stand, I’m relieved he’s only sitting on the bed.
“Still sulking?” I ask when he continues to stare at the wall after I say hello.
“No. I’m trying to figure out what I did wrong to piss you off so much.”
“Adam, cooking isn’t something you’re comfortable with. That wouldn’t be a big deal to me, but you pretended as if you liked cooking. You straight out lied to me and yourself. That’s what I can’t stand.”
“It was my first time really cooking. I can get better,” he says in an achingly fragile voice.
“Yeah, you will. You might get good enough to get a job doing it, but that doesn’t mean you like cooking. The constant tickets coming back made you squirm like a bitch.”
“Weren’t you nervous when you first learned?”
“Sure, I was, and I admitted as much. I didn’t pretend I was in heaven.”
“Fine. Whatever.”
Rolling my eyes, I stalk out of the room and sit on the couch. I don’t want to watch TV, but I need a distraction. Adam’s pathetic expression makes me feel like a mean, old man stealing candy from an abused kid. Except he’s a man, and he needs to behave like one.
I feel him behind me, probably standing near the door of his room. That’s what a kid would do when their parent is pissed. It’s what Emma or Eric would do. Well, not Emma these days, but before she turned into a hormonal teenage hellion, she would creep around, making sad faces at Maura or me until we stopped being mad. Now she slams a door and writes shit about us in her journal.
“When Shiv told me that I ought to join the club, I did,” I say without looking back at him. “When he said I should flip burgers at JV’s restaurant, I did. When he said I should marry Maura, I did. When he said I should have the club buy the restaurant downstairs for me, I did. When Maura wanted a baby, we did. When she wanted another one, we did. When she wanted to stop, we did. Same with the house we bought, the pets we adopted, and every other damn thing. One day, she said she loved someone else and wanted a divorce, so we did. Now I’m in my mid-thirties, and I’ve only made two major life decisions on my own. Wanna guess what those are?”
Glancing back, I find Adam standing with his arms wrapped protectively around his body. I wait for him to respond, but he’s regressed to a picked-on kid waiting for approval.
“This apartment is my first choice. Staying here was supposed to be temporary after the divorce, but I fixed it up and stayed. The kids got older and wanted their own rooms, but I stayed. Maura suggested I get a house or bigger apartment, but I stayed. Shiv suggested I rent one of my club brother’s old house, but I stayed. No matter how much pressure I get to move, I haven’t backed down. It took me a long damn time to stand up to the people I care about. I want you to learn that lesson before you spend half of your life bending over for everyone else.”
“So, I should have told you that cooking stressed me out?”
“Yes.”
“But I need a job.”
“And you can cook at the restaurant. Or wait tables or do whatever you need to do to make money. I’m not saying you ought to be a priss about shit. I’m saying you want to go to school and get your TASC. That’s thinking bigger than sticking with the first job you get in Haystack. Expect more, Adam. When you settle for every fucking crumb handed to you, I distrust everything else you say.”
Adam steps closer, and his arms loosen around his body. “My life here is cushy compared to what I’ve known. I’m sorry if I don’t feel like complaining about shit.”
“I get that, but also try thinking about it from my point of view. I bring you here when you’re down on your luck. I kiss you, and you don’t tell me to back off. I offer you a job, and a place to stay and you blow me. It kinda seems like you’re going along with anything I say just so I don’t kick you out.”
“That’s bullshit. I blew you because you’re hot and I wanted to suck your cock. Nothing more than that.”
“Maybe, but you’re weak, and I’m strong. You have no money, job, or place to stay. I offer you everything, so how can I know what you want and what you’re willing to endure to feel safe?”
“I’m telling you right now.”
“Yeah, but you were telling me downstairs how you liked cooking. That was a lie. Then I told you to pick a restaurant, and you looked ready to run away crying
at the thought of making a decision.”
“It’s been a shitty few days, so not everything I say or do is going to be perfect.”
Feeling as if we’re talking in circles, I try one last time to get Adam to understand. “No, but if I’m your boss, then maybe I can’t be your lover. Maybe I can’t hold all the power when you aren’t in the position to say no.”
“I can say no.”
“Then why don’t you?”
“I haven’t wanted to,” he says, stubborn to a fucking fault.
“About anything? What we eat, what we watch on TV, how we fuck, you’re agreeable to every choice I make?”
“You haven’t made many.”
“I’ve made enough.”
Adam only shrugs, looking again like a weak creature waiting for the stronger one to give him worth. I can’t be in charge of Adam. Not when I’m barely in charge of myself. Shiv, Maura, and my kids still push me around on a regular damn basis. I give in to avoid drama, but that’s with them. With Adam, I refuse to bow to his will, but I sure as hell don’t want him to bow to mine either.
♂◈ Adam ◈♂
I’m used to people turning on me. No one’s been predictable since I was a kid. They lie and make promises they never intend to keep. The only way to keep safe in my life is to never get attached or expect anyone to care about me. If I focus on the basics—food, shelter, safety—I can forget about the luxuries like love and trust.
I believed Declan was different. In only a few days, I invested in the beautiful lies I told myself. Now they seem painfully naïve for someone who should know better.
Sitting across from me, Declan pretends to watch a sitcom. I know he isn’t, though, because he doesn’t laugh at the funny parts or roll his eyes at the dumb ones.
“Maura said I shouldn’t push you,” I mumble.
Declan’s dark gaze flashes to me. “Push me how?”
“If you’re tense, you shut down.”
“So?”
“Is that what you’re doing now?”
Declan runs his tongue over his top, front teeth and stretches his arms along the back of the couch. Abbott takes this gesture as an invitation to climb into his lap.
“I think you and I should be roommates for the time being.”
“Roommates?”
“Instead of lovers, get it?”
“Because I can’t say no or because you don’t want to say yes?” I say, challenging him despite knowing better.
Declan understands my point, and he doesn’t respond. Having me at the restaurant opened the door to people asking questions. Unlike Maura, his club wouldn’t be so inviting to one of their members showing off a lover who doesn’t sport a pussy.
“Have you ever enjoyed power over someone?” he asks in a low, overly patient voice.
I think over my life even if the answer is clear. “No.”
“If you could help out someone, would you?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Would you expect something in return?”
Shrugging, I mutter, “Fair treatment, I guess.”
“You think about fairness because you’re the powerless one. If you had power, you might start feeling owed by the person you’re helping. That’s what’s happening with me. I brought you here with somewhat decent intentions, but I was already thinking about your looks and wondering what you tasted like. That was even before you stepped into my place. My intentions were never noble.”
“I never did anything I didn’t want to do.”
“How do you know?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow.
“I’m not stupid.”
“No, but you’re used to doing what others want. You’re happy for whatever you get. I know you are because I was the same way when I was a kid. If a foster parent didn’t starve, beat, or otherwise abuse me, I thought they were great. I give you food, a place to stay, and cash to buy stuff with, so you think I’m a nice guy.”
“You don’t know what I think.”
“You’re not as mysterious as you think.”
“And you’re not as smart as you think.”
Declan smirks and tilts his head both ways. “I had a moment of clarity today, and I made the decision to back off until you can tell me no.”
“I can tell you no now,” I insist, hearing more whine in my voice than I intend. “I don’t like having you treat me like a child.”
“I’m treating you like a man, Adam. If you were a child, I’d make decisions for you. As a man, you need to learn to make them for yourself. With a little practice, you will,” he says and then focuses on the TV. “You don’t want to be my age and still struggling to tell people to fuck off.”
I watch him for a long time, thinking about how comfy we’d been together on the couch the night before. I miss that closeness. Now he’s a stranger, and I’m one mistake away from ending up on the street.
“I don’t like watching the news,” I blurt out after he changes the channel and settles on the local weather report. “Will you please put on something else?”
“No,” Declan says without looking at me. “Don’t be bossy.”
“Sorry.”
Rolling his eyes, Declan changes the channel. “Don’t back down so quickly. You said your piece. Now own that shit. If you don’t like the news, then you don’t like the news. I used to watch home improvement shows Maura loved. Even after we split, I’d still watch them out of habit. Can’t tell you how many hours of my life I wasted staring at shit I didn’t enjoy.”
“Maybe you do need therapy.”
Declan smirks. “I don’t want to get healthy.”
“Neither do I.”
“Oh, I bet you’ll stay plenty fucked up,” he says, fighting laughter. “You’ll learn to own that shit too.”
“I don’t really get what you want me to do.”
“I want you to live here and work downstairs until you have enough saved up to choose to live somewhere else. I want you to get enough schooling to have options. I don’t care if you end up working as a waiter for me or a cashier at Wal-Mart. That’s up to you. Then when I ask you to suck my cock, I’ll know whether you lick your lips because you’re desperate for cum or if you’re desperate for my approval. I don’t want you seeing me as your daddy or master. I want a partner because I’m too fucked up to be in charge all the time.”
“I’m okay with all that as long as you still want me to suck your cock. That was the most fun I’d had in a long time.”
“No, let’s be honest here,” he says, grinning. “Me sucking your cock was the most fun you’d had in a long time.”
“Yeah, that was just a little bit better.”
Declan studies me with an expression betraying his arousal. I wouldn’t be surprised to know a raging erection hides underneath the dog cuddling on his lap.
“There’s time, Adam,” he says in a tender voice.
His warm tone startles me. My heart hurt at his earlier anger and now again in reaction to his tenderness. I crave safety, and Declan offered it. Then today, I felt him tear it away.
Declan says I can stay. He claims he’ll wait, and I want to believe him. Then again, last night he couldn’t get enough of me, and I trusted he would feel the same way today. Now I don’t know what’ll happen in an hour, let alone tomorrow or in a week. Drowning in uncertainty, I do what I’ve done my entire life—wait until running is my only option.
♂◈⊙◈♂
Declan still expects me to choose the restaurant for dinner. Exhausted from the few hours on my feet, I’m also dealing with my lingering uncertainty. Rather than search local places online, I choose an Irish restaurant I saw during my outing yesterday.
“Irish food, huh?” Declan grunts from the kitchen when I tell him my choice.
“I’ve never eaten Irish food, so, yeah.”
“Have you eaten corned beef and cabbage before?”
“No.”
“Really?” he says, appearing in the kitchen doorway. “How about shepherd’s pie?”
I hold his gaze, missing when moments like these held the promise of passion. Declan stands inches from the spot where I first sucked him off. I’d made him lose control, and the power invigorated me. Rather than passion, there’s only a chill between us now.
“Think about that for a second,” he says, and I stop wishing to return to yesterday. “You have so many things you haven’t experienced, and now you’re free to try them.”
I stare at Declan and wonder if he really thinks his distance helps me. What my life lacked was safety and comfort, not various foods.
“I picked it because I’m tired and it’s down the block.”
“I’ve never eaten there,” he says and grabs his keys. Declan pauses to check Abbott who sleeps after an earlier walk. “If it sucks, don’t assume all Irish food does. Maura made a great shepherd’s pie when we were first married.”
“But not later?”
“No, she got grossed out while cooking it while pregnant and hated the smell after that.”
I only shrug, and Declan holds my gaze for a long minute. Whatever he’s thinking, he says nothing and heads to the door.
“Let’s walk over before you drop.”
I search for genuine concern in his words, but my fatigue taints every gesture until cruelty and kindness blur together.
We walk across the street and down half a block before reaching Jimmy’s Pub. Declan enters first, blocking the doorway with his impressive size. I scoot in behind him to get out of the cool evening.
“Two,” Declan says to the waitress hidden from my view.
She leads us to a table where Declan orders us drinks. I stare at the menu, not reading it.
“Is this the normal you?” Declan asks, leaning back until his head bangs into the wall.
“What?”
“This mopey routine.”
“I’m tired. You wanted me to be honest, so this is me being honest.”
Declan’s dark gaze studies my face, trying to dig beneath my “mopey” exterior.