by Ily Jacks
“Okay.”
“Hey,” he says and taps the top of my hand, “I want you to want more than what the assholes in your past allowed. How does that make me the bad guy?”
“It doesn’t.”
Declan frowns and keeps frowning even while ordering dinner. After she leaves, he pretends to watch ESPN on a TV playing nearby.
“I never got my GED,” he says after we’ve sat for a long time in silence. “I hated school, and it never came up. My kids don’t know their old man never got his diploma. I don’t know if I want them to find that out.”
“Are you asking me not to say anything to them?”
“What makes you think you’ll meet them?” he grumbles.
“Because I live in your house and you said I could stay.”
“They rarely stay over anymore. I pick them up from their place and take them out and then return them home. Sleeping over doesn’t interest them.”
“Does it interest you?”
“Not really,” he says and runs his fingers through his thick hair. “But I see the way Shiv blows off his kids constantly and not because they’re adults who want space. I don’t want to crowd my kids, but I worry they think I don’t care.”
“Why don’t you ask them what they think?”
“Because they’re teenagers and won’t tell me the truth.”
I think I smile, but every breath hurts. Declan was my fantasy turned mirage. Feeling rejected, I now drown in every disappointment from my twenty years.
The rest of dinner is painfully quiet. A few times Declan tries to start a conversation. He mentions sports and his daughter’s interest in the debate club. None of his attempts go anywhere. Finally, after the food arrives, he starts talking about Abbott.
“The dogs were Maura’s idea,” he mumbles while splitting up the food. “Eric and Emma were both in school, and she hadn’t taken a part-time job yet. Plus, a few of her friends were pregnant, and she had baby fever. Since we decided to stop with two, and she’d gotten her tubes tied during the C-section with Eric, babies weren’t on the table. Dogs were her second choice.”
“Why racing dogs?” I ask, just so he’ll stop talking to himself.
“The father of my club brother breeds them. Only a litter every few years, but he’d been unable to sell the last two pups. They were inching toward six months, and he was ready to unload them on anyone. Maura decided she wanted them. She claimed they would be perfect for our big yard since she figured they’d run a lot. Turns out greyhounds are pretty lazy when not racing. They mostly want to lounge as you’ve seen with Abbott.”
“What happened to the other one?”
“Costello’s at Maura’s full time because he won’t climb the stairs and gets pissed when I carry him. Abbott and he got along fine until they were around five. Then they started nipping at each other and fighting over food. Made sense to keep Abbott at my place most of the time so they wouldn’t kill each other.”
“She’s a mellow dog.”
“The older she gets, the lazier,” he says, and I sense he thinks about the age difference between him and me. “Happens to us all, I guess.”
I only nod because I don’t want to talk about how he’s too old or too set in his ways or I’m too young and weak. Falling back into silence, we spend the rest of dinner pretending to watch the TV.
We even walk back to the apartment in complete silence, and I’m ready to bawl like a fucking baby by the time we climb the stairs to the front door.
Once inside, I start to walk to my room so I can mope in private.
“Hey,” Declan says, grabbing me by the back of the neck and pulling me closer until his lips cover mine. The kiss is deep and demanding. His passion consumes me, and I whimper when his lips leave mine. Declan studies my face and steps back. “Now stop pouting and accept we’re slowing shit down for the time being.”
“By slow, do you mean we can still do that again?” I ask, nearly begging him to promise me everything will be okay.
“Why don’t we see how you feel in a few days or weeks before we answer that?”
His answer isn’t the one I need, but I don’t argue. Turning away, I walk to my room and crawl into bed. My mind struggles with thoughts of my uncle’s cruelty and then Leto’s. I remember all the people who used and rejected me. I even wonder about my parents, and if they ever once worried about me half as much as they worried about themselves.
Of course, Declan’s better than all of them combined, but that’s the problem. He’s too good for me, and he knows it.
♂◈ Declan ◈♂
Adam is asleep when I check on him around eleven. Unlike how I sleep spread out across my bed, he balls up his body. It’s the exact same way I slept growing up. Even relaxed in bed, I never forgot I wasn’t safe.
One day, Adam will learn to let down his guard at least when he’s asleep.
Leaving him to rest, I walk to my room where I climb into bed. I close my eyes and breathe slowly. Every exhale washes away the restlessness bothering me earlier. I did the right thing by putting on the brakes with Adam. He has some growing to do before he can stand up for himself in a relationship. I’m nearly fifteen years older than him, and I still have trouble telling people I care about to fuck off.
The clock reads one when I wake up to Abbott whining nearby. Rolling out of bed, I follow the sound. Her whining reminds me of when the kids would get hurt in the backyard.
With only the moon lighting the room, I find Adam sitting crouched over at the edge of his bed. I think he’s sick until I hear a distinct hitch in his breathing. While he struggles to stop his tears, I stand awkwardly at the doorway. Even with my silence, Adam must sense my presence because he wipes his face and swallows deeply.
I consider coming closer and consoling him, but getting anywhere near Adam and a bed feels like a mistake.
“If you want to talk,” I whisper, “I’ll be in the living room.”
I leave Adam to get his tears under control. Sitting on the couch, I turn on the TV and find Sands of Iwo Jima to watch. I rest my head on the back of the couch and listen for Abbott. She won’t leave the bedroom until Adam calms down. She was the same way when the kids cried.
Her nails click on the hardwoods before I sense Adam approaching. Glancing back, I almost don’t recognize the man standing feet away. His hair hangs in his face, hiding his eyes. With his shoulders arched forward, he seems smaller, older even. Looking more like a broken, old man than a sad kid, Adam waits for permission to join me.
I gesture for him to come closer, and he inches his way to the couch and finally sits at the other end.
“Want to tell me what’s bothering you?” I ask, picking my words carefully.
“I ought to be used to rejection by now. I thought I was tougher, but I guess I’m not.”
Resting my arm on the back of the couch, I leave space for him to move closer. Adam does immediately.
“Why does slowing down with the sex mean I’m rejecting you?”
Adam rests his head on my chest and exhales deeply. “It feels like you’re pushing me away.”
“Because you view sex as the only way to be close to someone. When was the last time you had a close relationship that didn’t involve sex?”
Adam’s silence is my answer. I run my hand through his soft hair and enjoy his slight shudder.
“Rejection would be having you leave. Worse would be using you for what I need and not caring about your long-term situation,” I say, but my words are met with more silence. “I still want you, Adam. I think you know that.”
“I guess.”
“There’s more to you than your looks and ability to make someone come. If you can’t believe that, why should anyone else?”
Adam nuzzles my chest. “What else do I have besides fucking and sucking? I could never keep friends. No one cared about me. If I was worth something, people would care.”
“I care, and I’m giving up the sucking and fucking. Doesn’t that count for som
ething?”
“Why do you care, though?”
“You’re not a violent person. I know that from the way you tried to punch me at the gas station. Even when you took the shot at the asshole, you didn’t go for his crotch but his shin. You have a gentle heart even when desperate.”
“Yeah, I should have hit him in the crotch,” he mumbles, sounding disappointed to have missed such an easy target.
“It’s okay to be soft inside. Someone needs to be. Can you imagine a world with nothing except assholes? We need tender-hearted people, and that’s you, even if that means you won’t take clear ball shots.”
When Adam’s hand rests on my chest, I worry it’ll move south and turn our quiet moment into something awkward.
“There’s nothing long term about a relationship built on fucking,” I say, hoping his hand remains where it is. “And I can imagine you in my life for a long time, but a lot of that is up to you.”
“I don’t want to mess up things.”
“Focus on building a life you’d want even if you didn’t know me. Stop thinking short term. Give yourself time to breathe and grow.”
Adam lifts his head and studies me through still damp eyes. My fingers caress his hair. Though I worry he’ll kiss me, Adam lowers his head back to my chest and relaxes.
We sit quietly for almost ten minutes before he exhales deeply.
“Do you really want me to be honest?” he asks in a hushed voice as if afraid to wake up Abbott nearby.
“Of course.”
“Even if it hurts your feelings?”
My gut twists, and I immediately wonder if I’m a bad kisser or smell or give shitty head. Despite my concerns, I say yes.
“Okay, then, I hate old movies.”
Relaxing, I shake my head at how certain I was that he’d criticize my rusty sexual skills.
“It’s an acquired taste. Give it another ten minutes. The movie will either grow on you or put you to sleep.”
“Do you like slasher films?”
“No.”
“Then that’s how we’ll be even. I’ll watch your relics, and you’ll watch my crap.”
Chuckling, I wrap my arm around him and settle in to watch the movie. Ten minutes later, Adam lifts his head and stares at me with sleepy eyes.
“I’m going back to bed,” he says and kisses me quickly.
I barely taste him before his lips are gone. Adam stands up and shuffles to his room. Unable to focus on the movie when I’m rock hard, I turn off the TV and return to bed. To tame my erection, I think of taxes, paperwork, and picking up Abbott’s crap during tomorrow’s walk. Anything to stop craving the man I spent half a day telling we needed to give sex a break.
♂◈ Adam ◈♂
The night before, I awoke to sobs. A full minute passed before I realized I was the one crying. The last time I felt so bad was after my aunt ran off, leaving me alone with a man who viewed me as a commodity rather than a teen boy.
When Declan walked in on my last night, I half-expected him to tell me to quit crying like a baby. He showed me kindness instead. After we talked, I accepted that I did think the only way to make him care about me was through sex. What else did I have to offer?
Declan makes me wonder if I can be someone worth wanting. He already sees qualities beyond my body. Now I’ll need to learn to do the same.
I wake up the next morning feeling refreshed mentally. Physically, I’m still sore, and the crying didn’t help. I also forgot how congested tears made me.
The apartment is empty when I shuffle out of my room. Even Abbott is missing, so I assume Declan’s taken her out. Under the hot water, I imagine him walking the dog. Then I add me to the fantasy and end up smiling like a fool. One day, Declan and I could be a family.
By the time I finish showering, shaving, and dressing, Declan has come and gone. I find Abbott chilling on the couch. She follows me into the kitchen while I pour a cup of coffee from the already brewed pot. When I walk back to the living room with my donut and coffee to watch TV, she trots after me. We hang out on the couch for nearly a half hour before I make myself head down the stairs and into the restaurant.
“You can help with prep and then return upstairs,” Declan says as soon as I see him. “Get in a little work and then rest up. Later, I want to take you to the high school where we’ll get you enrolled in TASC prep classes.”
“How soon would I start?”
“The winter classes don’t start until after the holidays, but you can buy a few books to prepare.”
“Thanks,” I say awkwardly. “Are you sure you don’t want me to help you with the lunch rush?”
“Once I get a new cook hired, I’ll have you alternate between kitchen prep and working a few tables during the lunch rush. Robin’s wanted to do more kitchen work, and I think she’s interested in training to be a cook eventually. This will allow her to bounce back and forth while you learn different skills too.”
“You have it all planned out.”
Declan dices a tomato and sets the pieces aside. He glances at me and smiles. “I might be in a tiny fucking hurry for you to be on equal footing with me.”
“I’m sure you are,” I say, nudging him with my hip.
We share a grin before falling into quiet work. I try to remember all the steps from yesterday but eventually end up looking at my notes. Declan isn’t wrong that I’m not a natural cook. I get overwhelmed by too many ingredients, and that’s without even the pressure of orders piling up.
I head upstairs around eleven to take Abbott for a short walk. We spend the rest of the afternoon together. I watch TV and doze on the couch while she watches me and dozes. We take another walk before Declan gets done at the restaurant.
When he appears upstairs, Declan gives me a slow once-over. If he wasn’t wearing a familiar smirk, I’d think he was checking to see if I was presentable.
“Are we taking your bike?” I ask, stepping closer to where he stands. “Will I need to hold on tight?”
Chuckling at my tone, Declan gives my lower lip a caress with his thumb. “Yes, hold on tight, but only for safety reasons, of course.”
“Of course,” I tease.
On the ride to the school, I’m torn between enjoying Declan’s warm body and taking in the sight of the town I now call home.
Haystack Forks is the classic small town. Most buildings are old and slightly run-down. A few new businesses—a dentist along with the immediate care center—stand out with their more modern architecture. The main roads are smooth with recent improvements. The smaller streets, though, are long ignored and filled with potholes.
I grew up in a mostly rural township just outside of Indianapolis. Everyone in the area either lived in big brick houses on large plots of land or in rusty trailers located on dead-end roads. There were no buses for transportation, so if people didn’t have cars—and most didn’t—walking and hitchhiking were the only options.
So while Haystack Forks might be a small blip on the map, it’s definitely a step up for me.
The woman at the high school’s front counter rushes along the registration process, and I suspect she’s dying for a cigarette. Declan glares at a guard nearby as if they’re holding an old grudge. Once I finish the paperwork, Declan takes off for the door. I hurry after him without asking why he’s grumpy.
We ride home in a cold, spring mist, leaving me chilled by the time I climb off the Harley. Declan looks pissed when we reach the door, and he’s still wearing that frown once we’re inside and his lips cover mine.
Declan’s hungry, commanding kiss promises more, and I’m dying to find out what he has in mind.
“Sorry, but people piss me off,” he mumbles once our lips part, “and kissing you calms me down.”
“You’re just using me then?” I tease, poking his gut. “I’ll let it go this time.”
Declan grudgingly smiles. “People have their ideas about my club. Uppity fuckers.”
I slide off my jacket and hang it near the door
to dry. Declan does the same. After we kick off our shoes, we remain at the doorway, but I’m not sure why.
“I like this town,” Declan quietly says while staring down at our wet shoes. “It’s a good place in a lot of ways, but I sometimes feel stuck.”
His gaze finds me, and he frowns darker. “On one side, I deal with uppity fuckers who look down at me for being in the club. On the other side, I deal with my club brothers looking down at me for who I fall for. I’m stuck between the sides, not really fitting with either.”
“I never fit anywhere with anyone until I met you.”
Declan gives me a half-smile. “I tell my kids it doesn’t matter what people think, and they shouldn’t want to fit in when they can stand out. As a parent, I talk in inspiration bumper stickers. As a man, I want to fit in enough for people to leave me alone.”
Sliding my fingers into his hand, I squeeze gently. “I always thought if I could find someone who really cared about me that I wouldn’t worry about the rest. I never wanted to be popular or party with the cool people. I just wanted to belong.”
“Whatever happens between you and me, I’ll have your back.”
“You can’t know that,” I say, imagining a dozen ways things can end badly between us.
Declan cups my face, caressing my jaw. “I do know. You’re a good man, so I don’t see me killing you.”
“I’ll pretend you’re joking about the killing part.”
“I’m not,” he says and leans down to kiss me.
Keeping my hands balled up; I restrain my urge to turn this kiss into something more carnal. Declan licks his lips once he pulls them away. Studying my face, he finally steps back.
“I know the kisses might seem like I’m shitting on my words from yesterday,” Declan admits. “I still think we shouldn’t move so fast, but there’s no denying I can’t be around you day in and out without wanting a taste.”
A smile warms my face. “I understand.”
“Don’t mock me with that grin.”
“I’m not,” I say and ruin my sincerity by laughing. “Sorry, but I’ve had a good day.”