Worth The Wait

by Joey W. Hill

  "You roofing this whole thing by yourself?"

  The familiar voice surprised him. He rose so he could see the front lawn, where Marcus Stanton stood looking like a Michelangelo sculpture in Armani, the silver of his Rolex and his ebony black wings of hair catching the sunlight.

  "We just finished this one. The other guys went for a dinner break. I was taking a breather, doing some thinking."

  "It's a good place to think." Marcus's gaze coursed over the expanse of new shingles, the sunset sky building in rose and gold color behind Des.

  "So why are you here?" Des asked. "Found some talent to recruit?"

  "There's talent to be recruited everywhere, but no. You're about thirty minutes away from our North Carolina house. Julie told me you were at this job site. I need to talk to you. Well, we do." He gestured to his car, a gleaming Mercedes, where Thomas was sitting in the passenger seat. He lifted his hand in greeting as Des noticed him. "But Thomas and I agreed I'd talk to you first.'

  Surely Julie hadn't worried so much about his phone silence he'd sent her friends after him? He'd been texting her, for Christ's sake.

  His irritation must have shown, because Marcus's expression hardened slightly. "If you don't want to come down, I can come up."

  His tone raised Des's hackles. "I didn't ask for company."

  "Coming up it is, then." Marcus disappeared beneath the roofline.

  "Climb up on this roof in those fancy shoes, you'll break your neck," Des called down.

  "Yeah, and that one will be on you."

  When Marcus's head emerged over the roofline, Des sat down on the peak, eying him. "Did Julie send you?"

  Marcus gave him a puzzled look. "Why would she?" At Des's surprised expression, his eyes narrowed. "Did you two have a fight?"

  "None of your business, and not exactly."

  "When was the last time you talked to her?"

  "A few days ago. I've been busy."

  "Hmm. I would kick your ass off this roof if it wouldn't scuff my very expensive shoes." Marcus settled his hip on the top rung of the ladder, a half seated position. "I asked her where you were, she told me how close you were and I casually mentioned we might stop by to take you out for dinner."

  Des studied his expression. The man could play poker in Vegas, because he wasn't giving anything away, but Des relied on his gut rather than physical cues. "Why didn't you tell her the real reason?"

  "I'll let you answer that, after I tell you why I'm here. Julie told me you have this thing about not wanting to take a kidney that could go to someone else."

  Before Des could react to that, Marcus waved a hand. "I get it, but only because if Thomas needed a kidney, he'd probably feel the same way you do. I'm a stubborn, selfish bastard, myself. I'd want the chance to live. But since you're just a stubborn bastard, let's look at it this way. You believe in fate, destiny, powers bigger than yourself, magic, Harry Potter?"

  Des arched a brow. "Religion?"

  "What the hell does religion have to do with God?" Marcus snorted. "Let's just say for a minute you answered yes, which I'm sure you would, because you sit up on rooftops on your break to commune with something. And you love our girl, and you can't truly love someone without some kind of belief in a power bigger than yourself."

  "My girl. Not yours."

  Marcus showed his teeth in a Dom-eating feral grin. "She's yours when I decide you're not going to be a dumbass. Stop changing the subject. I need to run something by you. Give me your opinion on the odds of this hypothetical situation ever happening." He settled on the ladder as if it was a comfortable chair. Des gave him points for the deception, because he knew the aluminum rung had to be cutting into the guy's perfect ass.

  "You meet a girl from New York, who came down here because Madison happens to be friends with her and happens to need help with her community theater. You fall in love with her, and she introduces you to her two best friends. All around the time your kidneys are about to give up the ghost."

  "Sounds like a Murphy's Law kick in the teeth."

  "I haven't reached the Twilight Zone punch line yet. Since Thomas met you, you've felt familiar to him. He's not the New Age type, so he's not talking past lives. It wasn't until we came home here and showed his mother that picture he took of you and Julie that we figured it out. You look like his aunt, Elaine's sister, Christine."

  Des felt an odd lurch inside of him, which he immediately ignored. He had no idea where this was going, but it couldn't be going where it sounded like it was.

  Marcus tossed him a look. "Still sitting? Good. Well, here we are at dinner, talking about the chances of two people looking like they're related who aren't, when Elaine tells us one of the dark Wilder family secrets. Christine was a prescription drug addict, who basically drifted through life until she died of an overdose. But one of the things she confided to her sister on one of her rare visits home was that she'd given up a baby and never told anyone about it."

  That lurch became a precipitous dip in his chest, but Des set his jaw. "That doesn't mean anything."

  "No. That in itself doesn't. But Thomas contacted Betty, who has your blood work on file. He had her do a DNA test, and your markers, or whatever they call them, line up. He's your cousin, Des. Your mother was his Aunt Christine."

  The roofline wavered, the sun suddenly much brighter and hotter. Des curled his fingers around the roof's spine, for the first time in his life feeling like he was up way too high. He closed his eyes.

  "Des?" Marcus's voice was sharp. "You okay? Shit, I knew I should have told you to come down."

  "I said no. Not your fault. Yeah. I'm fine." Des opened his eyes, willing it to be a true statement. "This is bullshit. It's bullshit." His voice sounded hollow, like through a megaphone.

  "Yeah, that would be my reaction. But let's trace our steps back to the Fate crap. What are the chances one of Julie's best friends ends up being your cousin? And it just so happens that cousin is probably going to be a great match for the kidney you need, and he wants to give it to you. Hell, he'd cut it out and hand it to you right now if I let him. That is a lot of 'just so happens'. You turn your back on that, I wouldn't blame the Powers-That-Be for skewering your ass with a lightning bolt right here, right now."

  Des struggled past the unlikeliness of it all and focused on what he could handle thinking about. "You can't be fine with the person you love giving up an organ."

  "It's not my choice, it's his. No matter my feelings, I'd be just as clueless as you if I ignored a coincidence so close to a divine miracle that for a moment I almost believed there was something greater than my own awesomeness."

  Des clasped his arms around his knees, his jaw set. It was too soon, too...abrupt. Yet how else could something like that seem? The real problem was he'd fought this idea for so long, denied himself the option. True, he'd started giving it some more thought, though he hadn't revealed that to Julie. She and Betty had been wearing him down. Well, his desire to be around as long as he could for Julie, to make her happy...that was what had worn him down.

  Marcus shot him a look. "You may not want to take up a spot on a donor list, but Thomas has a kidney he's willing to give to you and only you. Unlike you, he accepts this big cosmic mash-up."

  "Have you told Julie any of this?" Des demanded.

  "No. This was your decision, and we didn't want to get her hopes up if we were wrong about Thomas's match or your interest in it."

  "If I decide not to do it?"

  "Then she'll never hear it from us. I won't hurt her needlessly." Marcus gave him that hard look again. "But I hope you won't, either."

  "What if something goes wrong with his other kidney? How're you going to feel about this conversation then?"

  Marcus shook his head. "Is that what this is really all about? You'd prefer to die than to feel obligated to anyone? Refusing to be the receiver, ever, is a form of selfishness. It's called self-imposed martyrdom, and there's nothing more annoying. But, hey, if you decide to go that route, you'll b
e the proudest, most selfless guy in the whole cemetery. Julie's heart will still be broken."

  Des clenched his fists and stared off at the sky, the drift of clouds, a sunset so deep in colors it made his eyes and chest hurt. "Fuck you."

  "Yeah, I get that a lot. Not usually from straight guys, though."

  Des shifted his glance at the creak of the ladder. Marcus had removed his shoes and stepped onto the roof. He made his way up the slope to Des. "Hell, those shingles are hot."

  "Not as hot as they'll be in August." Des was impressed by Marcus's balance and confidence, the way he didn't overbalance or seem nervous, like so many people did when they first walked a roofline. He settled down next to Des, shoulder to shoulder.

  "Nice view up here."

  "How'd you learn to walk a roof?"

  "I engineered some creative escape routes in my youth."

  Des sighed. "It's not that I'm not appreciative. I know I'm coming off like a shit--"

  Marcus waved a hand, stopping him. "I get it. Really, I do. But see, people like Thomas and Julie, they don't. They've always had people telling them what to do because those people love them. Not because they're trying to assert power over them, control their lives or make them helpless. Though with a strong personality, it can seem that way sometimes. You need to meet my mother-in-law," he added with a twist of his lips.

  Despite the humor, when Marcus met his gaze, Des saw a dark history behind the green eyes, much darker than he would have assigned to the well-dressed, wealthy and confident male. He detected something feral and predatory there, a creature who would kill to survive. Then Marcus blinked and his expression was casual once more, though Des was sure the reveal had been intentional.

  "I lived on the streets in my teens. I should have been dead a hundred times over. I lost people out there I loved and, until I met Thomas, I genuinely thought my heart had died with them. But it didn't. And I almost didn't realize that until it was too late."

  Marcus shifted to lie back on his elbows, tipping his head to look at the clouds as Des had done. "This is where people like you and me end up being the village idiots," Marcus mused. "We're so focused on no one controlling our destiny, no one telling us what to do. That's because we've been helpless, we've been controlled by fate. But as a result, we miss that the person who loves us is trying to give us a gift of themselves. She or he is trying to say, 'you matter so much, there's nothing I won't do to keep you safe, well and happy.' Yeah, we can differ on methods, but letting someone help you keep on living, that one's clear cut. Right?"

  Des swallowed. Marcus gave him a piercing look. "Let me put it another way. Are you her Master or not?"

  Des stiffened. "That's private."

  "Doesn't look all that private. To another Dom, it's as obvious as your ridiculously low body fat ratio. So if the answer to the question is yes, then you do what you have to do to be around to take care of her. Right?"

  Marcus straightened, getting to his feet so he could begin working his way down the roof. "You don't owe me any answers, Des. I'm giving you information. What you do with it is up to you. But I'm hoping you're as smart as she thinks you are."

  He'd reached the ladder again, and started down it, holding his shoes and socks, but stopped when his upper body was still visible. "Well, let me correct that. Most of us aren't as smart as the people who love us think we are. But if we love them back, we do our best to try and fake it."

  "Yeah." Des couldn't argue that. His brow creased. "Julie's family...they didn't sound like they were really there for her much. Emotionally, I mean."

  "Yes and no. They're like a bunch of toddlers, everything periphery to their perpetual self-absorption. Yet, her mom still flew home from Europe when Julie had to have an emergency appendectomy. And her dad insists on paying for her upkeep, though there are homeless people with more fixed costs than that girl." Marcus shrugged. "Families all care, in their own warped way."

  "Yeah." Desmond looked back up at the drifting clouds. "You never answered my first question. What happens if Thomas's other kidney goes bad?"

  Marcus stared at him between the rungs of the ladder. "If you hurt Julie, if you don't appreciate the gift that life has given you, I'll personally cut it out of your body so Thomas can have it back. Otherwise, there are plenty of people in the world who don't deserve to live that can give up a kidney. I'll find them."

  Des blinked as Marcus's head disappeared beneath the edge of the roof. "He meant that shit," he muttered.

  "Of course I did," drifted up from below the roofline. "Asshole. Go talk to Julie. Do the right thing. Stop being a prick."

  Des shook his head. He paused, pride warring with a whole lot of other emotions, so that when he spoke, it came out a harsh bark. "Marcus."

  Marcus reappeared. Des wished a million things could be different, but Marcus's words had reminded him there were a few key things that he didn't want to change. He swallowed pride, a jagged lump the size of Texas.

  "I'm feeling a little out of it. Can you and Thomas help get me to the ground so I don't break my neck?"

  Marcus's expression switched to instant concern and Des shook his head. "I'll be fine once I get down there and rest and eat something. Just overdid it on this job."

  "Well, then, we'll take you out for some dinner. And we can go to Elaine's--"

  "No." Des shook his head. "Not right now. I can't... You're making me rethink something I've always been sure I'd never do. Thinking about a family I didn't know I had on top of that, dealing with it today..."

  "Yeah. I get it. No worries, man." Marcus's empathy was clear, helping Des relax, but he wasn't done yet.

  "I want to talk to Thomas about this, one on one, no interference. All right?"

  Marcus's green eyes reminded him of Betty's no-nonsense sharpness. "You got it, but it was Thomas who insisted on this, Des. Believe me, my influence was more on the 'are you fucking mental' side. Initially."

  "And now?"

  Marcus lifted a shoulder. "We find ourselves agreeing to all sorts of insane things to honor the people we love. To give them the gift of our faith, and trust that sometimes they might know a little more about things than we do." His lips quirked. "Though if we're smart, we don't tell them that. Else they'd become unbearable."

  A meal and a night's rest had restored his strength. Though Des had protested fiercely, Marcus and Thomas hadn't stopped with offering him dinner, probably because he'd only eaten the amount of it needed to prevent dangerously low blood sugar. His lack of appetite only increased their worry. Thomas had driven Des in his truck the several hours back to Charlotte, Marcus following in his car.

  "You look like shit," Marcus said bluntly. "We're going to get you home."

  Des and Thomas had their talk, though it was clear that Marcus had spoken the truth. Thomas had no concerns about donating Des his kidney. He also didn't bring up much about the familial connection, sensitive enough to realize--or Marcus had cued him to it--that Des wasn't really ready to discuss that.

  Des had eventually nodded off, sleeping through the offerings of the radio station that Thomas turned on as background noise. When he woke, Betty was leaning over him through the open window.

  "I'll take care of your dialysis tonight," she said. "You'll feel better tomorrow."

  He was unable to refuse. He pushed down that familiar demon of helplessness, of being far less of a man than Julie deserved. Thomas helped Betty get him into the house, his arm strong and sure around Des's waist, Des's hand gripping his broad shoulder. His cousin. This was his cousin.

  No, still not going there. But as he glanced at Thomas, at the serious brown eyes and straight nose, he wondered if they shared any common features.

  "Thanks," Des said. "Thanks to you both. Sorry about this."

  "Nothing to be sorry about."

  "Well, I wouldn't say that." Marcus had rolled in the case with the dialysis equipment and was at the foot of the bed. He gave Des a humorous look. "I did tell you that Elaine Wilder was your
aunt. The horror of that is enough to put anyone on his ass."

  "My mother is going to put something up your ass."

  "She says worse about me all the time. Your mother has a gutter mouth these days."

  "From your influence."

  As the two men bantered back and forth, Des was aware of Betty hooking him up, her mouth thin and eyes worried, but when she caught him looking, she stroked a hand along his face, a maternal caress.

  "Just rest, Des," she said quietly. "I'll handle this tonight."

  He drifted off. When he woke, a few hours from dawn, Marcus and Thomas had gone. Betty was asleep on his couch. She'd removed the dialysis hook ups when it finished cycling, shut everything down and prepped it for the next treatment. He would have done that. He usually did that, usually did all of it himself.

  But as Marcus said, family cared about you when you needed it. He spent the next couple hours staring into the darkness, thinking about how he'd find the courage to fight for family and love for the first time in his life... And fight for his life, one more time.

  Des came into the theater. The audience area was dark, but with the stage lit, he didn't have trouble finding Julie's silhouette. She was watching the ongoing rehearsal, leaning against the seat in front of her. Lila and Harris were handling most of what was going on, but she'd watch and give her opinions. She would enhance without taking over, provide direction where the path was murky. He'd watched her do it during the prep work for Consent, offering suggestions to Harris, to the tech people. She had a grasp of the whole picture invaluable for making the resulting production the best possible offering.

  She wasn't always nice about it. She could be a bitch when needed, stepping in when someone was going the wrong direction and needed a firmer hand. She knew her ultimate responsibility was to owners, investors and, most importantly, the audience. Turning out quality, art, was her focus. Not control or power. She understood that beauty happened with the placement of rocks at the right spots in the stream. She directed and altered the flow, so sunlight could sparkle in a different pattern upon it, or so a tree's roots wouldn't be eroded by the water creeping up the banks. Yet she retained her appreciation of water as water, maintaining the integrity of what it was.