Free Hand (Irons and Works Book 1)

by E M Lindsey

  Unfortunately, it was hard to hide anything from his twin, and Sage shook his head, letting out a tiny sigh. “I know what you’re doing, but you need to know it’s okay.”

  Derek swallowed thickly. “I just…I’ll never forget what it was like right after Ted died, and I can’t…I can’t be someone who puts you back to that dark place.”

  “Seeing you happy is never going to send me to a dark place, Der,” Sage told him, reaching out to squeeze his wrist. “And Ted wouldn’t want me to be miserable and hateful just because life didn’t turn out the way either of us expected. I’m…I’m good. Maybe not the best I’ve ever been, but I’m smiling again, and I have more happy days than shitty ones. And even in the midst of all this bullshit, I don’t feel like I’m sinking. So just…let yourself have this, okay?”

  Derek shifted a little and couldn’t help a contented grin when Basil let out the smallest murmur and nuzzled closer. Derek’s hand was tangled with Basil’s, and he let himself get lost in the warm feeling of a palm pressed to his own. “I didn’t think I could feel this happy.”

  “I knew you could, just like I knew it was going to take a really stubborn asshole to get through to you,” Sage told him. “I’m glad he’s here with us.”

  “Part of me wanted to tell him no,” Derek admitted. “This is going to be a hell of a week and Jesus, I mean, I still don’t know enough sign to properly interpret for him. I’m trying and I’m learning, but it’s going so goddamn slow. I can’t imagine what it would be like.”

  Sage shrugged. “I think I can. At least a little. My freshman year—remember I dated that Israeli guy and I went to spend Pesach with him and his family in Tel Aviv?”

  Derek chuckled. “Yeah. You guys lasted like five months which was a record for you at the time.”

  Sage grinned back at him. “It was. Purim and Pesach, and by the time he invited me to temple for Shavuot, it was over.” His smile was a little wry. “Anyway, I had gotten some really basic lessons from him before we went over there, and he kept telling me to chill because everyone spoke English—which was like sort of true, except that no one bothered unless they needed to address me directly. When we were in big groups for meals or shopping or whatever, it was all in Hebrew. And I picked up a few more things after two weeks, but still not enough that I wasn’t totally lost unless I asked him to translate for me. I hated it, but I also didn’t mind so much because it was important to him. And when we were together, he always made sure I understood what was happening. Everything important, anyway.”

  Derek glanced down at Basil’s profile and wanted to lift him by the chin and kiss him awake. Instead he laid his head back against the seat and turned to look at his brother. “I’m going to keep working, and I hope you guys do too. I want this for him. I want him to feel safe and understood and part of us.”

  “We’re doing it for Jazzy too,” Sage reminded him. “He’s not alone in this, and for you, he’s worth it.”

  Derek allowed that feeling to take over, to eclipse the gentle simmer of badness in his gut since the night he’d gotten the phone call about his father. “I just want all this to be over, and I want to move on.”

  Sage nodded. “I get it, and I do too. I’ve uh…I’ve actually been giving this all a lot of thought. What to do with all this shit.”

  Derek raised his brows. “You mean the assets?”

  “The lawyer said it’ll all add up to a couple million if we decide to liquidate—which I don’t see why not. I mean, I don’t want any of this shit. But I also don’t want to keep the cash. If anyone should have it, it should be you, considering what you went through.”

  Derek shuddered. “No. Fucking…absolutely not. I don’t think I’d be able to live with myself.”

  “I have a thousand reasons why I disagree with that, but I also get it,” Sage told him with a small breath. “So, I was thinking, we could start a charity—or maybe halfway house. Something to help kids like us with shitty parents so they’re not squatting in abandoned warehouses and sneaking into public pool changing rooms for showers once a week.” He dragged a hand down his face, his eyes closed when he pulled his fingers away. “From the day we left until I was twenty, I didn’t eat a single fresh vegetable. When I got that apartment across the street from campus, I went to the farmer’s market the day after I got paid and bought broccoli. I couldn’t remember eating anything else, but I remember how Luisa used to make that steamed broccoli with garlic and butter, so I did it. I ate an entire plate, and fuck man, I was sick for like three damn days. My shit was weird and green, and I wanted to die, but I also refused to give up. I bought zucchini the next time I went down there, and then an artichoke, and then some spinach. And I swore to myself I wasn’t ever going to live like that again. I want to do something so no one else has to go through what we did.”

  Derek hadn’t been there when Sage took off and decided to do something more with himself. Derek was still flailing and falling apart, but he had his own moment. The first time he put his key into a lock and stepped into a studio apartment that was his and just his, without anyone telling him what to do or how to live, he almost turned around and walked right back out. Because he wasn’t sure he was capable of being more to himself, or to anyone else. But he’d forced himself to step inside, and to unpack his three boxes, and to buy more things and make the place his.

  He moved five more times after that—each place his own and mostly secret, and precious to him, and above all—it was freedom. Sometimes that freedom felt like it was choking him to death, but he wouldn’t let it go for anything in the world.

  With Basil, it felt different, like the world tilted on its axis the other way, but the topsy-turvy felt good. It felt perfect. He wanted to keep going just as much as before.

  “We can talk to someone about it,” Derek finally said. “Is it something you want to do like hands on? Or do you just want to give money?”

  Sage bit his lip, then said, “How insane is it that I kind of want this to be hands on?”

  Derek shook his head. “It’s not. It’s brave and it’s wonderful.”

  Sage ducked his head a little, then looked up at Derek through his lashes. “And if I said I wanted you to do it with me…?”

  “Yes,” Derek said, because frankly, there was no other answer than that. The thought might be terrifying, and more than intimidating, but the answer to something like that would always, always be yes.

  17.

  Derek tried to pretend like he wasn’t relieved when Basil said he wanted to stay back at the hotel instead of attending the meeting with the lawyer, but it was a lie. Mostly because he’d have spent the entire time worrying about Basil not following along, and he just wasn’t good enough yet to provide Basil with what he needed.

  He toyed with the idea of hiring an interpreter, but Basil hadn’t brought it up, and Derek didn’t want to assume. At least, not with shit like this. The lawyer was a stuffy, over-dressed, weedy little man who had probably been prom king back in his hey-day, and then had let the years ravage him. His mostly-grey hair had once been black, and his mouth held a near-permanent frown.

  He didn’t seem to be their dad’s biggest fan, either, which was the only relief Derek took from sitting in that office. “So, you’re saying he left three million in cash, and his assets total four point six million,” Sage said after the reading was finished. “And that bastard seriously didn’t leave a thing to Derek?”

  Mr. Thompson tapped his pen on the side of the desk and sighed. “His will allowed the transfer of the home in Missouri to Mr. Osbourne. The value of the property at the last assessment was at…”

  “I don’t care,” Derek interrupted. “Seriously, I don’t care what it’s worth. I don’t actually want anything from him.”

  “I’m aware, Mr. Osbourne,” Thompson said, addressing Derek directly, “that you were the sole caregiver for your father in the last three years. You were his assigned power of attorney, and both medical records as well as communication r
ecords will back that up.”

  “So?” Derek asked, glancing over at Sage.

  Thompson licked his lips as his gaze flickered between the brothers, like maybe he was uncertain if there was conflict between them over the will. “A case might be made that your father’s cognizance had been deteriorating due to the advanced cirrhosis, and he may not have been aware he had two sons near the end. However, a case might be argued that you are due at least half the inheritance—and that’s a case you’ll likely win if you decide to take this to court.”

  Derek blinked, glancing at Sage for a startled second. “Okay hold on, I meant what I said about not wanting any of this.”

  “If my brother wants anything my father left me, he can have it,” Sage cut in. “Trust me when I tell you that as far as I know, we’re both on the same page. We just want to get rid of it as quickly as possible.”

  “I see,” Thompson said. He took up his pen again and made a note on his yellow legal pad. “As I have been overseeing your father’s estate for the last twenty years, I would offer my services. However, if you find that uncomfortable, I can also recommend several good attorneys who would be more than familiar with such a situation.”

  Derek bit his lip, then said, “Actually I could use a good recommendation, but it’s not about inheritance or anything. It’s about custody, and it’s in Colorado.”

  Thompson’s eyebrows raised. “Perhaps a discussion for another time? Before you leave, of course.”

  Derek nodded, feeling only slightly guilty for immediately talking about Sam in spite of their present situation and dead father. “We should probably take a day and go over all this,” Derek said, eyeing the stack of folders.

  “I’ll arrange for you to come back in after the funeral, assuming you’ll still be in the city. If not, I’m happy to come to you,” Thompson told him.

  Derek figured the guy had gotten a decent pay-out from his father if he was being this helpful, but he couldn’t really turn his nose up at it. After making sure Sage was with him, he nodded. “One of us will call you. Thank you for all your help.”

  “My pleasure,” Thompson said. “Let me put you in touch with the funeral home. All the arrangements were pre-made, so there’s little you need to do. Your father ensured his plot would be ready, and the expenses taken care of.”

  Derek swallowed past a lump in his throat, then rose and he and Sage collected the folders before they headed out the doors. Neither one of them felt up for driving, so they’d hired an uber which was still waiting for them as they exited the law offices and quickly climbed inside.

  “Fuck,” Sage said, letting his head fall against the window. “I need a damn drink.”

  “Hotel bar could be good,” Derek replied. “I don’t really want to end up wasted somewhere like this. And Basil’s waiting for me.”

  They fell into a silence which made Derek want to scream until he’d filled the void, and as the car came to a stop in front of the hotel, he realized he’d tensed nearly all of his muscles. He would be sore for days later, and he wondered how long he’d be suffering the repercussions of a death he shouldn’t even be mourning.

  Sage was out of the car first, making sure the payment had gone through, and Derek followed him in through the lobby, past the lounge seating, and they quickly found a booth in the corner of the dimly lit bar. He sent a quick text to let Basil know they were back and going over paperwork, but he didn’t get a response and hoped it was because Basil was sleeping off the jetlag and flying anxiety.

  Sage went to the bar to grab them a couple drinks, then sat back down with a heavy sigh as he eyed the paperwork like it might spontaneously combust. “This fucking sucks.”

  Derek nearly choked on his first swallow of beer, his laugh unexpected and so needed. He wiped his mouth with the flat of his palm, shaking his head with his grin. “Yeah, it really fucking does.”

  “I never really thought about money until we didn’t have it anymore,” Sage went on, reaching out to thumb the corner of the folder. “Like, we didn’t really want for shit as kids—I mean, apart from the whole not wanting to get beaten and locked in a shed any time we mouthed off. But yeah, it just never occurred to me until we were on the streets. I told myself that when I got out of that fuckin’ warehouse and started making money, I’d make sure I was stable and never hungry again. Now, with this shit sitting in my lap, I’d rather go back there than use any of this for myself.”

  “Feels like blood money,” Derek murmured.

  Sage sighed, then picked up his pint and gulped down half before looking at Derek again. “I don’t think I could live with myself if we didn’t use it to help people. I know you got student loans and shit—I mean hell, I’m still paying off mine, but…”

  “No,” Derek said in a rush, ignoring the queasy squirm of his stomach at the very thought of using his dad’s money for that. “I got loans, but I can pay them off fine without this. I can’t…I’m with you. I can’t do it like this.”

  Sage reached over and took the second folder which detailed out all the property. He rifled through the papers, then came out with one near the bottom and spread it out between them. “This one though…”

  Derek peered over and saw what it was. The Ozark cottage. “Sage,” he said from behind a breath.

  “Hear me out,” his brother interrupted, making sure Derek was meeting his gaze. “This wasn’t dad’s place. Not really. It was mom’s. I remember…I remember him buying this for her. Her sister had just died, and she was a wreck. I think it was the first time I’d ever seen him look at her like she was a person. It was like two in the morning, and I was sneaking down to get cookies. They were in dad’s office and she was just sitting there crying and he looked so…he looked so helpless. He just kept asking her how he could help, and she just kept crying.” Sage ran a hand down his face, then rolled his eyes up toward the ceiling. “He came home like five days later with the keys, and we went on our first vacation there. He didn’t hit you that trip. Not once. Not that time.”

  Every single word was like a physical blow, and it took Derek several minutes to regain his voice. “Why don’t I remember that at all?”

  Sage laughed bitterly. “I don’t know. I mean shit, we were like seven? Eight? And dad was already being an epic dick to you, so you had other shit to worry about. I mean, I wasn’t even supposed to see that conversation, it was an accident. But I know that place was hers. Whenever shit got bad, whenever she looked like she couldn’t take it anymore…”

  “That’s where we’d go,” Derek finished quietly. “We stopped going that second year after she died.”

  “I just think,” Sage said, touching the edge of the blurry, black and white photo printed next to the property assessment, “I think she’d want that for you.”

  Derek looked up at him, a bitter laugh tumbling past his lips. “She never stepped in. Not once.”

  Sage’s eyes fluttered closed. “Der…”

  “No,” Derek said fiercely. “I’m not going to condemn her because she was probably getting it just as bad as we were—maybe worse. But she made me feel so alone. Like I wasn’t worth making that man just…just stop. Then she went and died, and I really was alone. You were the only one,” he stopped when his voice cracked, and he quickly took a drink to help regain his composure. “I don’t want that because of her.”

  “So take it because of me. And you,” Sage said, and Derek narrowed his eyes in confusion. “We can remake that place as something else—take it back, make it something good again.” He rubbed his hand over his mouth, then smiled a strange, almost sad smile. “I wanted to take Ted there, but I was too afraid to ask dad for the keys. But I have these memories of…of running through the woods and climbing trees and it was one of the few times in my childhood I felt unafraid. I just…I wanted to keep that.”

  Derek felt a pang in his chest, almost physical pain, and he rubbed the heel of his palm up and down his sternum before looking back at his brother. “Okay,” he said. Hi
s voice was hoarse, but it was strong, and he meant it because he knew what Sage was saying. “Okay. The rest…”

  “The rest we fucking get rid of. We help Sam and Maisy, and I’m going to start talking to someone else because I want to do something good with this. I don’t want to just dump it on some charity that’s going to pay their CEO a three million-dollar bonus and give us some bullshit tax write-off. I want to know kids like us have a place to go that isn’t some frigid warehouse with flea-infested blankets and cold poptarts every day for months.”

  Derek smiled at him, reaching for his wrist, and he squeezed down hard. “Yeah. I’m with you, okay? We can fucking do this.”

  Sage turned his hand over and squeezed back, and Derek knew he’d never really be alone.

  ***

  Basil woke from his attempt to sleep off his migraine, a little confused by the unfamiliar smell and feel of the bedding wrapped around him. It took him a long second to remember where the hell he was and why, and then he became aware of the warm body that had woken him.

  Derek was in the room, though he hadn’t bothered with lights or pushing back the curtains, instead curling up behind Basil with a firm hand around his waist. Basil could feel a tension in him, and he shifted, reaching for the little bedside lamp, letting the room fill with a soft glow. Turning around, his eyes met Derek’s and he saw they were red-rimmed and swollen, though long-since dry of any tears he’d shed.

  Not wanting to make Derek work to understand him, he simply lifted his hand to Derek’s cheek and held his palm against the flush-warm skin. ‘Hi,’ he mouthed.

  Derek chuckled, his shoulders rising and falling with it under Basil’s other hand. ‘Hi,’ he mouthed back.

  Basil leaned in and kissed him, slow and drawn out, trying to give him as much comfort and support without words as he could manage. Derek took every second of it, his fingers a little rough and desperate as they clung to Basil’s waist. But it didn’t go deeper, and Basil could feel with Derek’s hips pressed against him, his boyfriend wasn’t hard.