Irons and Works: The Complete Series

by E M Lindsey

  “Honestly, I wouldn’t know.” But there was something about the man staring at him now that told Rowan the answer was yes. And it was about to happen right then. “Uh…”

  “That was some speech, son,” the man said. He had greying brown hair, a sharp jaw, and a mole under his left eye—just like Rowan had. “I wasn’t sure how to come talk to you.”

  Rowan heard James take in a sharp breath, and Rowan blinked slowly, trying to gather himself. He never had really wondered what he’d say to his dad if he ever met the man who knocked up his mom and bailed, and even now, his mind was drawing a blank.

  “I,” he said, then cleared his throat.

  “This probably isn’t the time,” James said, realizing that Rowan was flailing.

  Rowan wanted to cry from sheer gratitude, and he found himself leaning into James’ side. “The wake,” he finally said. “It’s across the street at the hall there. Whatever you have to say to me, you can say it there.”

  The man—Rowan didn’t even remember his name—gave him a sharp nod, then turned and walked through a crowd of people. His stomach twisted on itself, and he breathed through a wave of faint nausea before turning to look at his lover.

  “Are you okay?” James asked. “No one would blame you if you need to cut this short.”

  Rowan nodded, then realized that no, he wasn’t okay. James was right, no one was entitled to his time. What the fuck did he care about ceremony or manners with people who had abandoned him to the system? He took James’ hand, then walked away. He heard faint protests as he dragged James up the aisle and through the front doors, but the moment the cool afternoon air filled his lungs, he felt like he could breathe again.

  “Darlin’,” James said, squeezing his hand.

  Rowan dragged a hand down his face, sagging against the side of the building, and he looked up at the grey, winter-cloudy sky. “I don’t want to go over there.”

  “You don’t owe him either,” James pointed out.

  Rowan nodded, but there was a part of him that feared regretting it if he walked away and never bothered to let the man say his piece. Rowan didn’t think he had much to say to the man. He was fairly sure a thank you was in order, considering what he did know about his father was that he was a junkie, and the best thing he’d ever done was leave. It meant that Marie got to raise him—at least most of the way, and it meant that Rowan knew love.

  Marie was why Rowan had it in him to love James as much as he did now. It was that thought that had Rowan reaching for the other man, burying himself against James’ wide front, tucking his face into the side of his neck.

  “I’m sorry,” Rowan murmured.

  James shushed him softly, gripping the back of his neck in a firm, comforting hold. “Do you want to go?”

  “No,” Rowan said. “I just need a minute. Then he can say whatever the fuck he wants to say, and then we can go.”

  He felt James’ head shifting, like he was nodding, and after a long while, Rowan felt strong enough to pull back. He wasn’t close to crying, but he was damn exhausted and felt like he could sleep for a week. They hadn’t really talked about how long James was staying, but he was prepared to beg for an extra few days so he could get himself re-centered.

  They walked across the street to the little rented hall, and Rowan kept his hand firmly in James’ as he passed by the few people lining up at the buffet. It looked pot-luck style— homemade food in kitchenware laid haphazardly across checkered tablecloth. The sight of it made his nausea worse, so he headed into the dining area where several massive round tables were arranged.

  He spotted the man across the room, sitting alone, and he decided he needed to treat this like a band-aid. Just rip it off, finish it up, and throw it in the trash where it belonged. He pulled a chair out and sat, then gestured for James to do the same when Rowan saw him hovering awkwardly of to the side.

  “Thank you,” the man said.

  Rowan nodded. “So, I know who you are, but I don’t remember your name.”

  “David,” the guy offered, but Rowan noted the absence of a last name, which spoke volumes. It wasn’t his, at least, and he was happy to live with that. “I called up your aunt Shelly a few years ago and she said you were doing well.”

  Rowan’s eyebrows raised. “I am doing well.”

  “Successful lawyer,” he said.

  Rowan felt his throat tighten, because he knew what was coming next. “Why don’t you cut the shit and tell me what you want?”

  “I’m in financial trouble, and you’re my last hope. My wife and I are about to lose our house, and I was hoping…I know this makes me a monster for asking…” He trailed off, shaking his head. He looked as pathetic as his request sounded, and Rowan almost laughed. If he hadn’t been at his mother’s fucking wake, he would have.

  “You seriously didn’t think you had any way to appeal to my better nature, did you?” he demanded. “I mean, the fact that you assumed I had one…” He dragged a hand down his face, then let it fall to the table. “My bio-mom died of a drug overdose when I was six. The only reason I even made it to six was because Marie used to come over every other day to cook me food and give me a bath and make sure my mom hadn’t forgotten to put out her fucking cigarette before she passed out.”

  “I wouldn’t have been better to you,” David said quietly.

  “Oh,” Rowan spat, “I know that. I’m not angry you left, I’m angry you had the balls to show up at my mother’s funeral to ask me for money. You mistake what I do for work for the ability to sympathize with someone like you. I don’t care why you’re losing your house. I don’t care if you end up on the streets.”

  David’s head bowed. “It’s as much as I deserve.” Though his words were honest, his tone was less sincere and more full of self-pity.

  “You make your own future, just like you made your own past,” Rowan told him simply. “I’m not responsible for a man who left before I was born. The only reason you called Shelly was to see if there was anyone in the world left that would be stupid enough to enable whatever the hell you got yourself into. That’s not me.” With that, he stood up. He realized right then that he wasn’t even angry. He was just exhausted. Surrounded by people who cared more about the appearance of good work than actually doing it. People who slept soundly at night in spite of never bothering to step in when a child was in trouble. He meant it when he said he wasn’t angry about his father leaving, and he didn’t even want to be angry about him showing up.

  He just wanted out. James didn’t try to stop him, either. He just followed along at his slightly slower pace, and kept holding Rowan’s hand as they got into the car and finally left all of that behind them.

  * * *

  James swore they hadn’t spoken for hours, though he knew that wasn’t actually true. Rowan just hadn’t said much after they got home. He initiated sex, which James had been hesitant about, but he understood why the other man would need both the distraction and the closeness. James decided to take his time, to take him apart inch by inch with his mouth, his fingers, and eventually his dick.

  As uncomfortable as it was, he kept his legs on so he could get Rowan on his hands and knees and fuck him until he was sobbing and begging to come. James eventually wrapped a hand around Rowan, stroking him to the finish, then let him collapse into the mess.

  They cleaned up a little while after, and James got his legs off, lounging in rolled up pajama bottoms. He laid on the bed with his head pressed to the side of Rowan’s ribs, listening to the slow in and out of his breath, and the quiet thudding of his heart.

  James startled a bit when he felt the blunt edges of Rowan’s nails scrape along his scalp, but he turned into the touch, closing his eyes and feeling a little cat-like in his desire to be pet. “You good?” he asked.

  Rowan hummed softly. “I think so. It’s always weird when your expectations are met in the worst way.”

  James turned his face to press a warm kiss to the outline of Rowan’s ribs, and he laid
his cheek against the flush-warm skin. “I get it, believe me. The few times I tried to let myself think there was some way to reason with my daddy, I was always proven right. The man will just never see me as a man who can be saved.”

  “Maybe because you aren’t,” Rowan said, and when James turned to look at him with a frown, Rowan reached up and ran his thumb over James’ bottom lip. “Can’t save someone who doesn’t need saving. At least, that’s what my mom would have told you.”

  James closed his eyes against a wash of regret. “I wish I could have met her.”

  “I know, me too,” Rowan said. “But she knew about you. We had a few long talks about my feelings, and she was the one who convinced me to get my head out of my ass and admit to myself that I could actually be with you, and the world wouldn’t collapse.”

  James shuffled around to his side so he could prop up on his elbow and look Rowan in the face. He brushed his fingers through Rowan’s thick chest hair and then pressed against his neck to feel the beat of his pulse. “I love you,” he said, feeling the next words choke him a little, “but I don’t want to stand in your way of the things you want to do. I…I’m not lookin’ to move. I like my bit of land, and my family, and my little town. I don’t want you to feel trapped.”

  Rowan gave him a long, considering look. “There’s a lot to think about,” he said, making James’ heart and stomach twist painfully. “I had some vague plans for after this. So many states still have these archaic laws on the books, and parents who have no one to defend them.”

  James let his eyes closed, afraid of where this was going. “I get it. I just don’t think I have it in me to leave everyone behind.”

  “I’d never ask you to do that,” Rowan said.

  “And I’d never ask you to give everything else up,” James pointed out.

  He opened his eyes again when Rowan touched his cheek. “Your flight is the day after tomorrow, and I don’t want to use up these days between us thinking about everything we can’t have.”

  James hated leaving anything open-ended, but he also hated the thought of turning this last bit of paradise into a bit of hell. “I don’t want that, either.”

  “So, kiss me,” Rowan said. “Kiss me, and tell me you love me. When I get back to Denver, we’ll talk.”

  James swallowed thickly, then leaned in to do exactly that. “I do love you,” he murmured right up against Rowan’s mouth. “No matter what happens, I’ll always love you.”

  Rowan wrapped his arms around him and pulled him in close.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  It felt weird to be back at the shop after so long in Portland. It was a damn lot colder in Colorado, the first snow having hit while he was gone. He got the snow tires thrown up on his truck, then put his auto-shop vacation sign up for the next week as he caught up on the clients who had been waiting for him.

  Everyone at Irons and Works seemed to know he’d been through the emotional wringer, and though it was strange not to be metaphorically tied to a chair and tortured for state secrets by everyone, he appreciated the distance they’d given him.

  He’d just finished up on his last client, and found himself staring at the cup he’d dumped his Clean Ink powder into. It had formed almost a total solid lump of black ink, and he reached over, squishing the cup between his hands before throwing it into the plastic baggie.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” came a voice from behind him.

  He spun in his chair and saw Mat leaning against his stall.

  “Uh…”

  “How about we take a break?” Mat offered. “I have about two hours before my next appointment, and Derek said he’s got the door if we want to grab coffee or something.”

  James bit his lip, then nodded and pushed to his feet. “Yeah, man. That sounds good. Let me just wipe this shit down.” He had a little more hurry in his step after that, getting all the cling film balled up and thrown away, and spritzing everything down. He grabbed the bag out of his trash bin and took it with him, throwing it in the dumpster outside as they huddled into their coats and began the short walk over to Masala.

  Mat held the door for him, which annoyed him a little because he hated being treated like glass. But part of his issue right then was that apart from a goodnight and good morning text each day, he and Rowan had no communication. James had been back for ten days, and Rowan hadn’t so much as called to say hi.

  James didn’t want to read into it, but he’d gotten a little tipsy during their last poker night and spilled his feelings all over the table like a pile of poker chips. He knew he’d surprised everyone, considering he’d been tight-lipped about his personal life for so damn long, but he was tired of holding himself back from the people who cared about him. He decided to let Mat over-compensate a little, because in all honesty, it made him feel better.

  They walked up to the counter, but before James could open his mouth to read Mat the specials, he saw his friend reach out and grab a little sheet of blank paper. Or well, blank until he saw that there was braille printed on it.

  “For me and Wyatt,” Mat said with a slightly embarrassed flush. “Wyatt types them out for Will each week, and it’s… nice. Not to have to ask someone.”

  James couldn’t help his grin. “So, it’s working?”

  Mat shrugged. “It’s working. I uh… with all the memory issues and mood shit, I don’t think I can actually go back to the whole doctor life. But um…Wyatt and Sage both pointed out there are other options. Like physical therapy, massage therapy, shit like that. You know?”

  James frowned as they got a step closer to the counter. “Are you not happy at the shop, man?”

  Mat looked surprised. “What? No, of course I am. Just… this wasn’t exactly my plan. I know life can change, but I always thought—I always hoped—that I could get back to doing something else.” He pursed his lips, then shrugged. “With braille, I can read again. It’s not as easy as some people have it. My brain still kind of skips around and has trouble processing, but it’s better than before.”

  “Shit, dude, you have no idea how happy I am about that,” James said. He realized right then he’d fallen behind on Mat’s life. This thing with Rowan had occupied so much of him for so long, some of the most important things had fallen by the wayside. “I’m sorry I didn’t know.”

  Mat’s eyebrows went up. “Are you serious?”

  James shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. “As a heart attack. I…you’re one of the most important people to me, Mat. You know everything about me. Everything,” he emphasized in a low voice.

  Mat rolled his eyes. “Not to burst your bubble, but they figured it out. Actually, Sam did a few weeks ago at the shop, and Lucy laughed in his face because apparently she’d known for years, but she never wanted to call you out. She figured you had your reasons.”

  James’ face burned, but part of him felt relief that he wouldn’t have to come out as an ex-virgin after all this time. “Were they pissed?”

  “Worried, mostly. I didn’t tell them all the shit with your dad, but you might want to. They care.”

  James nodded, staring at the ground, but before he could come up with what to say, they were at the counter. Will was there, smiling softly, and James felt a rush of happiness that Sage had found someone like Will to love him.

  “Hey, the usual?” Will asked.

  James shrugged, then nodded. His vanilla late and croissant sandwich sounded perfect, and he stepped aside for Mat to order before they shoved what cash they had into the tip jar, then grabbed a booth to wait.

  “Have you heard from him?” Mat asked after a beat.

  James let out a slow breath. “No. We didn’t talk a whole lot after the funeral. Not about anything important, anyway.”

  Mat’s face fell a little. “Shit.”

  James shook his head. “I’m…I’m tryin’ my damndest to sit back and let him decide what’s good for him. If it ain’t me, then it ain’t me. Even if he is the great love of my life, it’s not w
orth losin’ all of you.”

  At that, Mat went soft, making James want to punch him to diffuse the situation and avoid sappy feelings. Fortunately, Mat knew him well enough not to let it get too far, and he cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t give up hope just yet. It’s only been ten days, and you said there was a lot going on. I mean, isn’t he trying to sell his mom’s house and everything?”

  “Yeah,” James said, and didn’t bring up all the other shit that went along with it.

  Mat gave him a pat on the arm. “He probably just needs to focus.”

  That was what James had been telling himself, and it didn’t feel like a total lie. By the time he left, Rowan had moved through the stress of meeting his birth father for the first time, but he still had to deal with his mom’s daughter, and the sale of the house, and everything else that came with packing up her things and moving on with life. James didn’t know what it was like. When his momma had died, his daddy had put her things into boxes and gave it to the ladies for the monthly Saturday rummage sale. He dealt with seeing some of the women coming to church in his momma’s Sunday best, and it hurt, but he always knew it’s what his momma would have wanted.

  He didn’t have responsibility after she died, though. Nothing more than lending a helping hand around the house a little more, and spending more time outside and trying to avoid his daddy’s temper. He’d grown up the rest of the way without her, and it was what it was. He didn’t think life would have been much different if she’d survived. She loved him, but he didn’t doubt for a minute she would have taken his daddy’s side in all matters—including turning him away and never looking back when he came out.

  James would have still ended up here—just like this—with this family and the love of his life, finally making him brave enough to step out of the bubble his father had created. With that strength Rowan had helped him find, James had finally silenced that old man’s voice. He didn’t dream about hell anymore—at least not that he could remember. He’d gone on more dates, and he’d stopped feeling like the weight of the world was on him every time he closed his eyes and pictured a man when he touched himself.