Chet had remained silent through the entire part of the exchange that Nick had been paying attention to, and now he rubbed his bottom lip with his index finger and stared at the ground. He finally lifted his head and stared off into the distance for a moment before speaking.
"I've spent the last fifteen years trying to forget high school ever happened," Chet said. "But now that I'm back here in Rubyville, it feels like the universe is determined to make me face it all over again, so maybe forgetting wasn't what I was meant to do."
Someone ran by them with a whoop and Chet stared after him silently until he was well out of sight. No one moved to interrupt his train of thought. He chewed his lip for a few seconds before turning to look at Nick.
"Maybe it's time I tried to really get over what happened instead of just not thinking about it. Maybe," he said, looking at Tyler and Reagan now. "Maybe I should start by trying to forgive you for the shitty things you did. It was hard for us all, like you said. Maybe I did have it harder, but growing up gay in Rubyville was never going to be a picnic. And we were all kids. Stupid, scared kids. I guess maybe I can't hold the actions of a kid against a grown man who seems to have learned from his actions." Chet didn't look back at Nick when he said this, but he turned his head slightly in Nick's direction.
"If you can't forgive us, I understand," Reagan said. "But I hope that you can, for your own sake. You definitely deserve some peace." He held out a tentative hand for Chet to shake.
Chet took the offer and shook hands. "Yes, I do," he agreed. He shook Tyler's hand also. "I'll see ya around guys.” Then he clapped Nick on the shoulder companionably. “Talk to you tomorrow, Gallagher."
With that, he walked away, leaving the three of them in stunned silence. Or Nick was stunned, in any event. Tyler and Reagan slid an arm around each other and Reagan leaned his head on Tyler's shoulder. Then Reagan squinted at Nick.
"You're into him," he said, speculatively.
Nick laughed. "Trust me, that isn't a new development." He sighed. "Back in high school, he was all I thought about. When you guys stepped in and we started bullying him, it started as me trying to get closer to him. I fucked it all up completely." He sighed and rubbed a hand down his face. "And he's twice as amazing now as he was then, but he won't look at me because of how I was then."
Reagan stepped up and put a hand on his shoulder. "He said he's going to try to put it behind him. Maybe that means he'll give you a chance. I hope so. I hate to think we fucked up your chance as well as hurting him."
"Maybe," Nick said, then shrugged. "I think I'm ready to head home. You guys staying?"
The other two decided to call it a night as well. The mood of the evening had definitely dropped. Nick wished he could feel more hopeful, after what Chet had said, but instead he just felt more morose. Even if Chet forgave him for good, would there really be any realistic chance that Chet could see him as a romantic partner? Would Nick, in Chet's place? The thought kept him awake long after he got home.
21
It was late by the time he got back from the bonfire, but Chet was feeling more than a little restless. It wasn't even entirely owing to the jumble of emotions left over from the impromptu apology and forgiveness time at the lake, though that had naturally played a big part.
The plain fact was, he still hadn't quite settled back into the house. It had never been home when he lived in it, and it was hard to consider it that way even now that it was his alone. It was a nice house. Lovely, even. And maybe if he redecorated it would feel less like his father's ghost was hovering just out of sight. But for now, it felt empty and haunted, by a life he'd long since left behind.
He heard the rain start to fall and he made a spontaneous decision to go outside and walk around in it. If the weather had been warmer, he'd likely have gone out as he was and danced in it, letting it cleanse him of the negativity and the past. As it was, he put on his overcoat and grabbed the largest umbrella in the stand before opening the door. The umbrella made a satisfying "fwoomp" as he pressed the button on the handle. The porch protected him until he reached the steps, at which point he lifted the umbrella up over himself.
He stepped out into the yard and the sound of the rain on the umbrella intensified. It wasn't loud, just rhythmic and soothing. He walked further down the path, grateful he'd left on his boots after work. He hesitated when he reached the edge of where the street lamp's light reached, but he doubted anyone else would be out in this downpour. He considered—briefly—returning for one of his father's pistols, but it was a fleeting thought at best. Anyone so committed to an attack that they would come out in this downpour to do it likely wouldn't be stopped by his poor aim anyway.
As he walked, his eyes slowly adjusted to the dark, and he took in the scene. Somehow, though he was now quite far from any light source, certain blades of grass and tree leaves were picking up shimmers of light from somewhere. He imagined for a moment that he was walking through the soup of the universe being born. He laughed at his flight of fancy. He let the patter of rain on his umbrella soothe him, then felt a sudden pang of longing as he imagined for a moment what it might be like to walk like this with someone else.
He'd never been one for relationships. He'd never had stars in his eyes or daydreamed of a future romance—his parents' marriage had been a sure cure for any such fanciful thoughts, as far as he'd been concerned up till now. This longing to have someone next to him was an entirely new sensation.
Something about the night and the rain, something about the peace he suddenly realized he felt, it was causing in him a wish for companionship. Someone else to share in this moment and others like it. Was that why he felt restless in the house? Did it feel empty? His apartment had never felt that way, but then he was not the same man who had left that apartment six weeks ago. The fact that he was feeling a sense of internal peace told him that much.
Unbidden, Nick's face popped into his mind.
Tonight, sitting and laughing with Nick by the fire, had been the best Chet had felt in... weeks? Months? He wasn't sure. It had been so comfortable, in a way that dating usually wasn't for him. Not that it had been a date, but the attraction between them was growing too obvious to ignore, even for him. He was fairly certain they had almost kissed, and that, if Tyler and Reagan hadn't shown up when they had, they would have kissed. The apologies had been sincere. Chet knew they were all different people now. Could he forgive Nick enough to try for more than friendship?
Chet shook his head, unable to consider the idea for more than a moment, as flashbacks from the hallways of Rubyville High School suddenly flooded his brain and gave him all the same old feelings of pain and worthlessness. Nick was becoming a good friend now, it was true. Had their history been different, perhaps they could have pursued more, but as things stood, Chet could not forget what Nick had done, whatever his reasons and despite the change of name and tonight's heartfelt apologies. Chet was just too deeply scarred to put it behind him.
Wasn't he?
He shivered, a sudden chill working its way through him. Maybe he'd stayed out in the cold too long. He also felt a profound sense of sadness that hadn't been there moments before. He knew some part of him had been getting closer to Nick. Their near-kiss tonight had shown him that maybe on some level Chet wanted more with him. But it just wasn't possible.
Chet walked back to the house much more somberly than he'd left it.
22
A week had passed since the bonfire, and Chet wasn't handling things very well. He'd drawn into himself and gotten irrationally upset over little things. He couldn't face Nick for the time being. He was wound too tightly and knew he'd say something shitty. Truthfully, he thought he was getting over high school, the bullying, and finding his way to understanding, but right now, he couldn't be kind. He wasn't sure how to get out of this headspace, but he wanted to try before he made real contact with Nick again.
Not that Nick didn't keep trying.
After yet another invitation to have a meal to
gether—which Chet had inevitably declined—Chet finally called his therapist. It was a good conversation, even if it didn't go where he'd expected. To his surprise, she had asked him how recently he'd hooked up. When he said it had been a few weeks before he’d come back to Rubyville, she had been the one surprised.
“Chet! It’s no wonder you’ve been struggling with your mood.”
“So I’m some bored housewife stereotype now? I’m not grumpy because I need to get laid, Dr. Weaver.”
“Chet, you learned early on in our sessions that you are a touch-hungry person. And you are living by yourself and haven't been touched more than incidentally for weeks. If you’re also starting to want real companionship, it’s no wonder you’ve been feeling off kilter.”
She paused, but Chet could tell she had more to say, so he stayed quiet.
“I would also like you to consider the possibility that high school might have been every bit as hard a time for Nick as it was for you, if perhaps in a different way.” Then she surprised him again when she said, “I don’t think it would be a bad idea to see where things go with Nick. You’re obviously drawn to him in a way that’s new to you. That’s worth pursuing.”
He heard everything she was saying, but he knew he needed time to process it all before thinking too deeply or acting on it.
He was starting to feel moderately better, so he decided to do a purge of the closets. He needed to start making the house his own as soon as possible, if he was going to continue living there. Today seemed as good a day as any. The downstairs was probably a better choice for where to start, since most people probably kept important things upstairs and closer to them, while the lower floor would likely be for household items that were used occasionally.
Chet started with the closet in the living room by the door. He already knew that his father had stored winter coats, iron and board, and the vacuum there, along with some boxes and other assorted detritus. He was able to clear it out fairly quickly, putting at least two thirds of it in the discard pile. He packed away what he was keeping and set the rest off to the side out of the way to be added to as he went.
By the time he had put in an hour's work, he'd managed to clear six of the nine downstairs closets and he had a huge pile of things that needed to be given away or trashed. He stopped to get something to eat and down a couple of bottles of water. Then he looked up the number for the local charity shop, thinking he would call to see if they did pick ups.
He wasn't sure that was the best way to get rid of everything, though. He looked around at the things he wanted to get rid of and wasn't sure. Some of it was junk. Most it, really. Then again, some of it was pretty nice stuff. Walker Barnaby had never denied himself the finer things, that's for sure.
Though he wasn't quite ready to talk to him, Chet wondered if maybe he should ask Nick's advice. He considered contacting Nicholas Senior instead, but then remembered it was Saturday. He didn't mind contacting Nick during off hours, but Nicholas was a different story.
"Stop being an idiot," Chet said aloud to himself and dialing Nick's number.
"Hey, Chet, what's up?" Nick answered on the third ring, sounding happy to hear from him.
“Um, hey. Sorry to bother you on your day off, but I’m getting rid of some of the junk around the house and I don’t really know what to do with it. I was thinking maybe donate it, but some of it is nicer than your typical thrift shop wares, so I wondered if there was a charity auction or something else you could suggest. I figure you handle estates a lot and might have ideas.”
“Oh. Uh. Yeah.” The excitement was gone from Nick’s voice and Chet felt a little guilty. “I know of a few places you could try. They aren’t really open on the weekend, though.”
“Yeah, no, I figured, I just was in the middle of it and got carried away, you know how it is.” Chet massaged the back of his neck during the awkward pause. “So, um. The bonfire was….” He trailed off, knowing fun wasn’t the right word to encompass all of the experience.
“A lot?” Nick offered softly.
Chet blew out a breath, relaxing a bit. “Yeah. A lot. I mean, it was good. I really enjoyed the, you know, tacos and everything. But all the stuff that came after... that has been harder to process.” He hesitated, but when Nick said nothing, Chet plowed ahead. “I know you think I’ve been avoiding you, but really it isn’t that. I’ve been sparing you my shitty mood. I haven’t been nice to be around this week and I’ve tried to stay away from everyone. I’m sorry about not going to dinner and not explaining why. I felt like the less I talked, the lower the chances that I’d say something mean that you don’t deserve.”
“Fair enough. I’m sure it was kind of overwhelming. But I do hope we can be friends, Chet. And I still want to have dinner, when you’re ready.”
“I’d like that,” Chet said and smiled, realizing he meant it. “Well, I should go. I’ve got a few more closets before I’m done with the downstairs storage areas, and I’d like to get them done before the end of the day. We’ll talk later?”
“We’ll talk later,” Nick confirmed.
The conversation left Chet feeling much better than he had in a week. He was able to speed through the next two closets without a hitch. Then he got to the closet with his mom’s things in it and his mood crashed with all the force of the meteor that killed the dinosaurs.
23
If Nick had been hoping that the night at the bonfire had opened the door for more than friendship, he was sorely disappointed. If anything, Chet was more aloof than before. He would only agree to talk to Nick when it was business related. He turned down all lunch and dinner invitations. Politely, always. He was never rude or unkind. But neither did he initiate any contact.
After a week of it, Nick was going crazy. He finally decided that if Chet hadn't stopped acting so strange by the weekend, Nick was going to go out to the farm to see him. He wasn't sure if it was a good idea or not, but he was losing his mind. He had thought they were getting closer as friends if nothing else and now for some reason, Chet was trying to freeze him out. He didn't understand, and he felt he deserved some answers.
As soon as he had the thought, he questioned the truth of it. Did he? Was "deserve" really the right word? He'd bullied Chet in high school and had never once reached out to apologize until Chet was sitting right in front of him after Chet's father had died. Had he really earned anything at all?
He decided probably not. And if he hadn’t heard from Chet, then maybe what he should do was take a step back and recognize the silence for what it was: Chet didn’t want to talk right now.
Nick was deep in his reverie when his text notification went off and made him jump. He hoped it would be Chet, but knew it was unlikely. When he picked up his phone, however, he was relieved to see who it was from.
Rhett: Hey, sorry we missed the bonfire and to just get back to you
Rhett: Liam’s dad took a bad turn and he’s been in the hospital
Rhett: I should’ve texted sooner, but it’s been a madhouse
Nick: Oh, shit, is everything okay now?
Rhett: Yeah, it looks like he’ll be all right
Rhett: His liver is no good and he’s been waiting on a transplant
Nick: Glad he’s better. Hope the transplant comes through soon!
Rhett: Me too. Thanks.
Rhett: Hey, you wanna grab dinner soon, since we missed the fire?
Nick: Sure, just say when
Rhett: You free tomorrow?
They hashed out the details and then spent a few minutes talking about old times. Nick was glad Rhett still seemed to be a good guy. They’d had some good times together when they were young. Rhett had been Nick’s first lover, even though they’d been more friends than anything else. Nick had started out with a crush on him, but it had swiftly faded in the face of seeing Rhett with Liam. He’d known there was no way to compete and resigned himself to just friends with benefits.
Nick: I’m glad you and Liam finally got together!
&
nbsp; Nick: Last I heard you weren’t in touch
Rhett: Yeah, me too!
Rhett: I forgot you handled his divorce
Rhett: We’ll tell you the whole story when we see you
Nick: Sounds good. Hey, he’s not bothered by our history, is he?
Rhett: Shit, I gotta go. See you tomorrow!
Nick was surprised by the abrupt departure, but not bothered. He started doing some cleaning around the kitchen. He was just starting the dishwasher when his phone rang. Seeing Chet’s name on the caller ID was a pleasant shock that had his heart speeding up. He was disappointed that it was work related, but then Chet brought up the bonfire and the avoidance.
Nick felt enormous relief at hearing Chet wasn’t angry with him. He appreciated that Chet explained exactly what was happening, though he wished they could sit down and really talk about it. At least Chet had agreed to dinner. That was something. Nick did his best not to get his hopes up, but his attraction for Chet—both physical and emotional—had only gained strength during the bonfire. He would accept friends if he had to, but he wanted so much more.
The question was, did Chet even want to be friends?
24
The ninth closet was the biggest, which was part of why Chet had saved it for last. He hadn’t expected it to have his mother’s things in it. If he’d thought about it, he’d assumed his father had probably thrown all her things away or donated them to a shop the way Chet planned to do with everything he was getting rid of.
Somehow, that wasn’t as bad as seeing it all shoved unceremoniously into a closet. There was no order to it at all. It almost looked as if it had been thrown in there. Some of the furniture was missing, but her sewing tables and her wooden chairs with their ruffled cushions were there. They sat at odd angles, as if they’d been tossed. The boxes weren’t sealed, either. Fabric spilled out along with ribbons and measuring tapes and other pieces of sewing paraphernalia. The bastard hadn’t even bothered to pack it up properly.
Home to Stay (Southern Boys Book 2) Page 10