by Sera Trevor
Oscar rolled his eyes. “For fuck’s sake, no one had a gun.”
“How can you be so sure?” Horribly, tears pricked his eyes. “And stop saying the eff word.”
Oscar’s expression softened. He put Bette in her chair and turned to face Noah, putting a hand on each of his shoulders. “They were just some garden variety bullies, all bark, no bite. I should know. I used to be one of them, remember?” He drew him in for a quick kiss. “Come on, don’t let them ruin our day.”
Noah took a deep breath. He was being ridiculous. He smiled tightly. “You’re right.”
He tried his best, but the worry lingered in the back of his mind. They ate as the LARPers continued their game. Eventually, the LARPers left, and their meal was done. Jeremy and Crystal rounded up their kids and got into their minivan. Noah brought Bette to the car while Oscar carried the cooler and Bette’s chair. They were all buckled in and ready to go when Oscar smacked his forehead. “Shit, I forgot the diaper bag. I’ll be right back.”
Before Noah could say anything, Oscar left the car. His shoulders tensed. What if those men came back? What if they had been hiding, waiting for the LARPers and everyone else to leave so that they could get their revenge on Oscar? And Noah had just let him leave. He should have gone back for the diaper bag. But then, what if they went after him? What if they figured out he and Oscar were gay? What if they didn’t think gay men should have kids? What would they do to them? What if they followed them home? What if—
The car door opened. “Got it!” Oscar tossed the diaper bag in and climbed into the passenger seat. The moment Oscar closed the door, Noah hit the gas, peeling out of the parking lot.
“Whoa!” Oscar fumbled with his seat belt. “We got someplace to be?”
“Sorry.”
Oscar gave him a look. “You’re still thinking about those assholes, aren’t you?”
“You mean those jerks,” Noah snapped. “You need to work on your language. Bette’s going to start talking before we know it. Do you want her first word to be a-hole?”
Oscar held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. Sorry. So—are you?”
Noah tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “You can’t go around picking fights.”
“Picking fights? Are you kidding me? They were the ones who picked the fight! Why are you still freaking out about this?”
“I’m not freaking out! I’m just pointing out that you are a father now. Putting yourself in harm’s way just to make the point is irresponsible.”
“Oh, come on. I was not in harm’s way. Those two ass—jerks are only a threat to our good time. What did you want me to do? Just let them yell ‘faggot’ while Jeremy’s kids were running around?”
“We could have called the police.”
“You think that’s a good use of the police’s time? You’re overreacting.” Oscar tensed. “Red light!”
Noah slammed on the brakes just in time. Bette started crying.
Oscar glared at him. “So standing up to bullies versus getting in a car crash—which do you think is more of a danger to our kid?”
Noah didn’t have a retort. His head was killing him, and he felt like he might throw up.
Bette cried for the remainder of the trip, making any further conversation impossible. Which was fine, seeing as Noah had no idea what to say. Oscar was right—he was overreacting. What was wrong with him?
Noah parked the car in the garage. “You get Bette. I’ll unpack the trunk.”
Oscar took the baby inside while Noah put the cooler away, taking his time. When he got inside, Oscar had Bette calmed down. He was rocking her while giving her a bottle, making soothing noises. Shame gripped him. He couldn’t face Oscar right now, so he went into the kitchen to get dinner started.
He was aggressively chopping vegetables when he felt Oscar’s arms around him, followed by a kiss on the back of his neck. “I’m sorry,” Oscar said in his ear.
Noah turned around. “No, I’m sorry. I picked a fight with you about picking fights. What’s wrong with me?”
“Yeah, I was kind of wondering that myself.” Oscar winced. “Shit, that didn’t come out right. I just mean I’m worried about you.” He glanced down at the knife still in Noah’s hand. “Please don’t gut me.”
Noah set the knife down. “Why are you worried?”
“You’ve been really tense ever since Bette was born. At first, I thought it was getting used to having a baby. Hell, with all the sleep deprivation it would be weird if you weren’t. But things have settled down, and you don’t seem to be getting any better.”
Noah didn’t know what to say. He had been having a lot of anxiety. But he’d thought he was keeping it together. Obviously not. He forced a smile. “I’m fine. Really. It’s just like you said. It’s hard being a new dad. It was wrong of me to take it out on you.”
“Take it out on me all you want,” Oscar said. “I can handle it. Anything in particular on your mind?”
You could be killed in a car accident, I could be diagnosed with cancer, Becks could die of an overdose, someone could kidnap the baby, the house could catch on fire, I could lose my job... Noah shook his head and did his best to smile. “No, not really.” He returned to his vegetables. “We’re having beef stew.” He kept his tone light. “Should be ready in about thirty minutes.”
“Need any help?”
“No, I got it. But thanks.”
Oscar turned to leave but hesitated. “You know that no matter what happens, I’m here for you, right?”
Unless you die. “I know.”
“You sure?”
“Now who’s being a worrywart?” Noah gestured. “Go play with our daughter. I’ll call you when dinner’s ready.”
The beef stew turned out okay. Not his best effort, but Oscar loved it all the same. They didn’t fight often, but when they did, Oscar was always quick to forgive. He didn’t seem at all stressed about any of it. Conflict just rolled off him. What was that like?
It was Oscar’s turn to put Bette down for the night, so Noah curled up in bed, put on some earbuds, and pulled up one of his favorite ASMR videos on his phone. He shut his eyes and let the soothing sounds wash over him, sending relaxing tingles up his spine. For the first time since those men had shown up, he was able to relax, although not completely. Oscar’s words still rang in his mind. Was he right? Was what he felt more than standard new parent stress? Maybe he should see someone.
Or maybe he could just keep watching ASMR videos. They were much healthier than Xanax, anyway.
He had nearly drifted off when Oscar came in. Noah took out his earbuds. “That was fast.”
“I told you, I got the magic touch.” He leaned in for a quick kiss. “I’m going to take a shower.”
Noah went back to his video. He was nearly asleep again when Oscar returned, wearing nothing but a towel. “Guess what?”
“What?”
“That fiber you gave me has totally cleared me out.”
Noah tried not to laugh. “Gross. But good for you.”
Oscar waggled his eyebrows. “And good for you too.” He dropped the towel. “Because the baby is sleeping, neither of us has work tomorrow, and I am ready to ring in the new year by getting fucked.” He jumped on the bed and propped himself up on an elbow. “That is, if you’re up for it.”
Noah inhaled. “I am definitely up for it.”
They kissed once, twice. Oscar pulled Noah’s shirt off and dived back in, kissing him even deeper. Just as things started to get interesting, the baby monitor crackled. Bette was awake.
Oscar groaned in frustration.
“Do you want me to get her?” Noah asked.
“No, I got it. My turn, remember?” He kissed Noah. “I’ll be right back. Stay horny.” He grabbed some sweatpants and left.
An hour passed and Oscar hadn’t returned. Noah padded over to Bette’s room and found Oscar in the rocking chair, their daughter curled up on his chest. Both slept peacefully.
A feeling o
f love so intense it almost overwhelmed him struck Noah. How had he gotten so lucky? It felt unreal sometimes. He wanted to climb into the chair with them, hold them both so tightly that they would never slip away. It was only when he had them in his arms that he truly felt like this was his life now.
But there wasn’t room in a rocking chair for two grown men, and it was dangerous for Bette to sleep in the chair all night. He gently extracted Bette and put her in her crib.
Oscar yawned. “Thanks, babe.” He yawned again. “Still horny?”
Noah considered him. He looked like he might fall over. “Rain check.” He helped Oscar get up. “Let’s get you to bed.”
Oscar just hummed.
Noah led him to the bedroom. Tucking his husband into bed might not have been as exciting as sex, but it wasn’t without its pleasures. He kissed his forehead and spooned up behind him, breathing him in. He was real. This life was real. With that knowledge, he drifted off to sleep.
3
Noah balanced the dessert tray in one arm as he knocked on Zeke’s door. He was having dinner with Zeke and Rebecca. Just him, no Oscar, no Bette. If he wanted to repair his relationship with his sister, he needed to spend some one-on-one time with her.
Zeke opened the door. “Heya, nephew!” It looked like he’d attempted to tame his wild white hair, his efforts only partly successful. “Watcha got there?”
“Brownies. Freshly made.”
“A classic.” He took the brownies and stepped back. “Come on in.”
His uncle’s home was furnished in secondhand furniture, not out of necessity, as his surf shop business was pretty successful, but because he liked the “vibe” of thrift store finds. The whole place had a quirky style so different from his parents’ stiff, straight-laced home.
A new painting hung on the wall. It was of the Grim Reaper surfing. It was captioned: Life’s a beach and then you die. Noah pointed at it. “That one’s new.”
“Oh yeah, one of my regulars made that for me. Funny, right?”
“Yeah.” Only it wasn’t, really, and not just because of the tired joke. The picture was mostly cartoony, except for the Grim Reaper’s face. It was a detailed, realistic depiction of a skull made all the more unnerving by the silliness of the rest of the painting. Noah shivered and changed the subject. “Smells great. What are we having?”
“Chili. I’ve got some of that Beyond meat. It’s incredible. You’ll never know the difference.” He turned. “I’ll put these brownies in the kitchen.”
Noah looked around. “Where’s Becks?”
“In her room. She wasn’t feeling well, but she said she’d join us for dinner.”
Zeke put the brownies in the kitchen and came back with plates to set the dining room table. Noah helped. Shortly after, Rebecca emerged. She was wearing a pink tank top and ripped jeans—not the type of thing she could have gotten away with wearing when they were growing up. Noah had worn slacks and a button-down shirt, which he now felt a little weird about, especially since Zeke was in his customary shorts and sandals. It was a casual dinner with his family—why had he felt the need to dress up?
He gave her a hug. “Hey, Becks. Good to see you.”
“You too.” Her face was so pale, her cheeks hollowed. The circles under her eyes were so dark they almost looked like bruises.
“You feeling okay?”
She shrugged. “Yeah. Just tired, I guess.”
Noah decided not to press. They made small talk while Zeke put the finishing touches on dinner, talking about the weather, his job, the baby. He asked her about work, what TV shows she’d been watching, what music she was into. Rebecca wasn’t unresponsive, exactly, but her replies were all short and led to dead ends.
He couldn’t ask her what he really wanted. What could he do to make things right between them? Did she know how much he loved her, and how much he hated himself for letting her down? Could she ever forgive him?
Besides, he wasn’t sure if he was ready to hear the answers.
Zeke came in with the chili and some cornbread. They ate in silence for a few minutes. Or at least, Noah and Zeke ate. Rebecca only picked at her food.
“So,” Noah said finally. “Uncle Zeke says that you’re looking into going back to school for vet tech?”
Rebecca swirled her spoon in her chili. “Yes.”
“She’s got a real touch with animals,” Zeke said. “We get stray kittens ‘round the shop and she always knows just how to care for them until they can be put up for adoption.”
“You were like that when we were kids, too,” Noah said. “I remember how well you trained King.” He hadn’t thought about their childhood dog in years. He had died a few months before Noah had left. His heart panged. Rebecca had lost the dog and him in such a short time. Not the sort of thing he ought to bring up if he was trying to mend their relationship.
He steered the conversation back to the present. “We’ll be in the same line of work, sort of. But I bet you’ll never have to deal with stubborn patients leaving against medical advice.”
“I guess not.” She pushed her plate away. “I’m sorry, I’m really not feeling well. I think I need to lie down.”
Noah’s heart sank. “Sorry to hear it. Maybe we can get together again, when you’re feeling better?”
She nodded vaguely, but it was like she didn’t even hear him. She got unsteadily to her feet and made her way out of the room.
When she was gone, Noah turned to Zeke. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No, no. I’m sure it’s just her head. She had that look she gets.”
Noah frowned. “How long do you say this has been going on?”
Zeke scratched his chin. “A few weeks, I’d say.”
“And they’ve been getting worse? Has she seen a doctor?”
“I keep telling her to go, but she doesn’t see the point. They aren’t going to give her anything, with her—you know, history.”
“There’s more they can do than give her pills,” Noah said. “In fact, that’s the least helpful thing they could do for her. A doctor can help her get to the bottom of what’s causing her pain.”
Zeke crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not so sure that a doctor could help. At least, not a GP. This whole being sober thing is tough.”
Noah bit his lip. “Maybe. But maybe not. If she doesn’t want to go to a doctor, I could go over her symptoms and maybe get an idea—”
Zeke held up a hand. “Don’t try to fix her. She’s had enough of that. Just be her brother.”
He had a point. “Okay. No fixing.”
Zeke and Noah finished dinner. After the plates were cleaned and put away, Noah cut a brownie for Rebecca—a peace offering. He went to her bedroom. The door was slightly ajar. He knocked.
“Hey, Becks. I was just wondering if you wanted a brownie. Homemade.”
No answer. Maybe he should just leave.
No. He wouldn’t run away again. He pushed open the door. Rebecca was lying on her floor, gripping her head. Tears streamed down her face.
Noah set the brownie down on the dresser and rushed to her side. “Becks? Are you okay?”
“Hurts,” she gasped. “It hurts really bad.”
This wasn’t just a headache. A migraine, maybe? “Can you describe the pain? Is it sharp, or more like an ache?”
“Hurts,” she just gasped again. She suddenly turned to the side and vomited. She looked down at the mess. “I’m sorry—”
“Don’t be sorry.” Noah called for Zeke, who arrived quickly. “Becks threw up. Can you get something to clean up?”
“Of course.” Zeke’s face was pale. “Is she okay?”
“We just need to figure out what’s going on,” Noah said, slipping into his nurse’s voice, calm and in control. He didn’t feel that way. His heart was racing, but he didn’t want to alarm either of them. He tried not to jump to conclusions. Maybe it was a migraine after all. Or—
“Becks, did you take anything?” he asked gently.r />
Her eyes widened. “No!”
“I’m not mad,” Noah said. “I just need you to tell me—”
“I said I didn’t!” She started to cry. “I’ve tried so hard. I was getting better.” She wretched again. Her face was bone white, and she’d broken into a sweat.
“Do you think you can stand?” Noah asked. She tried but couldn’t manage it. Noah helped her onto her feet, but as soon as he let go, her knees gave way. Whatever was happening to her wasn’t a simple migraine. They needed help.
Noah helped her to her feet again just as Zeke appeared in the doorway with a bucket and a box of tissues. “Should we lay her down?” Zeke asked.
Noah took a tissue and wiped her chin. “No, I’m taking her to the ER.”
“I didn’t take anything!” Rebecca said again, wild now. “I swear it! Don’t you believe me?”
Noah didn’t know what to believe. “There’s something really wrong, Becks. We need to take care of you.”
“I didn’t take anything,” she said again, weaker now. She clung to him. “It hurts so bad.” Her voice trailed to a whisper. She sounded like a little kid again.
Suddenly, she spasmed. Noah could barely hold onto her. He looked at her face and his blood ran cold. One side of her face was slumped. The pupil in one eye had contracted.
Everything went hazy for a moment and then snapped back to sharpness. She definitely needed to go to the ER, but it would be better to get an ambulance. He helped her over to the bed and eased her onto her back. She was so pale. Her eyes were fluttering.
Panic clawed at him, but he had to remain calm for her sake. “Are you still with me, Becks?”
“Didn’t take anything,” she slurred.
Tears stung Noah’s eyes. “I know.” He gave Rebecca’s a forehead a kiss before pulling Zeke into the hallway.
“I thought you were taking her to the ER?” Zeke asked.
Noah shook his head. “I could drive her, but she needs support on the way there.”
“Why?” Zeke’s voice got higher. “What’s wrong with her?”
Noah’s calm dissolved and a shudder ripped through him. He hugged his arms to his chest, trying to hold himself together. “She’s having a stroke.”