Anna Martin's Single Dads Box Set: Summer Son - Helix - The Color of Summer

by Anna Martin

  James pulled him into a hug. Not a back-slapping bro hug, but a real, tight, God-I-missed-you hug.

  Anthony squeezed him back.

  “That’s okay. I’m sorry I ditched you and made you feel bad.”

  Anthony nodded. “I really don’t care that you’re gay. You know that, right? It doesn’t matter to me at all.”

  “I know,” James said.

  “I’m kind of worried about you—not because of the gay thing,” he said in a rush. “But Dylan is older, and you know your dad is gonna freak out when he finds out—and he will find out, James.”

  “I know.”

  “And I don’t want you to be grounded or get shit from Mark about stuff.”

  “Ugh,” James said and fished his keys out of his pocket so he could sit in the truck. Anthony climbed into the passenger seat. The light from inside the truck was blinding out here, so James shut the door again.

  “So it turns out my dad is dating someone,” James continued.

  “Really? I didn’t know he dated.”

  James snorted. “A man.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. Can’t you remember when I was a kid when I walked in on him having sex? I was in therapy for months.”

  Anthony punched his arm. “Don’t try that with me. I know you were in therapy anyway. I try not to think about parents having sex.”

  “Me too,” James said, grimacing. “But yeah, it’s not exactly unprecedented.”

  “Oh. Isn’t that weird? You have a boyfriend and so does your dad?”

  “Well, I’m not telling my dad about Dylan. Not specifically, anyway. I told him I’m dating someone.”

  “But he told you about his boyfriend. Do you think it’s serious?”

  “I have no idea,” James said. He tipped his head back and strained his eyes to see the bobbing mess of people down by the edge of the lake. “Maybe. He hasn’t told me and Frankie about dating someone before.”

  “Huh.” Anthony was quiet for a while. “What about your mom?”

  “What about her?”

  “Well, your dad was obviously married to your mom at one point.”

  “You know about bisexual people, right?” James said, trying not to laugh. “I really, really, don’t want to contemplate my dad’s sexuality. But I guess that’s him.”

  “That’s what I was thinking,” Anthony said, sounding relieved. “Would it be weird if you had a stepdad?”

  “Yes,” James said without hesitation. “I’m hoping that my dad can wait for anything like that to happen until after we’ve gone to college.”

  “Yeah, it would be weird living with two dads.”

  “Dude, you barely live with one dad,” James said with a laugh.

  “I know. Did I tell you he’s leaving the Navy?”

  “No?”

  “In three years he can retire,” Anthony said, nodding. “I don’t think he’ll actually retire, though. I think he’ll get a job doing something else. I asked my mom if she was excited that he’s going to be home all the time, and she said no. I can’t tell if she’s joking or not.”

  James huffed a laugh. “I guess it’ll be weird for her too. He’s not lived at home for more than a few months at a time pretty much since they were married, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  They fell into an easy silence.

  “Did you want to go down there?” James asked.

  “Not really,” Anthony said. “I came out to see if Mary Anne was here and to talk to you. But she texted me just as I got here to say she wasn’t allowed out, and I found you already, so….”

  “I thought she wasn’t talking to you,” James said.

  Anthony glared at him. “I said she wasn’t interested.”

  “She sounds interested to me,” James said with a shrug.

  “Girls are hard,” Anthony mumbled, covering his face with his hands. “One minute I think she likes me, the next minute she refuses to acknowledge me at school.”

  “Why don’t you just tell her you like her and ask if she likes you too?”

  “Because then all my hopes will be shattered. I think I prefer this painful limbo to outright rejection.”

  James laughed. “Are you sure?”

  “No,” Anthony said petulantly.

  “Talk to her,” James said. “Ask her out on a date.”

  “Okay. Maybe.”

  James smiled and turned over the engine. “Wanna go get a burger or something?”

  “That sounds awesome.”

  Chapter 10

  Mark had sent Steve a text letting him know his kids were going out on Saturday so he’d have the house to himself. Steve was pretty sure the message was a booty call, and he was definitely okay with that.

  For most of the afternoon, Steve puttered around the house, getting little chores done that he’d been avoiding. With Dylan away, he could stick cheesy ’90’s pop music on to play throughout the house without any of the mocking he could expect if Dylan was around.

  He cleaned the bathroom in the time it took for a Spice Girls dance remix to play and felt supremely proud of himself when it was all done.

  Mark had offered to cook dinner, so Steve made a salad for lunch so he’d be hungry again by the time he got to the Henderson house, and he started working on his study after. At work, he had a reputation for being supremely organized. Unfortunately that didn’t follow through to his personal life.

  They were approaching tax day, meaning it was a good time to start going through his receipts and filing them before he had a deadline looming and he was facing down the horrors of tax returns.

  Around four, Carl called.

  “Hey.”

  “You sound weird,” Carl said.

  “You’re on speaker.”

  “Oh. Is anyone else there?”

  “Nope.”

  “Okay. Are you coming out tonight? It’s ’80’s night at Tricks.”

  “Ugh, I love ’80’s night.”

  “I know. That’s why I’m calling.”

  Steve rocked back in his chair and considered ditching Mark.

  “You went quiet,” Carl said, his voice echoing through the speaker.

  “I know, sorry. I sort of have plans. I’m trying to figure out whether I’m going to cancel.”

  “Ooh, what plans? If you can’t make it, that’s fine. Paul and Ross are already coming.”

  Steve huffed. “You know that guy I’m sort of not seeing?”

  “No, because you don’t seem to want to tell me anything about him.”

  “That’s because I don’t know if it’s going anywhere yet. He’s invited me over for dinner.”

  “Actual food dinner, or is he just going to eat you out for hours?”

  “Both, hopefully.”

  Carl laughed. “You should go. It’s not every day you get that sort of offer. And I want to know more about him and why you’re not telling me anything. It’s not like you to not spill all the gory details about your conquests.”

  “I guess I don’t know if he’s a conquest yet,” Steve said. He rocked back in the chair again. “It’s like I’m walking on eggshells around him and what could possibly happen, you know?”

  “Uh-huh. So he’s relationship material?”

  “Carl, I haven’t had a relationship since Jason. There are good reasons for that.”

  “That’s all on you, Steve. You could have had relationships if you wanted them.”

  Steve rolled his eyes. “I know that. He hasn’t been with anyone either.” He contemplated how much he wanted to tell his best friend. “He has kids too. It feels like we’re in the same sort of place in our lives, like we’ve met each other at the right time. For both of us.”

  “That’s so sweet.” Carl was being sincere.

  “I don’t know if it’s sweet….” Steve didn’t think of the blow job in the bathroom as sweet, or the hookup that had happened before that. “When we met a couple of years ago, it didn’t turn into anything. But we’re both open
to the possibilities now, and… fuck, Carl, I don’t know if I remember how all this works.”

  “Of course you do,” Carl said soothingly. “If he matters, then you can take it slow and it’ll be fine. You don’t have to rush into anything.”

  “I know. It’s just weird, I guess. I’m used to my relationships lasting less than four hours,” he added drily.

  “As long as you’re both on the same page, just enjoy it.”

  “Okay.”

  “Be open. Communicate.”

  “You’re starting to sound like Oprah, dude.”

  Carl laughed. “That’s a compliment. Have a good night tonight.”

  “I’ll try.”

  They said their goodbyes, and Steve hung up.

  For a few more minutes, he stared out the window, contemplating. Then he went back to his filing.

  Steve dressed nice, in a pair of black jeans and a button-down shirt that he left open at his throat. He fixed up his hair too, shaved, and splashed on some of the fancy cologne he’d bought on a whim. Then he wondered if he was trying too hard and started freaking out, so he left the house earlier that he needed to, just so he didn’t get changed a dozen more times.

  It was a nice evening, not too cold, and the sunset was turning the sky candy orange and pink. Steve took a meandering route to Mark’s house, enjoying the drive, singing along to his Motown playlist to ease his nerves.

  He’d programmed the address into Google Maps on his phone before leaving the house. He had a general idea of the neighborhood, but he’d never known anyone who lived on this side of town, so he didn’t know his way around. He pulled up in front of a nice, midsize family house.

  There was no fence separating the front lawn from the sidewalk, making the front yard look huge and open. The house was painted light blue, with a small porch and big windows. Steve could imagine what it had looked like when Mark’s kids were younger, with bikes on the lawn and a huge swing.

  He was probably projecting.

  The garage door was open, revealing a car Steve knew was Mark’s, and there was a beat-up old Chevy truck parked haphazardly in front of it.

  Steve took a deep breath, then slid out of the car and locked it behind himself. The house was still and quiet when he knocked on the front door. He stepped back and waited.

  A moment later, Mark swung the door open.

  “Hey,” he said with a smile.

  “Hi.”

  “Come in. The kids are on their way out.” Mark stepped to the side, and Steve brushed his arm as he passed.

  “Shoes off?”

  Mark smiled. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Okay. Where are they going?”

  “Hmm? Oh, to some thing down by the lake.”

  “Lucky kids,” Steve murmured.

  “I don’t think I’m too strict with them,” Mark said. “They can go out to parties—I mean, they’re both eighteen so I don’t want to limit their freedom too much. But they know when they have to be home.”

  Steve followed Mark through to the kitchen, pondering how different it had been raising an adopted teenager. Steve had been strict with Dylan because at the time, that was what Dylan needed: lots of structure and rules. If he was going out, Steve had always known where he was going, who would be there, and he’d make sure Dylan knew what time he was expected home. On more than one occasion, Steve had gone looking for him and hauled him home when Dylan broke his curfew.

  The kitchen was worn and comfortable, a space that was clearly used a lot. Mark wasn’t trying to hide anything; clean dishes were stacked on a drying rack next to several different boxes of cereal.

  This was the family home Steve had always dreamed of creating for his own kids. He never regretted what he’d built with Dylan instead, but there would always be a little part of him that was nostalgic for this. It was one big “what might have been.”

  “Can I get you a beer?” Mark asked.

  “That sounds great. Thanks.”

  Mark had his head in the fridge when there was a clatter on the stairs, and a young girl appeared in the doorway.

  “Dad—” she started and cut off abruptly when she caught sight of Steve. “Oh. Hi.”

  “Frankie, this is Steve. Steve, this is my daughter, Frances.”

  Steve nodded at her. “Hi.”

  “Hey. Uh, so, I’m gonna grab James and go.”

  “No problem.”

  “Luis might bring me home, though.”

  “That’s fine. If you’re staying out late, just let me know.”

  She nodded, her strawberry blonde hair bobbing in its ponytail. “Nice to meet you, Steve.”

  “You too.”

  Steve turned back to Mark and accepted the beer he was holding out.

  “So that was Frankie,” he said with a wry smile.

  “She seems great.”

  Mark nodded. “She is.”

  Before Steve could say anything else, the thundering noise on the stairs happened again and Steve barely caught sight of a tall, slim young man with light brown hair as he leaped over the banister and jogged to the front door.

  “And that’s James.” Mark took a breath. “James!” he yelled.

  “Bye, Dad!”

  “That’s not what I meant,” he muttered. “That kid….”

  “What about him?” Steve asked with a laugh, then took a swig of his beer. It was good, some local brew.

  “You know, if I hadn’t been in the delivery room, I would never believe they’re twins.”

  The door slammed behind them, and Steve felt the house rattle on its foundations. Mark made a face but didn’t say anything.

  “I had something of a kitchen disaster earlier, so I was going to order pizza for dinner. Or some other takeout if that’s not okay.”

  “Sounds great. I don’t order pizza very often.” He grinned. “It’s a treat.”

  “For me too. Frankie is cutting back on how much meat and dairy she eats, though, so it’s off the menu for now.”

  “She’s watching her weight?” Steve didn’t want to intrude, but Frankie was slim. She definitely didn’t need to be dieting.

  “Oh, no. She’s in one of her environmental rights phases. If I make burgers, she’ll tell me how many people could be fed with the amount of grain it takes to feed one cow.”

  “Sounds delightful,” Steve said drily.

  “And don’t get her started on the dairy industry. Teenage girls.” Mark shook his head. “I try to be supportive, but sometimes it’s best not to ask. Do you want the grand tour?”

  “Sure.”

  Mark reached for Steve’s hand, and he almost drew it away, an instinctive reaction that he immediately hated himself for. He forced down the urge and took Mark’s hand, squeezing it lightly. If Mark had noticed his reaction, he didn’t mention it.

  “This is the kitchen,” he said, adopting a realtor voice that made Steve laugh. “And this is the dining room, though honestly we eat dinner in here a few times a year. Thanksgiving, Christmas… birthdays, if we’re at home, which isn’t that often. We mostly use it as a study.”

  “Which explains all the textbooks,” Steve said, teasing. The dining table was stacked with paperwork and scattered notebooks, textbooks, and the charging cables for two laptops, neither of which were on the table.

  Mark rolled his eyes. “I’d blame the kids, except most of the mess is mine. Eh.” He shrugged.

  The house wasn’t very big; the kitchen and dining room had just enough space to be practical, and the front door opened into the living room.

  “We knocked down a wall about, hell, twelve years ago,” Mark explained. “There was a hallway, but James had a habit of running down the stairs and picking up so much momentum he went crashing into the wall that separated the hall from the family room. It made sense to take it down, it made the rooms look bigger. And we didn’t really need a hallway anyway.”

  The space under the stairs made a tiny closet. Steve let go of Mark’s hand to walk a few paces
up the stairs, studying the pictures of James and Frankie as children.

  “They were cute kids,” he observed.

  “Don’t believe it,” Mark said darkly. “They were a handful, I promise.”

  “Oh, I bet. I can’t imagine bringing up twins. On your own.”

  Mark smiled. “They’re worth it.”

  It turned out better than Steve had expected, just hanging out in Mark’s family room, eating pizza from the box, and watching a crash-bang-shooter movie Mark had found on Netflix. Steve was still half hoping for sex to happen, even though Mark had made it clear that, because the kids could come home at any time, sex wasn’t on the table. Or the floor. Or on the stairs.

  “Did you always know you wanted to be a teacher?” Steve asked as he grabbed a second slice.

  “Oh, definitely not,” Mark said, wiping his hands on a napkin. They ate in silence for a moment before Mark hummed his pleasure at the food. “I thought I’d go into research, which I did for a year after I got my PhD. I’d been lecturing undergrads since I’d stopped being one, though, and I missed it.”

  “Teaching undergrads who have chosen their major is slightly different from high school chemistry.”

  Mark nodded. “My hand was forced when the funding for my research was cut. Someone suggested teaching high school where there was pretty much always a demand for qualified science teachers. I saw it as a short-term quick fix…. Turned out I loved it.”

  “Really?” Steve took a bite of his pizza.

  “Well, not every day. And it can get tedious after a while, teaching the same material year after year. But kids have a natural curiosity, and when you can really get them to engage—that’s the best part of my job. I’ve had students go on to prestigious colleges, determined to design drugs that will fight cancer or disease.” He licked a speck of pizza sauce from his wrist. “Not many kids decide they want the discipline of scientific study, but those who do are remarkable.”

  “What I can remember of high school kids, plus my recent experience of having one, isn’t that remarkable.”

  Mark laughed. “I thought you homeschooled Dylan.”

  “Sort of. He tried going to a few regular high schools. When that didn’t work out I took a sabbatical for six months so I could help him find a routine. After that I went back to work, and he had a tutor.”