by Anna Martin
They fell silent then. A cloud drifted across the sun, turning the kitchen gloomy again.
“What do you want to do?” Mark asked, and wasn’t that just the million dollar question.
“I want….” Steve sighed. “I want to make sure Dylan is okay. And if he is, I don’t want this to be over.”
“Me too.”
They stared at each other for a long moment, and Steve’s stomach curled itself into an even tighter knot.
“Steve,” Mark said softly, and Steve all but collapsed into his arms.
Because by God, he needed to be held, and rocked, and promised everything was gonna be all right.
It wasn’t an “are we in a relationship” conversation, but Steve still decided he needed to start thinking about whether they were heading in that direction. He didn’t want to be the guy who slept around on someone who thought a relationship was going somewhere. He’d been on the other end of that once, and it wasn’t pretty.
Mark left a kiss on Steve’s cheek before he moved on to his next stop for the evening, and Steve didn’t think too hard about what that meant. He was going to keep his mind and his heart open for a little while, and if he got hurt… well, he was pretty sure it would be worth it.
The next day Steve arranged with his boss to leave a few hours early and called his doctor to draw blood for a routine STD check. He usually got tested every six months or so, depending on his sexual activity in the previous months. It seemed like a good time to get checked again.
Steve had a pretty good relationship with Morgan at the doctor’s office. She was sweet, never asked why Steve got so many blood tests, and always managed to find a vein the first time.
“How’s Dylan?” she asked while she worked.
Steve looked away. He wasn’t good with needles. “He’s good, thanks. Yeah. Still working at Joe’s.”
“Did I tell you he fixed up my car for me?”
“No?”
“Well, he did, about a month ago now. I swear on my life, I thought that old thing was dead and gone, but he kept it in for a few days and figured it out for me. Only charged me for the parts, too, since he’s still training and all.”
“Yeah, he’s a good kid.”
Morgan snorted and undid the band from around his upper arm. “I’m not sure how he feels about you calling him a kid, Mr. Morrell.”
“It’s a habit,” Steve agreed with a laugh. Morgan taped a cotton ball to his arm and patted his shoulder lightly.
“You just sit there for a moment while I get these all labeled up. You need a water or anything, hon?”
“I’m fine.”
Steve stared at a poster of a human nervous system until his head felt more solid on his shoulders. Then he rolled his shirtsleeve back down and buttoned it at his wrist.
“We should have your results through within seven to ten days.”
“If you could ask them to call, that would be great. And make a note that they can leave a message if I don’t answer. Thanks.”
Morgan nodded and added a line to her notes.
“That’s it. You’re all done.”
“Thanks, Morgan.”
It was a warm afternoon, and Steve still had a few hours before Dylan would be home from work. He contemplated driving over to the high school again, but it was early, and it was more likely that students would be hanging around than the last time Steve had been there.
With nothing better to do, he picked up some groceries with the intention of making lasagna from scratch for dinner, with garlic bread and salad. When he got home, there was a familiar car parked on the street in front of the house. And a familiar person sat on his front step.
“Fuck,” Steve muttered to himself.
He could have kept driving; the moment he noticed Jason, he was pretty sure Jason hadn’t spotted him. But Steve wasn’t a coward, and he could definitely handle this.
He could almost definitely handle this.
Steve gathered up his reusable grocery bags and locked the car before heading up the path.
“Jason,” he said when he was close enough to be heard.
His ex-boyfriend rose to his feet. “Hi, Steve.”
“Do you want to come in?”
Steve really, really wanted Jason to say no.
“Sure.”
Damn.
Steve set the bags down so he could unlock the front door, and Jason picked one of them up, helping Steve get the bags inside.
“I just need to put some of this in the fridge,” Steve said. “Come on through.”
Jason looked both exactly the same and different from the last time Steve had seen him. Back then, Jason had been wildly drunk, his hair in disarray, and his sharp suit disheveled. Now he was wearing smart jeans and a casual button-down shirt, and he’d cut his hair and grown something of a beard.
“Sorry for turning up out of the blue,” Jason said. “I tried to call, but you changed your number.”
“Yeah.” Steve thought about lying, claiming Jason hadn’t been the reason for that… but he had. And Steve wasn’t in the mood for lying.
He set the bags on the counter and started moving things to the fridge. Jason took a seat at the kitchen island and propped his chin on his hand as he watched Steve work.
“You look good,” Jason said softly.
“Thanks.”
“I stopped drinking, Steve. I joined AA. Well, I joined one group, but it was really churchy, so I just moved to another one.”
“I’m pleased for you,” Steve said. He meant it too.
“At first I thought I was doing it for you, to get you back. But I talked with my sister, and she said I had to do it for myself, because otherwise it would never work.”
Steve’s stomach twisted. “She’s right. If it’s not for you, then why bother?”
“Yeah.” Jason nodded.
He was a handsome fucker, always had been. Those big blue eyes had a way of drawing Steve in, of making him submit to whatever it was Jason was dishing out. Their relationship hadn’t been abusive, but it definitely wasn’t healthy. Steve thought AA was probably only the tip of the iceberg when it came to the support Jason needed, though it wasn’t his place to say.
“I came over because… I wanted to see you.” He finished with a laugh and a little shrug. “I thought you should know I’m getting help and things are better.”
“That’s good.” Steve took a deep breath. There was no easy way of saying what needed to be said. “Jason, I’m seeing someone.”
Jason’s face dropped. Then his expression twisted into a wry grimace. “I should probably have expected that.”
“It definitely wasn’t planned,” Steve said. “But… yeah. I don’t want to lead you on.”
Jason ran a hand over his jaw. “Are you sure?”
Steve walked over and gently squeezed Jason’s arm. “I want you to keep getting better and find someone you can build something from scratch with. We’ve got too much history; there’s too much bad blood behind us. I really hope you can find that.”
Jason got to his feet. “Thanks, I guess.”
Steve almost wanted to invite him to stay, to make coffee and sit on the couch and catch up with what was going on in both their lives. But it seemed almost cruel to drag this out when he’d turned Jason down.
They walked back to the front door together.
“If anything changes,” Jason said as he reached the door, “well, I haven’t changed my number.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Take care, Jason.”
“Thanks.”
Steve wasn’t exactly expecting good wishes after that exchange. It was almost a relief to see Jason’s cold shoulder come out; it would have been easy to think that everything about him had changed in the past few months.
Steve closed the door and walked back to the kitchen, not wanting to watch Jason drive away. He set the coffee maker to brew, sat down, put his head in his hands, and wondered if he would ever feel like he was making the right decision
.
Chapter 21
James was working on his homework with his bedroom door closed and his 101 Greatest Disney Songs playlist on full blast when his phone rang. He managed to mute the music before he answered, only because it wasn’t a number he recognized, though.
“Hello?”
“Hi, James. It’s Steve.”
James winced. He wasn’t exactly on the friendliest of terms with Dylan’s dad. Or his own dad, for that matter. There was the most tentative, fragile truce imaginable going on, and James felt like the slightest wrong move could send it all crashing down around their feet.
“Hey, Steve. How can I help?”
“I was wondering if you could come over.”
“Uh….”
“We found out today Dylan’s mom has passed away,” Steve said.
“Oh shit. Is he okay?”
“I’m not sure. He hasn’t asked for you, but I think you’d be good for him right now.”
“Okay. I’ll check with my dad.”
“I already called him. He said it’s fine.”
James sat up and started tugging on his sneakers. “Okay, we need to have a conversation about boundaries, because that’s weird. Don’t do that, please.”
“We—okay,” Steve interrupted himself. He sounded weary.
“I can be there in about twenty minutes.”
“See you then.”
When James got done tugging on a sweater, there was a knock at his door.
“Come in.”
His dad pushed open the door and leaned against the frame, crossing his arms over his chest.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine, apart from the weird back channel you seem to have going on with Steve.”
His dad at least had the good grace to look guilty.
“I’m sorry.” His dad grabbed James’s shoulder as he went to leave. “I hope Dylan’s okay.”
That was as much of an admission that he cared that James was likely to get today.
“Thanks, Dad.”
On the way to Dylan’s house, James stopped and went into one of those expensive mini supermarkets because he knew they sold flowers, and flowers were definitely a thing when people died. The least he could do was take Dylan flowers.
There was a huge display when James walked into the store, and he was overwhelmed all over again. He didn’t want to take Dylan anything too pretty or pink or girly. He just wanted good I’m-sorry-your-mom-died flowers, goddammit.
“Can I help?”
James whirled around and almost face-planted into a smiling African-American lady with the name Rena on her green name badge.
“I need some flowers,” James said in a rush. “But nothing too… pink.”
She nodded like James was actually making sense. “How about yellow roses? They’re nice and simple, and they usually symbolize friendship.”
James felt the tension leech out of his shoulders. “Thank you,” he said and grabbed a bunch. “How do you know this stuff?”
Rena smiled. “I guess you just learn things.”
“I appreciate it.”
He took his yellow roses to the cash register, satisfied that they were at least not the wrong thing.
James made himself shut his phone in the glove compartment before he started up the truck to drive over to Dylan’s, knowing that otherwise he’d be checking it for messages every few minutes. Dylan hadn’t texted him. James wasn’t entirely sure if Dylan knew he was coming over.
Steve was hovering on the porch when James pulled up. He was wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt, more casual than James had seen him before. Even his neat, perfect hair was all rumpled.
“Hey, James,” he called as James jogged up the path to the house. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Worried.”
“Go on up.”
Steve stood aside, letting James past. They’d formed some strange, unspoken truce in the face of Dylan’s grieving, and James wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
He took the stairs two at a time, then hesitated at Dylan’s bedroom door before knocking lightly and letting himself in before waiting for an answer.
Dylan was lying on his bed with music playing from his laptop on the floor. Nothing deathly depressing, just soft acoustic guitar music.
“You’re here,” Dylan said, surprised.
“Yeah. Steve called me, asked if I could come over. Do you want me to stay?”
“Yeah. Shut the door.”
James did as he was told and toed off his shoes, leaving his sweater on. Dylan liked to keep his bedroom window open, and it could get chilly in here.
“These are for you,” James said, setting the flowers on Dylan’s desk.
“Thank you,” he said quietly. Dylan opened his arm, making a space for James to curl into his side.
Silently, James got onto the bed and tucked himself around Dylan. Head on his shoulder, leg over his thighs, arm curled protectively around his middle. Dylan sighed heavily and started stroking James’s hair.
For a long time, James didn’t say anything. What could he say? Dylan’s mom had died… his mom. Even if they were estranged, her dying meant there was no chance of them ever reconciling in the future. James had gotten the impression that wasn’t something Dylan wanted, but now the option had been firmly taken away from him.
James recognized the playlist, something Dylan had played a few times before when James had been working on homework here. James didn’t mind studying with music as a background, but Dylan liked to play it while he was reading novels, and that was definitely a level of multitasking too far for James.
“Thanks for coming over,” Dylan said after a long time.
“Hmm?” James had been almost dozing. Something about cuddling and someone petting his hair had that affect. “It’s not a problem.”
Dylan squeezed him. “I’m pleased you’re here.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Okay.”
James refocused his attention back to the cuddling.
“It was heart failure,” Dylan said after a moment, clearly deciding he did want to talk. That was fine. “I’m guessing from years of drug abuse.”
“That’s awful.”
“I spoke to Erin and Jacob’s parents,” Dylan said, rubbing James’s back like he was the one who needed comfort. “They haven’t told them yet. I don’t know if I should go and be there when they do.”
James hummed. “I don’t think it would hurt. You’re the only connection they have now to their old family. It could be reassuring to know you’re not going anywhere.”
“Yeah, maybe. When I’ve spoken to them before, they don’t really remember much about when they were younger. I mean, Jacob was practically a baby. It’s not like they have memories or anything.”
“No… but she’s still their mom. It’s going to hurt, even if they do have a good relationship with their adopted family.”
“I’ll speak to them,” Dylan promised. James let it go, knowing Dylan would do whatever he needed to for his siblings.
They fell into silence again, with Johnny Cash gently crooning through the speakers until Dylan’s stomach rumbled, loudly, and James grinned as he turned to look at him.
“Hungry?”
“Guess so.”
“Let me make you something.”
Dylan thought about it for a moment. Then, in a small voice, he asked for “Eggs on toast.”
“I can do eggs on toast,” James agreed.
Steve was in his study when they passed, the door open, but he didn’t react any more than looking up from his desk.
In the kitchen, Dylan put the flowers James had bought him in a beer glass filled with water, then took a seat at the kitchen island and looked at James expectantly.
“Okay. Poached, over easy, scrambled…?”
“Scrambled, please.”
“Scrambled I can do.”
He pulled the carto
n of eggs from the fridge, along with butter and cheese and milk. Bread was on the counter, pans in the drawer next to the stove. It was almost too easy.
Dylan didn’t say much as James worked, just watched with his chin in his hand. James found the silence calming, which was strange. He was usually far more comfortable around activity.
“Eggs on toast,” James said when he was done transferring the whole lot onto a plate. He’d made an extra slice of toast for himself, having already eaten earlier in the evening.
“Thanks.”
“If you go to see Erin and Jacob, will you be gone for the weekend?” James asked.
“Probably. Yeah.”
James nodded. They’d had vague plans for a date night, but he didn’t mind a rain check. This was more important, and he could always pick up a couple of extra shifts at work.
He quietly scrolled through his phone while Dylan ate, sending a few replies to Snapchat messages and letting Anthony know he was going to be MIA for a few hours.
“James?” Dylan asked.
“Hmm?”
“Can you stay tonight?”
Dylan so rarely asked for anything. James leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Let me ask.”
He didn’t want to be the guy who had to ask his parent for permission for everything, but it was a weeknight, and his dad worked at his school. And his dad knew where James was. Skipping was not a good idea, especially considering the current political climate.
His dad answered on the third ring. “James?”
“Yeah, hi.” He looked over at Dylan. “I need to stay here tonight.”
There was a long pause, where he could hear breaths on the line. So he hadn’t been hung up on.
“What classes do you have tomorrow?”
“Gym and study period in the morning. Math and then English after lunch.”
“Okay. I’ll write a note excusing you in the morning, but I want you to go to your afternoon classes.”
“That… sounds like a reasonable compromise.”
“I thought so,” his dad said dryly. “Let me know if anything changes.”
“I will. Thanks, Dad.”
“No problem.”
James turned the phone over in his hands as he looked over at Dylan. “So I have until one tomorrow afternoon. Then I have to go to my math class.”