Chapter 9 #3
That made my gut ache, because I could never make Grandpa choose between me and Uncle Wayne.
That’s why I never snitched, never told him how bad I felt.
If I had, Grandpa would’ve protected me.
I’d been more sure of that with every year that passed.
But it would’ve hurt him badly to kick Uncle Wayne out or refuse to see him.
I couldn’t make him lose his last kid. I’d been a tough enough kid to handle a little bullying.
“Your grandfather has a heart as big as all of Canada,” Zeke agreed. “I hope your uncle learned a lesson in prison.”
I doubted it. Prison probably wouldn’t change the character of someone for the better. But Zeke flicked a glance to Jos, so I said, “I hope so too.”
Watching the movie and eating my weight in popcorn took the edge off the restless anger inside me. Explosion by explosion and flipped car by flipped car, I let go of the desire to break things. To go back and punch Uncle Wayne right in his sneering face.
Jos wandered upstairs at the end of the movie, leaving Zeke and me side by side on the couch in front of an empty bowl with a few unpopped kernels at the bottom. Zeke picked up the dish and headed for the kitchen, gesturing with his head for me to follow.
As the water ran in the sink, Zeke murmured, “Tell me the truth. Is your uncle going to make trouble for Jos?”
“I can’t imagine why,” I whispered back.
“He has a gambling addiction, so he’s all about money, but Jos doesn’t have any.
He likes his beer, but he’s not any other kind of addict.
Well, he wasn’t.” I recalled Uncle Wayne’s new hardness, the lines in his face and the muscles under his sweatshirt.
“Maybe you can find out, when you do his background check.”
Zeke reached out and brushed my hair off my forehead.
For a second, I yearned to lean into that touch.
To catch his hand and kiss it and ask for a hug.
But that wasn’t who we were. We’d exchanged another pair of very satisfactory blowjobs in that small bathroom Wednesday night after his shift, but we weren’t boyfriends.
“What about you?” he asked.
“Me what?” I’d lost any train of thought with that touch.
“Will he make trouble for you?”
“I’m sure he’ll try to borrow money, which, the joke’s on him, I don’t have any.
I’m worried he’ll get his hooks into Grandpa again.
” In addition to the counseling, Grandpa had paid off Uncle Wayne’s debts, at least twice I knew of.
In fact, that was probably why the house was mortgaged and the store was barely above water.
Uncle Wayne had owed people a lot of money, the kind of people who would rearrange your face if you didn’t pay.
Grandpa had protected him, until criminal charges came along. “I hate that he’s back here!”
“I’ll run that background check ASAP.” Zeke hesitated, then opened his arms like he understood what I needed. “I know you didn’t come here for sex tonight, but… hug?”
“Hell, yes.” I stepped up against him and he grabbed me in a strong, perfect hold.
Something inside me, a fierce furious tension that never quit, relaxed in his arms. I bent my face to his shoulder and inhaled the fabric-softener scent of his sweatshirt and the faint musk and sweat of his body beneath it.
He freed a hand to cup the back of my head, scratching softly through my hair, his touch a comfort. And for a moment, I could breathe again.
That hug couldn’t last. He let go and stepped back. But I felt enough better to smile and say, “Thanks.”
“Anytime. I know about being overwhelmed.”
That made me realize I hadn’t asked. “How are things going with Jos?”
He rocked a hand back and forth. “We’re not butting heads as much, partly because I’m picking my battles.
I quit worrying about what he was wearing to school, and he quit choosing the most ragged things he owned.
He watches a movie with me now and then, like tonight.
But he spends most of his time in his room, or off on his bike.
And he’s aloof and sad when he’s not bitching about something.
I wish I knew how much is natural grief and when I should worry. ”
“A therapist, maybe?”
“I suggested it. He laughed in my face and swore he wouldn’t talk to them and it would be a waste of my money.”
“That sucks. But you can’t make him talk.”
“Right?” Zeke scrubbed a hand over his face. “I feel like I should snoop his social media and his phone, but I know he’d never forgive me.”
“It’s only been, what, a month since his mom died?
I was a mess for a long time after my parents passed.
And he’s still in elementary, so he’s not likely hanging with a really bad crowd yet.
I’d say his trust matters most.” But then I hesitated, because what if I was wrong?
What if Zeke believed me and something happened to Jos? “Don’t listen to me. What do I know?”
“More than me. When Mom and Dad divorced, and she went to Europe with her new boyfriend, it was hard, but she wasn’t dead. We Skyped a lot, at first. And I was nineteen and out of the house when Dad passed, so I never had my world upended like Jos did.”
I couldn’t help being curious. “Do you still hear from your mom? She’s kind of Jos’s stepmother, right? Would she have advice?”
Zeke curled his lip dubiously. “We don’t talk much anymore.
She hates cops and the military, which was part of why she left my dad.
She wanted him to quit, but the service was ingrained in him.
When I went to the Police Academy, despite her asking me not to, we drifted apart.
She’s a sweet person and a free spirit, but we really have nothing to say to each other. ”
“That’s a pity.” Zeke might say he never had his life upended, but it sounded like he’d lost his mother more than he was willing to admit. Then he’d had to see her place taken by Krystal, whom he didn’t seem to miss. “Families are messy, huh?”
“Yeah. Is Wayne your only uncle?”
“On my dad’s side, Grandpa had just Dad and Wayne. My mom had a brother and a sister, but they were a lot older than her, and weren’t close. I met them a few times.” They’d skipped the funeral.
“I’m glad you had your grandpa. I’m grateful he’s been there for Jos too. Jos likes him a lot. He’ll be sad if I have to tell him not to visit around your Uncle Wayne.”
I flinched. “I’d like to say it shouldn’t matter, but… it would be just like Uncle Wayne to say something like, ‘Another orphan begging Dad for crumbs of attention, eh?’ He used to call me ‘the orphan’ behind Grandpa’s back, as a dig I couldn’t fight because it was true.”
“Bastard. Yeah, Jos doesn’t need any extra shit.”
“Maybe get him to invite Grandpa over here.” That idea appealed to me.
“For a meal, especially. I don’t think he’s been eating right when I’m not around.
” Part of my deciding to move home had been realizing that Grandpa had lost weight recently, and seeing the kind of food he kept in the kitchen.
It was totally normal that he didn’t want to cook at the end of a long day at the store, but the convenience meals of my teens had turned into cold sandwiches and, I suspected, even bowls of cereal when I wasn’t around.
I’d taken over a bunch of the cooking, despite my mediocre skills.
“That sounds like a plan. If we can tell Jos it’s for your grandpa’s good, that might motivate him. I’ve been trying to teach him to cook, so added incentive.”
“I’ll tell him I’m learning to cook too. We can work on it together.” Fatigue suddenly swamped me, the slump after too long with adrenaline churning inside me. Between the game, the loss, and Uncle Wayne, I was wiped. I leaned a hip on the counter. “Hey, you said you had a spare bed?”
“Sure do. This way.” He led me into the hall, then hesitated, gesturing to his left. “There’s a ground-floor mother-in-law suite that way, but the bed has no sheets on it. Nice and private, though.”
“I’m literally going to fall over and crash. Privacy is irrelevant, unless I snore too loud for you.”
He grinned. “Do you?”
“Not according to Sully, unless I have a cold.”
“Up here, then.” He led the way upstairs. “Bathroom.” He pointed at the first closed door. “Jos.” Second door. “And this is yours.” He opened the one across the hall to reveal a modest bedroom with a neatly made single. “Bed might be a bit short.”
“Most beds are. I’ll manage.” I looked down the hall. “Which one is yours?”
“One floor up.” He pointed. “Does your house have the attic suite too? They’re kind of alike. Made by the same builder, I expect.”
“Yeah. Grandpa uses it as a guest room.” Which made me remember again, bitterly, that Uncle Wayne had claimed that space as his own. “You didn’t take the main bedroom when you moved back?”
Zeke shuddered. “My dad’s room, and Krystal’s. I don’t think I’d ever be comfortable in there. I haven’t—” He stopped short.
“Haven’t what?”
“Haven’t really been in it since Dad died. I asked for the attic way back when Mom left, like a refuge, and Dad let me. When he married Krystal, and later there was a crying baby, I was glad.”
I wanted to tease the bleak look out of his eyes. “Long way to sneak a boyfriend in, though. All those creaking stairs.”
He blinked, then laughed. “Yeah, never did that. I snuck out a time or two, though, and yes, I still know which tread sounds like a dying cow.”
“Maybe you’ll have to show me sometime?”
Humor shifted to heat between us, a moment of held breath and roving eyes. “Tonight?” he murmured. “I’ll probably stay up a few more hours. I’m trying to prepare for my next shift change.”
God, I was so tempted. Follow him up the stairs and lose the pains of the day in the heat of his body.
But I ached all over from the game, and I could feel the adrenaline crash looming over me.
If I had Zeke in a bed, I wanted it to be when I could keep my eyes open.
I brushed past him into the room. “I wish. But I might fall asleep with your dick in my mouth.”
“That would be bad for my ego,” he agreed, leaning in the doorway. “Raincheck?”
“Absolutely.”
“Want some sweats to sleep in?”
“Nah. Underwear will do.” The echo of that moment of awareness made me raise my hands to my dress shirt, flicking the buttons open, my eyes fixed on him.
Zeke followed the motion of my fingers intently, then raised his gaze. “You’re a tease.”
“You object?”
“Not even slightly. Can’t wait.” He stepped back. “Tomorrow’s Sunday. Sleep in if you want. I will, and we’ll be lucky if we see Jos by noon. Alarm code is five-nine-two-four if you decide to head out. Reset it to ‘home’ when you go.”
“See you in the morning.” I slid my loose tie from around my neck, running it through my fingers. “And… thank you. You have no idea.”
He looked down again, following my hands on the silk, which gave me some thoughts. Then he said, “Sleep well,” and shut the door between us.
I stood there in my open dress shirt and slacks, listening. A faint thump and creak came from down the hall, probably Zeke heading up the attic stairs. If there was a tread that groaned loudly, he must’ve stepped over it.
A small lamp sat beside the bed. I switched it on, turned off the overheads, shucked off my shoes, socks, shirt and slacks, and slid between the cool sheets in my briefs.
Thinking about Zeke one floor above, stripping down and climbing into his bed, distracted me enough that I could turn out the lamp and close my eyes and not see the other disasters of the day in a continuous loop behind my eyelids.
I imagined his flashing eyes, his trim hips and his curved, cut dick with heavy, furry balls beneath, and let sleep take me.