Chapter 5
Chapter Five
AJ
I woke up in Hampstead Valley having dreamed of wispy love songs and wispier images of disembodied hands clinging to each other. Terms of endearment floated by along with professions of love. Jackson’s smile was in there too, and his voice, though I couldn’t hear what he said. Jamie’s hand was gently on my forearm, squeezing. The comforting movement had stopped. I looked out into the dark night, and though I couldn’t really see anything, I knew.
“Home sweet home?”
“Yeah, we’re here,” he whispered, turning to the back seat.
I stretched my big frame as best I could in the passenger seat of my brother’s car and eyed Vera, uncomfortably asleep in her booster seat.
“Thanks for driving, man. Bags or Vee?” I questioned my brother.
Jamie asked that I carry my niece into the house.
“Princess duty it is,” I whispered.
The effort of those words reminded me that my throat was still sore from our fire call earlier in the afternoon. It had been an intense few minutes inside that building. Alone, seemingly trapped, hoping everyone else had gotten out, my comms down. I had fought my way through the flames and thought, Thank God, Jackson’s not here . I thought about how I’d feel if Jackson didn’t make it out of a burning building, and I picked up my pace until I was clear of the structure.
I’d thought it was a mirage at first because he wasn’t supposed to be there, but as I cleared the flames, the first person I saw was the only person I wanted to see. Jackson was there, crumpled on the ground, screaming and crying and forcibly being held back. I had no idea what he was doing there on his day off. I was just so grateful he was. I collapsed in his arms and buried my head in his shoulder. He told me he loved me, and when everything had calmed down and it was just him and me in a hospital room, I told my best friend I loved him right back.
For some reason those memories were tied into the wispy dreams I’d been having while my brother drove us to Hampstead Valley for the holiday.
I exited the car, and Vera barely stirred as I unbuckled her, lifted her out, and carried her to the front door. "Time for bed, princess; you know your grandparents are going to have us up early so we can have breakfast before the parade,” I whispered.
My stepmom, Nat, was awake, beaming and alert at an ungodly hour, waiting for her granddaughter to arrive. She stretched up to kiss my cheek, pulling back to shower her granddaughter with heart eyes before ushering us inside.
“The pullout couch is open in the den. Put her down in there.”
“The den?” I croaked.
Nat nodded. “Yeah, Josh’s friend is here, so I gave them the gym.”
The gym was really a guest room, but at some point it had housed a treadmill and an exercise bike, and as a result, our family will forever call it the gym.
Nat followed, and as I set Vera down, she fussed over her, removing her shoes and tucking her under the blankets. The front door opened and closed, and it sounded like Jamie headed upstairs. Maybe he planned to take a shower after the long drive. I can’t say I blamed him.
Nat and I quietly exited the room and headed for the nearby kitchen. My throat was dry and harsh from the events earlier in the day, and I needed a glass of water. My half-brother Josh was sitting at the island scrolling on his phone.
“’Sup, superhero.” He barely glanced up.
“Hiya, Josh,” I responded in my scruffy voice.
“Shit. It sounds like you sucked ten dicks.”
“Joshua!” Nat chastised, but she was laughing as she said it.
Josh ignored our shocked expressions in favor of whatever was happening on his phone. Knowing my little brother, he was probably checking out his options on some hookup app. It was something he and I had in common. Watching him, I only then realized that I hadn’t really paid any attention to my favorite hookup apps in quite some time. My stomach tightened as it had been doing for months, except Jackson and his smile were nowhere around.
It was late, and I was exhausted after an eventful day and a long drive. I ignored everything else in favor of focusing on my health. I headed for the refrigerator, giving Josh a little love tap across the back of his head as I walked past and said, “Ten dicks,” while shaking my head at him. He swatted my arm away, still without looking up.
Nat shook her head lovingly at us and may have muttered “boys” before asking, “Bad one, today, huh?” The intensity in my stepmother’s eyes was almost as bad as the blaze she was asking about.
I crooked a smile. There were very few secrets in the Marchetti-Gordon household. It was practically impossible to keep one from my stepmother. “You heard?” I turned around as she responded, grabbing a glass from the cabinet and filling it from the dispenser on the refrigerator.
“Jamie let us know why you’d be late. You went to the hospital?”
I turned to her and took a sip before I answered. My throat was still raw and painful despite the drink. I was not looking forward to being in pain as I ate Nat’s Thanksgiving dinner the next day.
“SOP, Nat. I’m fine. I promise.”
“Okay, because on that show …”
I laughed, shook my head, and interrupted her. “Please do not mention the widow-maker's heart attack to me ever again. I am fine; I was properly suited up. Which includes oxygen. I was checked out at the hospital, and there is nothing to worry about.”
“Okay, okay,” she whispered. “Where’s Jamie?”
“I heard him head upstairs when we were getting Vee situated. I’m guessing he’s in the shower?”
Josh looked up then. “You did tell him we changed the sleeping arrangements, right, Ma?”
“Shit! Did I? Yeah, no. I may not have.”
Josh shrugged. “Dev’s probably still up reading or doing homework or whatever he does on that tablet of his, twenty-four hours a day.”
“Still …” Mom said as she rushed from the room. Josh and I looked at each other and followed her up the stairs.
One of the nightstand lamps was on when we entered the gym to find my brother staring down at a rumpled, sleepy-looking guy I vaguely recognized as Josh’s friend Devon. Devon was sitting up in the bed, with blankets tucked all the way under his chin as if he were embarrassed, which made sense since his slumber had been interrupted by a room full of Marchetti-Gordon family members.
My brother was looking down at the guy and holding onto the lamp like it was a lifeline. I couldn’t quite read the look on Jamie’s face. It wasn’t one I thought I’d ever seen before, which would have struck me as really odd if it wasn’t so late, I wasn’t dead tired, and the room hadn’t erupted in confusion seconds after our arrival.
Jamie wiped the weird look off his face and tore his eyes from the guy in the bed. “Where’s my child?”
Everyone started talking at once until Nat quieted us all down and took over. I tried to smile at Jamie because we often joked that Nat’s natural state was being in charge, but he had that weird look on his face again and kept glancing between the college student in the bed and our stepmom, paying me absolutely no mind.
“I’m so sorry, Jamison,” Nat apologized to my older brother. “I meant to tell you that since Josh brought his roommate home for the weekend, you and Vera are in the den. She’s asleep on the pullout couch, but I have a tent set up for her with a sleeping bag, so the rest of the weekend you can have the couch to yourself, and she can have an adventure!”
I tried to catch Jamie’s eye again because Nat’s tone was way too peppy for that time of night, but he remained stubbornly focused on the guy in the bed. He muttered a, “Sorry, man,” to Devon before turning to Nat.
“Obviously, no one shared the plans with me.”
“Okay, well, we all know now, so why don’t we let these two get some sleep. AJ, you're in with Hunter … on an air mattress,” she tacked on at the end in a muffled voice.
“Does mine come with a princess tent?” I asked in my scruffy voice as I picked up the bag Jamie had carried in for me, nodded an apology to the guy in the bed, and exited the room without even bothering to try and get my brother’s attention again.
I washed up and lowered myself onto the camping mattress on the floor of my baby brother’s room, grumbling to myself as I did so. Yeah, we were definitely trading the next night. I fell immediately to sleep.
I was dreaming again. I couldn’t quite grasp hold of it, but my sense was of romance, like one of those fucking Jane Austen movies Nat used to force us to watch, everyone bowing and dancing and declaring their love. A teenager’s snore and an aching back woke me from whatever the fuck that was, and I got up and barged into my brother Vance’s room to use the bathroom.
He was sitting at his desk, typing away while staring out the window. It looked like he’d been up for hours.
“Hey, man. Good to see you. Gonna shower up. Almost time for breakfast. You know we better be on time, or we’ll face the wrath of your mom and Vera!”
“Hey, Aje. You okay? I heard it was a bad one yesterday.”
“Nothing to worry about. I’m fine, Vance.”
“You sound like you smoke three packs a day.”
“All in a day’s work.” I tried to brush off Vance’s concern, but he glowered at me in response. “Does it make me sound sexy?” I tried to play up the harshness of my voice, but it backfired, and I started coughing.
I think I heard my brother mutter “dumbass” as I came out of the fit.
I cleared my throat and reiterated, “Really. I’m fine. This isn’t the first time my throat’s been like this. It’ll clear up in a few days. Are you ready for breakfast? Inspiration hit is not gonna fly as an excuse for why you were late on Thanksgiving morning.” Vance, who was already a published author at that point, could get a little intense when he was writing.
“Just got to get a few more thoughts down. Go wash up, then we can go down together.”
“Caid?” I asked after our other brother, pointing to the empty bed in the room.
“Jet-lagged, or hungover, or something. He rolled out of bed a few minutes ago, grunted, and went straight down. I’m surprised you didn’t run into him.”
We had a routine on the holidays, and Thanksgiving Day was no different. After breakfast, the living room was reorganized, and we all piled in to watch the parade. I settled on one of the love seats with my brother Caid, who looked like he was already asleep.
My phone buzzed, and I pulled it out.
Probie: SAVE ME! Ems is driving.
Coffee Trainer: Happy Thanksgiving to you too.
Probie: Feeling ok?
I thought about how both of my brothers had described my voice and decided to steal Josh’s metaphor.
Coffee Trainer: Throat feels like I sucked 10 dicks. And my back is killing me, but that’s because I slept on an air mattress.
“Hey, Catfish!” I yelled to my brother who was lying on the floor at my feet. His name wasn’t Catfish, it was Hunter. But my youngest brother was something of a pitching phenomenon, and we had an ongoing joke to call him by the names of famous professional baseball players. “I get the fu—” I looked at my niece and stopped myself from cursing. “I get the bed tonight.”
“Age before beauty. Got it, bro.”
“Eh.” I shrugged. “I’ll take it.”
I was watching the dots bounce during my exchange with Hunter, and finally, Jackson responded.
Probie: You know what that feels like?
It took me a minute to get what he was asking me because I was more focused on what my back felt like.
Coffee Trainer: Sucking a dick? No, obsv. Just something stupid my brother Josh said.
Probie: So he’s an over sharer, like his brother.
I laughed at my phone, and Caid opened his eyes and tilted his head my way momentarily before leaning back again.
Coffee Trainer: Who doesn’t like a good dick-sucking story. Remember Piper that time …
Jackson and I kept up the witty banter throughout the day, and for some reason, I kept thinking about blow jobs for a good portion of the day as well. It wasn’t unusual for my mind to wander to sex, but when I started to picture myself on my knees, it was a new experience for me. Not once in all these years of being the supportive older brother and ally did it ever occur to me to imagine gay sex. Now all of a sudden, it was all I could imagine.
I had a few drinks at dinner and passed out right after family movie night, on Hunter’s bed, thank you very much, only to wake up sporting something a little more than morning wood and knowing that there was not one woman in my Regency dream from the night before. Not even the revered Ms. Austen herself.
“Ugh.” I grunted my way out of my brother’s bed, dug out workout clothes, and planned to head straight for the campus gym. But first I would take care of business in the shower while remembering one of my favorite fuck buddies, Piper, and a particularly fun night. I really tried to focus on memories of her, but more than once, I imagined myself getting down on my knees, and since Piper didn’t have a dick, I sure as shit wasn’t imagining sucking her off. My mind fought with itself, and eventually I gave up, letting my hand go frantic and letting my mind picture Jackson there before me, down on his knees, his slim, taut muscles bulging as water cascaded down his smooth body. I found myself thinking about his cock, and how it would be as hard as mine was in that moment. I imagined his mouth on me, hotter and firmer than any woman’s had ever been, his own hand doing to his cock what mine was doing as I stood in that shower, and my world turned upside down.
I came with a muffled grunt before watching the evidence of my pleasure run down the drain, hoping it would take the confusing memory along with it even as I knew with certainty that those few minutes in the shower would be emblazoned on my mind forever.
Confused and distracted, I threw my workout clothes on and quietly headed downstairs. Nat caught me on my way out.
“You sure you're up for a workout, AJ? You shouldn’t push too hard.”
“I spent seven hours in Jamie’s tiny-ass car the other night, slept on a blow-up mattress, then I ate enough food to feed three men over the course of the day yesterday. So this is really all your fault.” I pointed at my stepmother, who refused to laugh at my charming joke.
“You have all day, AJ. Come, sit with me for a bit. I’ll make tea.”
“Tea?” Tea? Had Nat read my mind? Did she know about the fucking Regency dreams?
“It’s good for your throat. I’ll put some honey in it. How does it feel?” She tapped her own throat to let me know what she was talking about before pulling out a teapot and setting the water to boil.
“Better than yesterday, so I’m sure I’m healing.”
“And how are you, otherwise? Everything good in Brooklyn? At the fire station?”
At seventeen, one day when I came home from a volunteer shift at the local fire department, I braved telling Nat that I had looked into the New York City training program for firefighters, and though I had more than one talk with each of my parents and stepparents about being sure and keeping my options open, in the end, they were reluctantly supportive of my choice to move to New York City and to make the fire department my career. But Nat had been the first person I’d told and the first to show genuine support.
By the time Nat and I were sipping tea, and I was avoiding thinking about my weird dreams and weirder shower fantasies, I was almost forty and had been a firefighter for over twenty years. I loved my free-wheeling life in New York, and being close to Jamie and Vera.
“Everything’s great, Nat. We’ve got a good team in place. LT’s a natural leader. We work well together.”
“And how's Jackson?”
I couldn’t help but smile even as I fought to not picture him on his knees. He had sent me a link that morning to an article from an actual medical website on how to safely give a blow job.
“He’s good, he’s great. He’s …”
Nat gave me that look. The one that let me know she knew I was bullshitting. I’d really hated that look when I was a dumb teen, but I had loved it once I was old enough to appreciate it. No one knew me like Nat, and no one supported me like her either.
“Something’s up with him. I don’t know, I thought it was this woman. But he introduced her to me and is trying to set us up, I guess. Jax and I went through a little blip, or whatever, but I think things are getting better now. I just want him to be happy, Nat, and lately he doesn’t seem happy. I worry about him.”
“You’re a good friend, AJ. He wants to set you up with his friend, like on a date? Not just a hookup? Who are you, and what have you done with my stepson?” Nat was awesome, but sometimes she reminded you that she was just a nerdy mom and professor.
“Yes, Nat, like a date. Her name is Emily, and she’s an old friend of Jackson’s. You probably know who she is. Emily Wyecrest, from that kid’s show.”
“Oh, that makes sense. Everyone knows how tight the Dorsos and the Wyecrests are. But isn’t she, like, twelve?”
I chuckled at my stepmother, more inclined to have her head in a book than to know about pop culture. I was surprised by her comment that everyone knew that the Dorsos and Wyecrests were friends.
“She was when the show was first on. She must be the same age as Jax, early thirties. She works for the studio now as an executive.”
“Impressive. Younger than you, though.”
“Yeah, but the same as Jax, and he and I …” I’m not even sure why my voice trailed off thinking about my relationship with Jax.
Nat did that thing where she narrows her eyes like she’s a damn MRI machine, x-raying every last detail of your soul. I’m not sure if she had found what she was looking for when she commented, “Actually, I thought I read that Jax and Emily Wyecrest were dating?”
“Nat, please tell me you’re not cyberstalking my best friend.”
“I … Maybe? I mean, what’s the son of Riley and Mandy Dorso doing fighting fires? But he really does keep such a low profile. How does he even do that? There was just a mention of them being together at a recent fundraiser, that’s all. I just assumed …”
“Jesus, Nat. I’ve never really thought about all the pressure Jax must be under because of Dorso Electronics. I mean, he’s just living his life. To me he’s just Jax, my partner, my best friend. Is there a lot of stuff on the internet about him? Maybe BS on the internet is what’s got him down lately? In that case, I’m glad Emily’s around. They have that in common and so much more.” My voice trailed off again. Maybe it was my sore throat.
“But they’re not dating?” I shook my head. “And he’s trying to set you up with her?” I nodded again. It made even less sense after talking to Nat than it had before. “So is it Emily you’ve been texting nonstop the past few days?”
As if on cue, my phone pinged with a text. It was a selfie of Jackson in a crisp, pale-green fleece and a pair of pink pants, golf club in hand and a ridiculous hat on his head. The aviator sunglasses at least looked good.
Probie: Save me!
Coffee Trainer: Oh no! Your family lost all its $$ and you have to be a newsie.
Coffee Trainer: Is the 9-iron your protection against turn-of-the-century gangsters?
Coffee Trainer: Also, read that article. Some people use protection when giving BJs. Who knew? Any girls ever ask you?
Nat cleared her throat, and I looked up. I could feel the goofy smile on my face, but I didn’t care.
“Sorry, Nat. Nah, it’s not a girl. I’m just BS-ing with Jackson.” While I’d been absorbed in said BS-ing, a mug of tea had appeared before me. I picked it up and blew on it, tipping it toward Nat with a nod as a thank you.
My dad sauntered into the room and kissed his wife on the top of the head.
“Morning, early birds.” He poured himself a cup of coffee, which I only then noticed was an option, tucked his newspaper under his arm, gave my shoulder a squeeze on his way out, and headed to the living room.
My father was a man of few words.
I snuck a look at my phone as Nat watched him exit.
Probie: Once or twice.
Jackson had added an eggplant emoji to the end of the text, and the stupid little image was like oxygen to the fire in my stomach.
“Say hi to that nice boy for me.”
“Huh?” I looked up to see a laughing Nat shaking her head as she picked up her tea, kissed the top of my head, and exited the kitchen.