Chapter Five
Ben
Okay. He’d gotten Gavin to come home. That was a good first step. He’d gotten Gavin sober. Step two, done. Getting rid of his hangover and then working their shit out was probably going to take more effort and even more time, but Ben had the weekend off and he wasn’t going anywhere until he could untangle his thoughts, put them into some coherent sentences, and get Gavin to forgive him.
By the time the oven had preheated and the casserole had been in there for a few minutes, Ben could hear the shower running. Good sign, right? He was going to slip into the bathroom and put a pair of clean sweats—three sizes too big for Gavin, but better than nothing—on the counter for him, but Gavin had locked the door. With a sigh, he set the clothes on the foot of the bed.
When he’d woken up that morning, he’d thought about going straight to Tony’s and getting all of Gavin’s stuff back, but he’d fucked up everything else so fantastically, Ben felt like he couldn’t do anything right anymore.
His ringing phone startled him, making his muscles tense and the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Maybe he’d developed some kind of psychic awareness. His mother was calling.
He didn’t get a chance to say anything before she asked, “Did you find him?”
“Yeah, he’s—”
“Good, let me talk to him.” Damn, she was all business. Ben wasn’t sure, but he sometimes wondered who she would pick if she had to choose between him and Gavin. Family meant a lot to her, but Gavin was one of her own now, so the blood Ben shared with her didn’t count for as much anymore.
“He’s in the shower, trying to get rid of his hangover.”
She let the words hang between them for a moment, as if trying to put the whole night together from what little Ben had offered. “Is he hungover because you two celebrated getting back together last night?” There was a hopeful note in her voice.
“Not exactly.” Ben couldn’t really decide what all to tell her. He chose to stick to the main point. “But he’s here now, and we’re gonna work everything out.” One way or another. “Look, Ma, lemme call you once everything is sorted, okay?”
“And have Gavin call me, sorted or not.”
“Okay, I’ll tell him.” What Gavin would do with it was anyone’s guess, but he’d deliver the message. “Love you.”
She sighed into the phone. “I love you too. I love both of you. Don’t make me come out there and knock your heads together.” Her laugh at the end was a little comforting, but he knew she’d do it if pressed.
“We’ll work something out between us. Promise.” He had no idea what, but something.
They ended the call, and Ben went back to making breakfast. He didn’t cook often. Hell, he didn’t cook at all unless Gavin was in the kitchen with him. His skills were limited to making sandwiches, heating up soup, or tossing leftovers into the microwave. Gavin had tried to teach him at first, tried to show him how to get spaghetti noodles just right, how to make a good tomato sauce from scratch. More often than not, though, Ben would watch him and then kiss him and then they’d end up fucking right there in the kitchen while a pot boiled over onto the stovetop. After a while, Gavin stopped letting him help.
Ben stood for a moment, unsure what to do next. His head was full of Gavin. All the ways Gavin drove him crazy, all the ways Gavin made him laugh, turned him on, teased him. He fiddled with the toaster and dropped some bread in, feeling overwhelmed and empty at the same time.