37. Chapter 37
Chapter thirty-seven
Robinson
Going to be glad to get away from all this . Robinson was having a hell of a time sleeping, and when he did sleep, his dreams were all about Chuck. The same kind of oversexed dreams he’d before they ever hooked up, except now his memories could play into it. He knew what Chuck’s chest felt like, what he smelled like, the sounds he made when Robinson slid his dick inside.
The dreams never ended with crying panic over betraying his dead husband, either.
The problem wasn’t that they were bad dreams, but that they were too good. When he was alone in the hotel room, not having to function, he still wanted Chuck. Which made staying in bed all day and potentially falling back asleep where everything was ideal a very inviting proposition. It’s a good thing I never got hardcore into taking downers. That’d be a hard siren to ignore right about now .
Finally, the clock ticked over to 7:50. Ten minutes was the absolute minimum he could get away with for making himself relatively presentable and still getting downstairs to go to the job site. Even knowing that, the thing that actually got Robinson to roll over and head to the bathroom was the knowledge that Chuck and the boys had moved out last night. For the most part, they’d been able to work with them all still there, but Eliza still wanted the grand reveal at the end, as much as they could manage it. So they’d been put up in the hotel for the final weekend while the house got finished up and made all pretty and shit. Robinson…had a hard time caring about any of that, if he was being completely honest, but he peed, washed his face, and put on clean clothes, then headed downstairs.
When he got to the lobby, it was like a magnet. His eyes darted toward the restaurant, where Chuck and the boys were eating breakfast. The pang of loss was unexpected, that was for sure, and for a moment, Robinson couldn’t move. That could have been five of us. I could have been there.
He forced himself out of it, hoping that none of them noticed him staring, and headed for the revolving door to stand with the others. Of course it was easy to be with Chuck when things were fine. It was when they weren’t fine, when he felt so guilty over just being with Robinson that they couldn’t be in the same room, that things fell apart. Robinson couldn’t let himself get caught up in the good parts and be with a guy who would treat him like a dirty secret or an affair.
I can’t get caught up with him anyway. We’re leaving soon and that’ll be that . Which only doubled the burning cold of the loss in his chest. Some part of him, deep in the lizard brain, didn’t want to hear that there was no chance. Even knowing how bad things could be, his instincts railed against the thought of not being with Chuck, or at least against not even trying .
Luckily, the SUVs and vans pulled up and Robinson and the rest of the crew piled in before he could get too lost in this mess. I’ll get away from him and everything’ll be fine again.
Robinson was basically assigned to being Evander’s tedium mule. The actual plumbing work was done, so unless some emergency cropped up, he was hanging pictures and shelves, moving tchotchkes back and forth to different places, and in general, floating around with Bunny to help bring the rooms together. Aras typically would have been relegated to the same work, or helping Ozzy, but there was apparently some emergency electrical thing that was causing problems, so he was off the hook.
And I’m in a bad mood . Robinson was usually happy to fill this role. It meant he got to spend more time with the people important to him. Since the contractor crew was down to almost no one, it was basically just the Pine Point crew proper. Evander was playing disco—his current musical kick—and no one was being shitty. Except Robinson. He knew he was being a big wet blanket about the whole thing, but just like with everything else, being introspective enough to recognize where he was fucking up didn’t mean he could easily stop or change course.
“Hey, can I borrow Robinson a second?” Mason stood with one hand in his pocket, the other holding his phone.
“If you must.” Ev waved Robinson away. “Bunny and I will persevere until his gallant return to our quest.”
Robinson moved toward Mason and eventually followed him out to the front porch. He didn’t know what this was about, although he had a general, uneasy suspicion.
Mason sat on the new bench they’d put out on the porch. “Go ahead and shut the door.”
“Oh god.” It couldn’t be good, and Mason wasn’t acting particularly light or bubbly. Not dire, but not his normal self. So Robinson shut the door, glad that Ozzy seemed to be mostly focused on the back yard. “How bad am I in trouble, teacher?”
“Nothing like that.” Mason set his phone face down on the bench and gestured for Robinson to sit, only continuing when Robinson plopped down. “I just wanted to check on you. I felt kind of bad suggesting booze as a way to cope, but I didn’t say anything since you never came to fetch it.”
“Well, don’t feel bad. I’m a big boy and made big boy decisions.” The idea of taking a shot of something, even something as weak as butterscotch schnapps, had certainly been appealing more than a few times over the last several days, but Robinson wasn’t willing to go down that road. Having a drink now and then, even if it was to take the edge off, was one thing. But he had a sinking feeling that, if he started using it to cope with the work day, he would have a hell of a time breaking that habit.
“I know.” Mason sighed. “But are you doing okay aside from that? We’re almost wrapped up, so if you need to take a personal day, I can cover. Say you’re feeling sick or something.”
“Yeah. You’re good at that.” Several times during their VideoHead days, Mason had covered for him when he was either having a bad day on meth, or a bad day trying to get off meth. Probably more than several. “Did I ever apologize for putting you in that position? Covering for me and my drug bullshit back in the day?”
Mason nodded. “Many times. And if I recall, every single time, I’ve told you that there’s nothing to apologize for. I was there for you then, and I have every intention of being there for you now.”
Robinson smiled and patted his knee. “I’m okay. Feels a lot more like a breakup than I was expecting, but it wouldn’t be my first breakup.” He wasn’t being entirely honest, of course. This felt deeper than any breakup he could think of. Didn’t help that Chuck was the first guy he’d developed any real feelings for since he got out of jail. Assuming he could call these real. It felt too soon, but he couldn’t deny the emotions. He could with his mouth, but not inside himself. There was something between them that made this way too damn hard.
Mason sighed and leaned closer. “Seriously, Robinson. You tell me if you need anything. I’m the one keeping this train running, and I’m not going to let it run right over you in the process.”
“I will.” He wouldn’t, but Mason wouldn’t like that answer.
“Good.” Mason hesitated a moment, then stood up with a groan. “I’ll let you get back to your super fun furniture rearranging. I need to check in with Aras.”
Robinson stood as well. “What exactly is the problem he suddenly discovered?”
Mason shrugged. “It was a blown fuse or a short or…I don’t know, he was mostly shouting and cussing and walking away and I just let him be. But can’t just leave him to wreak havoc on unsuspecting bystanders.” Mason clapped Robinson on the back a couple times, forcefully, then headed back inside, leaving the front door ajar.
Robinson…sat back down. He’d go in eventually, but it wouldn’t hurt anyone if he just took a couple more minutes to breathe.