Twenty-Nine
ADAK
The meeting was weird. While I really wanted to ask what the deal was, I’m far too anxious to get home to Oren. Not for any other reason than I love to be in his presence. Maybe we can have a TV and chill day.
I stop on the way home for a butcher’s box to restock my freezer.
It’s been a while since I’ve made a true grocery trip.
Then I stop at the farmer’s market for one of their pre-packed co-op veggie boxes.
Lastly, to the bakery. I’m not sure what Oren’s favorite dessert is, so I grab a dozen different sweets.
Every time I ask Oren if he likes something, never mind the simple question of ‘what’s your favorite?’, it causes him stress. He knows any ‘normal’ person would be able to answer these questions reflexively, but for Oren’s entire life, his opinions simply didn’t matter.
There are things he doesn’t like, though they seem to be few and far between. He once said that his dislikes were just as ignored as his preferences, so he learned early on not to bother forming an opinion. It avoided disappointment that way.
Now I watch and take notes when we’re doing something or eating something that he appears to particularly enjoy. But I still ask him if he likes something or not. Momentary internal thought can usually lead to some kind of answer, even if it’s that he doesn’t know.
What he does know is how he likes his coffee. Not because of anything that happened at home, but from the days he worked in the back of the coffee shop.
Oren has opened up more and more about his father specifically.
His older brothers were just plain verbally abusive.
They were dicks. But I can understand why he felt like he was always getting mixed signals from his father.
Some of his actions spoke to a caring father—you don’t buy a dozen hockey jerseys for your kid you hate.
They’re not cheap. You don’t feed the kid you’re concerned isn’t getting enough food first, just to make sure they get a good serving if you don’t care about them.
You don’t bring your son lunch nearly every day if you don’t care.
Or spend thousands of dollars on a season ticket for a kid you hate.
But then there’s everything that went with that.
Oren wasn’t allowed to even choose his own clothes.
He wasn’t allowed privacy. Everything they did made him feel small and unwanted.
He wasn’t allowed to attend college if it wasn’t a career path his father approved of.
His home, his entire life, was a prison.
His father wanted complete control over Oren as if he were a puppet. But just Oren. I’ve tried to piece together or make an educated guess as to why he targeted Oren. It could be something as simple as Oren doesn’t look like his siblings or father. I’m willing to bet he looks like his mother.
My best guess would be that they didn’t like that he was a constant reminder of the parent that died.
The weird thing is, they didn’t treat Haze that way.
If it was truly something related to their mother, I would think that he’d have been a target too.
It was post-birth complications that took her life, after all. Only five days after Haze’s birth.
I’m just not sure what to make of this.
Which is honestly fine. I think about it because I need to understand.
Maybe if I understood, I’d know better how to comfort Oren.
How to reassure him and bring him closure.
But even if I ever figure out the actual reason, it won’t fix his childhood.
Nothing will ever take away the trauma he’s lived through.
Once I park the car, I pull my phone out to disarm the security system, only to find it’s not set. My heart skips as I pull up the house map and find the back slider flashing red—signifying it’s open.
I want to believe I live in a safe neighborhood.
I’ve never had a reason to think otherwise.
But with Randall’s sudden reappearance and as unpredictable as his father’s been…
I’m not sure I’ll feel confident that anywhere is safe enough for Oren.
More than anything, I don’t want him to live in a state where he’s constantly concerned for his well-being.
After setting my gains on the counter in the kitchen, I lock up the front of the house and make my way to the back. I pause when I hear multiple voices, but relax when Brevan’s boisterous laughter filters through the house. My man has met the neighbors.
Glancing at the food, I decide it can wait a bit - after I put away the meat. I pause inside the door to watch them. The five chairs around the table are filled with Kendrick and Brevan to Oren’s right and Theron and Liam to his left.
My sweet Oren is sitting with his back to the house, wearing his booty shorts and one of my shirts! With others around. And he looks comfortable! My heart swells. Knowing that I’ve provided him this place, somewhere he feels safe to dress how he wants to, nearly takes my breath away.
Brevan looks up, meeting my eyes. He grins. “Hey, Adak. We met your boyfriend!”
Oren twists in his chair and the way his face lights up to see me has my heart jumping into my throat. I step outside and lean over him, kissing his lips lightly. He’s still smiling when I stand again. “Did you have a good meeting?” Oren asks.
Brevan gets out of his chair and slides it across the patio to me before taking a seat in Kendrick’s lap. It’s kind of amusing since Brevan is a beast of a football player. He’s like a Great Dane—he believes he’s smaller than he is and can fit where a cat can.
I take the seat, wrapping an arm around Oren’s shoulders. He shifts so he’s leaning into me. When I look at our guests, Theron, Liam, and Kendrick are all giving me very similar looks. Grins. Happy, knowing smiles.
“It was strange,” I say, answering Oren’s question. “The entire time, Demitri basically bit his tongue.” Oren’s eyebrows went up. “Yeah. When he’d go to speak, someone would give him what could only be described as a warning look, and he’d fall silent though continue to scowl at me.”
“Maybe they’ve finally had enough?” Oren suggests.
“Yeah, but there was a very… different tone to the meeting too. Like they were eager to jump on any idea that I had. They even offered to partially fund both team-building events I tossed around last time. Without prompting from me.”
“That is strange,” Liam agrees.
I nod. “Yep. I’m not entirely sure what to make of it.”
“It sounds suspiciously like they’re up to something,” Oren says.
“I don’t disagree, but at the moment, it’s all in my favor, so I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.” The only thing I can think of is that the rumors of other teams talking about offering me positions with them might have reached management.
With the last email from Carolina, after which I spoke to them just out of curiosity, they’re no longer rumors.
I didn’t decline the offer, though everything inside me wants to stick it out with the Bobcats.
But something else inside of me is hesitant.
I asked for more time, and they agreed I could still keep their offer deadline of May 31st.
I haven’t brought it up to Oren yet, beyond the fact I received an official offer. Because I’m not truly considering it. And yet… and yet!
Turning my attention away from my internal dialogue, I look at Liam and Theron. “Been a while since we caught up. What’s new with you?”
Theron grips the back of Liam’s neck. “My guy here was just named top seller in East Anaheim.”
I grin, turning my attention to Liam. He gives me a smile, as if what Theron announced isn’t a big deal. Anaheim is huge and there are hundreds of real estate agents and he’s relatively newly licensed. On top of the fact that he’s a new transplant… It’s a very big deal.
“Congrats, Liam,” I say.
“That’s amazing,” Brevan agrees.
Liam sighs. “Thank you.”
“He acts like that’s not monumental, but it really is cause for celebration,” Theron says. “His mom even called.”
Oh! That is a big deal.
I don’t know a lot about the two of them but from what I understand, Theron went from being Liam’s stepfather to his fiancé, and… things were rocky with Mom.
Understandably. That’s a weird and maybe harsh reality to wake up in.
So yeah, Liam’s mother calling is kind of a big deal.
Liam smiles. “She did. It was nice to hear from her.”
Theron kisses his cheek. We sit in a moment of silence for a minute before Theron meets my eyes.
“Insurance is good?” I ask.
Honestly, there isn’t ever truly an exciting update with Theron. He’s a high-profile insurance broker. As he says, it’s monetarily thrilling.
He gives me a bemused look. “Yes. I’ve taken Fridays off this summer because it’s just too much excitement for my old heart.”
Liam rolls his eyes. “You’re not that old.”
Theron winks, but doesn’t comment.
It’s then that I look around the table and chuckle to myself. Apparently, this neighborhood has a type. Gay older men and their much younger husbands. Glancing at Oren, I realize that while I’m younger than Theron and Kendrick, I’m still more than a decade older than Oren.
Yep, I fit right in.
I turn an amused smile on Kendrick. “You?”
Brevan huffs in answer. “He’s talking about retiring next year!” He says it as if it’s the most heartbreaking thing to have been told.
I raise a brow, waiting for the problem in this.
“You don’t want your husband to retire and spend more time with you?” Liam asks.
Brevan sighs. “If it was for a good reason, then I’d be super excited. But he thinks he’s old and wants someone with fresher, younger ideas to come in!”
“Ah,” I say.
“I am old,” Kendrick says. “You’re younger than my oldest son.”