Chapter 26
JJ
I haven’t been out for Halloween since I was a kid—before my parents died.
If I’m not scheduled that day, usually I pick up a shift so the guys with kids can take them out, but this year, I chose to keep it off and go out with Noah and Miles—because he asked me to, and I like spending time with him.
We planned to meet at his house for six, which gives me a couple of hours to do absolutely nothing.
I stare at my phone that’s resting on the coffee table in front of me. There’s a call I need to make, but I don’t want to. I won’t pretend I’m good at difficult conversations. Throw me into a burning fire and I’ll be fine—ask me to talk about my problems and I shut down.
But this isn’t about me, and that’s what has me picking up the phone and calling my brother.
The voicemail picks up after a few rings. Maybe he’s working.
“Hey, Nash. It’s me. I wanted to talk to you about when you’re leaving and if you need help packing or whatever. Uh… just call me back when you get this and we can figure it out.”
I end the call and toss my phone onto the other end of the couch.
I’ve felt like an ass since lunch, when he told me he was leaving.
My reaction wasn’t great. I guess I just needed some time to process, and now that I’ve done that, I realize I was a dick.
Sure, he’s probably used to that, but it doesn’t make it okay.
Not when he tries so hard to be a good big brother, even though we’re adults.
I glance at the clock. Two minutes have passed since I last checked. Guess it’s the perfect time for a nap. I lie down, close my eyes, and I’m asleep within seconds.
“Look! I’m just like you!” Noah shouts when he opens the door for me. He holds his arms out wide, showing off his fireman costume.
“Whoa, that is pretty cool,” I say.
“I know! This is the best one I’ve ever had!”
Noah runs into his apartment, so I knock on the door and poke my head in.
“In here!” Miles calls from somewhere in the house. I step in and close the door.
“Where’s here?” I ask.
His head pokes out from a door to the left, and he smiles at me. I instantly relax—I didn’t realize I was tense until my shoulders loosen at the sight of him.
Hope warms my chest. It’s a strange feeling, getting like this over another person, but every time I feel something new or different with Miles, I can’t help but remember everything my brother said to me.
Every flaw he pointed out about Franklin just makes more sense now.
I don’t feel the need to stand up for him like I did, and it’s getting easier to deal with the fact that he doesn’t talk to me every day.
I find myself filling those empty spaces with Miles rather than excuses for Franklin.
I feel like little parts of me are starting to heal because of the way Miles looks at me.
There’s always excitement or happiness on his face when he sees me. Not annoyance.
I’ve never considered myself attention-seeking, but is it so bad to want attention from my partner?
Why is that wrong? It shouldn’t be, and I don’t know why Franklin always made me feel like it was.
He was smart about it, too. Never saying it directly but doing it just the same.
And when I’d bring it up, he’d turn it around on me.
It’s what I was used to, what I’ve always dealt with.
Between him and my father… well, I don’t want to go down that road tonight.
I head into the kitchen and watch Miles as he prepares something on the stove, this strange tingling feeling in my chest.
Miles doesn’t make me feel like I’m an inconvenience or a bother. When I’m around, I feel wanted… like he really wants me here and maybe misses me when I’m gone.
“So, I have an idea,” he says, giving me a quick, smiling glance over his shoulder as he stirs something in the pan.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“I will trade you all the candy I get tonight…” He turns off the burner and spins to face me. “If you tell me what JJ stands for.”
I can’t help but laugh. “You’re still on that?”
“If I’m anything, it’s persistent.” He walks to me, sliding his hands around my waist.
“You? No way.”
His eyes shine with humor.
“So, do we have a deal?”
“No deal.”
“What?” he cries, his hands falling to his sides. “Why not?”
“Don’t care for candy.”
His head drops back on his shoulders, and he groans an annoyed sound.
“Come on,” he complains, lifting his head to look me in the eye. “What’ll it take for you to tell me?”
I bring my hands up to cup his cheeks and lean in to kiss him, then softly say, “I just don’t think you’re ready for that level of information yet.”
“It’s your name,” he pouts.
“And so much power can be held by just knowing a name.”
His eyes narrow. “Are you a serial killer or something?”
The laugh falls out of me unexpectedly, loud and deep. “Do you think I’d be working at a firehouse if it was so simple to find that out?”
“No,” he whines. “Which is why I don’t know why you won’t tell me.”
“Because if I tell you, then you’ll stop asking.”
His eyes narrow as he bites his bottom lip. “And why don’t you want me to stop?”
I can tell in his tone that he’s fishing for a compliment. I’ll give it to him.
“Because you’re cute when you beg.”
“I have not resorted to begging yet,” he says firmly.
“Yet.”
He kisses me again, then pulls away to put the soup he made into a bowl.
“Did you eat?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“There is leftover chicken and rice soup, if you want some.”
“I’m good but thank you.”
“Soup is one of Noah’s favorite meals,” he explains. “Audrey just throws stuff together sometimes. If it looks like soup, he’s going to eat it.”
“Not a picky eater, then?” I ask.
“Oh, he is.” He chuckles. “In the way that he’s particular about his food. He needs sauce on everything. And apparently broth is enough like sauce. Gravy is sauce. Ketchup. Salad dressing… stuff like that.” Miles puts the bowl on the table, then calls for Noah. “We can go after he eats.”
Noah hurries in, still in full uniform.
“You’re going to eat with that on?” I ask.
“Yep,” he says happily, hopping onto his seat and picking up the spoon.
Noah eats while Miles gathers everything he needs for our walk through the neighborhood. I insist on cleaning up the small mess in the kitchen so I’m not standing around doing nothing. Miles, of course, argues, but in the end I win… seems I win a lot with him. I don’t hate that.
The kitchen is the same layout as Miles’.
The same white and light-blue floral linoleum flooring, white walls, and brown trim.
The sink, cabinets, and stove are the same style.
The fridge is different, though. The one down here is a side-by-side two-door, while Miles’ has a pull-out freezer on the bottom.
Their table is the same, but a different shade.
I don’t know if they did that on purpose, but something tells me they did.
They’re close and they do everything together.
I don’t even know what color the outside of my brother’s house is.
The sun is down, and the street is packed with kids and families enjoying their holiday.
I’ve never experienced Halloween like this before, and now I see why people love it so much.
The energy is buzzing as kids dressed as witches, cops, cowboys, and so much more carry their buckets spilling over with candy.
There are even big blow-up costumes of dinosaurs, and I saw one that was a claw machine.
I wonder if it works. Parents watch happily, enjoying their kid’s excitement.
At the firehouse, kids stop by for candy, but not many. Usually, it’s parents of smaller kids who don’t want to worry about losing their kids in the chaos of the neighborhood streets, so they choose the firehouse and whatever stores are offering candy.
As I watch Miles with Noah, I can’t help the sadness that creeps up over the feeling of missing out.
Not only on this, but on a lot of family things…
I’d fully intended on having kids by now—of doing all the fun holiday things with them.
I know that doesn’t fit my personality, but it’s what I want.
I want kids of my own to love and take care of…
and be a good dad to. Because I know I can be a good dad.
Noah runs up the path to the house, joining the handful of kids already there. Miles and I wait by the mailbox with the other parents who are letting their kids be independent.
“So, my brother is moving,” I say out of nowhere.
Miles makes me want to talk about things, and I still can’t figure out how I feel about it.
Though, I do feel a little lighter for letting it out. I guess it’s bothering me more than I thought it was.
“Is he going back to California?”
“New York.
“For what?”
“A job.”
“When does he leave?”
“I don’t know. I… didn’t ask.”
I think about the unreturned phone call. After processing what he said, I realized that I don’t know when he’s moving. Is it a week? A month? Six? Is he already gone? He still hasn’t called me back, and it’s starting to make me anxious.
Something flashes across Miles’ face for a split second. Judgement over me not knowing when my brother is leaving, I’m sure. He doesn’t say anything about it though.
“New York is rough.”
“That’s what I hear.” I shove my hands into my pockets as I watch the older woman standing in doorway, passing out candy to the kids. She has a witch hat on that keeps sliding forward when she bends to put candy in the kids’ buckets.
“He said he needs a change. I guess I get that.”
“Are you planning on moving?” he asks, and I swear there is a bit of panic in his tone.
“No, nothing like that. Just… life. I guess. I don’t know.”
Miles puts his hand on my forearm, his eyes meeting mine. “I understand that. I’m at the age where I want to settle down yet feel so young that it’s also scary to commit. Is that how you feel?”
He’s so vulnerable… all the time. So open and vulnerable, and here I am lying to him. Hiding things from him. Not just about me personally, but about my life.
What he said… is that how I feel? No. Not really. I’m not afraid to commit. I already have. What I’m afraid of is never getting what I want.
Do I want to tell Miles that? I should be honest with him.
I should open up a little. There’s no reason I shouldn’t—Miles is a good person.
He isn’t going to throw this back in my face later.
He’s never used anything against me and has been nothing but understanding during all my freakouts when he probably should have turned my ass away by now.
“Not really,” I say, my voice rough.
“Oh, okay—”
“I got a bunch of peanut butter cups!” Noah shouts as he jumps off the curb, landing right in front of us.
“Do you like those?” Miles asks.
“It’s candy! Of course I do.”
We move onto the next house. Noah runs up the path and rings the doorbell.
The conversation between Miles and me isn’t done, and I don’t know why I feel the need to do this now, out in public with all these people.
I’ve had the opportunity to talk to him about plenty of things alone in his house, but that feels too…
stifling, I guess. This is easier. More casual.
There are a lot of things to change the subject to.
“I’ve felt like I was ready to settle down for a while. My whole life, maybe. I don’t feel like I’m too young to do it.”
Miles elbows me, giving me a cute smile. “That’s because you’re old.”
I appreciate that he can make a joke without me being offended. The comment still lands a little too hard, though.
“Yeah…”
He puts his hand on my forearm. “I’m kidding, JJ. You’re not old.”
“I’m getting older, and I’ve wasted too much time being unhappy—trying to learn to live with my situation instead of accepting that I need to walk away.”
“Are you talking about work?” he asks, his brows furrowing.
I stare at him, right into his bright, concerned eyes. The truth almost falls from my mouth.
“Can I go to that house over there, Uncle Miles?” He points across the street. Miles looks both ways.
“Yeah, go ahead.”
Noah hurries over and we follow.
“Not work. I love my job. It’s what I’ve always wanted to do, and I don’t want to change it.”
“Then what else is going on?”
Now’s your chance. Just tell him.
But I don’t say anything, and once again, Miles puts his hand on my arm. “You can talk to me. I promise I won’t judge you.”
That’s hard to believe.
When this first started, I wasn’t worried about spilling my secret to Miles.
He was just another hookup. Just another person to lose myself in for the night, to forget how shitty my life is.
This was supposed to be simple—a one-time thing.
Yet, somehow, it’s becoming everything but simple.
In fact, I’m making it messier by the day.
“I have a lot of trauma from when I was a kid,” I admit, once again feeling just a little lighter. I can give him parts of me in small doses, but I think that’s all I can do.
“I’m so sorry to hear that. Of course you don’t have to talk to me, but if you want to, I will listen.”
I’ve lost count of how many times he’s said that. I’m starting to believe it.