Chapter Twenty-One
IF AUSTIN were being perfectly honest with himself—which he was inclined to avoid this morning—he would admit he was freaking out.
It wasn’t just Will moving in. Austin had anticipated that, even if he’d hoped for Will’s sake it wouldn’t have to happen.
It was that, plus their Christmas party, plus meeting Joe’s enormous extended family of uncomfortably wealthy people, plus transcendent sex that had his brain leaking out his ears, all coupled with the knowledge that slow had well and truly gone right out the fucking window.
Joy.
But he couldn’t freak out. It wasn’t his place.
Will, who’d basically been disowned last night, got to freak out.
Joe, who was going to be Will’s primary point of support and parent and whatever, got to freak out.
Austin, whose participation in this situation was basically “roommate,” did not get to freak out.
He just needed to be there when Joe and Will did.
It was a lot to suddenly shoulder when he’d spent so much of his life alone, but he wouldn’t trade it, so he’d have to figure it out.
He woke up sore, Joe still passed out next to him. The critters weren’t stirring yet, so it must still be early. He didn’t hear anything from upstairs either.
He hauled his ass out of bed and went to find something to eat so he could grab a couple Advil without upsetting his stomach. Then he took Pepa out for a pee, fed the cats, and put the coffee on. He might not be a morning person, but Joe would need the sleep this morning more than Austin did.
To his surprise, Will stirred before Joe. He crept down the stairs almost silently, then paused at the bottom, like he wasn’t sure if anyone else was awake.
“In the kitchen,” Austin said softly. “Coffee?”
A moment later Will shuffled in, puffy-faced, hands stuffed in the pocket of his oversize hoodie.
“Hey,” Austin offered when Will didn’t say anything. “Uh, Joe’s not up yet, but there’s bread for toast and cereal in the pantry.”
Will nodded wordlessly and helped himself to a bowl, a mug, cereal, milk. He was putting them on the table when Austin realized they were going to eat breakfast together at the table Joe fucked him on the night before. “He’s not, like, getting sick or anything?”
“No, no, just, uh… long couple days, you know? With all the cooking.” And fucking. And emotional upheaval. Austin spotted a splash of white on the table and had a second of pure, hysterical panic before he realized it was milk.
Another nod. Will picked up his spoon. Then, finally, he raised his eyes and looked Austin in the face.
Or, well. Austin expected Will to look him in the face, but his eyes sort of stopped when they got most of the way there, on the side of Austin’s neck.
The side Joe had fastened his mouth to in the shower last night.
Austin had never checked if there was a mark, but from the expression on Will’s face, he didn’t need to.
Will’s eyes went wide—or as wide as they could given the amount of crying Austin suspected they’d done last night—and his face paled as he put together the pieces. “Oh my God. I didn’t—um. I didn’t want to like—interrupt—”
Of all the fucking days for Joe to sleep in. “Hey, no,” Austin said. “You definitely didn’t.” Will was several orgasms too late to interrupt, but he didn’t need to know that. “And even if you had—it’s not like we’d be mad about it.”
We, like him and Joe, a unit. Was that the wrong thing to say? Was he, like, rubbing it in?
Was he being pretty ridiculous, because Will obviously had bigger things to be upset about right now than Joe and Austin?
“Right,” Will said after a moment, giving Austin absolutely nothing. He pulled his cereal toward himself.
The encounter gave Austin hope. Living with a teenager would be weird, but ultimately everything would work out. They’d have some awkward moments, but they were all adults or mostly adults and they could get through them.
The optimism lasted until Will’s sulk wore off, which was about day three.
Austin didn’t mean to sound callous. Will was certainly entitled to a whole range of emotions right now, and most of them were negative. Austin had been there himself.
But on day three the grief turned to anger, and with no appropriate targets around, Will snapped at Joe and Austin instead.
Of course he did—Austin understood. For the most part, he let the hostility wash over him.
Austin had grown up in the system. Will couldn’t say anything Austin hadn’t heard in a group home.
He and Joe and the kitchen could weather a few slammed cupboard doors.
There were other challenges too. More than once, Joe went to the refrigerator to start making dinner only to find the ingredients had been consumed by a hungry teen.
They would have adjusted to that with no problem if not for the sudden increase in the grocery bill.
Austin had always been frugal, shopping sales and discount grocery stores, but Joe had grown up with money.
When he cooked, he liked his creature comforts and fancy ingredients.
Finally, Austin had to wonder what was going to happen when it came time to sell the house. Three guys and four pets—would they find a rental that could fit them all? Or would he and Joe go back to living separately? The ugly apartment over Austin’s garage had never held less appeal.
Austin didn’t know what would happen. But he did know that something had to change. They couldn’t afford to live like this.
A WEEK AFTER Will moved in, Joe curled up with Austin in bed and asked, “Do the fairies ever swap eighteen-year-olds with changelings?”
Austin snorted. “It hasn’t been that bad.”
Joe pulled back enough to look Austin in the eye. “You can’t believe that.”
“I think maybe stress is making you exaggerate a bit.” Austin carved his fingers through Joe’s hair, making him melt under the attention.
“Maybe a little,” Joe admitted, because Will wasn’t acting like a whole new person, but he was definitely being more teenagery than usual.
Will had always been quiet, but for the past seven days he’d become downright sullen.
He joined Joe and Austin for meals when called, but said little.
He spent his time holed up in his room unless the kids were over to drag him out.
Gavin, Alex, and Meg were a blessing, as they dedicated their holidays to distracting and cheering up Will.
Three days after Christmas, Joe drove Gavin and Will to his parents’ house in the hopes of retrieving Will’s stuff, but Gavin and Will were blocked from the house while Will’s dad screamed that he’d thrown everything out.
Gavin practically had to carry Will back to the car, where Joe had sat waiting in the na?ve hope that the kids would have more luck without his presence—Will’s parents never cared for Joe—but once home, Will yelled and raged and threw a few rocks at trees in the yard while Gavin stayed by his side and Joe watched helplessly from the house.
The days following that encounter were the worst. Joe was willing to give Will latitude—God only knew how heartbroken and angry Joe would’ve been in his place—but it wasn’t easy when the kid was using his quick wit and sharp tongue to cut.
He could draw blood when he wanted, and lately that seemed to be all he wanted.
“Maybe things will get easier once they’re back at school?” Austin suggested hopefully.
Spoiler alert—they were not.
First of all, Will was an even worse person in the morning than Austin.
Second, he took the world’s longest showers and somehow managed to use all the hot water.
On Will’s first Tuesday back in classes, Joe had resigned himself to a lukewarm-at-best shower in the steam-filled bathroom, only to look into the tub and find an inch of water, the drain clogged in a suspiciously familiar way.
“You know what,” he said out loud, “I can skip a shower this morning.” He poured a cup of bleach into the tub.
He could deal with it later. And then, after dropping Will off at school, which he had to do every morning because none of the buses came out this far and there was no one in carpooling range, he went to Shoppers and bought an enormous bottle of lube and a nine-pack of Kleenex, which he set in the middle of Will’s bed with a note that just said The pipes in this house are too old for that.
What else was he going to do? This situation was challenging enough for everyone without confronting someone for jerking off in the shower.
A week into the new routine, Joe was thinking about the practicalities of buying Will his own car.
“You can’t reward his bad company with a car,” Austin said dryly over his glass of wine.
Will was at Gavin’s, working on a school project, so they had the house to themselves for the first evening in two weeks.
“It’s not because of that,” Joe protested. Austin arched an eyebrow. “Okay, not just because of that. Being tied to a high-school schedule sucks.” It was more than just a little inconvenient. At least Will was old enough to wait around for a ride if Gavin wasn’t up for driving him home.
“We could split the driving,” Austin suggested, but Joe shook his head.
“I can’t ask that of you.”
“Who’s asking? I’m offering.”
“I know. But I’m saying no. The last thing you two need is to be stuck alone in a car together every day.”