Chapter 6 Gracen
GRACEN
I’ve found Malin tearing apart the phone books several times over the next week. I’m not sure it accomplishes what I hoped it would, but there’s certainly some relief after. Or maybe exhaustion.
Yesterday, he sought me out when he was finished tearing apart one of the books, and I held him in my arms for more than an hour. Just standing there in the middle of my office.
Is this the beginning of something? Or is it something else?
Does he just need a hug? It would be easier just to ask him, but Malin isn’t like anyone else I’ve met.
I honestly don’t think he’d fully comprehend any question I ask him, simply because I don’t know that I can make it eloquent enough for it not to sound like a third grader is asking him if he wants to be my boyfriend.
Every afternoon, I clean up his office and replace the books he tore apart with new ones.
I could leave it for the cleaners, but I’m the one who decided this mess was a good idea, so I think I should be the one cleaning it.
However, I have no idea where the trash gets taken, so I leave it in the hallway.
Today, Malin doesn’t come into the office. I wait until two to see if he’ll show up, constantly peeking in his office between work, only to find it empty. Eventually, I get to my feet and wander through the empty offices until I find one that views the lake.
There he is.
I watch him for several minutes, wondering how I can check in on him without it looking suspicious. I don’t want him to think I’m following him.
Who am I kidding? I know exactly what I’m going to do.
Stopping back in my office, I send the file I was working on to Voss’ team. There’s a name that I’ve been toying around with for a while, and I think I’ve unlocked his tie into the New World Order Temple cult, but I need confirmation. Sometimes you just need another set of eyes.
When I’m finished, I shut down my computer and head home. I’m at the right time where there’s a train of vehicles coming from the school, so I stop and wave to all the Van Doren kids on their way by.
Once home, I fill my cooler, grab some of the cold salads I’ve been snacking on over the last day or so, some charcuterie goods, and head out.
I park beside Malin and bring my cooler to the end of the dock.
I watch Malin float around as I unlace my boots, remove them and my socks, and stick my feet into the water.
I think the water needs to be cooled down for this to be refreshing. As much as I’d like to call Malin over, I decide not to. Instead, I do what I always do and grab a bottle of cold water from my cooler and watch him while I sip it.
Malin doesn’t move for a long time. He remains entirely motionless. Sometimes, I find I’m watching intently just to catch a sign of life. I think he sleeps.
After what feels like an eternity, Malin sits up and begins paddling to the dock. I watch him as I fill my glass bottle up again with one of the larger containers of water.
He doesn’t go to the side of the dock like usual, but bumps his float into my legs. I smile and am rewarded with the tiniest hint of one in return. I don’t think it’s his shyness that makes his smiles so few and far between. I think it’s actually much deeper than that. He’s a very unhappy man.
From inside my cooler, I pull out the second glass bottle and hand it to him.
Malin takes it with a quiet “Thank you,” and slowly drinks it down until there’s only an inch or so left. I hold my hand out for the bottle, and he watches me refill it before handing it back to him.
When he’s had his fill of water, I take out one of the food containers and open it. Setting the lid aside, I grab a fork and hand both to him.
Malin looks at it before meeting my eyes. He’s slower to take this, but he does. So he doesn’t feel like he’s being put on the spot, I take out the second cold salad and begin eating. After a minute, Malin follows.
We trade containers, and when we’ve had our fill, I replace them in my cooler and hand him a rice cereal marshmallow treat bar that I made last night.
This time the smile I receive is much bigger. Far more genuine. I love it. It makes my stomach flip.
But then his smile fades entirely. His eyes drop, and his shoulders tense. He glances away, and I wonder if I somehow made him uncomfortable.
“Do you want more water?” I ask.
Malin looks at his empty bottle and nods. He hands it back to me as he takes a bite of the snack. I fill the bottle back up and hand it back to him.
“Thank you,” he murmurs, voice low. Almost… detached. Something happened, and I missed it. I think we were sharing something good, and then… what happened? Did the dessert trigger something?
Malin offers me back the bottle once he’s drunk a bit more. “You can keep it. It’s important to stay hydrated when it’s so hot out.”
He nods and leans back on his float. I take that as my cue to let him go. Reluctantly, I do. Slowly, he begins floating away as I stare at him.
Quite some time later, just when I’m thinking I’m low on water and am going to need a refill, an entire caravan of child vehicles all hauling trailers comes driving down the road toward us with Emerson in the lead.
I shake my head, though I can’t fight my grin.
Seriously. It’s never boring here. Also, I’m quite certain that the kids already run the show.
“Right here,” Emerson calls. “Let’s set up the tent by Uncle Gracen.”
Before I know it, a dozen kids aged four through ten are erecting one of those easy-up tents over my head. They even came with bungee cords to tack it to the dock so it doesn’t fall off or fly away in an errant gust of wind.
They haul tables down here. Coolers. Bag chairs. Towels and life jackets. Orev has a fan because he hates the heat. Emerson opens my cooler and pulls out the empty refills. Giving me a smug look, he turns to his brother. “See?”
Sulien and Greylyn replace my empty refills with full ones, and Novan dumps more ice into my cooler.
“Okay, what kind of weird intervention is this?” I ask.
Novan gives me a perplexed look. “What’s that word?”
“It means we’re putting our noses into his business,” Emerson says. “Right?”
“More or less, yes.”
He looks smug.
“Nothing,” Greylyn says as she stands at the end of the dock with her hands on her hips and stares at Malin. He’s looking in this direction now. “When’s the last time Uncle Malin put on some sunscreen?”
I try my best not to grin, and I only tattle on him because I’d like him to be close again. “You didn’t hear it from me, but I haven’t seen him put any on since I’ve been out here.”
She frowns.
“Uncle Malin!” Emerson calls. “Come in. It’s not an intervention.”
I chuckle. Fuck’s sake.
“Mom wouldn’t let me take a real grill down,” Paisley says, “So, all the food is cold. Even the hot food.”
“We told our dads that you’d be here and so would Uncle Malin, and they still wouldn’t let us,” Nilo complains.
“Hmm. I shouldn’t tell you that my camping grill and a small propane tank are in the bed of my truck, then,” I muse.
“On it,” Axl says as he grabs Novan and Nilo’s hands and runs back down the dock.
“We’re going to get into trouble,” Xanthus says, frowning after his cousins.
“Don’t be a baby,” Adem scoffs.
“That’s not nice,” Rosalie chides.
Adem has a matching bow in his hair that looks just like Rosalie’s. I think it is one of Rosalie’s. It’s the first time I’ve seen him wearing a bow.
One of the things I’ve really come to love and respect about the way the kids are being raised here is that nothing has a gender. Not clothes. Not colors. Not accessories. They dress how they feel. It’s been reinforced by their parents, more than just Noaz.
I’ve seen Myro in a skirt, and Voss wears sundresses at least fifty percent of the time now. I’m not sure either of them does it because they’re feeling feminine, but because some of the kids have expressed wanting to wear dresses and skirts.
Loren almost always has his nails painted. Albrecht wears heels regularly. Jessica’s constantly in muscle shirts and baseball hats. Hell, I’ve even seen Kairo with pearls on.
They’re truly pushing the boundaries of what constitutes femininity and masculinity. All of them. It’s allowed the kids to be comfortable expressing themselves however they want to. That doesn’t mean I don’t notice when something new happens. Like Adem wearing a bow.
I catch Malin’s float with my foot so he’s steady and shift to see Axl and Nilo carrying the small grill with Novan carrying the propane tank. They have a metal cart on wheels that they set everything on and roll toward me. Axl watches intently as I set it up and explain the functions.
“Stay close,” I tell him.
“I will, Uncle Gracen,” he says as he pushes it back to where it was, half a dozen feet behind me, but on the opposite side of the dock from where I’m sitting and in easy view.
“I just ate,” Malin says. “Gracen fed me.”
“Time for sunscreen,” Greylyn says.
Malin bows his head, accepting the bottle from her.
I grip the back of her dress so she doesn’t go tumbling in as she stretches to reach him and hand over the sunscreen.
We both watch as Malin obediently reapplies.
Greylyn does so to make sure he doesn’t miss a single centimeter of skin.
I do because I’m absolutely captivated by this man.
“Better,” Greylyn says. “You also need more water.”
Malin doesn’t argue. I’m not sure I’ve ever heard him argue.
He hands over the glass bottle, and Greylyn refills it.
I keep my hand tangled in the back of her dress every time she leans over the edge of the dock.
I’m confident she can swim, but I prefer that if she goes in, it’s by choice and not because she fell off the side.
I immediately smell burgers and glance back to find Axl and Novan tending the grill. I take a picture and send it to Voss and Myro. I’d never actually do anything behind their backs. I’ve seen Axl cook at the stove before, and Jessica has all their kids in the kitchen cooking.
On the other hand, Xanthus doesn’t generally go into the kitchen, so I’m not surprised he’s far more hesitant to use the grill.
I receive a thumbs-up from Myro. Voss just sends laughing emojis. See? Everything is fine.
When I look up, I find Malin watching me, and my stomach flips. He’s watching me this time. God, I like that.
He grips my leg and pulls his float closer. I’m surprised when he leans his head against my knee. My heart nearly stops when he sighs. Fuck. How obsessed with this guy am I?
Cautiously, I run my fingers through his hair.
When he doesn’t appear to be bothered, I gain a little more confidence and continue to do so.
That’s how we spend the next two hours, with the kids moving around, having a mini-Van Doren get together at the lake, but I’m in a completely separate world where Malin is taking comfort in me.