Chapter 18
Rami's POV
What the fuck just happened?
I run out of there like my ass is on fire and I don’t stop until I round the corner onto Main Street. Honestly, Abraham didn’t do anything wrong. He was his friendly self as he’s always been. But…
Flashes of our naked bodies twined together as he buries himself deep inside me. Our mouths locked together in a battle for dominance. The joining of our gasps and moans.
My stomach roils and I sprint for the nearest trash can where I empty the contents of my stomach.
The shamed tsks and voices of passersby filter to my ears as I hear their cruel words. “Weirdo.” And my personal favorite. “Just like his mother.”
Not giving a shit about the naysayers—water off a duck’s back—I grip onto the necklace through my shirt and slide down a nearby wall onto the sidewalk. I want to tell each of the people to fuck off.
Especially the asshole who says, “I wonder what he’s on this time.”
I’m a duck. I’m a duck. I’m goddamned mother fucking DUCK!
Gripping my necklace tighter, I gather the small stack of books and shove them into my messenger bag. With a groan, I adjust my bag and dust off my pants. Grandma Julia will be expecting me home soon, anyway.
By the time I walk through the door at her house, I attempt to beeline straight for my room. I want to really look over the books Abraham picked out. That is not my luck, though.
“Rami, dear,” Grandma Julia’s voice calls from the front room.
With a heavy sigh, I walk through the doorway to find her sitting in her rocking chair with Pastor Dan sitting on the couch. I pause, gripping the strap of my bag tightly.
The middle-aged man pushes up from the couch and crosses the room with his hand outstretched. Instead of his clerical robes, today he’s dressed simply in a polo shirt and khakis.
“Rami, my boy. It’s good to see you. I stopped by to check in and see how you’re doing.”
I shake his hand, but clench my jaw tightly to avoid saying anything.
“You two sit. I made your favorite peach cobbler,” Grandma Julia says sweetly, ushering us to the couch.
Turning to face her, I pinch my brows together in confusion until I realize she’s talking to Pastor Dan. “I’m allergic to peaches,” I say blandly.
“I’d love some. Do you have a glass of tea to go along with it?” Pastor Dan says at the same time, drowning me out.
“Of course!” Grandma Julia rushes into the kitchen, puttering around.
Leaving me and Pastor Dan alone.
“Your grandmother tells me you two are working through the study on fighting addiction,” he says, trying to start up a conversation.
“Mmhmm,” I mumble, hoping to be anywhere but here.
“How do you think that’s going?”
“Good.”
“She’s so incredibly proud of you for avoiding painkillers while your ankle healed.”
I bite back the scoff I want to release, and nod instead. It feels like a safer option.
Thank God—heh!—Grandma Julia shows up and saves me. She places a plate of cobbler and a glass of sweet tea in front of Pastor Dan. Which is fair since I’m allergic to peaches and don’t like sweet tea. I know, I must be broken if I’m a Southerner who doesn’t like sweet tea.
Actually, I could go for one of Abraham’s peppermint teas.
It’s the perfect cure-all for anything that ails you.
The pleased expression on his face anytime he gives me food or tea is one of his most precious traits.
So, why did I have such an adverse reaction to us together?
Honestly, it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve thought about him sexually. What has changed?
Grandma Julia darts back into the kitchen. I’m half tempted to call out and see if she needs help, mostly to get away from the awkward pastor sitting on the other end of the couch from me.
She places a tray down and hands me a plate with a sugared biscuit, her homemade strawberry jam, and a glass of milk. My eyes widen in surprise, and I open my mouth to ask what’s gotten into her when I try to think of any time she’s denied me a treat. So, I have no reason to be surprised.
A denied meal, perhaps if I really step out of line. But a treat? Never. The peach cobbler isn’t the first peach item I’ve seen in the house, though they’re usually made to be given away and rarely stay in the house. She’s also always marked anything with peaches in it clearly.
So, I click my jaw shut and stare at her for the first time. Really stare at her. Even when the two of them continue the conversation, allowing me to zone out and really analyze the woman deemed by the courts to be my caretaker.
Until I hear the dreaded words, “Can I pray for you?”
Fuck.
I dip my chin because what else am I gonna do? Hiss and run away from him? That’ll convince them I’m a sane person.
They make me link hands with them before everyone lowers their chin and closes their eyes. “Dear Heavenly Father. Thank you for this gift you’ve provided us in this sweet boy.”
Boy, really?
“Thank you for educating our doctors and helping his ankle heal swiftly. Getting him back on his feet. Please continue to help aid his struggles and help him fight his demons.”
The image of Abraham and me from earlier flashes to the forefront of my mind.
His dick stretches my hole painfully as he fills me up fully.
My muscles jerk violently at the unbidden image which causes my necklace to heat until it nearly scalds my chest. I jump away from Pastor Dan’s and Grandma Julia’s grasp, one hand on my stomach and the other over my mouth.
“Rami, are you okay?” Pastor Dan asks. His features curl in some semblance of concern until they pinch into the scrutiny I’m more accustomed to.
I try to breathe through the roiling in my stomach to no avail. I sprint out of the room, and lock myself in my bathroom just in the nick of time. This time, however, is mostly dry heaving as there isn’t anything left in my stomach after the previous bout of puking.
After I manage to clean myself up, I shuffle my way down the hall to the front room. I pause to listen to their soft conversation.
“Are you sure he’s clean?” Pastor Dan asks.
“I assure you my grandson isn’t on drugs. I watch him like a hawk and even check his room from time to time. He has never had anything related to drugs in there, ever.”
“Perhaps you should do another sweep.”
I don’t hear her response as fear and anxiety cause blood to rush past my ears, drowning everything else out.
Shit fuck shit fuck shit!
If she searches my room, she’ll definitely find the screen under my bed. I rush into my room and return the screen to the window before I hurry back into the hallway. Stumbling into the front room, which was legit a clumsy accident, I stare down at my keepers.
“I’m sorry, Grandma Julia and Pastor Dan. I think I may be coming down with something. I got sick in town today, too.” I tack on the last part knowing the nosey Nellies are gonna blab, anyway. Might as well get on top of it.
“Oh, dear,” Grandma Julia clutches her chest, worry pinching her lips, as Pastor Dan looks anything but understanding. She rushes to my side, placing her warm hands on my cheeks and forehead. “You don’t feel warm. I’ll make you a bowl of tomato soup with noodles just the way you like it.”
My eyes widen at the woman who has felt more like a warden than a grandmother lately. The kindness of that one simple act nearly makes my knees buckle.
“Be strong, my boy,” Pastor Dan says, patting me hard on the shoulder. The two of them exchange a knowing look as Grandma Julia dips her chin before Pastor Dan sees himself out.
“Why don’t you go shower and I’ll get you something to eat?”
And there it is, folks. This isn’t kindness. This is lowering my guard so she can check my room. I just know it. She’s feigning sweetness right now, and any of those good thoughts I had prior shrivel in disappointment. I don’t know why I suspected anything more.
So, I play along, knowing she won’t find anything in there. My head bobs up and down, and I plaster on my most pitiful face, trying to sell my ailment.
In the shower, I rest my forehead on the cool tile.
Meanwhile, conjuring up the image of my legs wrapped around Abraham, the hair on his chest brushing across my pert nipples.
My stomach wrenches and I fight back the urge to vomit all over myself.
I shake my head and slap my face rather hard to fight off the discomfort.
In an attempt to distract myself, I imagine Adriel in Abraham’s place. His sun-kissed skin is covered in the mysterious sigils as he plunges deep inside me. I can picture him pinning me to a tree while he takes me roughly from behind.
My dick plumps quickly thanks to my highly imaginative mind. “Oh, so you like those images?” I ask my fattening cock. “But we don’t like Abraham?” My cock gives a twitch as if it’s responding to me, but it doesn’t soften.
Interesting.
Perhaps it’s only the image of us together that makes me so violently ill. Simply the mention of the act does nothing. But why Abraham?
Did he do something to me? Add something to that pie?
That’s absurd, right?
He brought that pie out clearly for himself, not even knowing I was going to be there when he plated it up. There was no time to tamper with the piece. Plus, he’d never attempt to drug me. He’s my friend.
I sigh heavily when I’m no closer to a conclusion than I was at the start of my shower.
Grandma Julia is waiting for me by the time I’m dried and dressed. She places a bowl of soup with bow tie pasta floating around and a plate with mozzarella sticks on the dining room table, gesturing to the chair in front of it.
“Did the shower help you feel better?” she asks once I’m settled in and reaching for one of the cheese sticks.
I nod around the large bite of ooey gooey cheesy yumminess I dipped into the tomato soup. ‘Cause can you actually eat tomato soup without some sort of cheesy dip?