20. Easton #2
“You’re not my son, Easton,” he said, although it didn’t surprise me. “This…” He shook his head and hesitated. “I don’t understand this. And I don’t want to.” He stood in silence for a few moments longer, then lifted his head. “You’re on your own from now.”
Without another glance, without a goodbye, Kevin Harper turned on his heels and walked out of the apartment.
I could see him driving home and informing his wife. I could see them mourning the injustices done to them. And I could see them never once asking themselves if they’d had a hand in all this. They, too, were people to whom life just happened. But I couldn’t be that guy anymore.
It took me an hour to compose myself, but when I did, I grabbed my keys and my wallet, and I walked out. I had to find Jace.
The hours melted away as I walked around the block and expanded the circle of my search. No phone call was returned, and his was the only number I had. I didn’t know his friends or his gambling dens. I knew so little about Jace that it terrified me how strongly I felt about him.
What I know is all that matters, I told myself, my legs burning with exertion after walking long into the night.
I didn’t know where Jace would go when he had nowhere to go, but I knew that underneath the chaos that surrounded him, there was an iron core.
It was the anchor that kept me safe all these long weeks as I watched my life slip away, drain through my fingers like grains of sand.
The streets were quiet. Small groups of people gathered in the shadows, watching me until they saw I was not a threat.
How could I be? I was a wandering madman, whispering Jace’s name and crying over the terrible mistakes I had made.
Today, I had pushed him away, letting all that I had been taught about him consume me before giving him a chance to explain.
It had never occurred to me to give him the benefit of the doubt.
Hell, I’d never even considered that he was just a man, capable of mistakes like all of us.
An oversight, but a well-intentioned one.
I never would have had the balls to come out to my team, and yet coming out had been inevitable.
At least I knew who my friends were and who had only pretended. And I was done living in secret, no matter the cost. It offered a twisted kind of relief, where losing so much still felt like it was a fair price to pay for the sense of freedom that replaced all that tension.
I wandered the streets in solitude and hopelessness, knowing I wouldn’t just run into him. When I returned to the apartment, stupidly hoping to find him on the other side of the door, it was closer to sunrise than the previous sunset. Jace was not there. He was never going to be.
What little sleep I got was cut into pieces and haunted by nightmares of the fire I had started in my childhood home. It wasn’t Jace but the house. The house was rotten. It had to burn.
I started awake at a sound from somewhere in the apartment.
Something had scratched. The day was colder by degrees of magnitude than the days had been so far, as if the summer had finally accepted its inevitable death.
Rainy, grimy, gray-washed, the day matched my mood one for one. But there had been a sound somewhere.
He’s back, I thought and leaped to my feet, rushing out of my room into his. Not there. His things were scattered around the room in a total mess, and the scent of his body and sweat lingered on the clothes on the floor.
I hurried into the living room. “Jace,” I whispered, standing still at the sight of the empty room. The window was ajar, and the curtain billowed in the wind. The sheet music had spilled from its stand on the piano, pages upon page of Moonlight Sonata littering the floor.
Hopelessly, I looked into the kitchen, but he wasn’t there.
It was another day of painful waiting, dragging out far longer than a day had any right to be.
In the space of the following twelve hours, I tried to make a meal that might resemble something Jace would have made only to throw it away after overusing Jace’s spices.
I forced myself to remove the toys from the living room so they wouldn’t be a reminder of the things that had happened yesterday.
I looked at cheaper accommodation because I couldn’t afford to live here without the support of the Harpers.
And, at last, I knelt in Jace’s room, holding his T-shirt against my nose, inhaling the scent of him.
What would he say if he saw me like this?
What would he do to me?
Jace had followed me for weeks, hiding in the shadows, watching over me, and I had never noticed him. The first time I saw him was in the playground when some guys were arguing and fighting nearby. He’d revealed himself to me like a spirit that had possessed me long ago.
He no longer had a reason to do that. The guy he had been protecting pushed him away.
Except, Jace had forgiven me worse things.
When I thought he had returned to haunt me because he’d taken the blame for the fire, he simply shrugged and said he wouldn’t do that.
He told me, in clear terms, that he had no leverage over me as far as he was concerned.
The few instances when either of us mentioned the flames that had defined our lives, he had allowed me to retreat with as much grace as a guilty person could afford.
Oh, we had our grudges, I had no doubt about that.
Jace had more than enough fuel and frustration to take it all out on me, but he’d found a way to do it that pleased us both.
My own grievances and hurts worked much the same way.
We could eradicate them from one another with the ruthlessness and roughness of our play.
As the night came, I walked outside. Rain came down in a mist, not exactly falling anymore, and I ate my only meal of the day at an Indian corner restaurant. Instead of returning like a reasonable person would, I decided I couldn’t face the emptiness of that place.
If Jace wasn’t there, I didn’t want it.
I wandered the streets, looking deep into the shadows, outside the pools of light coming through the haze from the streetlamps. I searched for him, but I knew I wouldn’t find him. Nobody could find him when he wanted to hide.
I’m sorry, Jace, I thought. I’m sorry I didn’t believe in you. I’m sorry I misunderstood your intentions. I’m sorry I let you down.
The playground where I had first seen him was abandoned.
It was as quiet as a graveyard, the swings empty, the slides slick with rain, and the soft, rubbery padding on the ground covered in muddy footprints.
The light from the streetlamp gave the whole place a supernatural halo, and I spotted movement in the shadow near a plastic house that was four feet above the ground, a ladder on one side, and a slide on another.
By the little house, two guys stood together, speaking.
Neither of them had Jace’s lean build. These were big guys, and they filled those hoodies with muscle and protective fat, whereas Jace’s clothes were loose and billowy.
I almost passed the playground before a crazy thought struck me.
Didn’t I believe in Jace? Wasn’t he always there when I needed him? Wasn’t he the guy who looked into my eyes and all but congratulated me on lighting that flame?
I veered off the sidewalk and marched up to the two guys. They were instantly alert when they realized I was approaching them. Their hands were in their pockets, hoods lifted over their heads to protect them from the mist that descended from the clouds.
“Got anything I could buy?” I asked. My tone didn’t sound like I was a junkie in need of a fix. At best, I was your friendly neighbor asking if you had a cold beer.
“Skeddadle, kid,” the bigger of the two said.
“I’m serious,” I said. “Are you selling?”
“Fuck off, narc,” the smaller guy said. He was only small in comparison with his colleague.
“You heard him,” the other one boomed.
“I’m not a fucking narc,” I spat. “I want what you’re selling.”
“You better drag that sissy ass out of here,” the shorter fellow said.
His temper was much quicker to flare. That was good. I focused on him. “What did you just say?”
“You heard me,” he said, taking a step toward me.
Fear roiled through my stomach, but I believed in him. Finding the courage I had never known I was capable of, I took a step closer to the shorter guy. He was already bristling. “You’re going to apologize to me.”
His pink cheeks burst with color as he surged forward, grabbing my jacket in both fists and shaking me senseless. “Are you fucking with me?”
“Say you’re sorry, bitch,” I baited, seeing my own tombstone rise from the ground. Except I no longer had a family to pay for it. Perhaps an unmarked grave of a fallen fighter? Or, more likely, a bag full of bricks and a trip to Lake Michigan.
I managed to grab my attacker’s wrists, making myself enough of a threat to get the other guy involved. Two against one, it wasn’t a fair fight anymore. Any moment now…
“Get him,” the smaller one said, and the big guy stood behind me, wrapping his arms around my torso and yanking me back. The first blow punched the air out of my lungs.
The second fist came swiftly, smashing the side of my face. My teeth ached, and I could have sworn something cracked in my skull. The heat of the blow spread through half of my face as the shorter guy pulled back and huffed. “Who the fuck sent this clown?”
“Who are you with?” the big one boomed, shaking me from behind.
“Let me go,” I demanded, tossing impotently and only tying myself tighter into his grip. “I’m gonna fuck you up.” I knew I didn’t sound threatening, but I only needed to anger them.
“Shut him up,” the big guy said, and the smaller one kneed me in the stomach, making me wheeze and struggle for air. The blow that struck the back of my head came before I had hoped.