Chapter 42
Tean stood at their front window.
The snow was gone; only a little had fallen in the valley, and the last few days had warmed enough to clear the lawns and sidewalks. Across the street, Mr. Christiansen was hanging Christmas lights. And at the curb, a silver Chevy Impala idled.
Jem’s footsteps moved behind him, and then Jem kissed the side of his head. “Be right back.”
“No,” Tean said. But he couldn’t say anything after that. Not for a while. Scipio snuffled at his fingers, and he curled his hand automatically, stroking the side of the Lab’s head. “I’ll go.”
Jem held the door for him, and they stepped out onto the porch.
And that was as far as Tean could go. Farther, maybe. Because he didn’t know how he was out here, with the cold gray of the day wet against his face. It wasn’t until he touched his cheek that he felt tears. Only a few. And he wiped them away.
The Impala’s doors opened. Ammon got out from behind the steering wheel.
His hair was clipped short, and it was impossible to miss that he was balding.
He wore a BYU hoodie and joggers, and he looked tired.
He half-raised a hand in a greeting that Tean didn’t return.
But he stayed at the curb, and he didn’t call out. That was all part of the deal.
“This was a mistake,” Tean said. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”
Jem took his hand. “He doesn’t want you to do anything. He just needs to be around people who make him feel okay.”
The back door of the car opened, and Daniel got out.
He was wearing crisply white sneakers that, Tean knew, Jem would immediately recognize as expensive or exclusive or something, along with dark jeans and a button-up shirt.
It wasn’t the kind of clothing he remembered Daniel wearing, and with something like a groan, he realized Daniel had decided to dress up.
“Stop,” Jem whispered, but it sounded like he was trying not to laugh. “It’s cute. He was excited.”
Ammon said something to Daniel, and the boy’s back stiffened.
He nodded without making eye contact and hurried up the walk.
Behind him, Ammon watched, his eyes following his son.
Nobody had to tell Tean that the interaction he’d just seen—Ammon initiating, Daniel reacting—had become the defining pattern of their relationship over the last few months.
For a moment, Tean met Ammon’s gaze. And then Tean looked away.
By the time Daniel reached the walk, he was smiling uncertainly. “Hi,” he mumbled from the bottom of the steps.
“Don’t be a goober,” Jem said. “Come in.”
Jem tugged on Tean’s hand, urging him toward the door. He waved Daniel up onto the porch.
Ammon was still standing at the curb, one hand on the door of the car. He looked only a little like someone Tean might have known once, in another lifetime. His mouth moved, maybe a smile. And then Jem turned Tean by the hand, and they stepped into their home.
Ever since the phone call in which Tean had agreed to talk to Daniel, Tean had spent the days bracing himself for questions he didn’t know how to answer.
Not the sex ones—those, he had already decided, were best left either to Jem or, all else failing, the internet.
But the ones Tean thought he should expect.
What do I do about my parents? How do I stop being so angry? What am I supposed to do now?
It turned out, though, that Jem was right.
As usual. Daniel didn’t ask any questions.
At first, Scipio made a big production about getting off the couch, stretching his back legs, whining with excitement.
It wasn’t the first time he’d met Daniel, but Daniel was almost as worked up as the Lab—whispering to him, rubbing his ears, accepting a lot of licks.
Then, when Jem asked if Daniel wanted something to eat, Daniel shook his head and stood there, arms folded across his chest, face set with wariness as though the next moment, he’d discover this was all a big trick.
That didn’t last very long, though, once Jem turned on the Xbox, and pretty soon Daniel was laughing and Jem was screaming and Scipio was trying to work his head between Daniel’s hand and the controller for more pets.
Tean wasn’t sure what triggered the question, but between one round of a game and the next, Daniel said, “Show me how you did that thing with my wrist.”
“We’re not allowed to roughhouse inside,” Jem said, and for a moment, he sounded younger than Daniel. Without missing a beat, he hopped up from the sofa and announced, “Backyard. Tean, you have to be the judge.”
The judge didn’t do anything, apparently, besides clap and cheer and occasionally try to get Scipio to stop barking—which was the Lab’s contribution.
Jem was still faster than Daniel, and the lesson, if that’s what they were calling it, quickly evolved from that thing with my wrist, which was apparently a compliance hold, to Jem showing Daniel how to lift someone’s watch, and then Daniel wanted to show Jem an aikido throw that his dad had taught him.
After the third time Jem ended up on his back, wheezing while Scipio barked and hopped and tried desperately to get someone to pay attention to him, Tean announced, “Okay, I think Scipio needs to play ball.”
Daniel’s whole face was bright. It wasn’t only a smile, although he was smiling. It was a happiness that came from somewhere deep, and it radiated off him. He looked like a different boy than the one who had arrived less than an hour ago. “I’ll do it!”
Tean showed him the bucket of balls, and Scipio zoomed off to the far end of the lot.
When Tean went back to the porch, Jem was sitting on the steps, twisting around to pick grass off his jacket.
Tean took over the task, brushing away dirt and dead leaves.
The compact muscles of Jem’s back were familiar under his hands, and, at the same time, somehow new, and he was suddenly aware of how long it had been since they’d touched like this.
Less than a week maybe. But it felt like so much longer.
“I think he broke my ass,” Jem said.
Laughter slipped out of Tean. “We can take a look after he leaves.”
“Did you see him get my watch that last time? I barely even felt it, and I knew what he was doing. He’s got a great touch.”
Tean straightened Jem’s jacket across his shoulders, his job now done, and scooted closer. Hip pressed to hip, he leaned against Jem. After a moment, Jem slid an arm around him.
Out in the yard, Daniel was laughing as Scipio jumped and tried to snag the ball from his hand.
The Lab clearly had a bad case of the zoomies, because as soon as Daniel twisted his arm back, ready to throw, the dog zipped toward the far end of the yard.
This only made Daniel laugh harder as he turned and threw, and Scipio sprinted in pursuit of the ball.
“How is this helping?” Tean asked.
“He’s happy.”
“I know. I’m glad. But this isn’t— We haven’t even talked about anything. I don’t know what I’m supposed to say, and I don’t want him to ask me any questions.”
“He’s going to ask you about topping,” Jem said. “Like, one hundred percent.”
“Oh my gosh,” Tean whispered. He rubbed his eyes. Scipio was barking excitedly again, and in spite of himself, Tean smiled. Dropping his hands, he said, “He could play with any dog. He could hang out with friends back in South Jordan and play Xbox.”
Jem rubbed Tean’s knee, and the friction made a soft sound.
When Jem spoke, he said, “He feels like he doesn’t have any friends.
Not after coming out. Not after those men took him, and his whole life turned upside down.
Tean, he knows you. He trusts you. You’re the only gay adult he knows besides his dad, and he’s smart enough not to trust Ammon with this part of his life.
For God’s sake, if that’s not enough, you rescued him from those lunatics.
At some point, he might want to ask you questions.
But he might not. He might just want to be around someone he feels safe with.
That’s what kids need, you know? One adult they can trust. Someone who believes in them. ”
Fetch had turned into tug-of-war, with Scipio holding on to a ball and Daniel trying to pull it out of his mouth.
“You’re so good with him,” Tean finally said. “You’re so good with kids in general.”
“Uh, remember the last time I helped you babysit?”
A real laugh—full-bodied, deep—burst out of Tean.
“Okay,” Jem said sourly, “it’s not that funny.”
“I’m sorry,” Tean said. But a smile that was almost a grin lingered. “You were so good with Maeve and Milo.”
“Yeah, well, they’re almost as crazy as I am, so that was easy.”
“They love you.”
Jem shrugged.
In the distance, the sky was turning pink, and the shadows were running across the yard.
“I love them,” he said, and his voice was thick. “God, I don’t even know them, but they’re good kids, and they deserve better.”
“We’ve never talked about having children, have we?” And when Jem didn’t say anything, Tean asked, “Is that something you’d want?”
“I don’t know. I’m not really dad material.”
“Jem, there is literally no one I know who would be a better dad.”
A pained smile tugged at the corner of Jem’s mouth. His hand moved restlessly over Tean’s knee. “The world is so messed up. I don’t know if I want to bring a kid into this.”
“The world is always messed up,” Tean said quietly. “And there are kids who are already here.”
Daniel had gotten down on his knees and was wrestling with Scipio. The Lab’s tail was wagging so hard and fast that Tean suspected—if Daniel wasn’t careful—they’d have to deal with another life-threatening case of tail-eye before the evening was over.
“Maybe,” Jem said. His voice had that constricted quality again. “I hadn’t thought about that. About kids who need help.”
“You don’t have to make a decision now. I was just wondering.”