Chapter Two #2
I can’t help but let out a sarcastic laugh.
“Yes, I make it a point of getting caught up in fires solely so I can be rescued by hot firefighters.”
She giggles, and a strange sort of comfort blooms between us.
“You know it might be better if you just get stuck in a tree instead,” she says with a laugh that borders on a snort and I smile.
At least she has a sense of humor.
Even as a teenager, I never felt the tingly butterfly feeling in my stomach or my dick when I kissed or messed around with girls.
It was sort of like homework; something I had to do, or act or pretend I was into.
I never had to pretend with the asshole football players or the conservative, closeted guys I snuck around with or thought of when I needed to get off.
It was different. Girls I could hang out with and gawk at the football players and cowboys at the bar with, even if they didn’t know I was looking, too.
Or that I might’ve gotten my ass pounded by the men they were gawking at.
Still, secrets or not, I could laugh with girls and have fun with them, even if that fun was short-lived sometimes. And I realize as I listen to Lacey’s snorting laugh, that I haven’t had that in a long time.
A friend. A real one.
My mom truly was my best friend. We did everything together since the day I was born. It was me and her against the world, and I loved that. I never felt like it wasn’t enough. She never made me feel like I was unlucky.
In fact, she made me feel like I was the luckiest son in the world to have a mom like her.
When she found out I was having sex—because she’d come home early from her shift at the diner to find me getting railed by the damn quarterback on our couch—she didn’t freak out.
Not like I did. No, instead, she just made an appointment to take me to the doctor, and made sure I knew what PrEp was, and told me to always use a condom and make sure I get tested regularly.
That was it.
Obviously the guys I was messing around with knew I was gay, but being as most of them were older men who were married or guys my age who were still in the closet or worse—experimenting—I didn’t exactly have to worry about anyone letting the cat out of the bag.
Keeping secrets is just easier, I guess.
But something tells me I can trust Lacey with my deepest, darkest secrets.
“Maybe. I’ll have to try that next time,” I say with a half-smile as I turn to look at the house. Or what’s left of it.
A heavy sigh escapes me. The remains of the house call to me like a howling wolf.
I can’t tear my gaze away for long; I keep glancing back at it like somehow it’s going to suddenly be the house I remember and not the unrecognizable shell in front of me.
Like all of this is just some weird sleep-deprived nightmare I’m going to wake up from.
The crowd is getting smaller as it gets darker, and there’s barely anyone left out here at this point.
“Connie talked about you all the time,” Lacey says softly.
My throat gets tight from her words. She gives me a warm smile, offering her hand.
“Really?” I can’t hide the way my voice shakes. Mom said I should have called Gram more often, and I should have.
But I was so focused on Evan—on being in a relationship—that I didn’t pay much attention to anything else.
Or anyone else, really.
If Evan was happy, I was happy. I didn’t know it was a lie.
Looking back at the house I spent most of my childhood, what was supposed to be my fresh start, I can’t help but feel the sharp sting of guilt.
“Really. I know I don’t know you, but… I feel like I do in a way,” she says. “I’m sorry we’re meeting under such awful circumstances.”
“Me, too.” I nod as flashes of the fire, the smoke, the sirens replay in my mind. My thoughts wander to the firefighter AJ, appearing to me like some shadowed angel dressed in heavy yellow and black. I keep replaying it all in my mind. And almost as if she can read my mind, Lacey speaks.
“AJ is one hell of a firefighter, I will give him that.” She smirks. “And he’s definitely hot, too.” She giggles and my cheeks flush at her words. They are oddly comforting.
But reality is a bitch, and it hits me like a damn rock, ruining the moment.
“Where the fuck am I going to go now?” I mutter, hanging my head in defeat.
“I don’t have the money for an extended hotel stay, and my stuff was—” I look up at the remains of the house.
At my beat-up Honda parked just down the street.
I guess I could sleep in my car until I can figure something out, but…
I shake my head.
“Fucking hell.” I sniffle, trying to push back the tears that are trying to escape.
“I might… have a place you could stay,” she says carefully.
I turn to look at her, noticing the way her blue eyes sparkle.
She gives me a soft look, and my stomach ties into a knot.
I don’t want to get too hopeful; in my life I’ve learned it's best not to expect or even wish for things.
The universe will always find some way to pull the rug out from under me. Besides, I barely know Lacey.
But she was close to Gram.
Which in a way, feels right even though I can’t explain it.
“Lacey, I—”
“My roommate moved out last month.” She shrugs. “I haven’t had time to put out a post because I’ve been working back-to-back shifts and…” She sighs. “It’s not much, but it’s a bed, and it’s open. You can stay as long as you need.”
“How much?” I ask, swallowing down the lump in my throat.
I had hoped an inheritance or insurance money or something would have been at least enough of a cushion to get me started on renovations and fixing up the house, but now there’s definitely not going to be enough money to keep me going for a month or two and rebuild after something like this.
Especially if I can’t find a job immediately.
“We can figure those details out later. Once you get some rest, and that is doctor’s orders.”
She stands up, offering her hand to help me stand.
I sigh, hanging my head low before I get up, knowing she’s right.
I do need rest.
Real rest.
“I can’t just stay in your spare room for free. You don’t even know me.”
I look at Lacey, at her friendly eyes and soft smile. “I mean, we just met. I could totally be a total serial killer.”
She giggles again. “I’m pretty sure you aren’t a serial killer.”
I scoff at her dismissiveness. “You don’t know that. I could be hiding bodies in the basement of this house, and you wouldn’t know any different.”
Lacey laughs, and her smile is genuine. Warm. It almost reminds me of Gram’s.
I should tell her no. Thank her for her kindness, and get in my car and get the hell out of Dodge. This would be the perfect chance, right?
Wipe my hands of everything and just… disappear.
I don’t need to fuck things up more than they already are. I am Mister Unlucky, after all.
“You’re right,” she says, and I sit up a little straighter, but she continues.
“Guess I’ll just have to trust you.”
I look back at her, my eyebrows furrowing. I know I don’t have much of an option, otherwise, and she does, too. I also know she’s right—I’m fucking exhausted right now. I’m tired of fighting when I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be fighting for anymore.
“Okay. Just for tonight, though.”
This is a bad idea. I just know it.
But if there’s one thing I am really good at, it’s making bad decisions.
I just pray that I can survive this one in more ways than one.