27 gray’s interlude #2
“Doctors like to talk in circles, but I think he’s going to be fine. It sounds like most of his injuries are bumps and bruises, and the only one that’s concerning is how hard he hit his head. He was bleeding pretty good. They did a CT and told me over the phone it wasn’t too bad,
but they need to monitor him. Honestly, I think the thing they’re most worried about is his heat.”
I notice that Atlas doesn’t choke on the word or look especially distressed at the idea.
I didn’t realize how much tension I was still holding around him until he says it, which makes me continue to relax little by little.
It’s pretty clear he loves his brother for who he actually is, not some idealized version of him with “bad” parts to be cut out or burned away.
“I filled them in on what I knew about his presentation and the drugs, and they all looked pretty freaked out. Not that I had many details. Tanner likes to keep that shit close to the chest, of course.
They gave him some drugs to knock him out so his body wouldn’t be fighting the heat while he’s trying to heal the head injury. We’ll know more once he wakes up in a day or two, but it sounds like there’s not too much to worry about.”
His voice tells me he’s absolutely worried, as am I. But talking about it isn’t going to help either of us.
I let my gaze fall to my lap, tracing my good fingers over my swollen knuckles and trying not to wince from the pain as I look at them. I’ve definitely had worse injuries. Much worse. But something about the circumstances surrounding this one is making it seem all the more tender.
Atlas flicks his gaze from the road for a second to look at my hand and then lets out a low whistle.
“Maybe we should get your hand checked out. I gotta say, I’ve never seen someone get one over on the old man quite like that. But the way Dad always talked about you, you were practically a god, so I’m not too surprised.”
He pauses, but I don’t know what to say to that right now. Every avenue for response is so loaded with emotion that I risk losing my temper again, when right now my self-control feels like all I have left.
“Do you want me to take you to the ER?” he asks, but I shake my head.
“No, I’ll just ice it when I get home. I’m sure it’s fine.”
I’m not really sure, but I know that being in the hospital right now, so close to Tanner but unable to see him, would make this even harder.
“Are you going back to bail out your father after you drop me off?”
Atlas snorts, which gives me all the information I need.
“Fuck no. He can rot.” There’s a long pause where I can practically hear Atlas’s thoughts churning, and he takes a few deep breaths before he continues.
“Look, you know what he’s like. And I was just as sucked in as my brothers, once upon a time. Don’t think I’m somehow better than that. I lived my whole life to please him, and the only ways I ever disobeyed him was to intervene when he got on Tanner’s case too much. But after the Army…”
He drifts off, not really saying anything, but we share enough life experience for me to fill in the blanks.
“Anyway,” Atlas continues. “I can see through his shit now. Or at least, I thought I could. I knew everything Tanner was talking about was bad and I definitely wanted to keep them apart, but I wasn’t ready to accept how far Dad would go. When I saw Tanner, though, I knew I’d underestimated him.
Both of them, I guess.”
He trails off again, and this time doesn’t continue. He doesn’t need to. We’re both thinking the same thing. I underestimated Frank’s bigotry as well. Like a fool. And I left him alone, too.
I hated visiting him and pretending to still be his friend, so I let us drift apart. And in that absence, he stewed in his fucking hatred, keeping it warm and dark inside of him so it could multiply like a parasite. Biding his time. Waiting for his son to come home.
Like always, Tanner was the one to pay the price.
I’m still chewing over everything in my mind when we pull up at my place. Someone shut the door behind us, at least. But I’m sure my neighbors will be dining out on this gossip for the rest of their lives.
My parents always prided themselves on being “normal”. I thought that was boring, but maybe they were right. They’d be shocked as hell if they could see what became of their only son.
They’d still love me, though, which is something I’m sad Tanner has never really experienced. I feel a brief pang of grief, which happens sometimes. It’s been so long it feels more like an echo of grief than anything else, but it’s still there.
“Thank you, Atlas,” I say when the truck comes to a stop. But I hesitate, turning to ask him one more question.
“Tanner told me that he didn’t let you know anything about us—” mostly because Tanner is still convincing himself there is no us, but I don’t talk about that part, “—but you don’t seem that shocked.”
I guess it’s not really a question, but Atlas still mulls it over.
He reaches into the center console and pulls out an American Spirit and a lighter, rolling down both our windows before he lights it and takes a long drag.
When he speaks, he holds my gaze though, and I don’t see any judgment in his eyes.
“I guess I wasn’t really surprised. I knew he was keeping something from me. He wouldn’t let me set him up and he was smiling all goofy and shit at his phone a lot, so it wasn’t hard to put two and two together. If it had been a girl, I think he would have just told me.
But him getting all worked up over a girl would have surprised me more, anyway. Tanner’s always been good at pretending. I think he might even have himself convinced, to be honest. But I have never seen him look at a girl with anything other than a passing glance,
but he’s eye-fucked every hot waiter or delivery man we’ve had since he was twelve. He’s not subtle, my brother. Our other brothers are just too self-centered and dense to notice.”
He takes another drag and watches me, waiting for a response.
It feels ridiculous to get a little thrill when I think about Tanner smiling down at his phone as he texts me, though. Not when he’s lying in a hospital bed. I push the feeling down to tear apart later.
“And you don’t think I’m too old for him?” I follow up, scared to hear the answer.
Atlas flicks ash out the window and shakes his head. He spits out a little stray piece of tobacco before he speaks, like this is the most casual conversation he’s ever had and we have all the time in the world.
If there’s another difference between him and Tanner other than size, it’s this. Atlas is chill. He’s calm down to his bones, while Tanner carries himself with this perpetual tension that I’ve only been able to unknot once or twice, and only then for a few minutes.
“It’s a little weird, but I can see why it works. Tanner’s always needed that paternal hand, not to put too fine a point on it. Frank sure as hell wasn’t going to be that for him. It makes sense for him to want it in a relationship. Someone older, stable,
able to give him what he didn’t have growing up.”
He takes another drag, but keeps talking before I can respond.
“It might be a cliche, but it’s a cliche for a reason. From what I can tell, you seem to have your shit together. And it’s obvious how much you care about him. I don’t really care whose childhood trauma got you both to this point, as long as you’re giving him what he needs now.
Coming from the right place, y’know.”
I nod slowly, letting the words sink in. Atlas speaks with a real drawl, stronger than Tanner, and he chooses his words with intention. I’m searching for the hidden disapproval in what he’s saying, but I can’t find any. If anything, he’s making me feel better about the whole thing.
I’ve told myself over and over that this is temporary. I’m here for Tanner because he needs me, not because we’re ever going to be together.
But maybe he needs me in a way that doesn’t have to have an expiration date. Because I sure as shit am starting to need him.
If it works, it works. I’m not stepping away until Tanner wants me too.
With new resolve, I shake Atlas’s hand a second time and thank him for the ride before getting out of the truck. He tells me he’ll keep me in the loop about Tanner, and as soon as he can have visitors, he’ll make sure I’m allowed in.
“It’s what Tanner would want,” he tells me, right before he drives away.