Thirty-Three
ADAK
The last few days of peace were needed even more than I had anticipated.
Oren looks more relaxed than I’ve ever seen him.
This is what safety looks like on him. He’s free to smile and laugh and wear those booty shorts or just underwear around without a second thought.
He’s not constantly worrying his lip or popping his ball bubbles when his phone is near.
In fact, he barely looks at his phone. There have been a handful of times it’s gone off and he’s received a text message from one of his friends.
But those messages always make him smile.
I’m not sure if he told them he didn’t want to know what was happening in the world, but maybe they figured that out for themselves.
I’ve not had any doubts that his friends are protective of Oren in their own way.
Even when there wasn’t anything they felt they could do.
I can only imagine how defeating it is when the supposed ‘good guys’ end up enabling your father’s abuse instead.
Who was Oren going to call? Who could his friends reach out to?
I’m not sure how I can create a space like this for Oren once we leave here, but I sure as fuck will try.
He deserves this calm, worry-free life. And I want to give it to him.
I want him to wake up every day and his only thought is what to wear.
What to eat. When to work—if he chooses to that day. What friends to play games with.
It’s been just us since we arrived almost five days ago. I’ve asked Rakesh and Egon to come up a day earlier than my sister, brother-in-law, and their other two kids. I thought it would be good for Oren to have a couple familiar faces first before he meets four new ones.
Because company is coming, he’s not wearing his sexy little booty shorts.
He’s wearing his leggings instead, which I’m not sure I find any less appealing.
My eyes keep straying to his ass in said leggings.
I’ve never considered myself an ass man.
Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever truly appreciated a man’s body before.
On some level, to find someone attractive, it’s driven by a sex drive that I just don’t have.
I can acknowledge someone’s beauty. And I recognize a good looking man when I see one.
But in all my thirty-nine years, I’ve never just stared at a man’s ass before.
I’ve never had the desire to touch one as much as I do Oren’s.
“You really like my pants, don’t you?” Oren asks.
I blink out of my thoughts to find that I’m yet again watching his ass while he’s standing over the sink washing some star fruit, pomegranate, and mango.
“Yes,” I say. “But to be fair, it’s your ass that I enjoy looking at.
Your little shorts and leggings do an amazing job of displaying it in such a way that I can’t stop looking.
” I pause to think about it. “Actually, when you walk around in only your underwear, I have the same problem.”
“So what I’m hearing,” Oren says, drying his hands and turning to face me, “is that you like my ass.”
A grin splits my face. Two weeks ago, he didn’t have the confidence to talk like this, never mind walk around so comfortably. “Definitely. Apparently, I’m suddenly an ass man.”
His smile is wide. “Well, Albie just sent me links to the sites where he orders all this. I may have bought a few more things.”
I cross the room and touch his face gently with the tips of my fingers. “As much as I like them, the most important thing is that you’re comfortable in them. Don’t dress for me, Oren.”
“I enjoy dressing for you,” he says, tossing the towel to the counter, which he misses by like eight inches and it falls to the floor. His arms wrap around my waist, and he presses against me. “I love how I feel when you look at me.”
“How’s that?” I ask, expecting the usual—sexy, hot, etc.
“Beautiful,” he says. “Wanted.” Oren stares into my eyes as I grip him tightly. “Like I’m not invisible anymore.”
Sighing, I press my forehead to his. “All those things, yes. But want to know what else I see?”
“What?”
“I see a man who’s becoming confident—not just in his appearance but in himself.
I see someone who’s finally letting the hidden strength that’s kept him going all these years shine through as he more and more expresses likes and dislikes.
An intelligent man, no longer curling in on himself to be smaller and unseen, but standing tall and making sure those around him take notice.
Weeks ago, I saw the moment that you made the decision that you were no longer a victim.
You were still scared, still unsure and shy, but you would never allow yourself to be put in that position again.
Since then, that determination only grows every single day.
Your father saw it. Your brothers saw it.
Even without seeing you. You refused to let them take control again, and now you hold that control in an iron grip. ”
“You see a lot,” he says, his voice breathy and eyes sparkling.
“That’s not even a quarter of what I see, but most of all, I see the man I’m going to spend the rest of my life with. Who I will grow old with and love to my very last breath. I see a man I love more than I ever thought I could love someone.”
His eyes shine and fill with moisture. “Don’t make me cry,” he says, voice wobbly. “Your nephew will be here soon and I don’t want to be a red blotchy mess.”
I smile and kiss his lips softly. Over and over and over. He sighs, wrapping around me. “You know? All those things you see are because of you.”
“No—”
“Yes!” Oren insists. “I think we both know I’d still be there if I hadn’t met you.
If you hadn’t picked me out of the thousands of people and taken a chance on me.
I wouldn’t have fought back, Adak. I wouldn’t have run.
Even when I didn’t know where I was running to, I was running to you.
I wanted to be loved by you, and I wanted to love you unconditionally in return. ”
“I think we should come back,” Egon whispers.
Oren winces, his face scrunching and turning pink as he hides it in my neck.
“Then we should have backed out silently, so he didn’t hear you,” Rake says, not whispering. “Sorry, Uncle.”
I chuckle, hugging my love tightly. “It’s fine. We’re just making a fruit salad. We have nachos ready for the oven if you’re ready for lunch.”
“I’m starving,” Egon says as he comes into the kitchen. “Want some help?”
I kiss Oren’s cheek as he backs away, giving a beaming Egon a shy smile as he returns to the fruits. “Bring the plates and drinks to the round table.”
He nods, gathering the dishes and heads out of the room. I hug my nephew and he smiles. He looks more relaxed today than he had the last time I was over for dinner. His plaguing thoughts must have subsided for now.
As I tend to the nachos, preparing the toppings while the oven preheats, Rake joins Oren at the sink and begins cutting the fruit.
I try not to watch them too obviously, but while they’re working in silence, I can’t help but smile.
Rake isn’t the chattiest man, but it means a lot that he appears to like Oren.
We eat at the table over light conversation.
Egon is tickled when Oren can keep up with his hockey talk and has a lot to say that I think maybe he holds back because while Rake knows hockey, he’s not a huge sports guy.
He likes athleticism—the science behind training different muscle groups to perform at their peak.
But he doesn’t give two fucks about any particular sport.
There’s a light dusting of snow outside. Since we’re high in the Rockies, snow is still somewhat regular. It’s not unheard of to be caught in a mountain snowstorm at the end of May. We’ve been lucky so far and the weather has been moderate with bright sun for at least part of the day.
In the distance, we can see the lifts moving where the trails of the closest resort are still packed with snow. When it’s dark, we can see skiers moving down the trails with lights on their boards or sticks. During daylight hours, it’s the view that keeps you looking.
Conversation comes to a natural lull as we take in the view from our vantage point.
“When I was younger, I used to ask to go snowboarding,” Egon says wistfully.
“We can snowboard,” Rake says.
I try not to make my smile too obvious. There’s not a thing my nephew wouldn’t do for his husband.
Egon’s smile at his remark is soft, but he’s still staring almost absently at the slopes. A minute passes and he sighs. “I sometimes think that for every bad family, there is a good family to balance them out, you know?”
I’m not entirely sure what he’s thinking about. I glance at Rake, but he’s watching Egon intently. Egon shifts his gaze to Oren, and this is the first time he’s brought up anything concerning Oren’s family since they showed up the evening of Jessup’s first online foray into spreading slander.
“But now I wonder if maybe there’s a good family for every two bad ones,” he says.
Oren’s smile is small and sympathetic. He nods. “Maybe.”
Egon watches Oren for a minute. “I talked to my mother the other day. We don’t talk often.
Without outright saying so, it’s clear I’ve never done anything she’s approved of.
I’m a huge disappointment because I chose not to go pro.
But one thing she said in our awkward fumbling for conversation was that she hopes I stay away from the gay player on my team ‘just in case.’ ”
Oren frowns, his eyebrows scrunching. “Just in case what?”
Egon shrugs. “Just in case homosexuality is contagious? In case he hits on me?”
Obviously confused, Oren glances at Rakesh and back.