19. Home Sweet Home
HOME SWEET HOME
The realtor Isabel was using to sell her house, a tall man with sparse, grayish-white hair and high, gaunt cheekbones, met Jake at the house at noon on a Monday.
He wore a suit that, while not cheap, was ill fitting in the shoulders and made him look a bit like a clown, and he stood with a back so straight, it made Jake’s own back twinge just to look at.
“Hello,” he said, his voice booming even outside in the front yard. “I’m Carson Crowley.”
“Jake Wynn,” Jake said, accepting Carson’s hand with its spindly fingers. “Isabel’s nephew.”
“You’re the one I talked to last week, right?”
“That’d be me. Come on inside; Isabel’s waiting in the living room.”
Carson stepped into the house with a critical eye, his gaze immediately darting from the door to the light fixture to the walls to the floor. He didn’t even notice Isabel standing there patiently, ready to greet him.
“This is my aunt,” Jake finally said, “Isabel Haver.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Crowley.” Isabel smiled.
“Oh, yes, hello, Mrs. Haver. Please call me Carson.”
“And you can call me Isabel.”
“So this is the house, hm?”
“Yes; we’ve lived here almost forty years now. Well, my husband passed away last year.”
“Sorry to hear that, ma’am.”
“Thank you. It’s a great loss. Jake, would you take Carson on a quick tour of the house? You can tell him what we’ve done to the place since you got here better than I can.”
“Sure.” Jake led Carson into the kitchen.
The man hadn’t taken his shoes off when he got in, so the soles of his brogues tapped on the floor uncomfortably.
“All the appliances are about a decade old, but they work great. I repainted almost every room in the house except for the bathroom and one of the bedrooms, including this kitchen.”
Carson nodded slowly. “Nice color,” he said. “Everyone likes yellow.”
“I don’t know about that,” Jake replied, “but it’s the same color it was before—just fresh.”
“Did you do the painting yourself?” Carson pressed a hand to the wall.
“Sure did.”
“I see.”
Jake glanced back through the kitchen entryway. Isabel was running a rag along the surfaces in the living room, as if Carson hadn’t already seen what little dust had gathered there in the days since she last cleaned. “Should we take a look at the bedrooms now?” he suggested.
“Just a minute,” Carson said.
He opened the fridge and looked inside. Jake was glad Isabel wasn’t in the room when he did that, or she would have had a fit.
The only things worth judging were the containers half-filled with leftovers that sat haphazardly stacked on the middle shelf and a half-drunk bottle of water Jake had thrown in there weeks ago and forgotten about till now, but that was enough for Isabel.
Carson opened the oven next, then the cabinets, and then he tapped his fingers on the countertop.
“Granite?”
“Yep.”
“Good choice.”
“I think it’s just what the house already had when they bought it.”
“It hasn’t been replaced?”
Jake shrugged. “I don’t think so. Why would it be? It’s not damaged.”
The grunt of acknowledgment that left Carson’s mouth made Jake’s chest tighten.
He marched him back out of the kitchen, through the living room, and into the hallway to look at the bedrooms before Isabel could decide she wanted to tag along too.
She didn’t need to deal with this man. No one deserved that, not even Robbie.
Jake cringed. Why did Robbie have to pop up at every single waking minute? He was still supposed to be avoiding thoughts of him for both their own good, not that he’d ever managed that successfully.
“Is this the main bedroom?” Carson asked, pushing open Isabel’s bedroom door.
“Uh, yeah.” Jake stepped in front of the open doorway to partially block Carson’s view. “This is the biggest bedroom.”
“That’s nice enough. May I go in?”
“You’ll have to ask Isabel first—it’s her room.”
“Just show me the next one, then.”
Carson looked a little annoyed, but Jake tried to ignore that. He had to be used to people being reluctant to show off their private spaces by now, and if he wasn’t, then that was his problem.
They went to the other bedroom; the guest room that had become Jake’s. “This is where I’ve been staying,” Jake said. “It’s a little small, but it’s a nice room. It would make a great kid’s bedroom or office.”
“Mm.” Carson walked over to the window and pulled the curtains open. “A view of the backyard?”
“Better than a view of the neighbor’s house.” Jake chuckled.
“Indeed.”
Isabel must have finished her impromptu cleaning, because she appeared at the doorway, a hopeful smile on her face. “How’s it going?”
“We just have the mudroom and the bathroom left,” Jake told her.
“Let’s start with the bathroom,” Carson said.
The longer the tour continued, the more Jake saw the house through Isabel’s eyes.
It wasn’t big, but it was cozy, and it was home.
It was difficult to be objective when you had connections to the house, and an outsider like Carson Crowley clearly didn’t understand that, much like Jake hadn’t when he first arrived.
No longer was Jake’s most recent memory when he was a bored ten-year-old wishing he could be at camp with his friends instead.
Now he saw the home-cooked meals Isabel took great care in preparing for Jake when he was busy working on the house or running errands all day.
He saw the children playing across the street on their last day of summer break, their laughs carrying around the entire neighborhood.
He saw the mail carrier slipping hand-written letters into mailboxes, leaving behind pieces of stories Jake would never be privy to.
He saw Robbie lying in bed next to him, his eyes fluttering open to meet his gaze in the early morning light.
Carson flipped the bathroom light on. It flickered for a moment, and Jake silently cursed himself for forgetting to tighten the bulb last night, as Isabel had asked.
“Lighthouses and boats? That’s… quaint. Now, this is the only bathroom in the house, correct?”
“It is,” Isabel confirmed. “I don’t mind leaving some of the themed decor either. I’d rather not bring much with me when I move.”
“Oh, that won’t be necessary. In fact, I wonder what you think of maybe replacing that wallpaper trim?”
Isabel and Jake exchanged glances. “We replaced the worst parts fairly recently,” Jake said. “There are still a couple of pieces peeling up, but I’ll tack those down before you get photos.”
“I meant with something else,” Carson clarified, as though it were a simple misunderstanding. “Maybe a nice floral pattern, or even nothing at all.”
“Bare wall?” Isabel looked horrified, and Jake felt horrified on her behalf, even if he secretly didn’t care for the ocean theme himself. Like the rest of the house, it had grown on him, though it was still his least favorite room simply because of its ostentation.
“Painted, but yes.”
“We’re not doing that,” Jake said. “The bathroom stays how it is.”
“Jake is right,” Isabel said firmly. “I’m not changing the bathroom before the house sells. Whoever buys it can do as they wish, but this is still my house. If you can’t understand that, perhaps we should find someone else to help us sell it.”
“Yeah, maybe we should.” Jake crossed his arms, and the brief widening of Carson’s eyes told him that the realtor understood he’d taken his criticism a step too far.
“No, no, the bathroom is fine.” He raised his hands in the air, whether in fear or in an offering of peace, Jake didn’t much care. “All I’m saying is that you might attract the, shall we say, wrong demographic.”
“What, retired tourists?” Jake kept his arms crossed.
“Retired tourists who don’t care as much about the town as you do.” Carson leaned forward slightly. “I love this place too, Isabel.”
“Mrs. Haver.”
He gave a queasy smile. “And I want the next family who lives here to respect it just as much, too.”
“You’ll find the right buyers, I’m sure,” Isabel said stiffly. “Please, Mr. Crowley, all I ask is that you respect my wishes. I don’t care if I’m losing out on potential money. I’m selling on my terms, and my terms alone.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Carson said. He clasped his hands behind his back now, avoiding touching anything in the bathroom or the hallway as they filed out, as though the house would burn him out of spite. “I’ll be in touch with you, Jake,” he said at the front door, “unless there are any problems with that.”
“None with me,” Jake said. “You have my number.”
“Excellent. Well, I look forward to working with you both to sell this lovely house.”
Isabel smiled politely. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Crowley.” She waited until he was long gone before she dropped the fake smile. “I wonder if we shouldn’t have gone with Candy Birdman after all,” she said to Jake.
“He’ll be fine,” Jake said. “I’ll make sure of it.”
“I know you will, sweetie. I only wish you didn’t have to bear the burden of that… that man.”
Jake pursed his lips as he held back a smirk. He knew what Isabel wanted to call him. “It’s not a big deal to me, I swear.”
Isabel patted his arm. “You’re an angel. Now, how about I get started on lunch while you fix the light and the wallpaper in the bathroom?”
Robbie was, as usual, already at the beach when Jake arrived.
He was wearing a supple leather jacket instead of one of his pretty sweaters, and jeans instead of immaculately pressed trousers.
The jeans still looked perfectly tailored to him, though, and Jake wondered how many pairs of his own jeans he could buy for Robbie’s one.
“Hey,” he called so as not to scare Robbie as he gazed out at the sea.
“Oh, hey,” Robbie said, looking back. His eyes had a faraway glaze to them, but they cleared up as Jake walked closer. “How did the meeting with the realtor go?”
“You remembered that was today?”
“Of course.”
“Eh, it went fine.” Jake swatted his hand limply through the air. “The man’s a total prick, but he gets that Isabel’s not going to play his little games now, at least.”
“A prick in what way?” Robbie asked. “I mean, a prick by your standards, or actually obnoxious?”
“He’s plenty obnoxious,” Jake said. “You’d hate him too. He wanted Aunt Isabel to change the bathroom to make it more palatable.”
“The ocean bathroom?”
“The one and only.”
“No.” Robbie pulled back, his mouth agape.
“Oh, yeah. Like I said, he’s a prick.”
“At least you were there to back her up.”
“Honestly, Isabel doesn’t need backing up, but I’m glad I was there too.
I get the feeling he’s the kind of guy who has trouble listening to women until another man defends them.
I’m still half-tempted to call the other realtor we were considering, but I think Isabel’s committed now.
She doesn’t wanna prolong the inevitable any more than she has to. ”
“It really is happening, isn’t it?” Robbie asked.
“Sure is, Robbie. Before you know it, I’ll be out of your hair.”
“Nothing more than a memory, eh?”
“A good memory, I hope.”
Robbie smiled softly. “I wish you didn’t have to go so quickly.”
“Come on, Robbie, it’s not quick. I’ll have been here for almost six months if I leave when I’m hoping to.”
“It just won’t be the same without you.”
“What, volunteering?”
“Everything.”
Jake looked down at the sand. A little sand crab crawled across the ground, nearly hitting his shoes before correcting course and going around. Its grayish brown shell gleamed in the setting sun before it burrowed back under the sand, disappearing entirely. Jake was left staring at nothing at all.
“I have to leave,” he said quietly. “It was never the plan to stay here, and after my aunt sells the house…”
“I know.” Robbie reached out a hand, taking Jake’s in his.
His palm was warm in the cool evening breeze, and Jake realized only now just how cold his own hand had grown since he got out of the car.
They were safe here—safe from prying eyes, from the world outside that they were trying to avoid. Robbie could be himself, and Jake…
“You’ve changed me,” he told Robbie. “I hate to admit it, but I’m not the same guy that I was a few months ago.”
“Is that a bad thing?” Robbie asked, his fingers tightening around Jake’s hand. If it were up to Jake, he would never let go, and Robbie seemed to sense that as they stood there together.
“I don’t think so.” Jake finally looked up.
He searched Robbie’s face for any indication that this revelation was news to him too, but after the last couple of months, he was pretty sure Robbie had noticed the changes well before Jake was ever ready to.
“I’ve never been more comfortable with anyone else in my life.
I don’t know why, but you’re different.”
“I’m different.” Robbie smiled, but he shook his head.
“I’m just an average, selfish guy, Jake.
I like you because I like how you make me feel, and I want you to stick around because I’m not ready to lose that.
We’re not meant to be together forever, you and I, and that’s okay. It’s what you want anyway.”
“Yeah, it is.” Jake was painfully aware of how hollow those words rang as he said them, but Robbie didn’t call him out. What good would it do? They couldn’t be anything beyond what they already were. That, apart from everything else, hadn’t changed one bit.
Robbie took a step closer, letting his lips brush against Jake’s jawline. “Come to my house tonight,” he whispered.
Jake’s heart thrummed against his ribcage. “Are you sure?” He tensed as Robbie’s breath tickled the underside of his neck, his fingers tracing along his chin.
“As sure as I’ll ever be.”
“I would love that. But I don’t know where you live, Robbie.”
“I’ll take you there.”
Jake nodded wordlessly. He didn’t know what to say, really.
He’d been hoping for this moment for weeks, and now that it was finally here, he realized he wasn’t nearly as prepared as he thought.
He feared that seeing exactly how Robbie lived would change how he felt about him, but there was an even greater fear nagging at the back of his mind.
What if he could never live up to what Robbie wanted him to be?
What if he regretted letting Jake into his home?
There was only one way to find out, and as Robbie made his way back to the parking lot toward Jake’s car, Jake forced himself to stop worrying for a minute and just enjoy the moment. This was the kind of stuff he loved: a night with a hot guy.
Robbie. It was a night with Robbie.
And that was even better.