38. Thirty-four
Thirty-four
Beau
J ason, my OG best friend forever, elbowed his way to the coffee. The commotion caused me to spill mine.“Did you wear that clean shirt for me?”
“Shit, bestie.” I wiped my shirt. “It was a clean shirt. I’m trying to make an impression here.”
“A questionable one?” My sister goaded, sipping her coffee with a loud slurp. Such an animal. “On you for hogging the counter space.” Kate sat at the table with her eyes on the newspaper.
“You want to talk about hogging shit? You’re hogging my best friend!” I quickly stepped in her direction, but Jason’s arm swung out to block me from making a grave error.
“Dude, do you like your balls?” he warned. “Let her take the win.”
Kate smirked, still slurping that coffee.
“Besides,” he continued, “you’ve spent all your nights out, Beau-Bear. Peppering us in when you’re not banging your—”
“Stop talking!” Kate slammed her hands over her ears.
She got up from the table so fast she knocked over her chair. “Gossiping, oversharing, codependent…” she muttered under her breath as she hurried out of the kitchen.
“Tonight,” he said as Kate stomped away. “Let’s grab a beer at The Pub. You’re mine.” He grinned, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “I’m going to go overshare my dick with your sister.”
“Gross,” I spat, my face twisted in disgust.
He shrugged. “I set a line years ago. You crossed it. This is where we are.”
“Yeah, fair.” I sighed, shaking my head as he jogged upstairs and passed my dad coming down. Jason barely squeezed by.
My dad shuffled into the kitchen, mumbling a greeting and frowning at an empty coffee pot. I handed him my mug. “Here.”
“Thanks, Beau,” he murmured, sitting at the table with a sigh. He rubbed his weary face, blinking a few times. With dark circles under his eyes and worry lines spread over his forehead, he’d seen better days.
I slid into the seat beside him. “You okay?”
He waved me off and sipped his coffee. “Fine, son.”
A heaviness settled deep in my chest. I hated seeing him stressed out. Already old, he looked damn near ancient.
I chewed on the inside of my cheek, wishing I could take something off his plate for once. Shit with cars, I couldn’t help him with work. My depressed bank account showed my ineptitude for bookkeeping. I couldn’t help him with his business.
Earning hardly above minimum wage, I couldn’t even shove money over so he could take a vacation that wasn’t the fishing cabin or a run to pick up parts in another city.
The best I gave my dad was solid company and inspiration for a few jokes when he teased me about my eyebrows. Grabbing beers at The Pub cheered him up, so I guess there was that.
Wished I was more like Jake, protective and providing for those he loved. The man could shape a pile of shit into a masterpiece and convince you it was art.
He and Fallon didn’t have much. With emotionally distant families, they chose each other and made a life for themselves. Jake would do whatever it took to make it a good one. He’d have been in L.A., working double shifts as a dishwasher to make his rent. My solution was couch surfing and lying, like that made me a man worthy of being by his side.
“You’re up!” my mom said, rounding the corner from the living room with thick sprigs of rosemary bunched in her fist. She pilfered from the neighbor’s garden again.
“I’m making rosemary lemonade, Beau-Bear—your favorite. I just wanted to say thank you for helping at the church on Sundays when you’d rather not. While I wish there were no need for a strike, I thank the stars that it gave us your company.”
She set the sprigs on a dishtowel, washing her hands and humming. “You’re such a loving and kind soul, Beau. Thoughtful. One of the most honest and hard-working people—”
“I lied,” I blurted. Sighing, it surprised me to find relief in that breath.“I lied. I have nothing to return to. I never had a movie with Chris Hemsworth, just a man who resembled him if you squint hard enough. But I’ve been wiped off that, and the project was pushed out. I’m broke because I haven’t worked regular gigs in years, and that won’t change with a busted shoulder that’s not improving.”
My forehead clunked to the table as I mumbled against the wood. “I don’t live in a house in the hills. I don’t live in a house—everything I own is in the trunk of my car. I’ve been lying since my accident because I don’t want you to know how pathetic I am.”
“I’ll take that salon money. Thank you very much.” Completely ignoring me, my mom held her palm out for my dad, who reached into his pocket and muttered under his breath. She kissed his cheek. “Told you I’d get him to drop the act.”
I gawked at them, my eyes wide enough to roll out of my skull. “Excuse me?”
“Oh, honey,” she tutted, her mouth turned downward with pity. “We’re not stupid, blind, or without internet. We’re aware things haven’t been going well. I told your dad guilt would override pride once the strike ended, but you surprised us, clinging to it with a death grip. He couldn’t get the truth. I bet him I could.”
She clapped her hands giddily and shoved the money into her pocket.
“How—”
My dad shook his head. “Next time you claim a mansion in the hills, ensure your mailing address lines up.”
Sliding into the chair on my other side, my mom patted my hand. “You haven’t been happy for a while, honey. Try as you might to hide that, we see you.” She gave a sad smile, the kind that made it hard for me to swallow. “We didn’t know just how bad, though. Not until you showed up. I wish you’d have told us.”
I scratched my head, glancing between them. “Did you tell Kate to play nice? She never said a thing.”
A genuine miracle that she’d gone along with the gag and not cracked. Guess I loved her more than I thought.
“Goodness, no!” She laughed as my dad chuckled and sipped his coffee with an amused glint in his eyes. “You were already getting your butt kicked. She’d torture you ruthlessly. Seemed best to wait for you to remember we love and support you, Beau. We’re here to help.”
My dad’s tired and worn eyes glanced at my mom. “Have you considered what your plan is?”
Oof, here we go.
“I was thinking about staying for a bit, seeing how things go with a… sort of dating situation, I guess, with Fallon”—I paused—“and Jake.”
My mom’s face turned about four shades of red as she held in a squeal. My dad patted my shoulder. Man, how I love them. Why did I ever lie to the very people whose love never wavered? Such a dipshit.
“It’s still new, all right? Don’t get excited. There are some things to work out.” I rubbed my jaw, staring at the table. “Since I’m being honest anyway, I don’t know what to do. I don’t know where I fit in.”
Life, I implied, but my heart thundered with a heavy anthem. Love, love, love , it sang. How would I fit into any of this?
My mom lifted her chin. “You decide where you want to be and carve out your place. Simple as that.”
“It was my dream to stunt,” I said quietly, spreading my fingers and flexing them against the table.
She rose from her seat and resumed her work in the kitchen, her back to me. “You did stunt, Beau. You lived your dream, even when it nearly killed you.”
Those tense shoulders reminded me of Sasha’s frantic three a.m. phone call to tell my parents I’d been rushed into surgery to repair my hip and shoulder. It hadn’t just been hard for me.
“You lived your dream, and you should be proud, but it didn’t make you any happier. Not all dreams are forever.” She wiped her hands on her slacks and reached for lemons in the fruit bowl.
My dad got up, set his mug in the sink, and kissed my mom’s temple. “Not everything is meant to last.”
That unsettled feeling didn’t ease during my breakfast with Fallon and Jake at The Diner. Fallon sat beside me this time, her hand on my leg as Jake chatted without a searing death glare. Relaxed, comfortable.
Mostly.
Curious eyes lingered on our table, a few breathy huffs from some of those church gals my mom loved so much as they enjoyed an after-service meal, but screw them.
My mom loved Jesus and queer people. They could, too.
Angrily picking at my food, I tried not to let it ruin my mood. It did, though, and when I said goodbye to them and headed to help my mom move more craft supplies down from the church attic to the basement, I grumbled sarcastic comments about being an abomination.
My mom, thanking me for my help, sent me on my way with a hug and an encouraging arm squeeze.
By the time Jason dragged me out of the house, I’d slapped on a smile and delivered some classic and inappropriate jokes while drinking and pretending like life swept over me with a gentle breeze and not leveled me with a steamroller. Confessing to my parents should have relieved me, but that unease didn’t abate.
“Not everything is meant to last.”
When I spotted Jake entering The Pub behind Adam, my shoulders relaxed.
He caught my eye, grinning and giving a shy wave as he and Adam headed for the bar.
Jason followed my sappy gaze to the source of its joy, sighing and getting up. “Come on, let’s go.”
“Oh, it’s fine. We can ignore them, bestie. I’m yours—” I started, but Jason cut me off.
“We’ll need a bigger table,” was all he said. “If you’ve got it this bad, you’re not mine. It’s time I determine his intentions.”
“If you’re suggesting I buy the cow when he—”
Jason laughed and shoved me forward. “Honestly, he seems more of a bull.”
Two hours and endless ball-busting later, I sat in a circle of friendship, best friends all around, smiling like a fool. With a newly improved mood, I didn’t even care when Chad Tomlin passed by with his repugnant crew of jackasses blowing kisses and laughing.
I sighed. “How is he such an asshole when Jenny is rad?”
Adam’s hand tightened on his beer, and he glanced away, clearing his throat but not commenting.
I shot Jake a look, wondering what that was about, but my guy stared so hard at his drink that he could have cracked the glass with that sharp glare.
“Not everything is meant to last.”
Would this be what it looked like to stay? Rude, angry, and bigoted jeers directed at Jake? What did he think of that? What would Fallon?
“He’ll be gone soon. Back at school,” Jake murmured. “Nobody else says shit.”
Nobody else said shit… to us directly, but there’d been plenty of talk. Didn’t faze me, but side-eyed looks and snickers weren’t unfamiliar when out with men.
Jake? How long until he cracked… someone’s teeth for it? Went to jail? He’d be fucked when I couldn’t afford to bail him out.
Jason clasped my shoulder. “Never thought I’d see the day someone would make an honest man of this guy.” I covered my head before he could give me a noogie.
Adam lifted his baseball hat, dragging a hand through his messy hair several times. His eyes stayed on Chad and his friends until they shoved out the door. “So long as your guy is serious about this.”
Jason scoffed. “Pardon me, but my guy is loyal and loving.”
Adam sat up taller, his broad chest leaning forward. “Loyal and loving isn’t the same as serious and committed. My guy deserves it all.”
“And my guy doesn’t?”
“Christ,” Jake mumbled, rubbing his temples. “Enough.”
They ignored him while I considered heading to the bar for popcorn. Watching our besties duel it out was wildly entertaining—a couple of protective and devoted dudes. This friendship circle ruled.
Adam’s lips pinched into a thin line, and he pointed in my direction. “A summer of fucking is not the same thing as sticking around when it gets tough.” He finally glanced at me. “No offense.”
I held up my palms, and Jake slapped them down.
“Enough, Adam,” he said. “He’s staying. You don’t have to interrogate him. Shit.”
Suddenly, I had the sinking worry that maybe it wasn’t Adam who doubted my ability to stick around.
I didn’t exactly have a track record for it, and Adam was right. Fun didn’t equate to relationship heavy lifting.
Fallon and Jake were healthy and stable. What if I couldn’t do it? They weathered their storms, proving to each other they could, but I blew out of things like a hurricane plenty of times—just six months ago, in fact.
Jake shot me a soft smile. “He’s staying, and we’ll deal with what that looks like.”
I expected no different from him with his confidence and determination. But the more secure he and Fallon were, the more insecure I became—the more aware of my flaws, limitations, and baggage. I should have come with a disclaimer.
Handle with care; may crumple under pressure .
Adam lowered his voice. “It’s great when it’s good, but the fact we’ve had a thirty percent drop in customers this summer, boycotting the shop simply because the owner’s son is not only queer but polyamorous, is all you need to know about how thick the shit can get in a town where my guy has few options.”
Oh, no. Oh shit.
“Yours can tuck tail anytime he wants.” Adam sat back, drumming his fingers on the table.
“Jesus Christ. I said enough ,” Jake growled. “It’s nobody’s business, Adam. Including yours.”
“He’s just worried,” Jason said softly, shooting a sympathetic glance at Jake’s best friend. “Don’t get mad at him for wanting to protect you.”
Adam smiled, holding out his fist. Jason bumped it. Those tides turned fast.
I cleared my throat, focusing on a water stain on the table. “It is his business,” I spoke up. I sensed eyes on me, but I wouldn’t meet them. “It’s my dad’s business. He should have told me it was my fault. If he’d told me when it started—”
“No,” Jake interrupted. “It’s not your fault, Beau. Or mine. Or Fallon’s. Those assholes,”—he gestured to the group of side-eying and grumbling guys at the bar—“are to blame. Not three consenting, happy adults.”
Jason clapped, the wonderful dipshit. “Hell yeah. Besides, there’s nothing wrong with liking things in your ass. Makes you no less a man.”
Adam laughed and saluted him with his beer. “Speaking from experience?”
Oh, bestie, no. “Don’t you dare—”
He dared. “It starts with a finger, and the next thing you know, your girl is pegging you, and it’s not as bad as you think.”
“—Go there,” I finished, dropping my head and feeling mildly ill.
“It’s rather nice. Are you well acquainted with your prostate?” he asked Adam.
“I hate you,” I whispered, shaking my head.
Jake carted me off soon after, leaving Jason and Adam to it. Comfortably settled, they were going nowhere. But whatever warmth seeded in my chest with Jake’s unexpected arrival tonight or a friendship circle had died out.
Worse than my inability to help ease my dad’s stress was the realization that I directly caused it.
Staring out the truck window, I bit on my nail and hated that he said nothing. I could have been more careful in public. I could have been less obvious in my flirting.
I could have left.
“Let it go,” Jake murmured, his eyes on the road. “It’s not your fault, and it might not be as bad as Adam thinks. He’s not running the books, right?”
“Could be worse than he thinks.” I dragged my hands over my face. “He should have said something. I could have done something. I could have—”
“Left?” he asked quietly, his thumbs drumming against the steering wheel.
I said nothing, returning my gaze to the window and the dark sky—black, an abyss, nothing.
“I asked you a question,” he said, his voice hard.
“Yeah,” I answered after a minute. “I’d have left. My choices shouldn’t make his life difficult.”
The steady thrum of the highway droned through the truck’s cab, the only sound in our tense silence.
I should have left. I should have accepted the offer for that TV show instead of declining like a love-sick idiot. Might not be too late.
“Your dad didn’t put this on you because he didn’t want you to carry it. He loves you. Trust me, as someone with a dad who is neutral about my life, his putting you first means he wants you there. He wants you to be happy.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “It shouldn’t be him to suffer.”
“Shouldn’t be any of us that suffer,” he said like a romantic fool with no real experience of harassment. Big, buff, tough, all-American alpha with a virgin ass and idealistic assurances.
I stared out the window. “That’s not how it works, and it’s even worse being the cancer that spreads misery.”
I sat up when Jake slowed the truck and flipped a three-point turn in the opposite direction of my folks’ house. “Where are you going?”
He sighed, rubbing his jaw. “Home.”
I recognized the quaint ranch-style house with its powder blue paint and white shutters, though I’d never once, not in my entire life, stepped foot inside.
Jake leaned against the hood of his truck and stared at the place.
“My great-grandfather helped build this house when he first settled here and bought the land. He passed it to my grandfather.”
His focus remained on the house, his voice quiet as we stood in the flood of moonlight. The evening air was cooler tonight, and goosebumps pebbled his skin. I wrapped my arm around his shoulder.
“My grandpa was my favorite person in this world. He was the kind of guy who made you feel special because he had a big heart and was generous with it.” Jake rested his head on my shoulder, sighing. “You remind me of him.”
Too stunned to speak, for once in my pathetic life, I didn’t. I’d probably mess it up somehow.
“We lived with him growing up because my dad was gone so much with trips on the tug or working in Seattle when the boat went into dry dock. My mom was unreliable, but my grandpa helped raise me, more of a dad than my actual pops.”
“I had no idea.” I’d never heard Jake talk about his grandpa.
“He died when I was eleven.” He nodded toward the fence. “That’s when I started climbing over and sleeping in Fallon’s treehouse when my dad was home. My parents fought a lot. I hated it. They weren’t bad people. Just stressed and unhappy and resentful. I knew I’d do it differently when I grew up. I’d love for real, forever.
“Fallon found me one morning when I overslept. The next time I climbed up there? She’d stuffed the place with blankets and pillows. I realized she was my best friend by the time I was twelve, even though I was too embarrassed to acknowledge it. By fourteen, I swore I’d marry her. By sixteen, I was brave enough to tell her how I felt.
“I bought the house from my dad when he moved to Alaska. He spent most of his time there anyway, so the move wasn’t unexpected. I wanted to keep the house in the family, even if my dad didn’t care. Come on. Let me show you.”
Hands tethered, he walked me to the door.
“Why here?” I asked. “Now, I mean. I thought it was off-limits.”
Jake turned the key in the lock and opened the door. “It was off-limits. Still is.”
Stepping inside, he flipped on the light. I squinted, my eyes orienting after being outside in the dark. Then I blinked.
“It’s empty.” Scanning the torn-up drywall and floors pulled bare, I added, “And derelict.”
“Yeah, rusty nails everywhere, and I just had the old flooring in the bathroom removed by an asbestos specialist. The place is a death trap.” He pointed to the plywood lining a path down the hallway. “Stick to the boards, or you might fall through the floor.”
My eyes wandered, taking everything in. He grew up here, and I wondered what it looked like then, whether he watched TV in the living room after school or listened to music in his bedroom.
“I thought you were fixing this up.”
“I am, dipshit. This isn’t the new trend in real estate, but it’s expensive and slow-going. I had to sell my Camaro for a small pot to get started on this place. Your dad helped with that, getting it ready and facilitating the sale. An LS1 Supercharged V8, six-speed manual ‘ugly orange gas guzzler’ can earn a pretty penny. I got a solid deal. If I budget carefully, I can do it all. I was spending my free time working on it, so it’d be done when Fallon’s lease ends, but I seem to have gotten distracted this summer.”
I bit a smile, not at all sorry for that.
The back of the house was in better condition than the front. The walls he tore into would extend the living space, opening up an old bedroom.
The kitchen was small but functional, and he planned to bump out the house in the back to make it bigger and include a dining room. Down the hall were three untouched bedrooms and a mostly finished bathroom that needed tiling.
Furniture had been moved to the garage until the work was complete. A bed and a dresser were the only items left in the house.
“Fallon lets you stay here?” I asked, scratching my head and taking in the king bed. “Death by environmental toxins is one way to get rid of you, I suppose.”
“Okay, piss off.” He sighed, sitting on the bed and propping back on his elbows. “You’re living with your parents.”
Well, fuck that guy.
“They have walls.” Thin ones, but still, they existed. “But yeah, I’m quite the catch.”
“You are. Come here. Let me catch you.” He slid back on the bed, patting the mattress.
Stretching out beside him, I walked my fingers across the waistband of his jeans. “You realize that sounds suggestive?”
He blushed—a genuine blush, the apples of his cheeks a soft pink—as he swept his hair off his forehead. “I was trying to be sweet.”
“You were sweet,” I murmured, kissing his neck and enjoying the sound of his breath quickening with my lips pressed to his skin. “Just misguided unless you’ve changed your mind about how things will go.”
Jake’s hands cupped the back of my head, his fingers scratching my scalp as I kissed and sucked at his nape and nibbled on his ear.
I was kidding, honestly, but Jake surprised me.
“Let’s try your way first and see how that goes.”
“You mean that?” I stilled against him, my heart pounding with excitement and trepidation. “You want me?”
He puffed a laugh, and his hand slid beneath my shirt, brushing over my stomach. “I think I’ve always wanted you, Beau.”