Chapter Twelve #4
Owen’s face flushed as he recalled the moment he confirmed what his uncle had already known. “Oh yeah. The acoustics in that gym shower didn’t hide anything. Uncle Howie had suspected for a while that I was gay, and that’s why he started teaching me to fight so I could defend myself.”
“Because he loved you,” Tyler said.
“He did.” That’s why their last visit would be the hardest.
Neither of them said anything when Owen drove through the arched entrance to the cemetery. The sun had started to set, and the wind had picked up considerably when he parked near a tidy row of five tombstones.
Tyler gasped softly when he read the Doyle name on each of the markers. “These three have the same date of death on them,” he said.
“His parents and sister died in a car accident when Howie was twenty-one and Keith was fifteen.”
“Then he lost your dad five years later. No wonder he was so bitter.”
Owen didn’t mean to be disrespectful when he walked past the first four tombstones to kneel at the last one.
He hated that they died so young, but he hadn’t known them, and Howie didn’t like talking about his lost family.
“My uncle didn’t know how to show love. Life had beat the shit out of him.
” Owen swallowed hard. “I realized too late that he showed his affection by teaching me to fend for myself with both my fists and street smarts.” Owen smiled wryly at Tyler, who squatted next to him.
“Maybe his methods and messages needed work, but he did the best he could, and I loved him. I hope he knew it.”
Tyler took his hand, and their cold fingers interlocked. “I guarantee he did, and he’d be proud of the man you’ve become.”
“Thank you.” Those two words seemed wholly inadequate for the appreciation warming Owen’s heart. The breeze ruffled Tyler’s hair, and he shivered. Owen stood up, pulling Tyler with him. They shared a brief kiss before separating. “Let’s head to my mom’s place.”
She’d moved since his last visit, so he didn’t know what to expect about her new apartment, only that she’d filled it with freebies from friends or secondhand furniture she found at nearby thrift stores.
It was on the tip of his tongue to caution Tyler not to expect much, but that would’ve been a disservice to his mom.
She’d worked so hard to stand on her own two feet, and Owen heard the pride in her voice every time she talked about her new home.
The exterior of the building wasn’t much to look at. It was a reddish-orange brick box with no adornments to soften the stark color or sharp lines. Owen pushed his initial reaction aside and looked closer. Aside from the unfortunate color and shape, the building and grounds were tidy.
“This place would look so much better if they painted the brick like Chip and Jo do on their show,” Owen said. “Put up some shudders or something.” When Tyler didn’t respond, Owen looked over at him. “What?”
“You spend hours playing those remodeling games on your phone, and suddenly, you’re an expert,” Tyler teased. He turned back to the building and added, “It could use some landscaping. Those harsh lines only look good on cheekbones and jawlines.”
It was Owen’s turn to be charmed. “That comment sounded like something RuPaul would say during a home renovation.”
“Chip, Jo, and Ru. That’s a crossover I could get behind.”
Owen was just about to respond when an older Subaru parked a few spaces down from them.
“There she is,” he said. But the woman who got out of the car was almost a stranger to him.
She’d cut her blonde hair several inches shorter, and the soft curls fell to her shoulders.
This woman wore a red wool peacoat, an ivory scarf with a matching hat, and brown leather knee-high boots over slim-fitting jeans.
She looked at least ten years younger than Maggie and moved with a confidence his mother had never possessed.
She stopped at her trunk and looked around before opening the back hatch, reminding Owen that Dateline was her favorite show.
That’s when his mom’s gaze landed on the Redemption Ridge truck.
She launched herself in their direction, abandoning whatever was waiting inside the back of her Subaru.
Owen was out the door and around the truck to sweep her up in a big hug.
She might look different, but his mom still smelled like lavender, but these days, she used the higher-quality products that Hope made.
They pulled apart and stared at each other as if seeing one another for the first time.
Owen suspected he’d also changed a lot since their last visit.
She cupped his face as tears filled her eyes, and Owen’s watered in response.
If there’d been a curse, they had broken it.
If there were demons, they’d slain them.
Life had battered them a little, but it hadn’t knocked them out.
“We made it, Mom,” he whispered.
“We sure did.” She gave him another tight squeeze before she stepped back and said, “Now, introduce me to Tyler.”