Chapter 24
TWENTY-FOUR
Benny was leaning against the kitchen sink eating ice cream when Cal finally came to him the next day. He’d given him and Ethan space while Benny had told his best friend everything that had really happened over the last two weeks.
And the epiphany of what he’d done with his life since his parents had passed away.
Ethan, ever loyal, had given him a simple nod.
“No one can tell you what to feel, but I think you should feel proud of yourself,” he’d said, thoughtful for a moment. “Not everyone can see they’re in a hole. Let alone decide they want to crawl out of it. You did good, kid. Real good.”
In true best friend fashion, that had been that.
Ethan hadn’t been upset and Benny had apologized for the lies. They’d put in a movie, not really watched it, and then they’d slept on the couches in the living room like they were kids again.
In the morning, Ethan had left.
Now, it was time for lunch and Cal grabbed a spoon from the drawer next to Benny. He scooped out a bite of ice cream.
When he was done with it, he leaned back against the countertop and sighed.
“I think it’s time I finally tell you something I probably should have told you years ago.” He rolled the spoon between his fingers as he started. “You were—what, twelve?—when you broke your arm at the skating rink and had to get surgery? Thirteen?”
“Thirteen,” Benny confirmed, eyebrow raising. “Ladarius Watts and I were racing and I ran into his little cousin. Why?”
Cal didn’t answer the direct question.
He stared ahead, gaze somewhere past the kitchen doorway.
“I remember how loud you were about not wanting to be put to sleep for the surgery because it scared you,” he continued. “The thought of being awake and then bam hours go by and there are screws in your arm.” He laughed. “I remember Mom had to calm you down and Dad had to calm her down.”
“And I remember you made fun of me for falling,” Benny poked.
Cal laughed again but didn’t deny it.
Then, a shift happened in him.
He sobered.
Benny, curious, leaned over a little, the ice cream carton cold in his hands.
“What you probably don’t remember is when you were waking up afterwards and coming off of the anesthesia and absolutely babbling nonsense.
” Cal was right, he didn’t remember that part.
There had been a gap between being put to sleep and waking up later to the nurse asking if he needed to use the bathroom.
He hadn’t remembered babbling. Though, considering it was him, that wasn’t uncommon.
“We were in this recovery room for a bit, just the four of us,” Cal continued.
“And you just kept worrying about every little thing in existence. Worrying about tests, about homework, about Ethan messing up the book you let him borrow, about how your favorite show was going to end—you even started to worry about things that were nowhere near time to worry about. That’s when you asked Mom a question that you’d never asked before. ”
Cal turned his face toward Benny’s. He was smiling a little.
“‘What if my future husband expects me to cook even though I hate cooking?’”
Benny felt his eyes widen.
“I asked that? But I-I hadn’t come out yet.” At thirteen he hadn’t even fully accepted the idea of being gay yet himself.
Cal nodded.
“Well, we all heard it pretty loud and clear in there. And not only did you ask it, but you also actually waited for an answer.”
Benny couldn’t believe it.
He had absolutely no memory of mentioning a husband to his parents. Under medication or otherwise.
But now, years later, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of worry spreading through him.
“And… What did they say? Mom and Dad.”
Cal stopped rolling the spoon between his fingers.
He looked ahead again, and this time Benny was sure he was back in that room, in that memory.
“Mom and Dad shared a look and then Mom actually laughed.” He adopted a lighter tone, one they had only ever used to mimic their mother when teasing her.
“‘If I can make my husband cook for me, then you can make your future husband cook for you too.’” Then Cal dropped his voice to mimic their father.
“‘And if he doesn’t want to cook for you, then he’s probably not worth worrying about anyways. ’”
Benny opened his mouth.
No words came out.
Cal continued, this time as only himself.
“You accepted their answers and rattled on to other worries and thoughts and then we were sent to another room where you started actually waking up,” he said.
“They didn’t bring it up again, and we got so caught up in getting you back home that I honestly forgot about it too.
Then… Well, they died, and the years got hard and busy and then you were in college and graduating, getting jobs, and going on dates.
And that day, that room? I forgot about it.
I forgot about it until yesterday when you talked about coming out to Marcus because you were worried Mom and Dad wouldn’t accept you. ”
Cal turned to face Benny directly.
His eyes were shining.
“I know I’m not them, that I can’t speak for them, but even though you never told them about who you really were…
Well, I think they already knew and I think all they ever did was love you, Benny.
And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. It’s just— It’s just in my head, I never once thought for even a moment that they could love you less.
So, comforting you about it? It never crossed my mind until now and, well, I think Mom and Dad would be really proud of who you’ve become and—”
Benny hugged his brother, ice cream carton smooshed between them.
Cal’s spoon hit the ground.
It was loud against the tile.
Benny didn’t care.
“You, Callum De Carlo, are the only person in this world who never has to apologize to me,” he said around the lump that had formed in his throat. “You didn’t do anything wrong, and Mom and Dad? They would be proud of you too.”
More was said between them. Tears were shed too. The ice cream melted a little while both happened. They talked about that day, then about their parents, and eventually, about everything that had happened in the last two weeks.
Benny was present for it all.
However, part of him stayed stuck on a memory he hadn’t known he was missing.
Then their conversation walked itself right up to the future.
“So, what do you want to do now?” Cal asked. “The video Carol live streamed yesterday can definitely be counted as going viral, even though it got taken down.”
“Which means everyone knows I lied,” Benny said, annoyed but aware he could only really blame himself.
Cal nodded, not trying to soften the truth with an excuse.
“Does that mean you want to stick around Arbor Bay longer? Or are you going to go back to Nashville and move on to whatever’s next?”
This was something Benny had been thinking about since the night before, lying wide awake on the couch next to a snoring Ethan.
Now, Benny was sure of his answer.
“I wrote the blog to run away and, if I stay here, I’m running away from a life I started. One, like Jack said, I loved.” Benny smiled. It hurt, but it was true. “Hiding here isn’t going to work for me anymore. It’s time I figure out what exactly life looks like past my keyboard.”
Cal, the best brother in the world, nodded.
“Then I’ll help you pack.”
Benny accepted the help and, as they left the kitchen behind, he could, for a moment, hear his parents laughing by the kitchen sink.
* * *
Jack had replaced the cheap paint brush with one that had the nice bristles, ones that didn’t peel off just by existing. It had taken him some time to pick out, was more expensive, and had moved him to upgrade the painter’s tape and plastic tray that he’d been borrowing.
Now he was holding the old paint brush, despite total lack of paint.
The same paint brush he’d borrowed from the box in Callum and Benny’s garage for Roger’s nursery.
And instead of throwing it away, he was standing on their front porch feeling ten ways to complicated about it.
A week had gone by since the disaster at the auditorium. During that time, Jack had all but stayed in the apartment or in the bar’s office. Business was the best it had been in years, but most of the patrons who had come back as regulars wanted to give him a piece of their minds.
It was all Dixon, his uncle, and Santana could do to cover for him.
That, however, wouldn’t last forever.
Just like he’d been hoping that the stone in his stomach would eventually ease.
Instead, it somehow felt heavier.
Because you left Benny and then he left.
The shame in his chest wasn’t new, but clinging to the old paintbrush he’d found in his truck that morning was.
Just like the need to finally escape his escape.
Because it wasn’t just a paintbrush to him.
It was Benny.
That thought felt dumb and incredibly simplistic.
But it’s what got Jack moving.
Not before Dixon had gotten to him first, though.
“If you need to be Mopey Jack again because your heart hurts, I'm okay with that,” his cousin had said. “But—just so I know that at least one person has said it out loud to you—if you miss him, there's a really easy fix for that.”
Now Jack was standing at Callum’s front door and waiting for him to answer.
When he did, Jack finally admitted to himself that, if the paintbrush felt this important, then the man who’d given it to him must have been something damn fucking special.
He didn’t plan on saying those exact words to his brother though.
When Callum crossed his arms over his chest in greeting, Jack adopted Benny’s courage and blurted out exactly what he was thinking.
“Benny thought he was small for hiding behind a blog but, if that’s true, then I’m an inch tall for deciding that I was never, ever going to leave the bar.
Dreams are one thing, passion is too, but I think when Benny admitted he’d been hiding all these years, I finally had to face the fact that a part of me has been doing the same thing. ”
Jack hadn’t wanted to admit it but, once he had, he’d found himself meeting Felicity outside of the bar, in the same clearing Benny and him had originally struck their fake-dating deal.
“I didn’t compromise with us,” he’d told her. “That’s why we didn’t work out. It had nothing to do with the bar. With my dream.”
Felicity had looked surprised but then had shaken her head.
“It wasn’t that you didn’t compromise for us, it’s because you never wanted to.” She’d shrugged, smiled a little too. “I wasn’t any better. We both could have given in a little, understood each other some more, but we never wanted to. So, we just didn’t work out. There’s nothing wrong with it.”
Jack had felt a weight lift then. One he hadn’t realized was there. Or, maybe, he had but ignoring it had been easier. Being mad at her, even easier.
Guilt had popped up then.
“I’m sorry, Felicity,” he’d said. “I’ve spent all this time blaming you for…well, everything. When I should have just said I’m sorry for my part too.”
Her smile had been soft.
“We both should have moved on sooner. Probably talked about it too.”
Their conversation hadn’t lingered much past that. She’d left the clearing to go meet Marcus. Jack had stayed behind and thought about Benny.
Now, Jack wasn’t staying behind anymore.
No, he was locked in on Benny.
He continued on with his full chest.
“Realizing I’d been hiding too made me feel weak and pointless and…
unworthy of someone like Benny,” he said to Callum.
“Someone who talks so much he runs out of breath sometimes, someone who does favors for favors for other annoying favors. Someone who helps you put on glitter and paints your kid’s bedroom and says the thing you’re thinking but are too chicken shit to admit. ”
Jack held up the paintbrush.
“I should have said this to him, but he’s not here and you, you’re his favorite person, so, I guess telling you now is the first step but—” Jack took a deep breath. He let it out quick, a new urgency in his chest.
“But I think Benny makes me want to think about things, he makes me want to care, and I let my hurt hurt him when I should have just told him how lucky I am that he got drunk in my bar and told me he loved Marcus Robertson.”
Callum didn’t look surprised at the admission that had—and hadn’t—caught Jack by surprise.
He did, however, look at the paintbrush.
He didn’t ask about it though.
“So, you believe him now?” Callum asked. “You believe he doesn’t have feelings for Marcus?”
Jack was quick with a nod.
“I might be grumpy, I might be an ass, but I believe in Benny. Even when I’m too stubborn to show it.”
Silence pushed between them.
Callum’s eyes narrowed.
For a moment, Jack thought he was about to be turned away. Or thoroughly chewed out.
Yet, Callum stepped back into the house. Instead of slamming the door in Jack’s face, he motioned him to come inside.
“Then let's figure out a plan worthy of winning back my little brother.”
Jack felt his grin before it sounded in his enthusiastic response.
“Hell yeah.”
He might have followed his heart to Benny’s childhood home without a plan but, right then and there, an idea popped into his head.
He hated it.
Benny would love it.
At least, he hoped.
Just because he’d finally understood his own feelings didn’t mean Benny’s hadn’t changed.
Either way, Jack was about to find out.