by T L Bradford
“What do you expect me to do? Leave you alone to fend for yourself? You were seriously injured. You couldn’t even move. Are you saying I shouldn’t want to take care of you? What kind of bastard would that make me?”
“I’m not a damn child Noah.”
I feel frustrated. “I never said you were a child. I said it’s my responsibility for your well-being. I’m trying my best to keep you safe, comfortable, and protected.”
“That’s the problem! The fucking threat is over. I need you to be more than my caretaker Noah. Since this happened, I feel like I lost my best friend and my heart all in one go.”
“I’ve shown you affection,” I bite out.
“Not the way I want it. Not the way I need it,” he counters.
He stabs me with his words. Suddenly this is beginning to feel like Gemma all over again.
He says, “I know my own body. If I wasn’t ready, why would I be trying so hard to be with you? Yes, I’m ready. You’re the one who’s not.” He turns his head to the side, and I see a tear welling in his eye.
Silence grips the air. I’ve been making lame excuses, I know. How can I tell him that I feel responsible for what happened to him? It’s made my body out of sync with my head. I feel the desire, but the guilt overtakes me, and I can’t perform.
“Jesus, Noah, we’re both men. Did you honestly think I wouldn’t notice?”
I have to resolve this issue between us. I want to be with him so badly, and until I speak up, I doubt my problem will go away. “If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place.”
“What happened to me, wasn’t your fault, we’ve been over this so many times already.”
“How can you say that? My twisted father did this to you because I wouldn’t give you up. I wanted you for myself and damned the consequences. And you, not me, had to pay for it.” He turns around to look at me. “That’s why I can’t look you in the eye, not because of your injuries. I couldn’t give a flying fuck about your eye; it’s the hurt and the pain I’ve brought onto you. It’s my guilt.”
He squares his jaw, then says bluntly, “Touch me.”
I put my hand on his cheek. He swats it away. “No, touch me,” he repeats.
I pause, knowing what he wants. “You can’t do it,” he says.
“I want to.”
“Dammit Noah, you are not to blame! How we choose to love each other isn’t wrong or anyone else’s business. It doesn’t matter what shit your father said. You have to get him out of your head. You said yourself; he’s no longer a threat to us; yet, here he is, still keeping us apart.”
I lean over the steering wheel, putting my hands over the top and lay my head down. “I can’t help it, every time I look at you, I see you up there on that cross. I felt my whole world ending. I thought you were dead. I thought I had lost you forever. I brought that sonofabitch into your life. It’s like I did this to you. I can’t forgive myself.”
“Then, let me forgive you.” He leans over and lays his head against my back as I brace the steering wheel to my chest. “I think it’s time we both got some help.”
Chapter 48
Josh
It’s freezing outside. I can already feel it, and I haven’t even left the bed yet. Not that I want to. I’m reveling in the feel of Noah laying warm against my back. It’s the most intimacy we’ve had in nearly two months. We had a much needed talk last night. It’s just the beginning of all we need to deal with, but at least we’ve made a start.
I turn my head around as best I can, and say, “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas,” he says sleepily.
“You weren’t asleep either I guess?”
“No, I’m too comfy. Didn’t want to move.”
“We were on the same wavelength this morning then.” I scoot out from under him and move onto my back to where I’m staring up facing him. His hair is crazy this morning. Dark and tousled, just like I like it. I drag both my hands through his mop-top and tighten my grip to bring his lips down to mine. He responds, pushing me deeper into the pillow. His tongue enters my mouth and begins its exploration.
“Knock, knock,” yells Chloe from the other side of the door.
“Get downstairs, you guys! We’ve been waiting to open the presents!” says Chloe.
“Shit,” I say. “Let’s go before they call out the hounds.”
Reluctantly, we go downstairs and see Christmas is in full swing. Olive runs up to us. “A Christmas onesie is now a requirement for participation.” She holds two reindeer onesies with antlers up for us to put on.
“You all look ridiculous,” Noah says.
“You will too,” says Sarita, looking displeased in her elf onesie.
“I think they’re rather comfortable,” Zach says.
“Dude, are you free-balling right now?” I ask him.
“What of it?”
“That’s it, Christmas is canceled on lack of good taste.”
Noah and I huddle up narrowly on one of the couches. As usual, it is utter chaos and loud noises as everyone tears into their gifts. I lucked out, getting clothes, cologne, bedroom slippers and a new gleaming pair of truck nuts.
“Uh…thanks, Xander?”
“Truck nuts, for the man who has everything…except for truck nuts,” he says. I roll my eyes.
Noah whispers in my ear, “I have something for you, but it’s going to be delayed a while until we get back to LA.”
I give him a curious look. “What did you do?” I ask.
“It’s nothing much. I couldn’t bring it here.” He puts his hand on my knee and begins to rub.
“Now, you have me wondering.”
“No questions, you have to wait.”
“Okay, I will.” His eyes are sparkling with excitement. What the heck?
Instead of skiing mom decided to have the entire extended family here for a big Christmas party instead, given the circumstances of my injuries.
The smell of eggnog, rum and pumpkin pies fill the air. I’ve been drafted to help my mom with the appetizers in the kitchen. Noah is out back under the canopy with the other guys drinking a beer. I can see them from where I stand near the kitchen window. Damn, he looks good. He’s got on a pair of loose-fitting blue jeans and a plain grey knit sweater that zippers up, exposing the base of his throat. I want to go over to him and kiss that spot, but that would be too weird, even for this accepting crowd.
I must be daydreaming out the window because I don’t hear when my mom admonishes me for cutting the onions too big.
“Sorry, I was…”
“Distracted…yeah, I see that,” she says indicating with a tip of her head in the direction I’ve been staring. “I don’t blame you.” I give her a big grin.
I look back out the window again and see Noah talking to the guys. Then, as if he senses me looking, he stops mid-sip to his beer, and he turns around to see me in the window. A slow smirk makes its way across his gorgeous lips. For a brief moment, there is only two of us in this world. I am brought back to reality by my mom, asking me to bring a tray of snacks outside.
More than ready to make a break from the kitchen, I take the plate to join the guys outside. I have what looks like tiny tacos with slices of lime on the plate. As soon as I approach, the guys are on me, munching them down like there’s no tomorrow.
“Hey, Joshy, you mind grabbing me another beer when you go back in?” Xander asks me.
“I wasn’t planning on going back in—”
“—Yeah, me too little bro,” Zach says, turning back to his conversation with the guys. “And bring some more of those little taco things too, those things are lit!”
I am all but forgotten as they go on chatting about whatever they were talking about before I got there. Tray in hand, I grudgingly retreat to the kitchen.
“Where were you, Josh? I need some help to set the table, and could you get some more drinks from the chiller in the basement?” my mom says.
“Sure.” I f
igure if I do this quickly, I can get back outside and be with Noah. I get the dishes out of the cabinet in the living room and start setting the table.
“Oh, there you are, Zach was asking where you were, he said you were bringing him a beer,” says Chloe.
“When did I become everyone’s beer bitch? I swear.” Putting the dishes down hard enough on the table gets me yelled at by my mother.
“Joshua Evan Hill, you’d better not be damaging the dishes you hear me!”
“Ooh, you got the three-name treatment. You are so busted,” Chloe says. I give her a scathing glare, then walk back into the kitchen to get the beers. I go back outside to give them their beers. They’re still talking about football, so I try to jump in.
“Where did you go to get that beer? Canada? And where are the tacos?” Zach says. As I go back to the house to get the tacos, I hear Xander say something about me being their serving wench, and I cringe. Not only because it bothers me that I’ve been referred to as a female, but because Noah laughs along with them.
Holy shit. Olive was right. I’m the wife.
I take stock in everything that has happened today, and sure enough, everything points that way. Fuck that. They can get their own shit. I go back in, head up to my room, and sit on the bed for a little while. I don’t know why this is bothering me so much. I like the idea of being his, but I don’t want to lose my own identity in the process.
What ticks me off is how easily I’ve been placed in the role by everyone. I’m sure after the attack people assume I’m the one that needs to be protected, and he’s the boss in our relationship. I hear a soft tap at my door.
“Can I come in?” It’s Chloe.
“Sure.” I let her in, even though all I want is to be left alone. Chloe, still wearing her grinch onesie, sits down next to me.
“Spill it. You haven’t been yourself this whole trip. You’re bumming people out. What’s up?”
“I don’t feel like talking about this.” Then fall back on the bed, putting my arm across my eyes.
“Who the hell else are you going to talk to then?” She makes complete sense.
“It’s stupid.”
“If it’s making you feel like crap, then it’s not stupid.”
When did I become this emotional wreck? I’d blame it on the medication, but it started way before that. I’ve not always been this demonstrably sensitive, so this new level of vulnerability to my personality disturbs me.
“I don’t want to be that guy,” I fidget with the edge of my comforter with my other hand.
“What, guy?”
“The guy that depends on his partner for everything. It makes me look weak.”
“Wait, does this have to do with the boys talking shit outside? Did they say something to you?”
“No, they really didn’t say anything. That’s what I mean; it’s stupid. I don’t want to offend you or anything, but they made me feel like…the wife.”
“Oh, I see.”
“I’m not, you know. I want to be treated like a grown man, like his equal. It hit me today, that being with Noah, it’s always going to be that way, with people thinking I’m the little woman. I don’t even know why people assume that.”
She says, “I can’t help what other people think and neither can you. What I can tell you is why I think people make assumptions. It’s because you are special and connect with others on a deeper level than most. Some people associate sensitivity with weakness and weakness is perceived as a female trait. Hence, you are more likely to be perceived as the female, but only because there are no other options to put you into.”
“Thanks, Dr. Phil.”
“It’s not a bad thing, Josh. You have to stop looking at it that way. You are who you are. Emotions are not a bad thing. They keep you human. I wouldn’t want you any other way. And neither does Noah.”
“How did everything get so crazy? I was going to be playing pro ball and married to my high school sweetheart who would be up in the stands with our baby girl sitting in her lap. We’d have the two-story house with the play set in the backyard. I’d be taking care of us all. Instead, I’m in a same-sex relationship with a man who also plays my boyfriend on a fake TV show. I’m still in debt, and I only have one good eye.”
“Well, at least you’ve got great hair. I mean, that’s half the battle right there.” She says this so deadpan; I have to lift my arm to see if she’s serious.
“You’re right. I do have great hair,” I say, just as deadpan.
“Always an upside.”
The door cracks open then, and Noah steps inside the room looking confused.
“Here you are. I’ve been looking all over for you.” Chloe gets up from the bed and walks over to Noah and touches his arm.
“I’ll let you guys talk.” She leaves, closing the door behind her.
“Your mom asked if we could go pick up some more ice from the store. Hey, is everything okay? What was Chloe doing in here?”
I sit up on the bed, elbows on the comforter.
“Everything’s okay. Let’s go get the ice and get out of here for a while.”
“Sounds good to me. I’ve wanted some time alone with you ever since this morning.”
On our short drive to the store, Noah keeps turning around to gauge my attitude. “What Xander said earlier, he was playing with you. He didn’t mean it.”
Frankly, I’m surprised with how good he’s getting at reading my mind. “I know he didn’t mean it. It still doesn’t change that I’m always going to be thought of as your wife.”
“Is that so bad?” he smiles.
“It’s not funny; no one’s treating you like the girl. I still have my male pride, you know. The attack has made things worse. I feel like everyone see me as weak and needing a damn protector.”
“You’re being too sensitive; I was only joking, come on Josh, everyone knows it’s you who has the power over me, and not the other way around.”
“Those who don’t know us will automatically assume you wear the pants. Look at today. All day I kept getting re-routed to kitchen duties.”
“I’m willing to bet that had nothing to do with your sexuality and more to do with the fact that you’re an easy sucker doing a job nobody else wanted.”
“Screw you, Noah.”
“You’ve got to lighten up. People are always going to have perceptions of us. It just doesn’t matter. They can mind their own business and fuck off.”
“Oh crap, if Noah Sinclair, master of all that is retentive, just told me to lighten up. I must be turning into a chick.”
“Not a chick, just a more highly evolved man.”
I turn around to look at him. “Alright. I guess I’ll take that.” I give him a sideways grin. “Still, I want to be your equal.”
“Okay, babe, I get it. I’ll work harder not to marginalize your presence. I want you with me by my side, not two steps behind.” With that, he takes my hand from across the console and gives it a big squeeze, then brings it up to his lips to kiss the backs of my knuckles.
For Christmas day, the store is packed to the rafters. I guess everyone forgets something and needs to send out a scouting party to get it for them. People prowl the aisles looking for nutmeg and sage as though they were one of The Walking Dead.
We are fortunate enough to get two of the last few bags of ice left. We add the bags to our cart and make our way to the checkout when the last person in the world I expect to see is suddenly standing right in front of our cart.
It’s Harmony. And by her side, is a little girl. She is probably no more than three years old. Harmony still looks great. Her dark brown hair hangs to her shoulders, shorter than when we were together. She has maintained her svelte figure. Her daughter is the spitting image of her mother. What makes me catch my breath is how similar she looks to how I had always imagined our daughter looking.
“Josh, it’s good to see you. I heard you were back in town,” Harmony says.
I’m frozen in place staring at the
little girl who in turn stares back at me. Unable to form words, Noah comes to the rescue.
“Harmony, right? I’m Noah. Yes, we came here to spend the holidays with family.”
“That’s great. I remember those Hill Christmas parties. They were always so much fun.”
“Yeah, they know how to throw down a good party. Actually, we’re here to pick up some more ice as you can see.”
She attempts to speak to me again. “I see Chloe every now and again. She told me how well you’re doing. I’m very happy for you.”
I break my stare from the little girl to answer her. “Thank you.”
“I was so sorry to hear about your accident; you seem like you’re recovering well.”
“It was pretty awful. I’ve got a way to go, but so far, I’m doing okay.” For years I thought of what I would say to her when I finally had the chance. It was nothing like this.
“What’s going to make him improve is that he has the strong support system he needs to get back on track. His family, his real friends and his boyfriend have been there with him every step of the way. That’s what you do when you truly love and care for someone. You stick around through the good and the bad. But you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” Noah admonishes.
Harmony’s complexion turns red, looking guilty and embarrassed. She fumbles for her keys and says, “Come on, Emma, let’s go, say goodbye.”
“Bye. Bye.” She waves to me, giving a brilliant smile, oblivious to the surrounding tension. Then Harmony grabs her tiny hand and takes off for the exit, she turns around once to look at us, and Noah grabs my neck, bringing me in for a giant kiss. Then turns his head to glare at her. She takes off quickly, pulling little Emma alongside her.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I said.
“Yes, I did.”
“Thank you.”
“Anything for you, babe.” He grabs me in for a kiss again.
When we come back, the party has gotten a little louder and a little drunker. Instead of leaving me to be whisked away by the ladies again, Noah holds fast to my hand and brings me into the guy’s conversation. It’s silly I know, but it feels great to be sitting back, talking trash with the guys and swilling beer, like a regular bro. For the rest of the evening, I’m just a typical guy, except for Noah’s hand that he keeps firmly seated in my back pocket.
