“I am too.” Morris had been okay with Theo not getting dressed up. His man had a couple of obsessions, cooking and basketball, and neither one of them were in the least bit geeky. He’d finally realized Theo wasn’t going to ever try to change him, and that was an amazingly secure feeling. So to have him do this, it drove home how Theo was wholeheartedly marrying him for everything that he was.
“I love you,” Morris said, and Theo’s arms tightened around him.
“I love you too.” Theo pulled back and framed Morris’s face in his hands. The sheen in his eyes had Morris choking up again. “I’d kiss you like crazy if we wouldn’t both get yelled at.”
“I guess it’s bad enough we’re walking in there hand in hand instead of waiting until we walk out together.” Morris turned his head to kiss each of Theo’s palms.
“Well, if we’re going to break tradition, we might as well go all the way. I blame the kilt.” Theo rose on his toes and pulled Morris down for a long, heated kiss.
“There are children and innocent eyes on the deck, you two,” Felipe said in a tart voice. “And a restaurant that’s going to have staff showing up midreception if you don’t get moving.”
“That Felipe, always horning in on my fun,” Theo said in a rueful voice.
Morris’s heart jumped one more time with nerves, but then he took Theo’s hand. On the deck, everyone watched them through the windows, both shaking their heads and smiling. Which seemed about perfect to Morris. Everything about the day was perfect.
“Theodore Boarman.”
“Morris Proctor?” Theo squeezed his hand and raised a brow.
“Let’s get hitched.”
Chapter Fifteen
WHENEVER DAKOTA needed to think, he headed to Geppi’s Entertainment Museum. The place wasn’t huge, but he could wander through there for hours, soaking in the history of comics and pop culture. If it hadn’t been for Brenden, he never would’ve had a passion for all this. As an angry teen, he’d considered all this geek stuff something to be sneered at. Then Brenden had given him his first comic book series and double-dog dared him to read it. Dakota had eaten up the Lady Death run and just about anything Chaos put out, and then he moved on to Image’s Spawn and Evil Ernie.
If he remembered right, Brenden had been all into Sandman and Dawn at the time, with his emo self. He had been such a dweeb then, a stuck-up, prissy dweeb. At least that had been Dakota’s instant judgment and intense dislike. And he knew for a fact Brenden had considered him an arrogant jerk.
Then one night, when neither of them could sleep, they talked. A real conversation that you could only have in the dark, where secrets and confidences were shared. And once they’d started, they didn’t stop for hours. They’d become friends in that dark. Of course, they’d gone right back to harassing each other in the morning, but it didn’t have the same edge. Over the next few months, that harassing morphed into teasing that Brenden gave right back. Dakota had to respect that.
Brenden and he were like a gob of Silly Putty. They could stretch themselves all out of whack. And it had happened various times for multiple reasons over the years. Some good, some bad. They’d gone off and done their own things and yet always oozed back to the same state. Dakota had been scared Brenden would cut him out after Kent Island. He’d been more than terrified he’d have to deal with an emotional wreck in Brenden. He couldn’t handle that, especially when he was the cause.
Comfortable together. That was them. But maybe Dakota had been the only one comfortable. Questions like that drove him nutso. He still didn’t understand how he could’ve missed Brenden’s feelings so completely.
Dakota parked outside Camden Yards and headed up to the museum. He waved to his friend at the booth and held back a grimace. He wasn’t much in the mood to be sociable, but he had to suck it up. He fished out the price of the ticket and forced a smile. “Hey.”
“How goes the plans for the big con?” Justin asked as he handed back the receipt.
Dakota grunted a noncommittal answer, and it was like he could hear Brenden in his head, picture him with that disapproving expression. He couldn’t blow off the people here. They’d been valuable contacts for both of them in the past and would no doubt continue, but not if Dakota was an asshole.
“It seems like the date is speeding toward us at a ridiculous rate.” There were times when he considered this mad undertaking of theirs and almost panicked himself. Then he remembered Brenden was in charge and knew it would be okay. It was funny how they managed to keep each other on an even keel. If one freaked out, the other pulled them into a calm line. “We’re ready for it, though.”
“Man, I am counting down the days. I’ve been spreading the word. Let me know if I can help.”
Dakota shouldered his backpack and gave him a considering look. “Send Brenden an email. We’re still searching for volunteers for our team. We’re trying to get enough so people aren’t working all three days and have a chance to enjoy the show. If we get enough, we can juggle it.”
“Are you for real?” Justin slapped the counter with a laugh. “Count me in. I’ll send him an email.”
There, adulting done. Now Dakota could put all this out of his mind and enjoy himself for a few hours. He headed straight back into the hallway without another word.
Stephen Geppi, head of the largest comic book distributor, created this museum from his own stash of pop culture paraphernalia. It didn’t just go back decades, it went back a couple of centuries. There was a wealth of nerdom here. Enough to satisfy any geek’s heart.
Dakota wandered down the long hallway, sunlight filtering in through the tall train-station windows at the end. There was so much to look at, and soon Dakota became immersed as he roamed through the exhibits. It was the first moment of peace he’d known in weeks. It didn’t matter that he’d been here hundreds of times; Dakota still found something new to sigh over.
Dakota’s phone dinged with an incoming message that was not the ringtone he’d assigned to Brenden. It made him wonder what Brenden was doing right now. Probably cleaning something, or making a to-do list with little squares to check off. He pulled out his phone and glanced at the message from Morris.
How’s it going? You and Brenden I mean.
Dakota didn’t feel much like getting into it. He wasn’t sure how it was going. On the surface, everything seemed back to normal, but Dakota couldn’t help but sense that things were off. It was like they’d returned from the Upside Down in Stranger Things and nothing was quite normal. Or the damn Star Trek mirror universe. Which sucked because he’d probably be the villain.
But he knew how to distract Morris. Nu-uh, 1st you have to tell me how that elopement went. Did you pull it off?
Dude! Don’t put that in writing!
Dakota grinned at the thought of Morris’s expression. He was probably deleting the text while looking over his shoulder. Then a picture came through. Morris and Theo hand in hand in superhero shirts. They looked like a pair of real dorks and so damn happy. Like they knew exactly what they were doing and the fears they had of the future were tempered by their hopes.
Dakota hated dreaming toward the future, except for the things he schemed with Brenden. He couldn’t plan these shows without thinking ahead, sharing Brenden’s vision, but then again Brenden had always been good about painting a picture.
Wow. I can’t wait to show Brenden. He’ll be happy for U. Which implied he wasn’t and that was rude. Me 2. Does this mean I can cut up at the fancy wedding?
Sure. But I’m leaving you at the mercies of all the women in our families if you do.
Dakota thought of his Aunt Evelyn and shuddered. She was as sweet as they came. But she raised two boys of her own and took in two damaged teenagers. Sweet with a spine of steel that Dakota wouldn’t dare cross. I’ll blame the drama on Bren.
So, fess up, how are you two doing? Don’t need details just want to make sure I don’t need to stage an intervention or get trapped in a car with you again.
&n
bsp; We’re not together. We’re back to normal. Which was depressing when Dakota looked at it. Brenden loved him. Dakota always knew that whoever got that gift from Brenden would be a lucky man. And for some reason, Brenden had given it to him. He was dying to know when Brenden started feeling like that for him. The way he treated Dakota, was that the love of a friend or a brother or the love of a lover? Thoughts like that kept invading his brain and wouldn’t let him rest. The possessive side of him wanted it all.
Ok, let me know if you need anything.
Dakota stared at his phone, wondering what Morris meant. That was the damned problem with texts. You couldn’t read tone or body language. Did Morris think their normal was good, or was he disappointed that Dakota hadn’t gone for it, or what? He’d offered his support to them if Dakota decided they should be a couple. His throat tightened with panic. He couldn’t be half of a couple. He’d fuck it all up. It was in his genes.
Dakota studied the picture again. He’d only met Theo a few times. He seemed laid-back, which was a step in his favor because Morris was the same way. He wasn’t a geek, so Dakota had no idea what the two of them talked about when they were alone. And that was a step in the wrong direction. He’d witnessed far more relationships imploding than succeeding. Which was why he’d always been careful not to let it get to the point where it could be a relationship. The closest he’d come was with Felipe. He definitely should’ve cut that off sooner, but Felipe had bounced back just fine.
That was another couple Dakota didn’t get. Trask and Felipe couldn’t be more different if they tried. They were polar opposites. And Dakota never saw them fight. Granted him and Brenden made it work and they were opposites on almost everything. And they did fight, but it wasn’t serious fighting. They bonded by screwing around with each other. How the hell did Felipe and Trask make it work? Dakota wanted to ask, but he didn’t think he’d get many answers out of Trask and that would get Felipe’s curiosity up. Dakota was not about to get him involved.
He could ask Morris, but what could he offer? They’d been a couple a year. Dakota didn’t understand how they could make a lifelong commitment on that basis. Who did things like that? Trask and Felipe had gotten engaged in almost the same time frame, but they at least had known each other for several years.
Dakota knew of one couple who had been together for a long time: his aunt and uncle. He’d witnessed them fight, make up, and work together even when they were angry. They were comfortable. Even if there were no wild sparks, and he really didn’t want to know if there were or not, they were happy. When life was hard, he saw them lean on the security that it would be okay; they just needed to weather it out together. But that was his one and only example of love working out long-term.
“Hey, Dakota, how’ve you been?”
Dakota glanced over at his name and stared blankly at the good-looking man approaching him. Then the memory hit. They’d hooked up a few times before Felipe had distracted him. Only Dakota could not remember his name at all. It was something bland and unremarkable.
“Hey, good, and you? What’s new?” Dakota gave him an easy smile that he wasn’t feeling. Brad, that had to be his name, or was it Chad? He was completely blanking. Though he did remember the man had the most amazing, talented mouth, so maybe that kept him from being a complete jerk.
Dakota forced himself to make conversation for a few minutes before he managed to extricate himself without cluing the poor bastard in on the fact that the only things he remembered about him were his looks and mouth. Which was a far sadder commentary about Dakota than the guy’s memorability.
He needed to think, and Geppi’s wasn’t working. Dakota went outside and wandered over to the gate of Camden Yards. He had dreamed of playing here someday. He had held on to that dream, taking whatever odd job he could get as a smart-mouthed kid to pay for time at the batting cage. He’d clung to it every time his momma brought home a new guy that stank of booze and stale cigarettes. For a time she’d be happy and make an effort to clean the place and cook until the first argument. Once that hit it was a matter of time before another loser was gone and she was crying herself to sleep at night.
Dakota shook his head in disgust as he turned down Eutaw Street and stopped in front of the monument with Cal Ripken’s retired uniform number. Number 8. Dakota ran his hand over the top. He had plans of getting out of the endless cycle of his miserable home life. He was going to make a name for himself long before his aunt and uncle took him in. Even afterward he was determined to do it alone.
Then he got hurt. His knee still ached in the cold and damp, reminding him of the possibilities he’d lost. He was practical enough to know that he might not have made pro. But he’d lost even the chance.
He was still doing it in another way. Sometimes he had to remind himself of that. He wasn’t playing baseball, but he was happy. How many others got to make a semiliving off of doing podcasts and running comic book shows? Sure he had to supplement that with temp work, but mostly he could pick and choose his jobs.
He worked with some really creative people. He got to meet artists and writers he’d idolized as a teenager. He’d met stars and made lifelong friends from an oddball group of people. And he had the person he trusted most in the world at his back. His childhood might have sucked, but Uncle Trev and Aunt Evelyn had made damn sure he had stability and a home when he needed it. He’d snuck over there more times than he could count before he’d been able to stay permanently.
Dakota walked the lines between the brass baseballs embedded into the concrete to show where home runs had landed. He could’ve knocked one out there. He had no doubt. His swing had been lethal. He fished out his phone and called the house. He wanted to hear a family member’s voice. He didn’t care who.
“What’s wrong?” Aunt Evelyn said as she answered, concern underlying the calm in her tone.
“Nothing’s wrong,” Dakota shot back, already on the defensive. She always seemed to know when he was bugged or guilty. He never could figure out how she just knew. She had that sixth sense with all the boys, even Brenden, though he gave her a harder time. “What makes you think something is wrong?”
“You called,” she replied in a drier voice. “You only call me if something’s wrong or you need a favor. And you haven’t asked for a favor in ages.”
“I do not.” Dakota tried to remember the last time he’d dialed the house. He’d talked to Evelyn just before he moved back to Brenden’s… no wait, she’d called him. He strained to remember the time before that, but his brain wouldn’t cooperate. “Okay, maybe I do. Sorry.”
“As long as I know you all are alive, I can deal. You are coming to Sunday dinner, right? It is Easter, and I haven’t seen you and Brenden in weeks. Now that the show is over and he’s feeling better, I don’t want to hear any excuses.”
They could’ve made last weekend’s dinner. Brenden had been good enough to go out. But they’d both hedged. It had been over a month since the last get-together. Maybe they could go now without either of them appearing guilty. Not that Dakota felt any familial guilt over what happened between him and Brenden. But his overanxious friend did consider their foster family’s feelings on the matter as a big deal.
The worst that could happen was they’d freak. Whatever. They’d get over it. Not that it was a concern. But if they made an issue of it, that was their own boggle they would have to deal with. Dakota wouldn’t let it change his mind. Not that he was considering changing his mind when it came to him and Brenden. Dammit, he was a grown-assed man most of the time. He could handle temptation.
“I have to ask you a serious question. You and Uncle Trev have been married about as long as I’ve been alive….” He trailed off, trying to figure out where he was going with this. “Do you consider yourself the norm or the exception?”
“Where did that come from?” Aunt Evelyn asked, sounding puzzled.
“I don’t know. It seems like all my friends are getting married.” Dakota leaned against the brickwork
and shoved a hand in his jean pocket. “I’m happy for them, but I’m waiting for the trainwreck when the marriage implodes.”
“Your mom has jaded you, Dakota. Don’t give her that power,” Aunt Evelyn said in a firm voice.
“What if I’m like her?” Dakota’s shoulders slumped. That was a fear he’d never voiced out loud before.
“You are nothing like her.” She paused to give that emphasis. “Claire thought the world owed her and didn’t want to work for anything. In my opinion, the only decent thing she ever did was finally sign over custody of you so we didn’t lose you to the system. I know you were bitter about it at the time, but I prefer to think that was the one time she acted unselfishly and in your best interests.”
Dakota had been bitter and acted terribly because of it, which was crazy because he’d wanted out of his momma’s house. He dreamed of having a home like the one that had been handed to him. And he definitely preferred going to people who he knew loved him over strangers. He didn’t understand why he’d fought it so hard.
“What if I’m like my dad?” Not that Dakota had ever known him. In all fairness, the man might not even know he existed. He wasn’t sure his momma knew, and he’d never wanted it verified.
“Dakota, we all get bits from our parents, some good and some bad, but that makes up the smallest part of who we are. Our experiences, our choices, our actions define us, and when it comes to that, I see more of your uncle in you than anyone else.” Aunt Evelyn’s voice softened. “You stick, honey, you don’t run.”
Dakota wished he believed that. He wished he was capable of loving someone like that. He didn’t know if he had it in him. But God…. Brenden made him want to try. Only trying with him was not an option. It was like Yoda said, do or do not. Trying would only wound Brenden more.
“Thanks, Aunt Evelyn.” Dakota straightened and fished his keys out of his pocket. Talking to her didn’t always give him answers, but it usually made him feel better. This was a puzzle he’d have to figure out on his own. “We’ll see you Sunday.”
A Beautiful Disaster Page 13
