Simon wrinkled his nose, but took it anyway and fought back a too-large grin. “Thanks.”
“Tell your sugar daddy I said hi and that I’m glad he’s home.”
Blanching, Simon turned away, but he smiled in spite of himself. “You know, he’s not the only one now, right? You should see my bank account.”
“Shut the hell up or I will watch your porn, Simon. I will have a porn party and invite the whole town.”
At that, Simon did laugh, big and hearty and full of life. He let Levi show him to the door, then turned and nodded at his brother. “You’ll help me pack?”
“Elohim yishmor, yes,” he said, exasperated but grinning. “Now get the hell out of my apartment.”
“Say hi to human James,” Simon called back as he started away from the door. He heard the echo of Levi’s chuckle as Simon headed to his car. He didn’t feel entirely better—and he probably never would. This was almost his entire life that was being packed up in small boxes and either stored or moved across the country.
And he was saying goodbye—for now, maybe for a little while. Maybe longer.
But it was time.
* * *
Simon swiped a hand over his forehead before walking to the window and pushing it open further. It wasn’t just the late August heat, but the dust in the air scattered from old boxes that was making it hard to breathe. And the fact that it was happening. Simon’s bank account was full—his loan paid off, a nest egg sitting quietly, and life was okay.
But he was still selling. He was still packing away these bits and pieces of his life—his childhood, his teenage years, the tortured adulthood he’d nearly withered away behind these walls until Levi forced him into the open.
He felt raw some days. Therapy was helping, but there wasn’t really a cure for his condition. There were meds he wasn’t taking just yet—keeping them on hand felt better than actually starting. He was managing okay on his own with the help of the soft-spoken woman in Colorado Springs who also had a few recommendations for when he got to LA.
But he knew anyone would be sad doing this. He glanced over at Levi who had been sitting with the same box for half an hour, and he plopped down next to him, peering over the edge. It was some miscellaneous box Bubbe had thrown together—some of Simon’s old matchbox cars, a tattered dinosaur stuffie Levi had carried with him when he was three, then abandoned by four. Beneath that looked like old report cards and a stack of photos.
Levi had one in his hand, a shot of Simon and Bubbe on the beach. Simon barely recognized it now—the shores of the Mediterranean on the coast of Tel Aviv. He was standing with his feet in the water, and the sea behind him was faded in the photograph, but he remembered how sharply, impossibly blue-green the waters shone in the afternoon sun. He could almost smell it there, almost taste it on the sides of his tongue.
“Do you ever want to go back,” Levi asked quietly.
Simon touched the edge of the photo. “Sometimes, yeah. I mean Abba’s grave is there—might be nice to lay some stones.”
Levi nodded, chewing on his lower lip for a minute. “It never did feel real to me. I mean, I was born there, but it was never mine.”
“You’d like it,” Simon told him. “I hated it for a long time after we got here. I was angry. There were days like this, but there were raids, and bomb threats, and people dying all the time. And it killed Abba. I never understood it.” Simon closed his eyes and could just picture his father—the spitting image of the man Levi was now—the same smile, same eyes, even the same laugh. It didn’t hurt him the way it hurt their mother though. Levi was a way of getting to keep those pieces he’d lost. “Greedy men.”
Levi sighed. “Do you think he would have liked me?”
“I don’t know.” Simon wanted to lie, just to make Levi happy, but that’s where all his problems started with his brother. “He wasn’t around much. Sometimes I thought he’d rather be doing anything else besides being home with us and Ema.”
Levi closed his eyes in a slow blink. “Then I’m glad I got you instead of him.”
Simon’s insides hurt—deep and profound. He never felt like enough, but this was Levi’s way of telling him it was okay. He glanced over and Levi was holding another photo—Simon was twelve, he knew because of the cast on his leg and stitches in his cheek from the crash. He was reclined on the sofa and Levi—the chubby-faced toddler—was fast asleep on his chest. In the photo, Simon’s eyes were closed, and he held on possessively.
Levi made a small noise in the back of his throat. “You loved me.”
Simon laughed, the sound a little harsh. “Yes, Levi.”
“You loved more than she ever did.”
Simon closed his eyes and breathed. The answer was yes. Yes, he loved Levi more than their mother had, and maybe even more than Bubbe. He loved Levi as an extension of himself—though that wasn’t quite true. He loved his brother more than he’d ever loved the reflection that stared back at him in the mirror.
Clearing his throat, he looked down at his hands. “Did you find everything you wanted to keep?”
Levi sighed, then dropped the photo back in the box. “Yeah. The apartment doesn’t have a lot of room. You sure you don’t mind storing it all?”
Simon laughed. “I’m not taking a lot with me. We’re only staying four months.”
“Until people recognize you for the star you are,” Levi said, and Simon’s face erupted into a blush. Levi swore he and James hadn’t watched, but he wouldn’t put it past his brother to peek just to be a shit. “Promise me you won’t be gone forever?”
“I don’t want to be gone at all, but I wanted to do this. I don’t know what the hell to do after, and please don’t say porn.”
“What?” Levi defended as he climbed to his feet. “It makes good money. Though I guess you have your sugar daddy for that.” Simon scoffed and turned away, but Levi caught him by the arm and turned him slowly. “Let’s go see them.”
“It’s not time, Levi. It’s not…”
“Simon,” Levi breathed out. “Don’t. You’ll be in LA for yahrzeit.”
“You know I was planning to come back for it,” Simon started to argue, but Levi gave him a flat look.
Simon knew the truth—he knew he was deflecting because standing over the graves of his mother and grandmother was always a lot for him. But he’d been collecting stones over the past few months, and he knew Levi had done the same. He detached himself from Levi’s fingers, then walked into the kitchen and opened the one drawer he hadn’t packed. One of the stones looked almost black, polished by the little stream out by Collin’s house. The other was in the shape of a crescent—for Bubbe.
He clutched them in his fist, then showed them to Levi who nodded, jaw set. “I brought mine. I want to do this with you in case—for whatever reason—you don’t make it back.”
“I will,” Simon told him fiercely. It was a promise he intended to keep, even if he did stay away longer than four months. He’d been thinking of doing some traveling, and Rocco wasn’t opposed. “But just in case,” he added.
“What time do you have to meet the squatter?” Levi asked.
Simon narrowed his eyes at his brother. “Please do not make him feel unwelcome. I like him—he’s nice.”
“You like him because he’s hot, and Rocco likes him because he’s Deaf, and meanwhile I’m going to lose all my damn business to this Denver hipster.”
Simon laughed and pulled Levi close. “He’ll be here at four, we have time to drive down and back. And he sells gluten free cupcakes. You’ll have plenty of people who want your bacon and brie croissants and Blue Moon custard sufganiyot.”
Levi wrinkled his nose, but he didn’t argue as he followed Simon down the stairs—for one of the last times together—and to the car.
The drive to the cemetery was almost an hour long. Bubbe insisted Miriam be buried in a Jewish cemetery so finding one had taken some time. But both his mom and Bubbe had been permitted, and Simon had never wondered ab
out the cost because Bubbe had been nothing if not thorough before her death.
He knew Levi came more often than he did—and Simon liked to blame it on his practice, but in truth, he was never able to divorce himself from the grief of losing them both. He wanted to be better about it—and maybe Levi was on to something when it came to facing what hurt most head on. But he was about to put a thousand miles between him and what was left of his ragged past.
The grass was freshly wet beneath their feet as Levi led the way, and Simon held the stones so tight they cut into his palm, feeling skin almost give way when he laid eyes on the names of the two women he had loved most in the world.
“They’d be horrified about our personal lives,” Levi muttered, putting the stones in his left hand before laying them down—first for Bubbe, then for their mom. “They’d take one look at James and ask me what the hell I was thinking.”
“I’m with a porn star,” Simon reminded him. He laid the black stone down for his mother, but held the crescent a bit longer. “Anyway, they’d see the way you two look at each other, and that would be more important than anything in the world.”
“Do you think so?” Levi looked so young then, sounded so young. He was suddenly the little boy of twelve, holding Simon’s hand, wanting to know why Hashem saw fit to take both his mother and his grandmother away from him.
Simon had no answers then, just like he didn’t have one now.
But he had faith. He’d always have faith.
“I think so.” He felt Levi take his hand just before he bent over to lay Bubbe’s stone for her, and he pressed his fingertips to the cold, stamped concrete. He didn’t feel her there. He didn’t feel her anywhere. Not anymore. But he missed her.
“Does it get easier for you?” Levi asked, his voice thick.
Simon didn’t want to risk speaking, so he shook his head. They stood there, hand in hand like that—the last of their family. It was a little bit alone, but it wasn’t so lonely anymore.
“We should head back if you don’t want to miss the squatter.”
Simon let out a tiny sigh, but he knew Wilder would grow on Levi. Or he wouldn’t. He’d still find a home in Cherry Creek like so many had. They made their way back to the car, and Simon took just a moment for himself to breathe again. When his lungs felt clear, he tossed a smile at his brother, then started back up the street.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Rocco waited at the rental for Simon to finish up his day. He’d gotten a text from Simon letting him know he was dropping cat Rocco back off with Spencer, then heading back to the shop to give the new guy the final tour. The leasing agency would handle the rest, and Simon would be free.
Or something like it.
He gave James a scratch and felt a sort of profound loss, looking around at all of their things packed in neat boxes and bags. He didn’t want to leave—but Simon needed this. He needed to set foot out of the cage he’d created for himself. First it was school—and then, the world.
Rocco startled when he saw headlights, and he was on his feet and near the door when it opened. Simon looked a bit ragged and red around his eyes like he’d been crying. He pushed into Rocco’s arms easily, quietly—at least as far as Rocco could tell.
His back ached from not moving, but he was still content to stand there and hold the love of his life, just like this, as long as he needed. Simon, of course, didn’t make him wait an eternity. Just five minutes before he pulled back and cupped Rocco’s cheek, taking a kiss for himself before he moved to the sofa.
‘How was it?’ Rocco asked.
Simon shrugged. ‘Good. I think the place will do well. People need something new.’
Rocco nodded. ‘And the rest?’ He meant the cemetery, he meant the time with his brother, and the last moments they had with their childhood home.
Simon’s chin trembled a little, and he licked his lips before a few tears seeped out. Rocco brushed them away, but more replaced them, so he simply let Simon cry. ‘It’s over. It was hard. I miss them so much, but it was time. You know?’
Rocco didn’t know. He might, eventually, in some way. But he’d never know what it was like to lose his country, his language, to lose everything important to him, and be stuffed in a tiny box the way Simon had been. He was grateful for it, and still profoundly sad for his lover. But Simon wasn’t suffering all the time.
Rocco made him smile.
It felt…worth it.
‘Take me to bed?’ Simon asked after a short silence.
Rocco stood up and offered his hand, Simon slipping his own fingers between Rocco’s larger ones, and they made their way down the little hall, to the master bedroom, for the last time. They’d wake up with the sun, they’d put the rest of their bags in the car, and they’d head west.
For now. Maybe for a short while. Maybe a lot longer.
But that didn’t matter right then. Right then, they had tonight.
* * *
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
The match under his fingers felt warmer than usual, the flame sending cascading heat which contrasted with the approaching winter breeze coming off the surf. They were close enough he could hear the waves crashing on the shore—even during low tide when the sands of the pacific stretched like an endless path to blue waters.
It was temperate and a little humid, and always windy. His curls bounced and frizzed in the salt air, but his skin drank in the moisture like it had been starving for something new. His hand spread over the white cloth on the table, and the Shabbat candles pristine and unblemished in the holder.
He touched the flame to the wicks, then a small puff of air sent the acrid scent of smoke into his nose before he pressed his fingers over his eyes and felt the blessing tugging at his throat. All of this—this moment, this night, this Shabbat wrapped around him like a comfort he hadn’t realized he’d needed.
He wanted this life—out of Cherry Creek, with Rocco by his side. He wanted to see the future ahead of him like it would mean something bright and beautiful instead of the endless blackness of inevitability Bubbe had created for him. He still loved her. He missed her with a fierceness that he couldn’t put into words or signs. It was a constant, empty ache with her gone, even after all these years.
And now he missed his brother too. And their little apartment. And the way his footsteps would echo in the Chametz kitchen long before the sun rose.
But he had this.
This Shabbat was proof that he hadn’t lost himself—he hadn’t lost his faith, he hadn’t lost anything important to him. He had gained. He felt stronger, closer to God than ever, maybe. He had his brother back—maybe not like they could have been before everything shattered to pieces with his rigidity and Levi’s rebellion, but it was something important. Something impenetrable.
And he had Rocco.
The blessing stuttered only for a moment when warm hands touched his waist, and Simon leaned into them as the last notes rolled off his tongue. Rocco’s fingers brushed the side of his throat, then trailed downward to lay flat against his stomach. Simon breathed in again, felt peace surrounding him, then laid his hands over Rocco’s and pressed himself against the warm body that had offered freedom where he hadn’t realized he needed it.
Thank you. He offered the prayer, a small, selfish thing, but he would hoard this happiness with every fiber of his being.
Lips pressed to the side of his neck, and he gave a quiet hum of contentment because he knew then, Rocco was just as happy. Simon was just as important to him.
“Dinner,” Rocco murmured.
Simon nodded. ‘In a minute,’ his hands signed.
He still hadn’t opened his eyes, but he could see the flicker of the candle lights—red like a sunset, red like the feeling of absolute and utter adoration that wrapped around him whenever Rocco pressed him into the bed and kissed all of his overwhelming emotion right into Simon’s mouth.
He loved Rocco, and he was loved in return.
It was all
that mattered. In the end.
The End
Epilogue
Afterword
Enjoyed Simon’s story in Love Him Free? Wanted to know more about how Levi and James became the men they were in these pages? Check out Heartless, book two of Room For Love by Kate Hawthorne.
Available on Amazon and KU
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For more by E.M. Lindsey, find her on Patreon for sneak peeks, cover reveals, early chapters, ARCs and more. Subscribe to BookBub for new release alerts, and join E.M. Lindsey’s Facebook reader group, Lindsey’s Liaison for teaser Tuesdays, WIP Wednesdays, and all of the up to date information on upcoming releases.
Also by E.M. Lindsey
Baum’s Boxing:
Book One: Below the Belt
Book Two: Fortune and Fate
Book Three: Fringe Contender
Breaking the Rules:
Book One: Renegades
Book Two: Temptation
Book Three: Forsaken
Irons and Works:
Book One: Free Hand
Book Two: Blank Canvas
Book Three: American Traditional
Book Four: Bio-Mechanical
Book Five: Stick-and-Poke
Book Six: Scarification
Book Seven: To Touch the Light- An Irons and Works Holiday novel
Magnum Opus Series:
Verismo
Tremolo
Serenata
Stand-Alone Novels:
Like Water Catching Fire
Forget-Me-Not
Love Him Free: Book One of On The Market Page 25
