by Jayce Ellis
When he turned, he spotted the two of them, and his shoulders sagged, not in despair, but in joy. That gorgeous face of his broke into a smile and he walked into the kitchen, squeezing Deion on the shoulder before pulling Olivia out of her chair and wrapping his arms around her.
“Um, Uncle C? Is everything okay?”
He pulled back and stared at her. “Yes. I love you, you know that, right?”
She nodded. “Yeah, I know.” Complete with the eye roll and the little glance away. Deion’s heart sang.
“I am so honored you chose me to be your... I don’t know.”
“Dad?”
And if it wasn’t clear how much that word meant to Carlton before, the way his eyes clouded, the way tears pricked at them, told Deion more than any words could. And it astonished him how he’d missed it. Carlton was born for family. Born to be a father, and be married, and have a ton of kids and grandkids and all that jazz. And he’d never let himself do it.
Carlton straightened and looked over at Deion, a little grin tugging at his cheeks.
“Eww. I know that look,” Olivia said. “I’ll be in my room if you need me. Don’t need me.” She grabbed her book and walked down the hall, the door clicking closed.
“What was that all about?” Carlton asked once they were alone.
“Apparently she thinks that’s your I-want-to-fuck look. Pretty sure she shouldn’t know what your I-want-to-fuck look looks like.”
Carlton huffed, but he still looked confused. “Trust me, that is definitely not my I-want-to-fuck look.”
Deion stood and closed the space between them, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Believe you me, I know.”
Carlton’s laugh was loud this time, and he looped an arm over Deion’s shoulder. “Though, now that you mention it, it’s not a terrible idea.”
Deion couldn’t even argue. He’d missed this man. He hated not knowing where he was, and he wanted to spend time with him. They shut off the kitchen lights, and Deion followed Carlton back to the bedroom.
They changed and climbed in together, facing each other much the way they had for three years in college. Back then, Deion had always wanted Carlton to take the next step, and it had never happened after that one time. Now it was practically a given, and Deion wasn’t sure which was better.
Carlton’s eyes had gone soft, almost wistful looking. “D,” he started, then reached out a hand to trail along his side. “Why do you put up with my shit?”
That drew a laugh out of Deion. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I mean, it’s been what? Twenty years, almost. And you still put up with my same old shit-talking ways as you always have. Why haven’t you drop-kicked my sorry ass by now?”
“You don’t just drop-kick your friends. I thought you knew that by now.”
He shrugged, but it looked almost uncertain as he scooted closer against the cool sheets. “I mean, if parents can drop-kick their kids, why can’t friends drop kick their friends?” They went quiet, the silence stretching until Deion thought Carlton might have dozed off. Deion sighed and smiled at the dark ceiling.
“It’s because I love you.”
Carlton didn’t respond immediately, then slowly rolled his neck over to stare at Deion. “What?”
He refused to look over. “You asked me why I stick around. It’s because I love you.”
“If you stop loving me, will you leave?”
“Would you want me to stay?”
“Is it sad and pathetic I think my answer might be yes?”
No, it was neither. Deion couldn’t imagine what it was like to spend your entire adult life waiting for people to bail and leave you behind. What must he have gone through, watching and waiting for Deion, of all people, to decide he was through with Carlton, just like his parents had? Deion had always managed to play off those concerns, those insecurities. Convinced himself that Carlton’s lack of feelings toward him wasn’t something deeper. Maybe he’d made a big mistake.
“I can’t see myself not loving you. I haven’t known a moment of my adult life without you, and I don’t see it starting now.” Don’t want it starting now.
Carlton chuckled and rolled back to his side. “That’s because you were smart enough to stay far away from me for most of your adult life. I’m afraid your feelings might change if you stick around.”
That...was not exactly the reaction Deion had expected. “Meaning...what?”
Carlton sighed. “I don’t even know. I just know I’m not willing to lose you. I’m not willing to give you a reason to go.”
If anything, that confused him more. Because Deion wasn’t sure if it meant Carlton wanted him to stay. But if he stayed, Carlton feared Deion would fall out of love with him. So maybe it meant he wanted Deion to go, so they could keep what they had?
It was too much, and despite his mild, almost conversational tone, he would spiral if he continued down this mental path. So, the hell with it. He did what they’d learned to do best.
Deion nestled against the bed and reached out to his best friend, pulling Carlton on top of him until their dicks lined up against one another. “Whatever you’re thinking about, let it go. For now, let me help you take your mind off things.”
Carlton smiled, rolled his hips, and dipped his head for a kiss, and Deion wished for all the world things could remain just like this.
Chapter Eighteen
“You nervous?” Carlton asked Olivia as they sat in the waiting room of the therapist’s office. It was bright, one of those not-quite-white rooms that was probably meant to feel warm, a corner full of toys Carlton assumed were for younger patients, but no matter what, the unmistakable feel of there being something—not wrong, but not quite right—about being here pervaded the air.
Olivia shrugged. She’d been quiet all morning, reverting to one-word answers. “Nah. I’m good.”
Well, at least that was three. Or something. He looked over at Deion, who sat on his other side, equally stoic. His eyes were tired, his jaw firm and set, alternating between crossing his arms and leaning forward with them on his knees. Yeah, they were the picture of a happy family.
A woman who looked to be around Carlton’s age walked in. “Carlton?”
He popped his head up and nodded. “Yeah, that’s me. Us,” he said, pointing with his thumb to Olivia and Deion. “You want us all back?”
Her smile was serene. “Please.”
They waited while Deion and Olivia gathered their belongings, then followed her down the hall to an office. She opened the door and Carlton did a double take. He’d expected one of those staid, tiny offices. The ones with the generic furniture meant to accommodate maybe one other person on a good day. But she’d made it her own, with rich creams and soft greens warming it. Carlton sank next to Olivia on the well-worn sofa, Deion in the plush love seat next to them.
“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you all. My name is Linda Holmes. I received a call from Lawrence, asking if I could squeeze you guys in on a bit of an emergency basis. But I don’t know much about you, so who would like to start?”
Straight to business, then. After a brief beat of silence, Carlton cleared his throat. “I guess I’ll go.”
He gave her the rundown, about his sister and brother-in-law’s death, Olivia staying with his parents while he took Trey, then her running away and finding him, and the adoption process. He fought back the residual anger in his chest as he thought about the way bullies had so openly harassed his niece, and even spoke a little to his own fear that it was continuing but she wouldn’t tell him.
Through it all, Dr. Holmes nodded. She didn’t interrupt, she didn’t pepper him with questions that threw him off track, and she didn’t, as far as he could tell, make any gestures that indicated she thought what he said was silly. He liked her.
When he finished, Dr. Holmes sat back. “Olivia, if y
ou’re comfortable saying, why did you want to live with your uncle Carlton instead of your grandparents?”
Olivia shuffled around on the seat, crossing her feet at the ankles and looking for all the world like she was being asked to recite a verse in Sunday school. Poor baby.
She cleared her throat. “Trey and I, we used to text each other all the time. He always told me how much he loved staying with Uncle C. How Unc would always check in on him, make sure things were on track, was real with him and gave him advice, without being stifling. How he was super supportive and didn’t judge people. How it was obvious to Trey that he’d like, totally interfered with Uncle C’s life, but he didn’t even seem to care. And he never grumbled or bitched, oops—” She cut herself off, wincing, and everyone laughed. “But, yeah, that he just like, wanted what was best for him. Wanted him to do well. And...”
Dr. Holmes kept silent for a moment before prodding, “And?”
“And that reminded me of how Mom and Dad were. So I really liked that. And I wanted that.”
You could have knocked Carlton over with a feather. Trey was so quiet, never really expressing his emotions, and Carlton hadn’t imagined he’d felt strongly one way or the other toward him. It was overwhelming, and beautiful, and kind of made him want to cry. Again.
“This is an excellent start,” Dr. Holmes said. Then she looked at Deion and smiled. “Pardon me for asking, but who are you and why are you here?”
Carlton started to answer, but Deion held a hand out. “Totally understand. I’m Deion Jones, Carlton’s best friend, and I’m here because the social worker asked all adults involved in decision-making to attend.”
“What role do you play in making decisions for Olivia?”
Deion didn’t answer for moment, tilting his neck one way and the other. “Outside of letting her try out for wrestling, I don’t know,” he finally said. “I love her, she’s my best friend’s niece. I don’t want to overstep any boundaries, so I’m not really sure what my role is or what I’m meant to contribute. I was with them at the mall,” he continued, “but outside of that...” Deion didn’t finish the sentence, looking down at his hands and shaking his head.
Dr. Holmes nodded again, then focused on Olivia. “From what I understand, there are a few things we need to work on. One of them, the bullying at school, as well as your past trauma, certainly involves you. The other one is—”
“For the adults in the room?” Olivia finished, and Dr. Holmes laughed.
“Exactly. Would you mind going to the waiting room for a bit while I speak to your uncle and Mr. Jones?”
She shrugged, but the look on her face was happy, almost relieved. “Sure.” She bent over and pecked Carlton on the cheek, then did the same with Deion before darting out the room. Her sneakers squeaked as she scampered down the hallway, and Carlton and Deion shared a smile.
Dr. Holmes stayed at the door until Olivia reached the waiting room, then turned and shut it behind her. “Lawrence wouldn’t tell me what’s going on,” she started, “but there is no reason someone who’s a friend of the adopter would be in my office unless there was an issue. So talk to me.”
Carlton looked over at Deion, who shrugged and gestured back to him. “Well,” Carlton started, “I may have made a misrepresentation to the social worker.”
Dr. Holmes stopped with her pen in the air. She looked up at him, her eyes narrowing just a fraction. “Such as?”
“I told her Deion was my partner. Or rather, she made that assumption and I pleaded with Deion to go along with it because she made it seem like it would help my case.”
“So you lied. And there’s no romantic relationship between you?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Carlton,” Dr. Holmes said, setting her notepad to the side, “you pay too much for my time to dither about this. What is the status of your relationship with Mr. Jones?”
He glanced at Deion, whose face was carefully blank. But his jaw was tight, and Carlton wanted to do something, say something, to take that look off his face. “That’s kind of an issue. We haven’t really talked about it, and, I mean, I don’t know what we are.”
She looked at Deion, his face remaining impressively impassive. “Mr. Jones?” she asked.
“I’ve been in love with Carlton since I was nineteen years old,” Deion said, refusing to look his way, his voice monotone. “He knows this. I’ve made no secret about it. I came into town to see him with the full impression I would be moving to London in December.”
“Why London?”
“My parents live there now. I’d decided I didn’t want to seek tenure at my university, and my mother is still eagerly anticipating my arrival.”
“What did you originally come here for?”
“Homecoming.”
“And you stayed because...?”
“Carlton asked me to. Olivia showed up, standing in the doorframe, soaking wet, just...there. And it was a total shock to both of us, and he asked if I would stay.”
“And you said yes?”
“I would never say no.”
The way he’d said that, so matter-of-factly, tugged at Carlton. Pulled at every ounce of him that wanted this to be real, for the long haul.
Dr. Holmes turned back to Carlton. “How have things been with Deion here?”
“Seamless.” That was the only appropriate word. With Deion around, he’d seamlessly gone from some level of pseudo-bachelorhood, given that Trey was out of the house, to fatherhood, cooking dinners at night, rearranging bedrooms, all that, and honestly, Carlton hadn’t been all that active in the process. He’d kind of gone with the flow, followed Deion’s lead.
“You’re thinking pretty deeply over there.”
“I’ve relied on Deion. Maybe too much sometimes. But we’d probably have been here a lot sooner if not for him.”
“So what is the next step of your relationship?” Dr. Holmes asked. “Are you two going to be a permanent fixture for Olivia, or are you, Mr. Jones,” she asked, turning to Deion, “still planning to relocate to London in a few months’ time?”
Deion leaned forward and asked the question Carlton had been dreading. “If I am planning to go to London, is it better for me to leave now?”
“In my professional opinion? Yes. Mr. Monroe is still in the middle of an adoption proceeding. He and Olivia need the opportunity to work out whatever issues they have without the interference of a third party. And I’m not saying it’s a bad interference,” she said, smiling that professional smile that never really met anyone’s eyes, “but more that they haven’t had a chance to really learn how to navigate their relationship with only each other. Now, of course,” she continued, “if you guys are going to be together, then that’s a different conversation.”
Deion looked at Carlton. “What do you want?”
That question was weighty, way more than the four words would suggest. “Whatever you want.”
“Carlton, don’t. Not right now. I need you to answer the question.”
“I thought I already told you what I want.” Promise me you won’t leave.
Deion shifted from his seat to the couch, and the cushion dipped, pushing their thighs together. His voice lowered. “Give me a reason to stay.”
Carlton knew what that meant. He opened his mouth, and nothing came out.
A beat of silence passed, then Deion tapped their foreheads together. “Baby, please.”
“What if you still leave?” Carlton’s voice cracked, and his shame was smothered by his fear.
Deion pulled back and gripped his chin. “Give me a reason to stay.” When Carlton still didn’t respond, Deion palmed the side of his face. “You know I love you. I need to know you feel the same.”
Carlton couldn’t remember the last time he’d said the words. Maybe to his mom, after Carrie died. But hell, he wasn’t sure he’d even sa
id them to Carrie. He gripped Deion’s wrist tightly.
“Please,” Deion whispered. And it almost broke him, but Carlton pulled his hand away from Deion and sat back, the words stubbornly stuck in his throat.
And bless him, Deion waited. More than anyone should have, but Carlton couldn’t face him. Couldn’t bear to look at him, and eventually, Deion stood. “Dr. Holmes, thank you for your time today, it’s been a pleasure to meet you. Should I send Olivia back?”
For her part, Dr. Holmes looked utterly dumbfounded, but she managed a nod. “Yes. Thank you.” She sounded like she was holding it together by a string too.
Deion smiled, took a long, deep breath, then walked away without looking back, and Carlton watched his world collapse in front of him.
* * *
He didn’t know how it’d happened, but even though Deion had never gotten around to buying more clothes while he’d been here, none of his original shit wanted to fit in this goddamn piece of luggage. He punched at the hard case, then stepped back and gripped his hair. He needed to breathe. to calm down, take a breath, and start over. He just...he couldn’t be in this house any longer. He’d already booked a one-way ticket back to Chicago—that had cost him an arm and a leg—and now he needed to get out of here.
Not just because this was Carlton’s home, but because there were hints of him everywhere. The breakfast he’d cooked this morning, the pile of clothes sitting on the chair that he’d planned to fold when they got back. The super-frilly, gauzy curtains he’d picked out for Olivia’s room, that she’d seemed almost embarrassed to want as much as she had. The master bathroom? Hell, Carlton’s stuff was on one side, Deion’s the other. He’d literally swiped his arm across the counter, forcing everything off and into his bag, and now it looked barren, like something was missing.
He’d made this space his home. He hadn’t acted like this was temporary. He hadn’t acted like this was ending anytime soon. And he was a goddamn fucking fool for it.
Taking a deep breath, he pulled all of the clothes out of the suitcase and half-ass attempted to fold them. That, at least, was better. He looked at the bottles and scrunched his nose up. Most of the items were too large for the carry-on this absolutely needed to be, because he could not spend one minute more at the airport than necessary. Deion pulled them all out and was tempted to set them back on the counter. But he wasn’t coming back here. This wasn’t his home. He tossed them in the bathroom trash can and tried not to wince at the sound of plastic clanking against steel, of money and time and love down the fucking drain. Something about throwing his conditioner away felt like throwing his friendship away.
