by Peter Styles
“Hey. He’s going to be fine,” Jordan says softly. His finger draws a circle on the back of Damian’s hand, careful and reassuring. I’m not going to cry, he tells himself. Not even when he feels supported. Loved. Jordan smiles then, though. “I’ll be here—that is, somewhere—when you get back.”
His self-control flies out the window. He pulls Jordan into a hug, fully aware that he should be rushing to get into the airport, and tries to memorize how it feels to hold him. He tries to memorize the way Jordan’s body wash smells and the sharp scent of cologne lingering on his jacket like always.
“Good. I don’t need to lose you again.” Damian pulls away after a moment. The last thing he does—last so that he can remember it more, he tells himself—is kiss Jordan. Just once, briefly, more of an exchange of warmth than anything else. A way to memorize his touch.
“I’ll call,” Jordan says, there’s an unreadable expression on his face.
“Okay. I’ll see you soon.”
Damian looks over his shoulder as he walks away. He can’t help it—he wants every image possible of Jordan. They’ll keep me strong when I’m gone. He doesn’t want to think of how long he’ll be away or when he’ll see Jordan again. Not now. For now, the only thing he can worry about is his flight.
He still thinks about Jordan the entire time he’s sitting at the gate, waiting to board his plane. It’s not until he boards and sees his seat next to the entrance that he realizes they bought him the seat closest to the front so that he can get off quickly when he gets to Tower Valley. He laughs, eyes tearing up a little as he turns to look out the window. Of course they did.
12
Damian
Ellis picks him up at the airport. He barely makes it to the pickup area, thinking he’ll get a taxi, and then he sees Ellis waiting in his mother’s car. Damian can’t come up with anything to say and he almost stands there in silence before his friend hugs him, foregoing all greetings and awkward condolences.
“Hey. I’m sorry,” Ellis says. “He’s gonna be fine.”
“Yeah. That’s what they tell me,” Damian jokes halfheartedly, letting Ellis take his backpack and throw it in the backseat.
“Mom’s making dinner tonight. Your dad should be getting discharged. She’s stalling for us.”
The way he says us is what hits Damian. He feels like a kid again, running around with his best friend and causing trouble. He knows their parents are good friends; they had to be, chasing after their sons alongside each other. He imagines Ellis’ mother is in the process of chewing Damian’s father out, probably threatening a sedative if he doesn’t stay in bed for the required amount of time.
“How’s the band?” Ellis asks, glancing over at Damian as he pulls away from the curb.
“Good. Great. They’re playing their last city before heading back here for their finale. I…it would have been nice to see them play. They’re really good. You should come to the last concert.”
“I will,” Ellis promises, a smile growing on his face. “Especially so I can meet Jordan.”
“I’ve been meaning to have you two meet. I think your mom would—”
“Like him? She likes most people. But she’ll love him, since it’s you. I’ll bet your dad will want to come, too.”
“I’ll make him. He needs time off.”
“He does,” Ellis agrees, smile softening. “I’ll back you up. With mom, we’ll be unstoppable.”
They sit in silence for the rest of the trip. It takes fifteen minutes to get to the hospital, which is near the downtown area. Damian’s leg is already jumping in anticipation; all he can think about is the fact that his father is somewhere inside, stitched and bandaged. He hopes that Ellis’ mother is keeping him in his bed. When they walk into the lobby, a young nurse is working at the desk—Damian vaguely recognizes her from high school and she smiles at him, looking half sorry and half relieved.
“He’s in room 203,” she says without question, gesturing to the hallway on the left side of the desk.
“Thank you,” Damian says quickly, walking down the tiled floor. The fluorescent lights make everything radiate a little too brightly and he feels like he’s getting the news again, the world too sharp and real around him.
The door is cracked. He knocks once, pushing it open to see the single bed by the window. Mrs. Ames is standing by the bed, chart in hand, her curls held in place with a pencil. Damian’s father has his arms crossed over his chest, everything about his posture stubborn. It makes Damian want to laugh and cry at the same time. Finally seeing his father alive and well lifts a weight from his shoulder he hadn’t realized had grown so heavy.
“Rule number one, Dad. Don’t get in a knife fight, ever,” Damian says. It’s the same thing his father has told him since the beginning of time. His father had taught him all the rules at a young age; warnings about fighting and when to ask for a lawyer and whether he should allow a search of his vehicle or not. The rule is nostalgic, just like everything about Tower Valley and coming back.
“Son, did you fly all the way back just to tell me that?”
“Of course. Someone had to,” Damian says, finally cracking a smile. He’s fine. He’s really fine. Mrs. Ames walks around the bed, tapping his shoulder with the clipboard in her hand.
“He’s free to go tonight,” she explains. “It’s up to you to make sure he doesn’t make a fool of himself and pull the stitches.”
“Hey, now,” Damian’s dad says, looking exasperated. Damian just bites back a laugh and nods seriously.
“Of course. I’ll keep an eye on him. Thanks,” he adds, trying to express all he’s feeling. Thank you for looking after him. He wants to say thank you as many times as possible and he gets the feeling he’ll have the chance later in the evening, once they’re having dinner.
Ellis leaves with his mother, waving goodbye, and Damian sits in a chair by the bed. He exhales slowly when he lowers himself, the exhaustion of traveling suddenly catching up with him. When’s the last time I slept? What day is it? What time is it anymore? He feels almost like he’s traveled through a black hole to get back to Tower Valley. The town has always felt a little bit like a twilight zone, disconnected from the big cities and pressing drama of the outside world. He hasn’t been back in years; every holiday, his father has been the one to travel and visit Damian, using the time off as an opportunity to see new places.
“You’ve been on the road for a long time,” his father says, interrupting his thoughts.
“Yeah. Guess so.”
“Longer than usual. You said you were working security?”
“Kind of. This band—they’re on tour right now. I kind of helped out by accident and got hired. Mostly it feels like we’re all friends, though,” Damian smiles, thinking about the music festival in Elizabeth and the midnight gas station stops.
It takes him too long to realize his father is scrutinizing him. Damian has never been able to hide much from his father—the man is in law enforcement, after all, and he’s been a single parent for most of Damian’s life. Damian gets itchy just considering trying to hide the real reason he’s been traveling across half the country. It’s not like I can say, ‘hey, Dad, I did it because the bass player is really hot and also really sweet and I think I’m in love with him’.
“So, who’s this Jordan person Ellis has been telling me about?”
“Traitor!” Damian sputters. “What—when did he even have time to tell you?!”
“He’s been around. Trying to stall me, yesterday. I think he ran out of private trainer stories to tell me.”
“He told you about Jordan to try and get you to stay in bed? I’m going to kill him later,” Damian snorts. He can feel his father’s gaze burning into the side of his face. His mind starts racing and he tries to come up with something reasonable to say.
“Is he coming, too?”
“What? No—no, they’re playing one last show in Texas before they come back here. I don’t think he’ll be in town for at least three
days.”
“But he’s coming over when he gets back, right?”
Damian pauses. He can see one of his father’s eyebrows raise just a little, arched in silent command. There’s no arguing with him; Damian knows this already. Once his father has something decided, it will happen, regardless of any arguments Damian might have.
“I…haven’t mentioned…I mean, I haven’t asked him to,” Damian admits. He feels a little guilty, admitting it. It’s not that I don’t want him to. It’s just that I don’t know how long this will last. Maybe what they have has been perfect, but they’ve been on the road with the band for the entirety of their relationship. He has no clue how—or if—they’ll work out in a normal setting. I don’t have a house or apartment here. I don’t even know if he does.
“Listen, kid. I know you move around a lot—and I’m not gonna say anything about why—but that doesn’t mean you need to leave things behind all the time. Sometimes, it’s worth it to take things with you. Especially the ones that deserve your time and attention.”
“Dad, this isn’t a motorcycle we’re talking about,” Damian says sadly.
“No. But relationships are important. You know life can be hard. You don’t know how much time you’ll have—so ask yourself: would you regret it if you lost him tomorrow? Because that’s what you have to think about, any time you think of giving up or putting it off.”
He’s right. Damian knows this just as much as he knows the things his father is saying. He’s always known; seeing the effect his mother’s death had on his father has always convinced him that time is precious. It’s why he’s spent his adult life moving around, chasing a desire for something more. Something real. Now that he’s found it, though, the challenge is digging his heels in and sticking to it. He knows better than to run away from something this good. From a chance to be with someone who understands and cares about him.
Ironic, he thinks. All this time I was looking for something everywhere else, and I could have found it right at home.
“Why don’t we get you home,” Damian suggests, not wanting to press the subject any further. He knows he should call Jordan as soon as possible. And maybe ask him if he wants to meet my Dad. “We could both probably use some sleep before dinner.”
“Sure,” his father says evenly. Just like that, their conversation fades—not quite gone but stowed away, ready to be brought up again once they’ve both had time to figure out what they want to say.
Damian thinks maybe he appreciates that about his father and Jordan the same way—they both know when to back away and leave things be. He never feels rushed, talking to them—there’s always enough patience for him to feel comfortable leaving things alone.
Damian drives once his father finishes checking out at the desk. The old truck is familiar and he finds his way home in the peculiar way of someone having a dream for the second time; everything is eerily familiar, his hands turning the wheel moments before he recognizes that he needs to. It’s like a sixth sense, an internal compass guiding him through streets he can never forget. By the time he reaches the house, he’s already yawning. He sets an alarm to wake him from his nap and remind him to call Jordan before falling asleep on the couch, curled under a blanket that smells like laundry detergent and home.
Someone is singing in his ear. Jordan, he thinks, wanting to smile. Why is he singing? He’s going to wake the others up. Damian turns over, searching for the warmth of another body, and promptly falls off the edge of the couch. It takes him a second to react, startled, looking at his surroundings in confusion. Reality comes back to him in pieces—his trip, the hospital, his father. It’s only then that he realizes his phone is ringing.
“Hello?” He answers distractedly, blinking wearily. The world is barely dimming outside and the clock tells him it’s only five o’clock.
“Hey. Did you make it okay?” It feels right to hear Jordan’s voice. Damian smiles, pulling his knees up to his chest as he leans back against the sofa.
“Yeah. I’m sorry I didn’t call—I fell asleep. Dad’s fine—I drove him home earlier.”
“That’s good,” Jordan says, sounding relieved, as if it’s his father they’re talking about. “I’m sorry if I woke you up.”
“No, it’s fine—I think I slept through my alarm. I was going to call you. Dad’s fine—stubborn as usual. We’re having dinner with Ellis and his mom later.”
“Good. That’s good.”
“How was the show?” Damian wants to ask and when are you coming back, but he thinks better of it, knowing his tired mind is stacking up questions too quickly for him to ask.
“It was great. We had a rowdy crowd, too. Very excited. Jace says he loves Texas.”
“I bet,” Damian laughs. He can imagine Jace feeding on the crowd’s energy. “Are you on the road?”
“Yeah. We actually finished pretty early and left town immediately after. Jace was so fired up that he insisted on driving. He’s been going for five hours. I think Sam’s going to force him to go to sleep. Or knock him out.”
“Get it on video for me.”
Jordan laughs and Damian pulls himself back onto the couch. He wonders if he should bring it up—Do you want to meet my Dad? Can we get together when you get home? Can I meet your family? He has so many questions he wants to ask, now that he feels like he’s out of the woods. Before he can ask any of them, though, Jordan speaks up.
“Our last concert is back home. It’s at Steel Drum, so they usually charge admission, but Jace says he’ll get the word to the security if Ellis and your father want to come. I know you mentioned Mrs. Ames is busy, and I don’t want to take up her free time.”
“That…yeah, that would be great,” Damian says, surprised. “I mean, Ellis has been wanting to meet everyone, and my dad—” he cuts himself off, feeling a blush rise to his face. My dad wants to meet you. He basically told me not to let you get away.
“Invite them. I’ll tell Jace to make sure they get wristbands for the bar,” Jordan says, seeming not to notice Damian’s stumble.
“Okay. When…I mean, when you get in town, let me know, okay? I want to help, even if it’s just the last show.”
“You don’t have to. We have enough people,” Jordan says fondly. “Spend some time with your father. I know you don’t get to see him that often.”
“He won’t go anywhere for the hour it takes to set up,” Damian replies, “And I’m sure he’ll end up making me go, anyway. He’s stubborn like that.”
“Now I know where you get it from.”
There’s a faint creak from upstairs and Damian glances towards the staircase, checking the clock again. It’s been almost half an hour, he realizes with shock. They’re due to leave soon to meet Mrs. Ames and Ellis. He almost doesn’t want to hang up, though. I missed his voice, he realizes. Somehow, in the span of less than a full day, he’d come to miss Jordan’s voice more than anything in the world. Damian even misses the smell of his shampoo, as common as it seems.
“I should go—we’re due for dinner soon. Call me when you’re close?”
“I’m always close.”
“I can’t believe you’re such a sap,” Damian laughs. He actually can believe it, though. He knows by now that Jordan is intensely loyal and loving, especially with the few people he considers friends or family. Damian still can’t believe he made it onto the list.
“I’ll see you soon, okay?”
“Yeah. I’ll see you soon.”
Damian is still grinning like a fool after hanging up, which is probably why he doesn’t notice his father standing at the foot of the stairs. It takes a purposeful cough for him to snap out of his stupor, jumping up from the couch as if it’s on fire. He feels like a teenager again, daydreaming about crushes and making his father lecture him preemptively about rules involving visitors.
“You ready?”
“Yeah. I’m just gonna put my shoes on,” Damian says, quickly turning away to hide his reddening face. He can’t even imagine how awkward i
t’s going to be when Jordan shows up. Damian hasn’t brought anyone home since high school and he’s never introduced anyone he’s been serious about.
Really, I’ve just never been serious about anyone, he thinks, pulling his sneakers on. But he knows he’s serious about Jordan and he knows he’ll have to face up to that fact soon enough or risk ruining everything he’s worked for the past month and a half. And I’m not letting Jordan go again anytime soon.
13
Jordan
He gets more nervous the closer they get to Tower Valley. Seven hours away from the town, Jace takes it upon himself to say something. Jordan’s cousin appears as if summoned, notebook in hand and a pen stuck behind his ear. He looks as if he’s been interrupted—which he probably has, by Sam—and Jordan isn’t keen on facing his wrath. When Jace is writing, he shouldn’t be disturbed.
“I’m going to need you to calm down. The bus is only so big and your bad vibes are taking up most of the space.”
“Bad?”
“Anxiety isn’t good,” Jace says drily. “Not that you have anything to be anxious about.”
“I just…it’s been a while,” Jordan tries. Jace stares at him as if he’s grown a second head.
“He’s been gone for two days, Jordan. We’ll be there this afternoon.”
“I didn’t mean he’s been gone for a while,” Jordan says, vaguely irritated. Although it’s true that it feels like it’s been too long. “I mean that…you know I haven’t been with anyone in years.”
“I do. What was it—freshman year of college? You thought you were finally ready to be an adult and you fell flat on your face. Plus, the guy was a jerk.”
“Ray wasn’t a jerk.”
“Even Sam didn’t like Ray back then,” Jace says, unimpressed.
“This isn’t about Ray,” Jordan says, frustrated. “It’s…”
He can’t come up with anything to say. He wants to explain that it’s different—that Damian is different. That even if they weren’t in a relationship, it would still matter, because Damian is not like anyone else Jordan has ever known. He’s good to Jace and Sam and everyone else in the road crew. He puts everyone else before himself, even when he’s not feeling entirely comfortable or confident.
