by K. C. Wells
Micah tightened his grip on Greg’s hand. “It’s okay. Just let it out, all right?”
Greg took a gulp of air. “All right. So I was sitting at the bar, I’d had a couple of beers and I was feeling nicely… muzzy. A guy came up to me. Really cute guy, the kind you see photos of, and think, ‘Why do I never see guys like that in real life?’ You know? Anyway, this guy held up his phone, and there was my photo… my profile photo on Grindr.”
It was Micah’s turn to blink. “You’re on Grindr? Hell, I’m not even on that.” He wasn’t interested in hookups and one-night stands, not that it would matter much if he was. Pickings were slim in Wright, and he wasn’t about to venture further afield.
Greg huffed. “I just thought this was what gay men did. I got as far as uploading my details, then… I got cold feet. I never looked at it once. I was going to delete it, I just hadn’t gotten around to it yet.”
“So… he’d found you on Grindr.”
Greg nodded. “He bought me a couple of drinks and we talked for a while, not about anything consequential, just innocuous stuff like movies and music. He steered clear of politics, which was fine by me. It’s not one of my favorite topics of conversation.”
“Did he give you a name?”
Greg nodded. “Jake. Not that I think he told me the truth. He asked me what I was doing there, and I told him. Then he said if I wanted a bed for the night, I could stay at his place. He lived in Gillette, and I could choose from the sofa bed or… his.” Greg swallowed. “You know what they say—it seemed like a good idea at the time. It didn’t occur to me until I was lying in the hospital, that for someone who had Grindr on his phone, who was inviting me back to his place to spend the night… he made no attempt to kiss me. Or even to touch me.”
“What happened?” Micah asked softly.
Greg stared at their joined hands. “We got as far as his car. He was parked in the farthest corner of the parking lot. Only, when we got there, there was another guy already sitting on the passenger’s side. That was when I got scared. I said something about changing my mind, but then the other guy hit me on the back of the head, and I went out like a light.” He shuddered.
That was enough for Micah. He got up from his crouching position, and sat beside Greg, putting his arm around Greg’s shoulders. “I gotcha.” Greg shivered against him, and Micah pulled him closer.
“When I came to, I was freaking terrified. I was in the trunk of a car, my hands were tied behind my back, my ankles were tied together, and there was something stuffed in my mouth. Then… the car came to a stop, and I thought my heart was going to stop too. They opened the trunk, yanked me from it, and carried me between them. I had no idea where I was. All I could see was snow. There was a faint hum of traffic in the distance, and not a single light to be seen anywhere, only the flashlight they kept shining in my eyes.”
“Why were they doing this? Did they give you any reason? Because it seems like a lot of thought went into this, just to rob someone.”
Greg shook his head. “They weren’t out to rob me. And I don’t believe for one single second that either of them was gay. In fact, I think they used Grindr to… target me.”
Micah froze. “Fuck, no.”
“Micah, every time they landed a punch, every time they got in a kick, it was punctuated with some of the most homophobic slurs I’ve ever heard. I was under no illusion why they were beating the crap out of me—it was because I was gay. Not that I ever told them that. I didn’t have to—they had all the proof they needed right there on his phone. And I’m pretty sure they only took my backpack, wallet and phone to make it look like it was a robbery.” Greg covered Micah’s hand with his own. “When you drove me here from the hospital, and you pointed out the spot where you found me… that was when it hit me. They’d dumped me there, in the hope that no one would find me.” He swallowed hard. “They intended for me to die there. And I would have done, if not for you.”
Micah couldn’t help his response. He kissed Greg’s temple. “But you made it. You didn’t die.”
Greg met his gaze. “When I came to briefly, I knew it wasn’t where they’d beaten me up. I also knew I was near a road, because now and again I heard a car go by. Not that anyone could spot me where I was, so I… crawled through the snow, trying to get closer to the road. I made it, then passed out again.” He shuddered. “Micah, what if that detective called because there’s another case similar to mine? What if they’re hoping I can give them anything to shed light on it?” He stilled. “What if… those two men have only just gotten started?”
Micah wanted to throw up. “Then you have to tell the police everything.”
“I told them I got jumped on as I was walking along the highway. I didn’t mention Jake’s Tavern, Grindr, what… what they said to me… because I was just so… ashamed. Plus, I had no idea what the detectives’ reaction would be. You hear such horror stories, Micah. There’s still so much hate out there, and lately there seems to be more of it.”
Micah cupped his chin. “If you want, I will go with you to the police. Dad, too. We will sit beside you while you tell them what really happened, and if we get so much as a sneer out of anyone, or even the vaguest hint of one, then we take it higher.”
“Really?” Greg’s eyes glistened, but he blinked away the tears that threatened to fall.
Micah nodded. “You are not on your own, okay? You have us in your corner now, and good luck trying to get rid of us, because we Trants can be pretty tenacious.” He let go of Greg’s face.
Greg gave a weak smile. “Aren’t I the lucky one?” His breathing evened out, and a little color returned to his face.
“It feels better, now you’ve told someone, doesn’t it?” Not that Micah needed to hear Greg’s reply—he could almost watch the tension seep from Greg’s body. His breathing was slower, and he’d eased his grip on Micah’s hand.
Greg nodded. “I’m not going to tell my mom what happened. I’ll just make out that it was a vicious robbery. She’s going to have enough to deal with, when I tell her I’m gay. I’m not expecting fireworks, by the way—she’s not the sort—but yes, it will definitely be a surprise.”
Micah snickered. “Remind me to tell you one day how I came out to my dad.” He gazed into Greg’s eyes. “Thank you for telling me,” he said quietly.
Greg smiled. “It must be a Trant family trait. You’re all so easy to talk to. You inspire trust.”
“Good to know.” All Micah wanted to do was lean forward and kiss Greg on the mouth, but he held back. Not now, when his emotions are all over the place.
There would be another time, and when it occurred, Micah would not be holding back.
Chapter Thirteen
Only one day to go until Naomi was home, and Greg was still waiting for Micah to take the lead in whatever he had planned to bring Christmas back into their home. Lights had already begun to appear along Willow Creek Drive, as more and more houses dusted off their decorations, getting ready for the holidays. Greg figured Micah was just waiting for the right moment, and obviously it hadn’t made an appearance yet.
He put down his paperback and closed his eyes, content to sit on the couch and enjoy the fire’s warmth. Apart from their trip into Gillette that morning so that Greg could speak with the detectives, Greg’s days were beginning to blur into one giant heap of non-activity, and he was doing his best to ignore the restlessness that poked and prodded him now and again. He knew the healing would be a slow process, but still….
Micah and Joshua had been amazing that morning. True to his word, Micah had sat beside Greg while he told Detective Riley everything, and Greg had gotten the impression that what Micah really wanted to do was hold his hand the entire time. Thankfully, Detective Riley had reacted positively, although his words had painted a more negative picture. Even if they ever caught the guys, the chances of them being charged with a hate crime in Wyoming were non-existent, at least for the present.
The phone’s shrill ring shattere
d both the silence and Greg’s recollections. Joshua came into the room, glancing apologetically at him. “Sorry, I forgot I’d left it in here.” He answered the call. “Joshua Trant speaking.” Joshua stilled. “Yes, he’s right here. One moment, please.” He held the handset against his chest. “It’s your mom.”
Greg blinked. It had been a couple of weeks since he’d called her. He held out his hand for the phone, and then Joshua left the room.
“Hi, Mom.”
For a moment he thought they’d been cut off, but finally she broke the silence. “Joshua Trant? You’re staying with Joshua Trant? And you didn’t think that was worth mentioning? You said you were staying with friends.”
He sighed. “Joshua and his family are friends. They asked me to come stay with them, and I said yes.” It was probably the best segue he was going to get. “In fact, I have a lot to thank them for.”
“But… you’ve only just met them.” He could hear the bewilderment in her voice.
“Okay, I’d better tell you the truth.” Well, not all of it—as much as he felt he could share, and she could handle. “I… was robbed a few weeks ago. Pretty viciously, as it turns out. My attackers left me by the side of the road in the snow, and I ended up in hospital with a fractured femur, plus other bumps and bruises.”
He couldn’t miss her gasp. “Why didn’t you tell me when we spoke?”
“Because you didn’t need to know! You’d only have worried about me.” Greg was starting to regret saying anything.
“What—like I’m worrying now, you mean? Come home, Greg. Let me take care of you.”
He pushed out an exasperated sigh. “Mom, don’t you think your life is full enough right now? How about you let me finish? Because I’m not done yet.”
She huffed. “Fine. Finish.”
“The guy who found me and brought me to the hospital? That was Joshua’s son, Micah. He saved my life, Mom.”
Another bout of silence. “Wow. Seriously?”
“I know, I know. I was amazed when I found out. And then Joshua came right away, and they stayed with me through the night. They visited me every day, and then they brought me here. I’m safe, I’m comfortable, and….” He took a deep breath. “They’ve asked me to stay for the holidays, and… I said yes.”
“Oh. Oh, I see.”
Greg closed his eyes. Was I wrong to say yes? Is it so bad of me to want to spend time with Micah and his family? When Micah had asked him, the night of Thanksgiving, Greg had simply been happy to be there. Since that night, however, things had changed. Another element had been added to the mix—his growing attraction to Micah—and the idea of spending the holidays with him filled Greg with excitement and anticipation.
“Mom,” he said softly. “I’ve finished college. The next logical step is for me to find a job and a place to live. You knew I had to leave the nest at some point, right? And it’s not as if the nest is empty. You’re going to have a couple of chicks in there for at least another fifteen years.”
She groaned. “Why did you have to go and say that? I’ve only just survived the terrible twos. Did you have to be so goddamn specific?” Mom sighed. “Sorry. I guess I’m feeling my age today.”
“What is it they say? You’re only as old as the man you feel, and seeing as Damon’s younger than you, let him run around after the twins.” Greg chuckled. “Marrying a younger man has to have some benefits, right?”
Mom laughed. “Now that you mention it….” Another sigh. “You’re right, of course. I guess it hadn’t sunk in properly that you’ve… left home.”
“Wait until I find a place, and I turn up with a U-Haul to pick up all my stuff. Then it’ll sink in.”
“Yeah, before I know it, you’ll be turning up on my doorstep with some girl, telling me you’re gonna get married.” She chuckled. “I’m gonna say this now, okay? I can wait a few years to become a grandmother. I have enough on my plate being a mom again. Don’t feel you need to start having kids on my account, all right?”
Greg snorted. “Believe it or not, the thought hadn’t even crossed my mind, but now that you mention it….” He let the girlfriend remark pass. He wasn’t about to burst that particular bubble. Not yet, at any rate.
“Don’t you dare, Gregory Michael Chambers.”
Greg laughed. “I’ll call soon, okay? And I’ll be sure to call on Christmas Day—if you can tear yourself away from the cooking, or playing with the boys’ toys, or—”
“Okay, call over. Take care, sweetheart. Love you.”
“Love you too. And give my love to Damon, Tim and Tyler.” He disconnected the call and sagged against the cushions. He’d mentioned moving his stuff out as a lighthearted remark, but it did raise a few questions on his mind. At some point, Greg would need to start thinking about his future, a topic he’d put on hold since his dad died. In order to do that, he needed to move on, and that meant…
Opening the box.
Greg knew he’d been putting it off, but perhaps it was finally time.
Greg nudged Micah. “You know what? Your dad isn’t as bad at cooking as you had me believe.”
Micah smiled. “I hate to disillusion you, but that wonderful lasagna you just ate? Naomi and I made it, then froze it. We just followed Mom’s notes.” His expression became more wistful. “After she had the tumor removed, she went through a spate of writing down all her recipes. Looking back, it was almost as if she knew what was coming.”
“I wish I’d known her. She sounds like she was a wonderful person.”
Micah sighed. “Funny. I was thinking just this morning that I wish I’d been able to meet your dad.” He sighed. “Don’t you think it’s weird? Our dads… in love with each other, all those years ago.”
“Weird? Maybe. Sad?” Greg stared at the flames in the fireplace. “Things could have been so different.”
Micah chuckled. “Yeah. For one thing, you and I might never have existed.”
“There is that.” Greg reflected on his phone conversation that morning, and the thoughts that had been with him ever since. “Could you do me a favor? You know the box on my nightstand?”
Micah stilled. “The one your dad left you?”
Greg nodded. “You think you could fetch it for me?”
He smiled. “No problem.” Micah heaved himself up off the couch and left the room. He passed Joshua at the door, who came into the room and went over to the fire to add another log.
“You warm enough?”
Greg laughed. “You’ve been asking me that all day. And all day you’ve kept me warm. Thank you.”
Joshua smiled. “I wasn’t exaggerating about how cold it gets around here. You haven’t seen it, but there’s a huge log pile at the side of the house. It’s that size for a reason.” He glanced up as Micah entered the living room. “Isn’t that your box?”
Greg nodded. “And you’re just in time for the grand opening.” He sighed. “Not that I have a clue what’s in it. Dad sealed it before he died.”
Joshua came over to the couch and sat beside him as Micah placed the box on Greg’s knee. “Do you want to be on your own?” Joshua’s voice was kind.
Greg shook his head. “Absolutely not.” His heartbeat was racing already; he wanted them with him. Micah sat on the rug in front of the couch, his gaze focused on the box.
Here goes nothing….
Greg found the edge of the cellophane, and began to pull it away from the box. It was a beautiful object, maybe eight inches by five, and under four inches high, covered in intricate carving. Flowers adorned every surface, and in the center of the lid was a tree of life. The box was Indian in appearance, and had a subtle, spicy scent. Greg stared at it, until Micah nudged his good knee.
“It won’t open itself, you know,” he said softly.
Greg chuckled. “Yeah, I sort of figured that.” Slowly he lifted the lid, to reveal a red velvet lining. Two objects lay inside—a folded envelope, and a folded sheet of paper. He stared at the contents. “I wasn’t sure what to ex
pect.”
Joshua peered into the box. “That looks like a letter.”
“Then that’s what I’ll read first.” Greg opened up the letter and recognized his dad’s familiar scrawl. His chest tightened when he saw the date. “Oh wow. He wrote this two days before he died.” Micah’s hand came to rest on Greg’s knee, and he was grateful for the physical contact.
October 10, 2017
Greg,
If you’re reading this, then I’m no longer around. I’m not sure how much longer I have left, but I didn’t want to leave without sharing a couple of things. ‘Leave’—makes it sound like I’m going on a journey, which I suppose I am, in a way. I’m forced to write this when the pain is under control, but before I become too medicated to think clearly.
When you contacted me, I wasn’t sure why you wanted to meet me. I’d gotten used to being the absent father who sent cards and gifts, but hung around in the background. I kept things like that for a reason. I know I haven’t said much about my life with your mother, but that was down to me entirely. I’ll be honest here; I messed up her life. I should never have married her in the first place. Don’t get me wrong—I did love her, but it wasn’t that earth-shattering, all-consuming love that I knew existed. Ours was more a marriage of two friends, and you were the result. It was when I learned of your impending arrival that I knew I’d made a mistake. I stuck it out for as long as I could, but that wasn’t being fair to you or your mother.
Why did I leave? I guess I’ve left it until right at the last minute because this way, I don’t have to look you in the eye when I tell you. The truth is, I’ve experienced that wonderful love I mentioned just now. I’ve known what it is to love someone, heart, body and soul. I’ve also known the heartache and pain of losing that someone. I wish I could see your face now, though. I was so scared to tell you this. So afraid that once everything was out in the open, you’d look at me differently. Because now I know you, son. Well, at least I know more about you. We’ve not had all that much time to catch up on the last twenty or so years, but it’s been enough for me to know you’re a good man. So I’m trusting my own judgment here, that you can accept what I’m about to tell you.
