by Con Riley
Aiden hesitated and then continued, his voice sounding strange and thick. “I can’t help wondering, you know? Wondering if my mom did drugs because he up and left her, or if she would have gone that way regardless, even if he’d stuck around.” He swallowed, trying to tamp down the heat in his chest. “I don’t even know how long they were together. I don’t remember him at all.” His voice dropped. “Sometimes I can’t remember my birth mom; sometimes I can see her clearly. But him? I have no idea.”
He quickly glanced at Marco—this was the first time he’d shared with anyone but Evan—then he glared at the sky beyond the windshield. “So I guess my motivation isn’t that unusual.” He sat in a deepening pool of silence that slowly filled the cab. “I just want to know . . . .” He shook his head. This was dumb and pointless. He was a grown man. None of this should even matter.
“Aiden.”
He shook his head again. It was ridiculous that he’d sat in that impersonal room—so reminiscent of meeting rooms at the group home—and been reduced to silence. He’d felt like a kid again, and that sensation of helpless devastation had left him leaning on his brother. Getting knocked on his ass like that had been an unwelcome reminder. The last time he’d felt so out of his depth was after his adoptive dad died, and he’d managed to keep all his confusion to himself then. He couldn’t figure out why this should be any different.
“Aiden. You need to tell me what you are thinking.”
He shook his head again. How would talking make things any better? He had more important things to do now. He looked at his watch. Jesus, he’d wasted so much time on this already.
“I need to get back to work.”
“No.” Marco’s voice was an order. “You need to use your words now.”
Aiden huffed out a huge breath.
“Tell me. You said the counselor talked about blaming. Is that what has you making these clenched fists?”
Aiden looked down. His knuckles were bone white. Marco’s hands wrapped around them until he slowly relaxed.
“I guess I want to know why he never came to get me.” Finding out that there had been another option—a flesh-and-blood relative who had chosen not to step up to the plate, rather than another group home or short-term foster parents—made blame a logical option.
He blurted out the next words. “I need to know what kind of person does that. I had just started kindergarten when Mom . . . . I was only a little kid.”
When he looked across at Marco again, he saw his lips were pressed tightly together.
“What?” He replayed his last words, trying to figure out what might have made him mad.
Marco shook his head, looking grim and serious. “I do not have the vocabulary to express my thoughts right now in English.” His expression slowly softened. “I’ve seen how you look out for your family. You deserved so much better, Aiden.” He paused and swallowed. “So much.”
Aiden pushed his hair back from his forehead. “I was fine. It all worked out great for me in the end.”
There.
That sounded like business as usual.
Acting as if things were normal had worked for him for years.
“We should go inside. I bet our food is ready.” He was pretty certain that he wouldn’t be able to eat a single bite, but he was sure too that if Marco kept looking at him that way—like he was special rather than someone not worth taking care of—he’d lose his shit completely. As it was, he already felt heartsore and shaky. “Come on.” He pulled his hands from Marco’s. “Evan and Paul have waited for us long enough.”
“Hold it. Tell me what you have decided to do about your father.”
“I don’t want to call him that. He’s not my dad. We might not even be related.” The counselor had warned him about that too, although the circumstances seemed to fit well. “I haven’t decided anything yet. I have his name and telephone number. The counselor called him while we waited, to confirm if he was still cool with me having his contact information.” He paused, then opened the truck door. “I guess she was offering him a final out, but she said he sounded happy.”
Marco hurried out to join him, crossing the parking lot at his side as Aiden continued speaking. “He told her to pass on the message that if I came home I’d be made very welcome.” He rubbed hard at his forehead. “Home. He wants me to come home. What the hell am I meant to do with that?”
“He should be very keen to meet you.” Marco sounded certain. “If he knew what a man you have grown into . . . .” He listed positive qualities, counting them out on his fingers, grabbing Aiden by the elbow as he added to his emphatic list. He fired out words and phrases that described someone who didn’t sound so messed up.
Aiden stopped him just before they walked into the restaurant. “I don’t know that I would have done anything about this before you . . . .”
They went inside together, Aiden’s fingers brushing the side of Marco’s hand—a small move, invisible to others, that said so much more than “thanks.”
To say that Jack was fascinated was an understatement. His work at the library meant he knew a great deal about tracing family histories. He could hardly wait for Aiden to sit down before he started up with a one-man inquisition.
“So you guys are both adopted from different families, and your dad just got in touch?”
Aiden glared at Evan, who shrugged and mouthed a silent “Sorry.” He’d known Jack would be here for his usual lunch date with Paul, but he hadn’t factored in that he was so nosy.
“And I hear you two are an item now. Sounds like you’ve had yourself a busy week.”
Could this be any more awkward? Aiden poked at his lunch, then pushed his plate away.
“Eat.” Marco’s single murmured word made him pull his plate back with a sigh. He listened as Marco and Jack spoke, then picked up his sandwich and took a huge bite. If he had his mouth full, maybe Jack wouldn’t ask any more questions. It sounded as if Marco had Jack’s number, answering him in ways that led him in wide circles. In only a few minutes, their verbal sparring had Paul and Evan laughing.
“Man.” Jack was almost whining, twisting the end of his ponytail in agitation. “You don’t understand how many people use the PCs at the library looking for long-lost family members. I start them off if they don’t know what they’re doing, but once they get the hang of searching, they finish without me. I never get to see who they find. The fact that you’re so close to making contact is like scoring Mariners box seats right behind home plate.”
He looked across at Aiden. “Come on now. Throw me a bone here.” His gaze was like a puppy’s. “You have no idea the lengths some people go to, to track down their families. You gotta tell me what you’re gonna do next.”
Aiden took another huge bite, then chewed it real slow. This time, Evan stepped in for him.
“There’s no need for Aiden to do anything until he’s had some time to think. It’s all up to him. He holds the cards right now. Just like me with my birth family. I chose not to look back, but if Aiden wants to, he knows that I’ll listen when he’s ready.” Evan’s glance across the table was sympathetic.
They should have talked about this so much earlier. Evan having his back like this was more than he could have hoped for.
“Okay, but why didn’t you try to find your family sooner?” Jack’s simple-sounding question made Marco slide even closer, pressing his leg against Aiden’s until his foot stopped its unconscious tapping. He slowly chewed and swallowed, hoping Evan would also catch this question for him. When the silence stretched, Aiden took a long, slow sip of water. Everyone around the table looked in his direction. Marco’s hand dropped down to wrap around his as Aiden looked directly at his brother.
“I didn’t see any point. I already have a family, and . . . .” He paused when Evan’s expression reflected exactly how he felt. He couldn’t explain that particular internal conflict to a stranger. “I guess I’ve been too busy.” That was pretty much the truth. It wasn’t as if he’d had a
whole lot of time to spare for navel-gazing. Besides, how would his mom react if he rode off into the sunset with a family she had no part in, a brand-new same-sex partner, and a business that was slowly folding?
He looked down at his plate, suddenly feeling sick.
Why had he even gone there? Why had he poked at a nest of hornets when his life was already hard to handle? His hand rose absently to his chest.
Paul’s contribution to the conversation was calm and measured. He spoke and they all listened, Aiden’s hand again falling below the level of the table to where Marco’s firm grip waited.
“Take it from someone who thought he knew best—make contact if you can, sooner rather than later.” He drew in a long, slow breath.
Aiden couldn’t help thinking that watching Paul tug at the collar of his shirt was like sitting opposite his son, Peter. The two men were so alike, even sharing the same mannerisms. He envied their close, easy relationship.
“I’m not saying that this fellow is going to be a good man, or that he’ll even turn out to be your birth dad, but you’ll kick yourself if you finally want to hear his side of the story, only to find out it’s too late.”
Jack and Evan nodded.
A server cleared their plates and took their dessert orders. When Aiden’s coffee came, he stirred it in silence. Under the table, someone kicked him. He looked up to find Jack smiling at him, his gaze flickering between him and Marco. Aiden had wondered when this was coming—hadn’t he stolen Marco right out from under Jack’s nose? When Jack inclined his head toward the door, Aiden guessed they might be about to have that boyfriend-stealing conversation.
Jack excused himself, explaining that he was going back to work, and Aiden stood up with him. Marco looked up in surprise.
“I’m heading back with Jack. Come find me in a few?”
Marco frowned, then slowly nodded.
The walk to the library took only a few minutes, and Jack talked the whole way about his patrons and about the kids who came to study after school got out. He clearly loved his work, and before Aiden knew it, he had him sitting at a PC as Jack leaned over him to type in his login.
“So, you finally worked your shit out with Marco.”
Aiden didn’t know what to say without sounding like an asshole. Jack had obviously liked him too.
“Marco said that he’d go out with me, but only because we both like dancing. Did he tell you that?” Jack smiled when Aiden shook his head. “He told me he was head over heels for some guy who didn’t even like him. Does that sound kind of familiar?” He clapped Aiden on the shoulder. This time when Jack flashed a grin his way, he started to relax. “Besides, I’m no one’s second best, and it seemed to me that our Marco Fortunato had already found his one and only.”
Aiden cleared his throat and then tried to do what Marco always made look so easy. He said exactly what he thought, without any second-guessing. “The feeling’s mutual.”
Jack pulled a chair up and mounted it backward. “Is that so?” He spoke again after Aiden nodded. “And was it his idea to look up your birth father?”
“No. That’s been on my mind for a while. I think the last week or so has made me think about things I don’t usually have time for.” He scrubbed at his face and huffed out a breath. “It’s kind of overwhelming.” There. He’d said that aloud too, and Jack didn’t look at him any differently. “I’m not sure what to do next.” It was actually easier, Aiden realized, to talk about this with someone who wasn’t family.
“Well, what do you know about him so far?” Jack wheeled his chair closer to Aiden’s, tugging the keyboard in his direction.
“I only have his name and cell-phone number. I can get his address. I’m just not sure if I want to know too much.”
“’Cause you’ll feel obligated to make contact right away?”
“Yeah.” That was exactly how he felt. If he knew where his birth father was, that might feel like a commitment, and he was pretty sure he had too many of those already. “Besides, it’s one thing for him to leave some contact details, but I don’t know the first thing about his life. I don’t know anything about him. I wouldn’t even know how to start a conversation.” Jesus, where was all this coming from? “I had a great relationship with my adoptive dad, but it turned out I didn’t really know him. How the hell am I going to judge a stranger?”
“Perhaps a little investigation can help you find some answers. Maybe that way you can avoid direct conversation until you feel more prepared.” Jack pulled up a list of family tree sites, hovering the cursor over a web link. “All of these sites are very popular. If he’s been looking for you, he might have added a post on several of them.” When Jack asked his birth father’s name, Aiden watched him type it, along with his cell number. He left the cursor hovering over the Search button on the screen.
Aiden looked at the name Jack had typed, their significance washed over him, a wave of ice-cold acceptance that he’d tried so hard to stave off: this man was most likely a blood relation. He recalled his first mom calling him Aiden Phillip as if those two names were one. Jack had typed in Phillip Aiden followed by his birth dad’s last name. That couldn’t be coincidental.
Footsteps sounded behind him. Marco’s hand pressing down on his shoulder was exactly what he needed, its weight a welcome anchor.
“Aiden?” Marco bent and spoke into his ear, keeping his words between them. “Is this something you want to do here? You can do this in private, if you would prefer.”
Evan walked up behind them. He leaned close too, staring quizzically at the screen, and Paul ambled up beside him. All of them were interested, and as Paul’s hand landed on his other shoulder, Aiden couldn’t imagine sitting at his rickety stockroom desk, making this decision on his own.
For the first time in years, he was letting people know his private business. His breathing sped up, and his cheeks felt superheated.
Aiden tried to move his hand toward the mouse, but it felt so incredibly heavy. He frowned. Hadn’t he learned that some issues were better left deeply buried? Why the hell was he even looking? Surely this too would turn to shit.
Paul backed away, saying that he’d wait at the main desk, and Jack went too when Paul unsubtly nudged him.
This time Aiden’s hand moved more easily, the mouse fitting snugly in his palm.
“Only if you want to.” Evan’s tone was patient. “It doesn’t have to be today. It doesn’t have to be ever. But if you want to find out something, here’s as good a place as any.” His smaller hand curved over his brother’s on the mouse.
Aiden looked sideways at Marco.
When he nodded, Aiden clicked.
Chapter Fifteen
The stockroom door creaked as Levi sidled in. He turned his back to Aiden, slipping off his work shirt now that the store was closed.
“It was busy today, boss. Did you see I left you a note about a special order? I couldn’t find—” His voice was muffled as he pulled on his own T-shirt.
“What was that? I didn’t catch what you just said.” Aiden looked up as Levi shoved his arms through his T-shirt’s armholes. His ribs were starkly visible as he stretched. No wonder his skateboarding scrapes and bruises stood out so starkly—the kid had zero padding.
“The notebook? The one we write messages in? It wasn’t on the counter, so I left you a note—” He walked over to the desk where Aiden sat. “—stuck right here. See?” There was a bright green Post-It on the middle of his PC screen. “I thought I’d put it somewhere you couldn’t miss it.”
Aiden had been back for a quarter hour already. He hadn’t noticed a thing.
Levi frowned, watching as Aiden slowly unpeeled the note and studied it. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I’m good. I’ve got the notebook in the truck. Evan picked it up when we left this morning. I’ll bring it in tomorrow.” He’d do that all right, just as soon as he ripped out all the pages covered with his brother’s writing.
Evan had pulled out the book when the
library PC screen had filled with entries. Marco had leaned closer to the computer, but Aiden had slowly shifted back in his seat as he took in what was on the monitor. He hadn’t expected to see so many hits, and Jack’s low, prolonged whistle from the counter behind them made him think scoring so many was a very rare thing.
He’d let Marco take the mouse, and he’d shrugged when Evan asked if he wanted him to jot down important details. After the first page had loaded, he’d slowly pushed back even farther, letting the others crowd around the screen. Jack had been right. There were pages of entries.
“Seems like you hit the jackpot.”
Jack had watched as Evan furiously scribbled notes, then said, “I could print those pages for you if you want.” Evan had thanked him but had kept the notebook in his lap, still writing as Marco scrolled.
Aiden had stopped reading after the first one, feeling weird—hot, and cold, and sick to his stomach—but Marco had kept clicking through, printing each one, hitting the Next button until he came to the last entry on the first site. He’d turned, searching Aiden’s face as he asked, “Do you want me to keep going?” Then he’d abruptly pushed the mouse away when Aiden had let out a shaky breath. “We can stop now. We don’t even have to pick up those printouts. Whatever you want, tesoro.”
Marco had stood when Aiden couldn’t answer, taking him behind a stack that shielded them from view. His hug had been quick and powerful.
“Do you want to go now?” He’d gripped Aiden’s face in his hands, making up-close, unavoidable eye contact.
Aiden’s voice had sounded weird and scratchy. “Did you read what that first message said?”
Marco had slowly nodded.
“I think I’ve seen enough.”
That time, Marco’s exhalation almost sounded disappointed. Aiden had pulled away. “I can’t . . . .” It had all suddenly been too much to deal with, and Marco looking pissed off only made him feel as if he should be more enthusiastic. When he’d finally clued in that Marco had been pissed at himself for clicking through message after message and was apologizing to him, he’d felt nothing but relief.
