by A. F. Henley
The word made Ian's entire body tighten. He blew out another breath and straightened his back to ease the tension drawing his shoulder blades together. "Give me time, Aubrey. A couple of days. Let me at least find out the reasons behind it. Let me convince him to do the right thing." He reached and caught her hand when her lips pursed. "Aubrey, we've been friends for a long time. I don't ask you for favors often. This is a big one, Aub. Please."
"One day," she said with a frown. "And he turns himself in and hands Cole over. It's the only way."
Ian scrambled to shove the papers back in the folder and tucked it under his arm. "One day," he agreed.
He stormed past the waiter who offered him a sympathetic half-smile, yanked open the door to his car with too much force, shoved his fist back into his esophagus to try and alleviate pain, and tore out of the parking lot with a squeal of tire.
*~*~*
Ian reached for the apartment door as it was opened. Shocked eyes found his own, a blush rose on Jordan's face, and Jordan nudged Cole closer. Two bags hung over Jordan's shoulder and Cole dragged another one behind him.
With a step forward, Ian forced the group of them back. He shut the door. "Were you going somewhere?"
"N-no," Jordan stammered. "Just had to do some laundry."
Ian smiled. "Seems like a lot of laundry for the two of you. Were you doing everything?"
Jordan shrugged and Ian reached for Cole's sleeve, ignoring the look of apprehension that flashed over Jordan's face. "How'd it go at the school?"
"Cole wasn't feeling well this morning," Jordan said quickly. "We're going to go tomorrow."
Tugging Cole behind him, Ian walked towards the couch. "Come on, Cole," Ian said lightly. "Let's put your DVD on."
"Bye-bye," Cole answered, sitting, staring at the black TV screen.
"Your DVD went bye-bye?" Ian asked. He turned back towards Jordan. "Where did Cole's DVD go?"
Jordan didn't make eye contact. "I think it's at Chrissy's."
"It was here last night, wasn't it?" Ian sat down beside Cole and locked his gaze on Jordan's face. He steeled himself, "Is it in the bag? With the rest of your stuff?"
Jordan didn't answer him.
"So, tell me," Ian continued. "When did you come up with this ingenious plan of yours? This 'fuck it, I'm just gonna run' bullshit? Was it after I asked you about Cole and school? Was it before we spent the rest of the weekend together? Or was it while you were telling me that you loved me? Were you considering it as you bent over for me? While you were sucking my cock?"
Ian's conscience flinched at the use of the word in front of Cole but his anger was building far too quickly to pull it back. "Answer me, goddamn it. When did you decide that it was okay to up and walk out of my life?"
Jordan's eyes were filling with tears but his stance and his jaw were stoic.
Ian stood. He advanced. "Come on. I deserve at least that, don't I?" He paused, reached for Jordan's chin and tilted Jordan's head up until Jordan caught his eye. "Don't you think, Justin?"
The tears Justin had been holding began to fall the moment he heard his name. He let go of the bags and they slipped to the floor.
"How could you do that to me?" Ian's voice trembled and he looked around the room, pinching Justin's skin harder. "Is there even a note? Did I even get a 'gee, sorry, but?'"
As Justin's tears fell harder so too did Ian's breath pull between dry lips. "Come on, Justin," Ian hissed. "Do I get anything other than your fake, bullshit, lying tears?"
Springs began to creak from behind them and Ian recognized the sound as rocking. "No, I guess not, hmm? The only thing that matters is Justin, yes? Not that I might be devastated if you just fucking disappeared. Not that Cole might have to suffer yet another upheaval and leave behind everything and everyone he knows. Who the fuck are we for you to care about, right? You don't care about the people you leave behind do you, Justin?"
"Stop," Justin finally managed to say. He reached up and pulled Ian's hand off his chin. "Just stop. Stop calling me that name. There is no Justin. Not anymore."
Ian shook off Justin's hand and with both fists Ian grabbed Justin's shirt and dragged him closer. "The time for bullshit is over, Justin. I have a friend that's less than twenty-four hours away from calling the cops on you. And if you think I'm just going to let you walk away with Cole, you're wrong. So if you have something to tell me, now would be the time."
Fingernails found the back of Ian's hands and began to dig. "Let go of me, Ian. Let go of me or I swear to God—"
Ian laughed coldly. "What? Scream for help? Draw attention? Go for it! Hell, give it another two minutes and you won't need to, Cole will do it for you. And I'll just sit here and wait patiently for the police to show up as I hold you against the wall. How about that, hmm? How do you think that will work out for you?" Ian's voice cracked on the last word and the breath he took to cover it sounded more like a sob than anything else.
A fresh run of tears made their way down Justin's face. "Please," he whimpered. "If you really do love me—"
"Don't you dare," Ian growled. "You don't get to throw that in my face. I was the one that did, remember? I wasn't the one playing games. I wasn't the one lying."
Justin shook his head, "No! I didn't. I wasn't. I never lied about that. Ever."
Ian snorted. "All you did was lie."
"Not about loving you," Justin whispered. "Never about that."
Ian turned sharply, still holding Justin by the shirt, "Cole, go to the bedroom and wait there. And don't give me any shit, Cole, not today."
Surprisingly, Cole stopped rocking. He tilted his head and slowly slid off the couch. Ian waited until his footsteps disappeared before forcing Justin towards the seat Cole had vacated. "Sit!" Ian commanded with a hard shove.
Justin fell more than sat, and remained that way, half-sprawled and wide-eyed.
"Start talking," Ian told him, pacing back and forth between the living room and the entrance.
"I don't know what to—"
"Well, before you begin with the whys and the hows, you can tell me why you were leaving me," Ian stopped and stared. "How could you do that to me?"
"I didn't know what to do," Justin choked on the words. "I didn't … I don't …" He righted himself, "You started talking about school and I freaked. I knew I couldn't get him in and I didn't know what I was going to tell you when you asked about it. Even if I lied, you would have eventually found out. And it just kept getting harder and harder to look you in the face and not tell you the truth."
Ian gripped his forehead with both hands. "God damn it, Justin, I would have helped you!"
Justin shook his head. "No, you wouldn't have. You think that, sure. But if I'd told you that I was in trouble, if I'd told you what we'd done, you'd have dragged both our asses off to the nearest police station."
Ian closed the distance between them in two fierce steps but instead of reaching for Justin as the look on Justin's face insinuated expectations to be, Ian dropped to his knees. "I'm here!" he said, throwing both arms out wide. "Just take a look, for God's sake! I know all about it and I'm still here. I'm not filing a fucking report, Justin. I'm not dragging you out the damn door, am I? I came back to help you. Because I love you and I love Cole and I don't want to lose either of you."
He wasn't expecting the lunge. For a nanosecond he thought Justin was trying to make a run for it. Instead, Justin wrapped himself around Ian like Ian had just jumped in tumultuous waters to save his drowning ass. "I'm in trouble," Justin whispered against Ian's cheek. "And I don't know what to do about it."
"Okay." He wrapped his arms around Justin's body and held back as tightly as he was being held. "We'll figure it out."
*~*~*
They were stretched out on Justin's bed, with Cole asleep between them. Above their heads, at the end of the arms they each rested on, they had laced their fingers together. And Justin began his story.
"I was supposed to leave for college in September the year we left and I
had no idea how I was going to get the balls to do it." He smiled when Ian cocked an eyebrow at him. "Not for me, see. I wasn't afraid for me. It was Cole."
With his free hand Justin touched Cole's cheek. "I was the only one that understood him. I was the only one he would listen to. My mother was a basket case of nerves. She could never get Cole to react to her. And I mean that literally. She could scream in his face, talk sweet and nice, offer him treats and Cole just stared through her like she didn't exist. Mostly she just avoided contact with him altogether. But that was just frustration. I could have lived with that, you know? The problem was my father."
As Justin paused, Ian reached up and touched Justin's cheek in the same way he brushed his brother's. Justin smiled. "Sorry, I was just thinking."
Ian nodded. "Take your time."
"My father was—is still, I assume—a disciplinarian. Children should obey their parents. Children should be seen and not heard. He used to always say he didn't want much from his children: just respect, compliance and brilliance. And that wasn't a joke either. He honestly believed that Cole was doing what Cole does out of insolence." Justin looked up and caught Ian's eyes with a snort. "I mean, seriously? A four-year-old child? Any four-year-old child for that matter, let alone one with a disability?
"He never used his hands or his fist, I'll give him that. He had a, umm …" he frowned at Ian and lifted his arm in a slashing motion. "He used to call it a switch but I don't think that's the right name for it? It wasn't a branch, I mean. Same concept though. Really skinny, light wood and it stung like all fuck."
Ian's lips hardened into a line. "Are you implying he used to hit a four-year-old child with a weapon?"
"I'm not implying it at all," Justin confirmed. "I'm outright telling you he did. Now don't get me wrong, he didn't beat us. He just believed he had the right to use physical force to discipline us. And with me, he was pretty good, right? Because I would cry. Therefore, in dad's mind, lesson learned. But Cole didn't cry. Sometimes Cole would get mad and yell or flail or try to bite, but sometimes he just stood there. So sometimes Dad didn't stop when he should have. But the thing is, he never should have started in the first place. You can't whip an emotional response out of someone that doesn't know how to show one. You can't hit a disability out of someone."
"You should have called the authorities."
Justin shrugged. "Probably. But I didn't believe they'd do anything. Parents have the right to hit their children, don't they?"
He looked up at Ian and Ian's heart dropped at the expression on Justin's face. "I don't know, baby," Ian said. "If they do, they shouldn't."
"I couldn't trust them enough to walk away and leave Cole there alone," Justin said. "And there's no way in hell Dad would have let me just not go to college. Brilliance, after all, can only be achieved through discipline and education. So he provided the one and insisted on the other. At the same time though, where Cole might have benefited with some outside assistance, my dad refused to let anyone help when it came to Cole's issues. He was embarrassed. No," Justin shook his head. "Not even embarrassed–he was humiliated by Cole. Mortified. We didn't even get an assessment of Cole until our family doctor told Mom and Dad that if they didn't have it done, he was going to have them reported for neglect."
Justin ran a finger down Cole's arm, lifting it quickly when Cole stirred in his sleep. "Not that the assessment helped. Dad said the doctors were ridiculous. That he knew a spoiled brat when he saw one." Justin looked up at Ian and smiled sadly. "That's why I almost lost it when that asshole neighbor called him one. He's not spoiled, Ian. And he's not a brat. He just doesn't understand how to be."
Ian snagged Justin's hand and lifted it to his lips. "I know."
"He does have feelings in there," Justin said, his eyes half-lidded as he watched his brother sleep. "When Dad got too crazy and things were in chaos he used to wait until he thought I was asleep and then he'd climb into bed with me, you know? He'd fall asleep laying an inch away from me with one finger on my wrist." Justin lowered his hand and touched the side of Ian's neck. "Feeling my pulse. It was the only time he ever touched anyone with his hands."
"Does he still do it?"
Justin shook his head. "No."
"Maybe because all the crazy's gone?"
Justin closed his eyes and his expression was unreadable when he replied. "Or maybe he just doesn't trust me anymore." When he opened his eyes again and locked them with Ian's there were tears shining. "I'm just another asshole that fucked up his life."
Ian opened his mouth to say something but the words didn't form.
"I never thought about things like I.D. and school and how I was going to support us if I couldn't even give a Social Security number. I just wanted to make him safe and I ended up fucking us both over, big time. Now he's eight years old and he can't even spell his own name."
Ian wiped the corner of Justin's eye with his thumb. "Maybe not, but he can play piano."
Justin laughed quietly and Ian grinned. "Come on, let's get some sleep. We'll figure this disaster out tomorrow, okay?"
"Promise?"
"Yes," Ian said firmly. "I promise."
Fine
Ian felt the knock as much as he heard it, as Cole stiffened beside him as though the child had morphed into a two-by-four. When the second one came, as brusque as the first but louder, Cole began to make a sound in his throat like the whirring of a helicopter. Justin tumbled from the bed as quickly as Ian did, both of them startled.
"What the fuck?" Justin mumbled.
"I have no idea," Ian replied. With a still-muggy brain, Ian stumbled towards the door of the bedroom. "One second," he hollered at the third rap of knuckles.
The first kick sounded at the exact second that Justin began a series of expletives and the resulting splinter of wood frame sounded louder than Cole's distress.
"Jesus Christ!" Ian hollered. "What the f—" And then his brain clicked into functioning.
Oh, God. No.
He sent a panicked look at Justin and stopped the mad dash for the door.
Fuck.
His palms found the wall of the hallway and a hot rush of panic hit him. While the blood dropped from his face and made his cheeks feel numb as plastic, it rose in his guts and turned caustic. The door gave as Justin stood behind it trying to undo the lock. With gale-force strength it flew open, catching Justin hard and body-checking him into the wall.
Cole was no longer hollering, he was wailing, and Ian had never heard a sound so pitiful in his life.
On feet that felt like sponge, Ian backed towards the kitchen table and picked up his cell phone, ignoring the instantaneously commanded, "Drop the phone!"
"Justin Matthews?" the voice was far more polite than the actions behind it, a pair of uninformed hands hauling a dazed and confused Justin from where he sprawled against the wall and forcing him to the floor. The man (officer?) that pinned Justin down followed with his knee; Justin's shout of pained surprise loud enough to hear over Cole's screams.
"Wait!" Ian called, lifting one hand and stumbling forward on elastic legs. "Please!"
Ian didn't even know where the hands came from that caught his shoulders and spun him face first into the wall. "Get back!" a voice shouted in his ear and Ian watched in horror as two more uniformed men rushed past Justin and the officer on the floor.
"No!" Ian hollered as they made their way towards the bedroom door. "Please! You can't touch him!"
"Ian!" Justin cried out before his face was shoved back against the floor with a crack. Justin's nose began to spout blood. "Ian, please!"
Cole's wailing intensified by infinite degrees, echoing over every surface, Cole's rage reaching into Ian's core and liquefying it. Breath ... he needed to get more breath ...
"Sir," Ian turned helpless eyes towards the officer that held him in place. "Sir, please. The child is disabled. You can't ..."
The demand to remain quiet was cold and insistent.
"If you just let me explain," Ia
n said. "If you just let me tell you—"
"Ian, please!" Justin sputter-screamed from the floor. "Make them stop!"
"Is it him?" yet another uniformed man asked the two struggling to contain a wiggling, arching, flailing Cole. Nothing hit Ian with more fear and pain than the terror on Cole's face. Already flushed from screaming, already sweating with exertion, no soldier had ever looked so frightened standing in the front line, no cornered beast had ever looked so distraught. Two sets of grown men's arms, one at kicking legs, one at pulling wrists, tried to contain the nuclear bomb that had Cole had become.
"Officer, please," Ian begged.
"Fuck you bastards, you let him fucking go!" Justin screamed, his own body twisting and curling underneath the cop.
"Justin, stop struggling!" Ian shouted. "Officer, please—"
"Quiet!"
"Ian, make them fucking stop!"
And still Cole screamed.
"I think it's him, sir."
"Are you Justin Matthews?" the officer above Justin asked again. Once again, Justin's forehead met the floor.
The burn in Ian guts began to double, triple, a slow but steady roll from belly into chest. "Please, sir, please. That's not necessary. We'll cooperate. Just give me a minute to explain." He fought the pain to speak the words. And still they barely formed whispers.
"We might need sedation," the one officer said to the next and at that second Cole's ankle came free from the cop's hold. With a shout of fury, Cole kicked the man square in the jaw. "God damn it!"
"Don't you hurt him!" Ian screamed. "Don't you dare!"
"Ian!" Justin's voice made Ian's knees buckle. Raw fear. Something tightened inside Ian's chest and the flames in his guts rushed up his throat.
The officer at the door nodded to the officer on top of Justin and knelt to secure cuffs on Justin's wrists. "Justin Matthews, you are under the arrest for the abduction and unlawful detainment of the minor known as Cole Matthews."
