by Amy Lane
“Yeah. But Olivia—her voice just keeps hitting those pitches, you know?”
Aaron nodded. He’d heard it too. “It was rough news.”
Larx turned shiny eyes toward him. “It was. I know you don’t get—”
“Don’t apologize,” Aaron said gruffly. “You’re hurt. It’s….” He thought about the events in October, how hard Larx had worked to make everything okay for all of them. “It’s the one time you let me see that it really hurt.”
Larx shrugged. “Well, if you can’t trust Deputy George to make it right….”
Aaron smiled and kissed the top of his head. “How hard has Principal Larkin been working today? Are you ready to cook some more or—”
“Ugh….” Larx rolled over to his stomach. “God. Stuffing… pies… sweet potatoes… gravy…. Aaron, make it stop!”
“Or I’ll go hunt and kill a pizza!”
Larx’s smile was totally worth having to drive out in the cold again. “Oh, Deputy, you do love me!”
“Don’t ever doubt it.”
APPARENTLY LARX didn’t doubt him. Not once, not at all, not a little bit.
Thanksgiving was everything Aaron had ever loved about the holiday. No worry about gifts—family was the only gift he needed. And he had it in spades. Larx and the kids cooked enough food for six families—on purpose, actually. Thursday morning, while Aaron worked his shift, Larx and the kids were working at the county food bank, dishing dinners for folks who’d had a rough year. That night Aaron insisted on doing dishes while his industrious do-gooders sprawled in front of the television, belching and prodding each other with their toes.
That last thing was a game the teenagers had cooked up to annoy the fuck out of any adult within earshot. Aaron didn’t understand the rules, but it made him wish beating was back in style as a parenting tool. Whining—oh dear God, the whining!
But once he’d sprawled out on the couch, Larx’s feet in his lap, and started his umpteenth viewing of The Martian, he could even overlook the whining.
For the past ten years, his entire focus during the holidays had been to make them okay for his kids. This year his boyfriend and his kids had made it okay for him. There was not enough gratitude in the world.
But gratitude was not enough to make all the things right.
A WEEK before Christmas, Aaron and Kirby drove all the way down to Sacramento to pick up Maureen and Tiffany at the airport. They were coming in on different flights, arriving within a half an hour, and Aaron’s stomach was in knots.
“Has she said anything to you?” he asked Kirby for the fifteenth time.
“Just that she’s ready for you to be over your stupidity,” Kirby said, still offended. “Dad, I don’t get it. I don’t. I… you’re happy. I’m happy. It’s stupid how weird she is about it. I spent yesterday texting the word bi to her.”
Aaron had to laugh. “Just ‘bi’?”
“Yeah. I’m like, ‘bi,’ and she’s like, ‘stop it,’ and I’m like, ‘bi,’ and she’s like, ‘don’t be stupid,’ and I’m like, ‘bi, it’s a thing,’ and she’s like, ‘It’s Daddy’s midlife crisis.’”
“She said that?” Aaron was a little pissed. “Midlife crisis?”
“I said she was stupid!”
“It’s not fair!” Neither was venting to your almost-eighteen-year-old, but Aaron was over this bullshit.
“Ten years!”
“I know, Dad.”
“Ten years, and you kids—you were the center of my world.”
“Yeah, Dad. I know.”
“And you still are,” he said, deflating.
“Dad!” Kirby said, his voice gentle—a lot like Larx’s, actually. “Dad, look. You get to be happy. You do. You know I believe that, and not just because I don’t have to cook anymore.
“These last months have been awesome.” And suddenly Kirby sounded seven again, a little lost, trying to be Aaron’s little man. “Dad, do you know how much it sucked waiting for you to come home? Even with the girls home, it sucked. Because if anything happened to you, I’d be alone. I don’t want to live with Grandma and Grandpa. I don’t want to live with Maureen. I feel safe like we are. I even….” He sighed. “I want to go to junior college next year. Is that bad? I’m happy. I’m safe. I don’t want to leave it all behind. Not yet.”
Aaron smiled, his heart easing. “That would be fine,” he said. “That would be great. I’m not ready for my last kid to leave yet.”
“Well, Christi’s got two more years, and I think Kellan’s gonna stick around for a bit. You’re eyeballs-deep in kids for a while.”
“Let’s just hope I can survive the ones who’ve already moved out.”
Aaron could see them standing together at pickup A. Maureen looked like her mother—small, brown-eyed, freckled, hints of red in her dark blonde hair. Tiffany looked like Aaron—tall, with full hips and a generous chest and blue eyes.
But Aaron couldn’t remember ever scowling so much, not even right after his wife had died, when he’d felt like every day had been a fight to find the good in the world.
He left the car in Park and got out, greeting Maureen first for a great big bear hug. She laughed and kissed his cheek and called him Daddy like she had as a little girl. Bright like a spark or an ember, Maureen had been almost independently cheerful, fay and dancing.
It wasn’t until she skipped off to hug Kirby that he realized how much she reminded him of Larx.
Which left him facing his eldest, and he did his best, holding his arms open. “Tiff?”
“Hi, Dad,” she said stiffly, allowing herself to be hugged but not reciprocating. “Are we going home?”
“You and Maureen are staying at the house,” Aaron replied equably. He winked at Maureen. “Unless you guys want to sleep on the pillows or the couch, which is fine too.” He turned to Tiffany and finished with “We opened the place up, cleaned out the fireplace, turned on the power, and stocked. You should be really comfortable there.”
It had taken the lot of them an entire day of their precious winter vacation, and not one of them had complained, not even Kellan, who by all rights didn’t have to do jack to make Aaron’s daughters happy.
“So you’re just going to leave us there?” Tiff snapped. “Thanks a lot, Dad.”
“Sounds awesome!” Maureen chirped, glaring at her older sister. “I mean, Christmas Eve at your place, we can have the other place to ourselves.” She smiled ingratiatingly. “Tiff, Dad said he moved the chicken coop. We don’t even have to feed the damned birds!”
Tiffany rolled her eyes—and then took the front of the SUV, where she maintained an icy silence until Aaron stopped for gas in Citrus Heights.
“Tiff, how ’bout you get in the back and give your sister a chance.” Maureen had been trying to have a conversation for the whole trip, but Tiffany had replied monosyllabically and Aaron had needed to pay attention to the road on occasion. In the end Maureen and Kirby had chatted happily, but Aaron wanted equal time.
“One more chance to get rid of me,” Tiffany muttered.
“No, hon. Just want Maureen to feel welcome too.”
“Whatever.”
Aaron sighed. “I’m going to go get some coffee. Anyone want some?”
Maureen and Kirby wanted hot chocolate. Tiffany wanted nothing.
Whatever.
When Aaron got back from the gas station, Tiffany was talking animatedly on the phone and Maureen was arguing with her at the same time. Aaron didn’t hear what the in-person argument was about, and Tiffany hung up as soon as he drew near.
They got in the car and got back on the freeway when Tiff interrupted Maureen’s excited monologue about her lower division biology class and how happy she was to be moving into upper division science at MIT to say, “Dad, you can just drop me off at the train station in Colfax. Grandma and Grandpa bought me a ticket. I can catch another train to San Francisco and fly out to Illinois by tomorrow.”
Aaron saw red. “Uh, no,” he said shortly. “Colf
ax is forty-five minutes out of our way, I’ve got people waiting for us with dinner, and if you want to get the hell out of Dodge and go crying to Grandma and Grandpa, you’re going to have to find your own transport from Colton to the train station, because I’m not doing it.”
“Daddy! You can’t expect me to stay in the same house as you and your… your boy toy. It’s just too gross!”
“Which part of ‘you guys can stay in your old rooms while Kirby and I go back to our home’ do you not understand?”
“The part where you didn’t even ask me if this was okay!”
Aaron crossed his eyes, and Maureen snickered. He winked at her and kept driving, hating himself a little for how easy it was for him to get along with his younger two children, and how hard it was with his oldest.
“This isn’t your decision,” he said after a deep breath. “I’m a grown-up, Tiffany. I asked Kirby—”
“Kirby begged him,” Kirby interjected. “Because you two heifers left and it was lonely. It’s not lonely anymore.”
“You don’t even know what you’re saying yes to,” Tiffany said scornfully. “You’re a child.”
“And you’re a bitch,” Kirby snapped.
“Kirby!” Oh God—Aaron wasn’t happy with her, but he didn’t want the names to start either.
“No, Dad. Listen to her—she whined to Grandma and Grandpa about your gay love nest like the bigot she is. You didn’t raise us like that. Mom didn’t raise us like that. Half of Aunt Candy’s friends are gay.”
“I’m not a bigot! It’s just… it’s different when it’s your father!”
“Oh Jesus.”
“Tiff, are you hearing yourself?”
“God, Tiff, you’re so stupid.”
Aaron, Maureen, and Kirby all took a deep breath at the same time.
“I’m happy,” Aaron said, voice shaking a little with hurt. “I’m sorry you don’t care about that or want it, but your brother and I are happy. Like I said, you can stay at the house. Kirby and I are going home to dinner. Maureen, you’re welcome at any time.”
He caught his oldest daughter’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “Tiff, if you’re going to come over to try to hurt my feelings, or Larx’s, or Kellan’s or Christi’s, I’d just as soon you find your own way out of town.”
And that was the end of conversation for a while.
OLIVIA LOOKED so much like Lila it made Larx’s throat hurt. Now that her chin was a little softer and that thinness some teenagers suffered through had rounded out, just like Christi with the dark hair and dark eyes, she was the spitting image of Larx’s late sister.
“Are you sure?” he asked, rubbing his chest. Bulldozer, the mastiff puppy Aaron had brought back from a rescue center the week before, chewed on his slipper laces. He gave up on discipline for a moment and let the damned dog do whatever it wanted.
“Daddy….” Her chin wobbled and she wiped her eyes. “Positive. I told you, I saw a doctor and everything. Just… don’t be too mad, okay?”
Larx shook his head and opened his arms. “Not mad, sweetie. Not mad at all.”
Well, as far as news bombs went, Olivia had been swift and merciful. She’d tumbled through the door, threw presents for everyone—including Kellan, Kirby, and Aaron—under the tree, and then sat down over hot chocolate and rocked Larx’s world.
Right now as he held her and they both cried a little, he tried to come up with words.
I’m sorry. I made the same mistake. I guess it’s catching.
I’m sorry. I knew you’d grown up. I thought we’d talked about this.
I’m sorry. You’re still my little girl and I want to hunt down the bastard responsible and—
“Daddy, I gotta go pee,” Olivia said, dark eyes still swimming, dark hair a flyaway mess around her head.
“Yeah. Sure. Go do that.” He watched in exasperation as Dozer followed her. Because of course the dog would take to Olivia best. Didn’t everybody?
Their exit left Larx slumped at the table, trying to assimilate the news.
At that moment, Aaron and his kids burst in the front door.
Two of his kids.
Larx tried to pull himself together. Aaron looked hurt and frustrated and sad. God. Parenthood—wasn’t always sunshine and roses, was it?
“Larx!” Maureen said, genuinely happy to see him. He welcomed her hug, unsurprised, since she’d hugged pretty much her entire graduating class and her teachers.
“Hey, George-mau-er,” he said, glad they’d had a rapport. “I see you brought your stuff—you up for the couch?”
Maureen rolled her eyes as Aaron and Kirby hefted two suitcases up the stairs. “Better than the company at Cold-Corner Mansion,” she muttered. “I hope the power goes off and her tits freeze.”
Ouch.
“I should, uh, probably talk to your father,” Larx said delicately.
Maureen kissed his cheek. “I thought it would be weird,” she said frankly. “But you’re still my old science teacher, and I’m glad I’m here.”
Oh thank God, two of Aaron’s kids really were just like their father.
He made his way up the stairs, passing Kirby, who gave him a playful sock in the arm, and found Aaron in their room, taking off his boots and putting on fleece-lined leather moccasins Larx had gotten him as an early Christmas present so he didn’t spend all winter sick.
With a sigh, he sat down next to his friend, his lover, his companion, and slouched into the mattress.
“So…,” he started.
“My oldest daughter is horrible,” Aaron said, voice shaking with anger. “She’s going to pout at the house until her grandparents fly out and rescue her from our den of iniquity.” With a heartsick smile, he turned toward Larx. “How was your day?”
Larx’s mouth twisted. “Olivia’s pregnant.”
Aaron’s comically widened eyes were almost worth telling him the news. “I beg your pardon?”
“Her cat died, she was alone on Thanksgiving, and she went out and did someone stupid. Doctor says she’s due mid-August.”
“Oh dear God.”
“She’s going back to school for next semester, but she wants to move back here for the first two years of the baby’s life.” She had it all planned out. Most responsible he’d heard her in her entire life.
“We’re going to be grandpas?” Aaron asked, still shocked.
And that’s when Larx knew.
Knew deep in his bones.
Knew that thing he’d figured out somewhere in his time as a parent and had mastered now that he was living his second family.
It was going to be okay.
Wouldn’t be easy—but it would still be okay.
Because Aaron had said “we.”
The only end of the race in life was literally the end of the life. Other people, family, friends, career—there would always be hurdles. But Larx had someone next to him to help him over the high ones and who would need help himself.
And the challenges, the stresses, the pain of watching their older children repeat their parents’ mistakes, or possibly make bigger ones of their own—those weren’t ever going away.
But Larx and Aaron could face them with a little more surety.
Because they were “we.”
“Yeah,” Larx said happily. “We’re going to be grandpas.”
His eyes burned, and he leaned his head on Aaron’s shoulder while Aaron wrapped an arm around his waist.
“You’ll be great at it,” Aaron said softly.
“You’ll be better.”
He tasted salt in their kiss, but just like life, their life, it was still achingly sweet.
Excerpt
Johnnies: Book One
Chase Summers: Golden boy. Beautiful girlfriend, good friends, and a promising future.
Nobody knows the real Chase.
Chase Summers has a razor blade to his wrist and the smell of his lover’s goodbye clinging to his skin. He has a door in his heart so frightening he’d rather die than
open it, and the lies he’s used to block it shut are thinning with every forbidden touch. Chase has spent his entire life unraveling, and his decision to set his sexuality free in secret has only torn his mind apart faster.
Chase has one chance for true love and salvation. He may have met Tommy Halloran in the world of gay-for-pay—where the number of lovers doesn’t matter as long as the come-shot’s good—but if he wants the healing that Tommy’s love has to offer, he’ll need the courage to leave the shadows for the sunlight. That may be too much to ask from a man who’s spent his entire life hiding his true self. Chase knows all too well that the only things thriving in a heart’s darkness are the bitter personal demons that love to watch us bleed.
Prologue: End of the Ball
“DID YOU have fun?” Mercy asked as Chase negotiated the slick Sacramento streets in the dark. Their car was good—the best, actually, a Mercedes with a killer antilock brake system—but Chase concentrated hard on it anyway. He did that. He concentrated on things that he could handle when the things he couldn’t handle were trying to climb his back.
“Fun?” he asked absently, turning right against a red light after checking three times to make sure there wasn’t an oncoming car.
“Yeah, Chase—fun! You know that thing you have when you get all pretty and go dancing with friends? Did you have any fun!”
I had a blast getting fucked in the men’s bathroom by the guy whose heart I’m breaking, Mercy. Next to slitting my wrists, I can’t think of anything better.
“Yeah,” he said with a vague smile on his face. “Of course I had fun. You know how I like to dance.”
“Hm….” Mercy looked pensive, which, like pretty much any expression on her tiny oval of a face, looked enchanting. Chase sure couldn’t be faulted in his taste in women, could he? His father certainly loved her—adored her, actually. Told him this was the girl who would make him a man.
“Hm?” he asked, keeping that smile on his face, his shoulders relaxed, his hands firm and able on the wheel.
