Candy Ever After (Hot Candy Book 2)

by Jo Raven

  “You don’t know any such services, do you?” Disappointment colors Mom’s voice. “Poop.”

  “Hey, Mom, why don’t you—”

  “Talk to you soon, baby, I got to go!”

  And she hangs up on me. Leaving me with all these questions and a scream building in my chest, because when I try to call her back, her line is already busy. And busy. And frigging busy.

  Escorts? Is this for real? My mom is about to hire an unknown guy to give her sexual satisfaction?

  Does my dad know?

  Shit. I have to talk to Dad.

  ***

  Dad’s phone is busy and then I realize I’m late for my first class of the day, so I drop the phone on the table and rush through my morning ritual.

  Jump into shower. Shave fuzz from legs. Lather and rinse. Jump out of the shower.

  Discover soap under one armpit.

  Jump back into shower.

  Scream at shock of cold water. Rinse and get out. Curse. Grab a towel, drop it, grab it again, wrap around self and half-stumble, half-slither out of the wet bathroom and into the drawing room in search of clothes.

  Pure routine.

  I spend the day in classes, unable to concentrate, torn between my concern for Jet, dread about Mom’s request for escort services and…when was Joel supposed to go meet his parents?

  I try calling him, and surprise! He doesn’t answer his phone.

  What is this, a freaking global conspiracy to keep me from talking to people? Seriously?

  “You want to tell us something, Miss?” the Latin class professor asks, looking straight at me, his beard trembling with outrage. “Or can I continue?”

  Shit, the whole class is staring at me. Someone is snickering.

  “Please continue,” I say magnanimously, waving a hand, then bow my head, pretending to be engrossed in my notes.

  After class, as I’m walking between buildings, heading to my next class, I try Joel again and finally get him on the phone.

  “Hey girl,” he says, sounding distracted. “What’s up?”

  “Hey yourself. I just wanted to ask when you’re going over to your parents. Would you… what if I came with you?”

  I cross my fingers at my side.

  “I’m… not sure that’s such a good idea, Candy.”

  I stop in my tracks. “But…”

  “This is something I should handle on my own. Face them alone.” He pauses. “Okay?”

  “But I could wait outside. Or just say hi and let you say your piece. I just—”

  “I need to do this alone.”

  Crap. He’s right. I don’t know why I’m insisting. There’s a lump of ice in the pit of my stomach. “Sure. Okay.” I swallow hard. “See you at home afterward, then?”

  “Sorry, girl, I got to go. Boss is here.”

  And the line disconnects. I lower my phone and stare at it.

  He didn’t say yes. He didn’t say, Yes, Candy, I will see you at home afterward. I won’t run away and never come back.

  Don’t be paranoid, Candy. His boss walked in, he’s stressed, and he just hung up.

  Okay, deep breaths. My instinct is to drive over to him, grab him, then go grab Jet, too, and hold onto them both tight.

  But like I read somewhere, if you love someone, you have to let them go.

  Whoever wrote it obviously had no clue.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Joel

  One thing that has struck me lately is that

  with true love, comes acceptance

  As I stand in front of the door to my parents’ apartment, I kinda wish I’d said yes to Candy’s offer to join me. I wish Jet were here, too, by my side.

  Have I ever told them how much I’ve come to depend on them, on their presence, their complete acceptance of someone like me? Someone who used to be afraid and ashamed of who I was, who fucked up everything before seeing what was important?

  Or rather, who.

  But I know who I am now. I know who is important to me. I just want my parents to see me. See how happy I am.

  Again, that dangerous feeling. That hoping and wishing, and ah fuck, my palms are damp and my heart is pounding as if I’m about to take a test that will determine the rest of my life.

  It won’t, I remind myself. And nothing bad will happen.

  Just ring the damn doorbell.

  When I finally do, nothing happens for so fucking long I wonder if I misunderstood and nobody’s in. I ring again, and this time I hear footsteps and the door opens.

  “Joel, that you?” a suspicious voice says, my mom’s voice, I realize with a second’s delay. “Come on in.”

  She steps aside and I enter. I’m always shocked by how much shorter she is than me, even after all these years. In my mind she always leans over me, tucking me in bed or patting my knee.

  “Hey, Mom.” I smile at her.

  She gives me a faint smile back. “Nice to see you. Lost your key?”

  I threw it away after that fateful day when I rushed to the hospital to Jet’s and Candy’s side.

  “I did, yeah.”

  “We’ll make you another copy.”

  Weirdly, she’s dressed in heels and a short black dress, and I say weirdly not because I have something against heels and short black dresses but because Mom is always dressed in sports clothes, always ready to head out to one of the fitness clubs she frequents.

  “What’s the occasion?” I ask, gesturing at her clothes. “Going out somewhere afterward?”

  She rolls her eyes at me as she leads the way into the living room, and then it also strikes me that it’s very quiet. No sound of TV playing, or Dad cursing at the baseball game.

  And then I see Dad. Dressed in a blue shirt and black pants. His shoes are polished.

  “You, my boy.” He opens his arms for me. “You alone?”

  “Er. Yes.” Why wouldn’t I be?

  Reluctantly I walk into his arms and hug him. It’s an unfamiliar feeling. It’s been a long time since I’ve hugged or been hugged by either of my parents.

  Reluctance seems to be the theme of the evening.

  I pull back and Dad claps me on the back. “We thought we’d get to meet her.”

  Meet her. I open my mouth, close it again. “I told you that—”

  “You said that you have a fiancée.”

  “I have a relationship.” I rake a hand through my hair. “Fuck.”

  “Language,” Mom says, but her smile has faded. “We were really excited to meet her, Joel. I’m sure she’s a great girl to be with you. You’re the best guy any girl could dream of.”

  “That’s not—” I shake my head. “Not the issue.”

  “Then what is? What’s wrong?”

  “Can we sit down first? To talk?”

  “Joel…”

  This is another strange thing. I can’t remember the last time my mom seemed worried, or even remotely interested in me and my doings. Why is she—?

  Oh. She’s not looking at me. She’s looking at Dad while ringing her hands together. He’s the one she’s worried about. He’s frowning, his brows throwing dark shadows over his eyes, and his mouth is downturned.

  Now he looks more like the dad I know. And the realization doesn’t put me at ease. Not sure anything can put me at ease at this point.

  “Can we sit down?” I ask again and have to remind myself not to cower under my dad’s glare. I’m not a kid. I’m an adult. I’m only here to say my piece and go.

  “No,” Dad says slowly, his frown deepening. His fists clench at his sides. “No, we can’t sit down. Say what you came to say.”

  “Dad…”

  “What did you do?” Dad hisses. “What the fuck did you do, Joel?”

  Jesus. “I found out… I’m bisexual. There’s a—”

  “What did you say?” Dad roars, his face turning red.

  “I have a girlfriend and a boyfriend.” I lift my chin, although my heart is hammering fit to break a rib. “We live together. We’re throwing a so
rt of get-to-know-the-family party on Saturday and you’re invited—”

  The punch seems to come out of nowhere. An impact to my head, shaking the world, then the pain hits as I stumble to the side.

  “No,” Dad spits in my face.

  “Stop it,” Mom is whispering, tugging on his arm. “Stop.”

  “You turned into a faggot bitch? You take it up the ass, you? My son?” He draws back his fist for another punch—because it’s finally sinking in that he punched me—and lets out a bitter snort. “I thought it bad enough when Evie decided to go and choose a streetbum over us, but you? You are a goddamn faggot?”

  I lift my arm on instinct, blocking another punch. I never thought it would come to this, I realize, my thoughts twisted and disjointed, not making much sense. I’m their son. I failed them.

  Wait a second.

  I blink as Mom wails something and Dad growls back. I feel as if I’m watching them from far away. How did this happen? When did their indifference turn into molten rage?

  And why should I stay any longer? What else is there to say? I’ve said what I came here to say. Told them my news. Invited them to meet the most important people in my life—or tried to, anyway, before getting punched in the face.

  Oh, right, there’s one more thing I haven’t told them.

  I square my shoulders, lift my aching head, looking at my mom and dad, the people who raised me to a certain ideal of theirs. Rested their hopes on my shoulders and cheered me on.

  Well, I had hopes of my own coming here, and certain expectations of them as well, but here we are.

  “I’ve changed jobs,” I say, my voice coming out rusty and creaky. “To a smaller company. My dream is to open a publishing house. Just so you know.”

  “You goddamn son of a bitch…” Dad’s gaze blazes hot at me, but I can barely feel it.

  “You are invited to the party. You are invited to my life. If you change your mind and decide to respect me and my decisions, then…” This is hard, but they are my parents. “Then my door is open for you.” I turn away. “Until then, I guess it’s goodbye.”

  It hurts, leaving like this. I won’t lie. It hurts even more than the pain spreading through my skull and neck. I can taste blood in my mouth from where I must have bitten my tongue and my face hurts like a bitch.

  But I keep going, staggering a little. Damn, Dad has a mean right hook. The things you find out…

  And Jesus, my cheeks feel cool and wet. What the fuck.

  Light steps sound behind me and a hand touches my elbow. “Joel…”

  I whirl around, ready to fight back, my head too light on my shoulders. “What?”

  “Joel… Don’t go.” Her face is pale, and yet I’m too angry to care.

  “I can’t fucking stay.”

  “Please. Losing Evie hurt, and now you?”

  I swallow all the bitter, ragey words coming up my throat like vomit. “Mom, you didn’t lose Evie, okay? Me leaving now doesn’t mean you’ve lost me, either. Call her.”

  I turn again to go, swallowing blood, my head about to explode with pain.

  “Wait…”

  “Mom.” I don’t turn around, because I don’t feel so good, and fuck it, I need to get outta here. “I have to.”

  “Your dad…” she whispers. “He will relent. Give him time. He loves you and Evie.”

  “He sure has a funny way of showing it.” As do you, but I don’t say that. She’s trying. I can see she is. “Mom, just…” My voice cracks and I grit my teeth. “Just call Evie. And let me know if Dad has a change of heart.”

  If he has a heart.

  But I don’t say that either, and instead focus on leaving, one foot in front of the other, as the fuel that brought me here, the burning hope that kept me going until now, flickers out.

  At least the darkness doesn’t lie. It shows the truth.

  ***

  When I step out of the building, I’m stumbling like a blind man. Lost in my thoughts and with the pain in my head, I don’t see them until I almost crash into them.

  “Whoa, slow down,” Jet mutters, grabbing my arm and steadying me. “J.”

  I jerk away for the seconds it takes me to recognize his voice, his face, his touch. By then, another, shorter person has snagged my other hand and is tugging on it.

  “How did it go?” Candy asks, looking up at me, her eyes wide.

  I choke on the words. Can’t speak. I guess the reality of what happened hasn’t hit me yet, or not as hard as my dad’s fist.

  Christ. My knees go weak as the memory returns, and Jet curses, hauling me back up.

  “J. What the fuck happened in there?”

  “Give him a minute, Jet,” Candy whispers.

  I blink. Two more people are moving toward us, their forms familiar but out of place.

  My sister. And her boyfriend, Micah. I blink again, not sure I’m seeing right.

  “Hey, Joey.” She shoots me a quick smile, but worry shines through her eyes. “How did it go?”

  “Evie? What are you guys doing here? What’s everyone doing here?”

  “We’re not everyone,” Candy says, squeezing my hand. “We’re the people who love you.”

  “We were worried about this meeting,” my sister adds. “Are you…? Is that…?” She leans in, frowning. “A bruise?”

  “What the fuck?” Jet hisses, turning me toward the light of a street lamp. “He hit you?” Pure rage fills his voice, rolling under the surface of his smooth tone like liquid fire. “Hell.”

  “Let me see.” Candy closes in on me. “Ow, crap. That has to hurt. Who did this?”

  Over Candy’s head, I see Micah take a step toward us, his gaze concerned, then change his mind and turn toward Evie instead.

  “Our dad?” Evie claps a hand over her mouth, her eyes filling up, and Micah draws her into his arms. “Jesus, Joey.”

  “It’s okay.” I swallow blood, my mouth filled with its rusty tang, and lean gratefully into Jet and Candy. “I’ll be okay.”

  “But why did he…? He never…” Evie twists in Micah’s arms to look at me. “I can’t frigging believe he hit you.”

  “It’s okay,” I say.

  “No, it’s not.”

  I shake my head, and wince when my brain rattles in my skull. It sure feels like it, anyway. It doesn’t matter. All I wanna do is to go home and bury myself in my lovers’ bodies, forget about this day.

  Forget everything.

  Candy reads my mind because she says, “Let’s get you home.”

  “Joey, will you be okay?” Evie asks and I hate the sadness in her voice.

  “Yes.” Candy and Jet move aside so that I can hug my sister, a brief, hard hug, and then I pull back, because if this meeting with our parents didn’t break me to pieces, her tears might. “Yes, I’ll be okay. I’ll see you at the party.”

  Micah nods at me as Evie steps away. He wraps an arm around her and I sag in relief, knowing he’s got her. I trust Micah. He’s solid, and he loves my sister more than anything.

  Like I love Candy and Jet, and this time I let them drag me away, toward where my car is parked. The night falls away, the world shrinks to the periphery of their faces, their hands, as they guide me into the car.

  Candy sits behind the wheel, Jet rides shotgun and I sit in the backseat, letting time pass, letting the streets roll by.

  I’m so fucking tired. Is this how Jet feels most of the time? Is this the exhaustion that drags him down? This feeling of a knife to the heart from your family when you didn’t expect it.

  When you should have expected it but didn’t fucking want to.

  And now… Now it’s over and it’s as if I cannonballed through a brick wall. I’m bruised, yes, inside and out, and still woozy and achy, my confusion and pain turning into anger.

  But more than that, it’s turning into self-awareness and the realization it’s done, and nothing has changed. I’m still certain of what and who I want. Who I am. Who I love.

  Certain that I’ve nev
er been happier in my life. Never been luckier.

  Not everyone can say that.

  I dredge up a smile at that, hurting my face, and it slowly turns real. Holy shit, I did it. I came out to my parents, and that went… well, it went tits up, but what the hell. It changes nothing. I’ve found my tribe.

  Even if right now my heart fucking aches.

  ***

  Jet drags me into the building the moment Candy unlocks the door, and together they stuff me into the elevator, and from there haul me into the apartment.

  I let them handle me. The numbness lingers and it makes me spacy and uncoordinated. Like a goddamn baby. Another weird thing to tick off for the day. I’ve always been a strong guy. I’ve been into sports and it comes with the territory. I can benchpress Candy, probably, and I am stronger than Jet, even nowadays when he’s packed quite a bit of muscle and can match me on the wrestling floor.

  But tonight they are the reason I keep moving, the reason I didn’t sink down on the curb outside my parents’ building to wait for the morning.

  I will get over this numbing detachment. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I realize I’m probably in shock. It’ll wear off. Somehow. It’s as if I need something to jolt me out of it. Remind me I’m alive, and that I have lots of reasons to smile.

  That I have a home, even if my parents never let me back into theirs.

  Fuck.

  Jet’s arm is a solid line of heat around my back as he pulls me through the cold living room. I need to feel him closer, skin to skin, feel he’s real.

  Never thought I’d question my sanity like this.

  I don’t realize I’m laughing until Jet grunts. “What are you snickering at?” he mutters. Then his eyes narrow. “Oh fuck, did that motherfucker give you a concussion? Are you dizzy? Are you—?”

  “Jet, shut up.” I draw in a long breath. “Please, get me to bed and drag Candy up there, too. I fucking need you both.”

  He nods after a moment. “You got us,” he says quietly.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Jethro

  Believe, Mom used to say. Her face is growing fuzzy in my memory, and I can’t remember what she was talking about, but I remember that clear as day.

  Believe.

  Then she died and I lost my faith. How could I believe after seeing her die?