Governor Baldwin.
Even across the barn, Josh could see that Michael was so tense he was practically shaking. And he wasn’t answering, which was the worst possible sign. Josh’s first instinct was to dive back into the bathroom and hide, but the governor’s head snapped up, and he looked right at Josh. And the way his face screwed up into a look of utter disgust hit Josh like a truck.
“Oh God,” the governor said, lip curled back. “You—you brought him here?”
He was partially hidden beyond Michael, but the way he went stiff screamed not just loathing but rage. There was no way in hell Josh was going to let this asshole lay a finger on his boyfriend.
“Hey, Michael,” Josh drawled, leaving a trail of wet footprints past the table as he stalked forward. “Who’s your guest?”
The offhand, almost dismissive question worked its magic. The governor’s fury locked on Josh, freeing Michael to gather his wits and regroup—or, better yet, escape.
The governor’s sneer almost turned into a growl. “What do you want?” he demanded, pointing at him with a rolled-up newspaper that Josh suspected was the Hartsbridge Gazette. “Money?”
Oh, fuck you and your politics, you rich asshole, Josh thought, taking deep breaths so he wouldn’t say it out loud. He stopped right beside Michael and took hold of Michael’s hand. His arm was limp, his skin clammy, but Kaylee was in front of him, keeping the governor at bay, and Josh would handle this for however long it took to get this asshole out of their lives.
Maybe the pre-engagement thing was a joke, but it was also a damned good weapon.
“Money’s an awfully impersonal wedding gift, don’t you think?” Josh asked, channeling Aunt Mitzi in all her witty, biting glory. Every Rosh Hashanah, when she called to wish him a happy new year, she’d regale him with talks of protests she led back in the sixties.
The governor’s face went purple. His eyes bulged. “Wedding!”
There was nothing sweet at all about Josh’s smile. “We haven’t registered anywhere yet, so you’ve got time.”
The governor sputtered, but it was Michael’s choked cough—one that hopefully hinted at a laugh—that had Josh’s attention. When Michael’s fingers twitched, Josh could’ve cheered. You’re not alone, babe, Josh silently told him with a squeeze of his hand.
Michael squeezed back and gave a jerky nod. He turned his face toward Josh, though he didn’t take his eyes off his father. “You want to finish getting ready for work?” he asked in that too-slow way that meant he was checking and double-checking every word.
Everything in Josh screamed not to leave, but this was Michael’s decision. Michael’s fight.
“Yeah, I probably should.” Josh desperately wanted to give Michael a kiss, but he didn’t want to make this situation any worse. And—oh God—he’d already made it worse. Why the hell had he taken last night’s playful pre-engagement and turned it into a wedding?
He drew his hand back, but before he could bolt, Michael caught him by the nape and tugged. Even with the governor right there, Josh didn’t hesitate, leaning in for a quick kiss.
“Michael!” the governor roared, though the only thing it accomplished was Michael pulling Josh back in for another kiss. It was only a few seconds, but for the governor, it probably felt like a lifetime.
Good, Josh thought smugly. After that second kiss, he felt a hell of a lot more confident about leaving Michael alone with his father. But when he went into the bathroom, he left the door cracked open, just in case. If things got ugly again, he wanted to know about it.
It took every ounce of self-control Michael had to keep from calling Josh back, but this wasn’t Josh’s fight. He’d done enough. He’d done more than enough, snapping Michael out of his panic with a single touch. And the things Josh had said . . . Michael hadn’t thought he could love Josh any more than he already did, but Josh kept proving him wrong.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing? Is this a game?”
Michael blinked and looked at his father, reflexively flinching away from his fury. Twenty-plus years of training had taught him to avoid that anger at all costs—that compliance was better than disobedience, that provoking his father never paid off.
But Michael had never really had something to fight for. Not until these past few weeks, when he’d been living his life—the life he wanted as a gay man with a wonderful boyfriend and absolutely no political obligations.
“It’s—” He scratched hard at Kaylee’s head, concentrating on the fur under his fingertips. He couldn’t afford to lose his words. This was too important. “It’s not a game. He’s my boyfriend.”
“And this?” His father gave the newspaper a sharp wave that made Michael flinch again and back up a step before he could stop himself. Kaylee—thank God for her training. She turned, keeping her head close to Michael, giving him a good three feet of space.
“Newspaper,” Michael said, trying to channel even a tenth of the confidence Josh had shown. “So?”
With a brusque fury that nearly ripped the paper into shreds, his father opened it to the second or third page, then shoved it at Michael—or tried to. He flinched when Kaylee’s tail, raised in a sharp curve, brushed against his arm, and Michael gave in to the urge to smirk. By law service dogs couldn’t be trained as attack dogs, but he’d bet his father didn’t know that.
The smirk almost vanished, though, when he saw a grid of black-and-white photos under the headline Library Fundraiser a Smashing Success! One of the photos was circled in blood-red ink—a picture of him and Josh sitting at one of the tables, kissing like the rest of the world didn’t exist.
So there were two pictures of them kissing. Michael had the crazy idea of showing his father the other picture—the one that Josh had emailed to him and Amanda. She’d thought it was sweet and adorable.
“Do you have any idea what this is going to do to me?” his father demanded, rattling the paper. “Bad enough you dropped out of college to join the damned Air Force.”
Oh, no. His father did not get to use that as a weapon. Michael was proud of his service. “I was serving my country,” he snapped, positive that he got the words out flawlessly. “The first Baldwin to serve, probably since the damn Revolutionary War!”
His father sneered and flung the newspaper aside, sending pages flying into the armchair. “Don’t give me that! You threw away your life! And now you’re throwing it away again with some . . . money-hungry lowlife—”
“Don’t!” Michael hissed in a breath through clenched teeth. Kaylee nosed at his thigh, and he gestured for her to stay still. He didn’t need grounding from this.
“He’s a nobody! A damned high school dropout who makes bagels for a living!”
After getting shot, Michael had spent months angry at everything. It had been a searing anger, a low-grade fire in his belly that would flare up like a volcano at the least provocation. Now that anger went cold, sharpening everything into absolute clarity.
“You researched him?” he asked, barely above a whisper.
“I have an election to win,” his father answered flatly.
“This has nothing to do with you,” Michael insisted, even though he knew that wasn’t true. Politics meant it was open season on everything the Baldwin family did or said. That was how it had always been—until now.
His father took a breath, ready to launch into a tirade, but Michael shot back first. “It’s always been about you, hasn’t it? Everything’s about you and your damned campaign and your fucking politics!”
“My fucking politics have led this state to its strongest economic growth—”
“This is my life! This isn’t your campaign!” Michael interrupted, fists clenching.
“Your life? You call this a life?” his father scorned. “You threw away everything! You walked out of college and threw away your future, and for what? To play soldier?”
Damn right! Michael thought, agreeing with his father for the only time he could remember. “Yeah. To be a soldie
r! For the first damn time in my life, I did what I wanted with my life.”
Lips curled in a sneer, his father said, “Don’t give me that. You were barely eighteen! What the hell does a teenager know about life? Hell, what do you think you know about life now?” He made a quick, sharp gesture toward the back of the barn, where Josh had gone. “Eight years of being a soldier, and what’s it taught you? The first thing you do is create a gay scandal to wreck my campaign.”
His father didn’t understand—his father would never understand—but knowing that didn’t stop Michael from shouting, “This isn’t about you!”
“It damn well is!” his father shouted back, stepping forward, right into Kaylee. She braced and stood her ground, ears flicking. “I’m not going to let some money-grubbing Jew fag sabotage—”
“Josh!” Michael turned his back on his father, even though the thought of being so defenseless and vulnerable made his skin crawl.
“Don’t you—” He heard movement—his father’s footsteps, the click of Kaylee’s claws—and he knew she was twisting around to keep his father at bay, no matter how he moved.
Josh came out of the bathroom, dressed and ready to go. He hadn’t shaved, but Michael guessed he hadn’t wanted the hum of the electric razor to interfere with his eavesdropping. “All done?” he asked in a calm, steady tone.
Michael nodded, saying, “Grab the laptop,” over his father’s shouted demands that Kaylee get the hell out of his way.
Josh stopped at the breakfast table and picked up the laptop. He even remembered Michael’s glasses.
Michael turned back to the delightful sight of his father standing there, defeated by a dog that wasn’t even fully grown. Keeping Kaylee between them, Michael picked up Josh’s backpack, surreptitiously bracing himself against the armchair when the floor tilted and wobbled under his feet. His heart was racing wildly, and his vision was going black around the edges, but he’d walk out of this barn under his own power if it killed him. He was not going to let his father win.
“Where do you think you’re going?” his father asked in a dangerously low growl, one that would’ve had Michael shivering in fear just ten years ago.
He couldn’t risk answering—not verbally. Instead, he pulled Kaylee’s leash and vest off the hooks by the front door, then glanced back at Josh and gestured at the messenger bag. Either Josh caught the hint or he knew that Michael never left the house without it. Josh slung it over his shoulder, tucked the laptop under his arm, and said, “Ready when you are.”
Like all politicians, Michael’s father had to get the last word: “Don’t you dare walk out of here,” he said, his tone going sharp and threatening. “If you walk out, you’re through with this family!”
After beckoning for Kaylee to follow, Michael pulled open the door and smiled over at Josh. “I have a real family now,” he said, walking out into the sunlight.
Josh stopped the SUV in the loading zone next to the marina’s little dry dock, where a dumpster would hide the huge vehicle from the road. His hands were unsteady and his mouth still tasted sour, but at least he could drive. It had taken Michael too many tries to press the unlock button on the keychain, and after the beep he’d shoved the keys into Josh’s hands in a silent request for Josh to drive.
Not that Josh would’ve let Michael drive in his state. Even now, five minutes after Josh had raced out of the driveway, past the governor’s black luxury sedan with its waiting driver, Michael was still a wreck. He’d climbed into the car and called Kaylee onto his lap instead of the backseat. He was holding her to his chest, face buried in her fur, muscles so taut they were trembling.
The sight made Josh want to go back to the house and ram the giant SUV into that asshole’s car a few times. A few dozen times. The thought that Michael was still miserable because of his asshole father . . .
“Hey.” Josh brushed his fingertips over Michael’s forearm. “We’re safe, Michael. We’re alone here.”
Michael started to take a deep breath, then coughed and lifted his head, wiping fur off his lips. The cough turned into a faint laugh tinged with desperation. “Thanks,” he croaked, looking over at Josh with glassy eyes.
“Want me to go to the store for you?” Josh offered.
Michael frowned. “Huh?”
“We’ve always got some stale bagels. I can probably get back to your place before that asshole’s gone. Bet I can give him a black eye from twenty feet if I use an everything bagel.”
Michael snorted and choked instead of laughing at the stupid joke, but it worked anyway. He let go of Kaylee and caught Josh’s hand. “My knight in a green apron?”
Relieved that Michael wasn’t falling into one of those awful episodes, Josh shrugged and said, “You don’t need me to fight your battles. I just distracted him for a couple of minutes. The rest was all you.”
“I don’t . . .” He shook his head and shifted under Kaylee, or tried to. “Kaylee, get in back. Go on,” he told her, reaching between the front seats with his left hand, snapping his fingers. She crawled awkwardly over the center console, tail smacking Josh in the face a couple of times before she made it onto the backseat. Michael wiped at his face, then looked down at the fur on his shirt and jeans. “I don’t remember most of whatever happened. Just bits and pieces.”
“Good,” Josh said honestly, taking hold of Michael’s hand again. “You’ve gone through enough shit already in your life.”
Michael nodded, giving Josh’s hand a squeeze, and glanced around. Frowning, he asked, “Where are we?”
“The marina just down the road. I kind of figured your father’s the type to send his flunky after you to drag you back for another ‘talk.’” Josh shrugged. “Nobody will find us here.”
“Thanks.” Michael gestured at the door, asking, “Can we . . .?”
“Sure. I know the owners. They won’t care if we hide out here for a few,” Josh said confidently. He turned off the engine and got out in a rush, jogging around to help Michael out. The leash and vest were tangled around his feet, and Michael stared at them in confusion. Josh picked them up, saying, “We left in a hurry. Do you remember that part?”
Michael leaned against the side of the SUV and glanced at Josh’s backpack in the footwell. “My messenger bag? Your laptop?”
“I got them. They’re in the back,” Josh assured him.
“Okay.” Sighing, Michael turned to face the water. “I, uh . . . I think I need a hotel.”
“You could do that,” Josh said slowly, “or you could just stay with me.”
Michael glanced at him, wary and defensive. “Josh, you saw what he’s like. He won’t stop. He’ll come after me.”
“You mean after us,” Josh corrected. He shrugged, putting all the confidence he could muster into his voice, and added, “Besides, who cares? The police chief’s an old friend. He’s been coming to Bagel End for years. He’d get a kick out of arresting the governor for harassment.”
Michael’s laugh was short and a little mad, but it made Josh smile. “Would he? Really?”
“Hell, yeah.” Josh stepped in front of Michael so he could take both of his hands. “He’s a townie. We protect our own.”
Michael squeezed his hands. “What about your dad?”
Damn. Maybe Michael would’ve been willing to move in with his boyfriend, but not his boyfriend’s dad. Still, Josh had to try. “He knows about you. What he knows, he likes. And there’s plenty of room.”
“Yeah, but . . .” Michael glanced away. “It’s his house.”
“Just for now,” Josh tried, heartbroken at the thought of Michael lying awake in some distant hotel room on the mainland. “You said yourself that you have trouble sleeping even somewhere that’s familiar. You didn’t sleep at all in that motel a while back, right?”
Michael met his eyes, a faint smile on his lips. “Is this your way of saying I should shut up and let you talk me into it?”
Josh smiled encouragingly. “All the brunch you can eat.”
That got a laugh and another shrug. “Okay. But I’m going to be apartment hunting.”
“Oh God, no.” Josh shuddered exaggeratedly. “Most of the apartments around here are for college kids or they’re over the shops downtown. I’m serious about the house. We have plenty of space.”
Michael tipped his head back toward the window where Kaylee was panting into the glass, watching them. “What about Kaylee? Your dad—”
“Loves dogs,” Josh interrupted. “Please, trust me on this?”
“I do trust you, but this is more than just us.”
Josh gave in to the impulse to roll his eyes. He let go of Michael’s hand so he could take out his phone. The picture of them kissing made him smile in grim triumph. Eat that, Governor Shithead, he thought before hitting speed dial one.
“Who—” Michael began, though he went silent when Josh held up a finger.
Dad answered after two rings, saying, “You’re early. What’s wrong?”
“Relax. Everything’s fine,” Josh assured him, even though everything wasn’t fine. His dad was asking about the shop, though, so it wasn’t entirely a lie. “Do you mind if Michael and his service dog move in with us for a while?”
“Josh!” Michael said in a choked whisper. Josh shushed him.
“Uh, no?” Dad said uncertainly. “This is . . . sudden, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, but there were some problems with the whole gay thing and the whole Jewish thing,” Josh explained in a deliberately casual tone.
He could hear Dad’s sharp inhale, like a snorting bull getting ready to charge. “Oh, were there?” he asked ominously. “You want to clear out the guest room or is he sharing with you?”
Josh looked right into Michael’s eyes. “He’ll stay in my room. We’re, uh, pretty serious about things.”
“Good! Serious enough that I can tell the relatives?” Dad asked hopefully.
“Let me ask.” Josh tipped the phone away from his face and asked Michael, “Can Dad tell the family about us?”
Change of Address Page 25
