“Can I get back to you?”
“Of course.”
That night, David sat down with his mother, his sister, Jackson, and Michael. Predictably, Michael and Beth were out for blood and wanted Trevor to serve the maximum sentence on bread and water.
“I don’t think we can stipulate the menu,” David said, voice wry. “If it goes to trial, we can’t really stipulate anything.”
“Meaning he could get off.” Jackson’s eyes were narrowed as he spoke, and David nodded.
“He could. Karen says you never know what’s going to happen with a jury. Besides that, I’m pissed at Trevor, but I don’t know that I want to be responsible for him losing everything.”
“David.” Michael’s voice was tinged with disbelief. “He broke into your house. With a crowbar.”
“He was drunk!” David shot back. “How many of us have done dumbass things when we were drunk?”
“Well, I may have done dumb shit,” Michael retorted, “but I’ve never committed a felony.” He huffed and looked at the ceiling. “I can’t believe you’re even considering forgiving this guy.”
“Oh, wait a minute.” David leaned forward, his hand fisted on the table. “I’m not forgiving anything.”
“Then what the hell are you talking about?” Beth’s brow was furrowed in an irritated frown. “If he doesn’t go to jail, and it’s you making the concessions, then he gets away with it.”
Beverley gave her a quelling look. “Beth, let your brother explain.”
Jackson put his hand over David’s on the table. “Tell us what you and Karen discussed, babe.”
David drew calm from Jackson’s unflappable, steady support. The warmth from his hand helped center him. “If he would agree to a deal, and his lawyer thinks he would, he’d be on probation.”
“For how long?” Michael asked.
“For however long the judge decides. He’s the final arbiter over whether this happens or not, but Karen says if I choose not to push for a trial, then he almost certainly will order probation for—well, she said at least eighteen months. He’d have to check in with a probation officer once a month. The restraining order would remain in effect, so he wouldn’t be able to have any contact with me or come within five hundred feet of where I am at any time. He couldn’t own a weapon, so if he actually did buy a gun, and it should be registered if he did, it would have to be sold or surrendered. He wouldn’t be able to leave the state. He wouldn’t be able to drink, and they’d do random blood tests to make sure he wasn’t.” He looked at the concerned faces around him. “And as a special term of his probation, anything he jointly owned with me would have to be sold.”
“Meaning he’d have to sell the condo.” Michael now looked thoughtful instead of angry.
“And he’d have to return his car. I signed the lease papers on the Mini Cooper, not him.”
Michael smirked. “Well, there’s a low down dirty shame.”
Silence settled around the dining room table in his mother’s house, and it remained for several seconds.
“And if he comes near you?” Jackson finally spoke into the quiet.
“If he so much as drives past the house, I can have him picked up and the deal is off the table.” David looked from face to face. “My first impulse was to go for the trial too. I wanted him to suffer. But then I had to ask myself, what did I want him to suffer for? Breaking into the house, the harassing phone calls? Or cheating on me to begin with?” David shook his head. “I don’t want to be that person,” he finally said, his voice soft. “I want everything with Trevor to be over, done, but I don’t have to destroy him to accomplish that.”
Silence settled again.
Jackson cleared his throat. “You do what feels right to you, David. I’ll back up any decision you make.”
Michael huffed. “Nice, Jackson. Make the rest of us look like assholes if we disagree.” He scowled. “Fine, but I don’t have to like it.”
David looked at his family. “Mom? Beth?”
Beth rolled her eyes. “You’re a better person than I am. You know how I feel about the bastard, but ultimately it’s up to you.”
Beverley leaned across the table and put her hand on top of Jackson’s and David’s where they were linked. “I’ll do whatever you want me to do, honey. But understand if I see him—” She gave him a matronly smile. “—I reserve the right to kick his ass.”
David felt a bone-deep wave of relief. “Duly noted.”
Jackson squeezed his fingers. “And I still think you should get a dog.”
David leaned against Jackson’s shoulder. “Agreed.”
As expected, Trevor took the deal. The last and only time David saw him was at the hearing where the judge rubber-stamped what the ADA presented. They didn’t speak. Trevor gave him one lingering look from where he sat beside his lawyer, but David wouldn’t return his gaze, and he finally looked away. The condo sold within the first thirty days, for what David considered to be a reasonable profit. He let Trevor keep the furniture; he didn’t want any of it anymore.
Boots had a couple of bruised ribs from where Trevor had kicked him, but was declared fine in less than a month. Jordyn and Paul were more than understanding about the whole thing, and the little dog continued to pay David visits on a regular basis when he escaped through their front door. David wanted to find a dog like him, but after searching the local humane society and rescue groups, he found out that corgis were extremely popular and didn’t remain unclaimed very long. He’d about given up when Jackson called bright and early one brisk Saturday morning.
“What’re you doin’?”
“Just waiting for you to get back,” David answered. “I thought we were going to breakfast after the appetite you worked up.” Jackson had spent several athletic hours the night before in David’s bed and had only been gone about five hours. Shirley had recovered from her fall and was doing well, but Jackson still wasn’t comfortable leaving her alone overnight. David looked forward to a time when they could go to sleep and wake up in each other’s arms, but he understood his lover’s caution.
“Change of plans, but I’ll be over in about ten. Put on something warm.”
David didn’t even have a chance to say good-bye before he was gone. “Put on something warm?” David looked at his phone in confusion before slipping it into his pocket.
He assumed Jackson meant layers and went to his closet to change into a lavender polo with his purple Dolly Parton sweatshirt over the top. Michael had joked about the returned queering of his wardrobe, but Jackson liked all the color, which was good. David was done changing himself for anyone, even Jackson.
Exactly ten minutes after the phone call, his front door opened. Jackson still had his key and David hoped he never felt the need to give it back.
“David?”
“I’m here.” David came out of the hallway and found Jackson all but bouncing on his toes. “What’s going on?”
Jackson grabbed his hand, pulling him toward the door. “I found you something.”
“Okay.” David laughed as he allowed himself to be pulled outside.
It was overcast and cold, and the trees were bare and the lawns beginning to turn yellow. David had two giant urns of fall mums on his steps and bronze cushions with burgundy pillows on his swing, but that was about the only color in his yard. If you didn’t take into account the bright red bandana around the neck of the black-and-tan corgi at the feet of a woman standing near the sidewalk. She bent with a smile and unhooked the leash from the dog’s collar, and Jackson whistled.
“Come here, Scooter,” he called, and the bat-like ears shot up, shoe-button black eyes bright. It ran to Jackson as fast as its short little white legs would allow, and Jackson crouched down, petting the dog when it arrived at his feet.
David stared at the beautiful little dog, his heart beating hard at the base of his throat. Jackson looked up at him where he stood on the porch.
“Well? Aren’t you going to come and say hello?�
�
David came slowly down the steps, looking from Jackson to the dog. “Is it—?”
“Yours?” Jackson scratched behind the dog’s ears. “Yes. If you want her.”
David crouched on the dry lawn. “Her name is Scooter?”
Jackson nodded. “She belonged to an older lady who passed away recently. She just popped up on the corgi message boards yesterday morning. I called and the rescue lady Kate drove her over from Idaho this morning. She’s a great little dog, David. She’s three years old, completely housebroken and crate trained. And she’s got a great personality.”
David couldn’t seem to think of a single thing to say. He couldn’t recall a time in his life when anyone had gone out of their way for him since his parents. He reached out and touched the dog’s fur, and it was every bit as soft as Boots’s. She was a little smaller, and when she looked up at David, head cocked to one side and expression charming and alert, David lost his heart right there in his front yard.
“David?”
It finally registered that Jackson sounded worried, and David looked up at him quickly to find his dark brow furrowed with concern and perhaps a little hurt in his light eyes.
“Don’t you like her?”
David pushed down the lump in his throat and threw his arms around Jackson’s neck, knocking him to his ass right there on the lawn. He ended up sitting on Jackson’s lap.
“I’d say that’s a yes,” the woman, who had walked closer, said from above them. David looked up at her, blinking back tears. She was beaming at him, and he managed a watery smile.
“That is most definitely a yes.”
Scooter and Boots became fast friends. Jackson installed a doggie door leading out to the backyard and a fence to enclose it, and every few days Jordyn would bring Boots down for a “playdate.” They’d race in and out of the door, and they were so damned cute David couldn’t even be annoyed by the almost constant flapping. Michael adored her, although he laughed uproariously when David told him her name.
“Scooter? And Bootsy? Scoots and Boots for short? God, they’re a country song.”
David laughed along with him, but he didn’t call her “Scoots.” Having her greet him at the door when he came home was second only to having Jackson greet him with a kiss.
David shook off the memories, picked up the tray of meat and cheese he’d been arranging, and took it into the dining room, putting it on one of several large red serving dishes that were already arranged on his table. It wasn’t really a full buffet meal, just snacks, but it looked festive and appetizing. There was a red runner down the center of the table, a clear bowl holding golden Christmas ornaments with spilling gold filigree ribbon at the center. Candles were already lit in large candleholders on the table and on the built-ins, and a fire burned brightly in the fireplace in the living room, not far from the Christmas tree. The tree was in the center of the front window and was decked out in white lights, gold bows, and mirrored glass ornaments. Jackson teased him that the place looked like a Pier 1 showroom floor, but David was proud of his home and wanted to show it off. The repairs and renovations were finally done, the floors gleamed, and the furniture was perfect on the jewel-toned area rugs, pillows and throws complimenting the furnishings. David would be the first to admit the house looked professionally decorated, but it was homey and elegant, and if it didn’t look like an interior decorator had been involved, clearly he was doing something wrong.
There was a sound on the front porch and David turned in anticipation of Jackson’s arrival. When Scooter went to the door, instead of her usual happy bark, she growled, and David stiffened.
“What’s the matter?” he asked her. He looked out through the small glass windows in the door, but all he saw was refracted reflections of the lights from the tree in the beveled glass. He opened the door cautiously and peered out, but the porch was empty, as was the yard beyond. Scooter pushed past him, the hair down her spine standing at attention, her growls a low rumble as she peered around the dark yard.
It wasn’t the first time it had happened since the night Trevor broke into the house. David tried to relax, told himself he had the alarm and the dog, and Trevor wasn’t coming back, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was out there, watching him, waiting. He’d even spoken with Karen about it, but the fear remained. She told him to be easy on himself, that it would take time. He didn’t like that answer at all.
David stepped out onto the porch, trying to peer into the shadows by his driveway. A blur of white dashed beneath the bushes near the street and Scooter barked again. Moments later a small gray-and-white cat darted out into the street. David felt the knots in his shoulders begin to unwind, and he laughed unsteadily.
“That’s Precious, you goober,” he said to the little dog. Precious belonged to his neighbor on the left, Mrs. Pearson. The cat was forever coming into the yard, and David wished the woman would keep her in the house. Vern said he wished it was legal to make her into a throw pillow. “Come on, Scooter. It’s freezing out here.”
They went back into the house, and he bent and ruffled the fur on her neck above her festive tartan collar.
“You’re a good girl.” She went back to her bed and David returned to the dining room, rearranging the platters. Again. It took a while for the trembling to go away, and by then he was heartily tired of it. Why couldn’t he convince himself that everything was fine? Karen suggested he see a counselor to talk out his fears, and he was beginning to think it wasn’t a bad idea.
Fifteen minutes later the front door opened and Jackson blew in on a gust of cold air. He was wearing a heavy dark blue jacket and a knitted skullcap, and held a bakery box in his hands. Scooter darted out of her plush bed and bounced around his feet like a windup toy.
“Hey, baby girl,” Jackson greeted, rubbing her head. David crossed to him and took the white box from his hands, and Jackson kissed him quickly. His lips were cold. “Hey, babe.” He kissed David again before pulling off his gloves and reaching up to snatch the hat from his head. He ran his fingers through his mussed dark hair. “Sorry I’m late. The traffic downtown was a bitch. Feels like snow out there tonight.”
“It’s in the forecast.” David headed for the kitchen as Jackson shoved his gloves and hat into his jacket pocket, then hung everything on the wall-mounted coatrack David found in one of the antique stores downtown.
David took a deep breath as he walked into the kitchen. Now that Jackson was there, his nerves began to settle. And he didn’t want Jackson to know how jittery he still was sometimes, jumping at shadows.
“What is that great smell?” Jackson followed David into the kitchen.
“Well, it’s either the sandalwood candles or the Swedish meatballs in the Crock-Pot.”
“Definitely something edible.” Jackson lifted the lid on the Crock-Pot and inhaled deeply in appreciation. “Your mom make these?”
“She did,” David said, arranging the elegantly decorated Christmas cookies on a platter that was waiting for them, a white snowflake doily covering the bottom. “And I won’t even pretend to be insulted that you didn’t think I was capable of making meatballs.”
“I’m quite sure you’re capable.” Jackson reached over David’s shoulder and grabbed a few cashews from a filled dish on the counter. “But why would you want to when she’s so good at it?”
David kissed Jackson on the cheek. “And this is just one of the many reasons I love you. You get me.”
“I love you too.” Jackson’s hands came to rest on David’s hips. “New sweater?”
The deep red cable-knit had all but sung to him when he’d been in Nordstrom the afternoon before, and thank goodness it had been on sale at 50 percent off.
“Yes.”
“The color looks great on you,” Jackson said, appreciation in his eyes. “How soon can I take it off?”
David shot him a tolerant look over his shoulder. “After the party.” Jackson grunted softly and grabbed another fistful of cashews. David p
icked up the crystal dish and handed it to him. “How about you take these out and put them on the table?”
“Sure.”
David returned to putting the rest of the cookies on another platter and carried both of them into the dining room, setting one at each end of the table, then moving the cashews from next to the meat and cheese to next to a tray of chocolates. Jackson watched him with amusement.
“What?”
Jackson’s teeth flashed. “Anyone ever tell you you’re the teeniest bit anal?”
David straightened the napkins and plates for the fiftieth time. “Well, we all know you’re anal,” he quipped. Jackson laughed and grabbed David around the waist, pulling him in close.
“I certainly am,” he growled playfully against David’s ear, one of his hands sliding down over the soft gabardine covering David’s ass as he nibbled the lobe of his ear.
The back door opened and closed loudly and a cool breeze slid through the dining room. A moment later, Michael appeared carrying a large portfolio. He made a show of covering his eyes.
“Mommy, make Daddy stop touching you in a naughty place.”
David huffed in exasperation.
“I’m waiting on the paternity test results before you’re in the will.” Jackson patted David’s ass and let his hand fall away.
Michael crossed to the living room and leaned the portfolio against the wall. “Did you hear that? My own father doesn’t want me. Is it any wonder I need therapy? Hello, princess.” He squatted down next to Scooter’s bed and leaned forward, accepting her delicate lick on his chin. “This is the only one of you I’m claiming.”
“Fine, you’re both adopted.” David turned to Jackson. “Sweetheart, will you get the wine glasses down from the cupboard for me?”
David, Renewed Page 24
