by Sidney Bell
Church tuned that nonsense right out. “Shit, Miller, it’s gorgeous.”
The piece was made up of a twelve-bottle wine rack sandwiched between two cabinets with recessed panel doors, all situated beneath a row of three elegantly crafted drawers. The wood was dark and lovely, the pilasters simply decorated, the pulls lighter in color and delicately carved.
It was the kind of thing Church could only dream of building, and he was fiercely proud of Miller all of sudden, like Miller was some kid who’d brought home an A on a test or something. Dumb, maybe, but it was good work. Church could barely take his eyes off it.
“Walnut?”
“Good eye. Cherry for the pulls.”
“You’ve gotten even better, and you weren’t shabby before, dude. Can I touch it?”
Miller laughed quietly, shuffling his feet like he was embarrassed. “It won’t bite.”
Church ran his fingers across the surface. Smoother than the skin of a baby. “What are you doing working in that store, man?”
Miller’s smile faded. “Well, it’s a family thing.”
Church could’ve kicked himself. “Right. Your dad’s place.”
“Yeah.”
“So show me what else you’re working on,” he said, and Miller looked grateful for the change in subject. He led Church over to one of the tables and shoved a few sketches into his hands.
“Tell me what you think,” he said, and Church grinned.
* * *
When they were heading back inside, Miller said, “I’m gonna need a few days to clear out the library here. We’ll find you a bed somewhere though—”
“What? No, that’s not cool, man.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not letting you buy me a bed. We’ve got what we need, as long as you’re fine with it.”
Miller’s eyebrows shot into his hair. With an air of disbelief, he said, “Are you saying—Do you... I’m not comfortable letting you share my—”
“Oh, hell, no!” Church blurted out, horrified, because Miller seemed to think that Church was asking to sleep in his bed with him, and no. Oh, holy fuck, no. Church’s face flooded red so fast it hurt. And worse, now he was thinking about it: lifting the sheet out of the way and easing in next to Miller, finding warmth and bare skin inches from his fingertips. Maybe Miller would roll over and let Church press up behind him, wrap his arms around that strong body and tug their bodies together, until Church’s mouth hovered conveniently close to the nape of his neck. The instant he pictured it, he tried desperately to think of something else, because if Miller realized he was starting to get hard, Church was going to have to kill himself.
“I didn’t mean that,” Church blurted. He took a step back, like that would make him seem less like a creeper.
“No, I figured you didn’t,” Miller said, clearly lying.
“I meant you don’t have to clear out the workshop because I can sleep on the couch.” Church swallowed hard, before repeating more emphatically, “The couch.”
“Right.” Miller paused, his gaze on the wall as he added, “So you’re gonna sleep on the couch for the next six months?”
“Yeah. I mean, I’m not gonna take over your place, dude.”
He couldn’t make himself look at Miller, and he was pretty sure Miller was avoiding his gaze right back, because the tension swelled for a long, horrible minute. This used to be the part where Church would get mad and say something that provoked a fight, but Church was reformed these days. He was done letting his anger turn him into an asshole.
Of course, knowing what he shouldn’t do didn’t give him any clues about what he should do instead, so he ended up standing there like a moron.
Finally, Miller said, “You should take the truck on your job search.” His tone was so insistent that the rest of his comment was impossible to miss: and get out of here until we can pretend that this conversation never happened.
And even though Church had been determined not to borrow anything else from Miller for the rest of his life, the idea of looking up bus routes to Ghost’s place while Miller sat nearby thinking that Church wanted to sleep in his bed was unbearable, so he tossed his pride to the curb and snatched the keys up.
“Gas money.” Miller yanked his wallet loose and slapped a twenty down. Church took this as well, and started edging toward the door while Miller was still giving instructions. “Um. House key’s on the ring. You can—”
“Yeah, see ya, uh, later.” Church almost tripped down the porch steps in his hurry, accidentally slamming the door behind him.
When he was alone, he leaned against the truck for a minute, trying to get some of the tomato-red out of his cheeks.
The thing was, Miller wasn’t being insane to leap to the conclusion that Church wanted in his bed. That wasn’t a leap so much as a step. A tiny step.
Because of that whole thing where Church had done something very similar once before.
So it made sense that Miller had the words stay away stamped on his forehead.
You brought it on yourself, he reminded himself, and took out his new phone to set it up and text Ghost for directions.
Chapter Five
Ghost lived in a run-down apartment in a rocky part of town about thirty minutes away, and he answered the door wearing nothing but a pair of tiny black boyshorts. For a second, Church was struck a little blind. It was one thing to see Ghost every day, because your brain went numb to the brilliance, but if you took a break, seeing him again was like getting struck by lightning. And that was without the nudity and all those long, pale limbs and perfect, flat muscles and small pink nipples.
“You’re an asshole,” Church said. “Quit playing with me. Put some clothes on.”
Ghost smirked and wandered in the direction of the kitchen, and Church did not stare at his pert heart-shaped ass. He was Ghost’s friend, which meant occasionally fighting his way through these little tests. Once Church managed to behave himself for twenty minutes or so, and re-proved his reliability, Ghost would drop the act and shift back to his real self. The self that generally put on pants. But until then, Church tried to keep his blood in his brain.
“Want coffee?” Ghost called.
“Yeah. You live in a dump, dude.” Church looked around at the mismatched furniture and small, grody windows. There wasn’t a table in the dining nook, either, only a board laid across two cinder blocks to act as a coffee table in front of the TV.
“I’m saving up.”
“For?”
“Disneyland.”
Church snorted.
Ghost came back in with two cups of coffee, a small bag of sugar clamped under one arm, and a spoon hanging from his mouth by the handle. While he doctored their mugs, Church asked, “Seen Tobias lately?”
“He comes by to babysit a few times a week. He’s bad-tempered.”
“Tobias? Bad-tempered?”
“Well, as bad-tempered as a man can be when he’s possessed by an animated chipmunk. Yet again, he’s taking on too much and refusing to admit that he’s overwhelmed. He’d breathe easier if he’d acknowledge that I will not implode without his hovering, but that’s about as likely as a hurricane in Colorado.”
Church winced, because he’d done his own fair share of hovering over Ghost in the past. “Is he coming by?”
“He’s on his way. Class ran late.” Ghost sprawled out on the couch and sipped his coffee. “How’s adjusting to the outside world going?”
Church slumped into an armchair with cushions so hard they might’ve been made of rocks, and tried not to think of the strange mix of tension and satisfaction he’d endured all morning with Miller. “Weird.”
“As though at any moment someone’s going to tell you to face the wall for a surprise search?”
Church nodded.
Ghost shrugged one elegant shoulder. “Happens to everyone. Usually takes me a week to stop trying to go to bed at a reasonable hour.”
“Probably makes it hard to earn a living,” Church said, making Ghost smirk. “Speaking of. Did you think of anything?”
“Yeah, I know a guy.”
No surprise. Ghost always knew a guy. He was half hustler, half Rolodex.
“What is it?”
“Counter at a bakery.”
“A bakery?”
“Beggars and choosers, son.” Ghost propped his feet up on his crappy coffee table, studying Church thoughtfully, unselfconscious in his near-nudity. Church kept his eyes on Ghost’s face. “Matvey said to bring you by in the evening, once the dinner rush ended.”
“Don’t think I know him.”
“He’s a good guy,” Ghost said. “He said you can start whenever. Keep an eye out for his brothers if they stop by, though. The older Krayevs are no good.”
“What’s no good mean?” Church was well aware that Ghost’s standards for decency were not like other people’s.
“Nothing too serious officially. Couple of drug busts, some minor assaults. They’ve all got nasty reps, but the real trouble’s serving time for assaulting a cop, so as long as you watch your step, you should be okay. It’s not like you’re making a career out of it, right? Stick around for a year, rack up some experience and find something better.”
“Think my parole officer will be okay with it?”
“Hell if I know, but it’s all I’ve found. Otherwise, you’re looking at requests for a job history and references.”
Neither of which Church had. He groaned and dropped his head back on the couch. “They make it hard to live on the straight, don’t they?”
“I looked into construction stuff for you, but they want folks with apprenticeships.”
“Yeah, I figured. What are the benefits like in your line of work?”
Ghost shook his head sadly. “No dental.”
“Is there a training program?”
A shadow crossed Ghost’s expression. His lips parted and his gaze went distant. Church waited, letting him take his time. It was impossible to predict what sorts of things would drive Ghost to sudden silence, so Church didn’t bother trying to anticipate them, but he had plenty of practice keeping his mouth shut once it happened. Ghost recovered better if he could find his own way back.
And Church had learned the hard way not to touch him while he was lost. That tended to end in blood.
There was a knock on the door while Ghost was incommunicado, so Church answered it. Tobias was on the other side, shoving a textbook into his backpack, although he dropped all of his belongings at once when he saw Church, blue eyes warming as he lurched forward to wrap Church in a hug that nearly broke his ribs. He didn’t care. A few ribs were a small sacrifice for a Tobias Benton hug.
“Must have air,” Church gasped after a minute, and Tobias let him go and smiled at him.
“It’s good to see you.” Tobias trundled in behind Church, still fighting with his things, grimacing when he saw Ghost staring on the couch. He set his stuff down and licked his lips. “How long’s he been like that?”
“Couple minutes.”
Tobias’s brow furrowed, but he sat on the floor near Ghost’s feet without saying anything.
“How’s school, man?” Church asked.
“Good. Busy. I’m taking eighteen credit hours, but I’ll graduate a lot faster.”
“Doesn’t leave you much time for parties.”
“Yeah, not much for partying these days.” Tobias rolled his eyes, but because he was Tobias, it was somehow self-deprecating instead of scornful of Church. “I’m having a hard enough time keeping my grades up.”
“Why? You’ve read all the books in the whole world.”
Tobias fiddled with a loose thread on his hoodie and stole a peek at Ghost, who was still out of it, before saying, “Woodbury did a lot of great things for me, but preparing me for college wasn’t one of them. I’m behind on some of the basics, that’s all.”
“So you get a couple C’s. No big deal.”
“No big deal?” Tobias repeated. “No. A’s, Church. I can’t get into medical school with a transcript full of C’s.” His toe started tapping on Ghost’s ugly carpet, apparently at the idea of being average, and for no good reason that he could think of, Church felt guilty.
It hadn’t occurred to him to wonder what smart kids like Tobias lost by ending up in schools like the one at Woodbury, where they were lucky to go half a day without a class being broken up by someone getting riled and having to be taken to the Intervention Unit. Plus, since people were coming in and out all the time, no one was at the same level of education, so teachers covered the same stuff over and over.
“You still want to be a doctor?”
“Yeah. Why? I mean—” Tobias sat up straighter, only to pause as Ghost grunted softly, blinked and focused on them.
“Hey,” Church said. “You all right?”
Ghost’s skin was shiny with sweat. He sounded like his tongue wasn’t working quite right when he said “Sorry, what?”
“Talking about school.” Tobias sounded calm enough, but his eyes were pinched at the corners. “Nothing you haven’t heard a dozen times.”
Ghost jerked a nod. His hand twitched once in his lap. Church figured he needed more time and nudged Tobias’s foot to get his attention. “You were saying about—”
“Oh, there’s time for all that.” Tobias waved a hand. “How are things with Miller?”
Church raised an eyebrow, because Tobias wasn’t half as good at deflecting as he thought he was. The guy had always been shit at handling Ghost’s lapses, though, so Church decided to go with it. Besides, it wasn’t like he had anyone else to bitch to about it.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “It’s awkward. He bought me a damn phone. I don’t even think he’s mad at me. I hurt him and ran out on him and he’s not even mad.”
“You were a kid, Church,” Tobias said gently. “Miller was an adult. It’s good that he understands.”
“Maybe. Plus, he’s still straight, so there’s all the proof we need that I did something foul in a past life. Hell, this life.”
“You’re perfectly adequate, Churchy,” Ghost said. He always talked sort of lazily, but now he sounded like he’d taken too many reds. “Don’t knock mediocrity.”
Church’s stomach stopped churning—that sounded more like Ghost. On the other side of the “coffee table,” Tobias’s shoulders relaxed.
Ghost looked down at himself and a crease appeared between his eyebrows. He grabbed the blanket off the back of the couch and wrapped himself in it like a burrito. He leaned his head back and studied the ceiling, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. “Do we get to meet the stalwart hero? Shall I set up a dinner party in his honor?”
“Uh, no.” Church aimed a pointed glance around Ghost’s shitty place. “I don’t think floor dining is a thing people do, but yeah, I want him to meet you guys.”
Tobias nodded, but Ghost gave Church a strange look. “Really?”
“Yeah. I think he’ll like you, Ghost.”
Ghost seemed honestly taken aback by that. “Is he a narc?”
“Nah. You’re old enough to fuck if you want to. He might give you a pamphlet about STDs, but he’ll probably skip the lecture since you’re not his responsibility.”
“You got a lecture?” Tobias asked, grinning.
Ghost chuckled, low and throaty. “Were there visual aids?”
“Yes. Don’t laugh, dude, that shit terrified me. I can’t even blow someone without a rubber.”
“Doesn’t that taste bad?” Tobias asked.
Amused, Ghost said, “That’s why God made unlubri
cated, flavored condoms, dear boy. Still not as pleasant as sucking on a lolly, but better-tasting than unwashed, diseased dick.”
Tobias’s nose wrinkled, like he was sorry he’d asked.
“Please tell me you used a condom with Whitaker, Church,” Ghost said. “I shudder to think what you might’ve caught otherwise. Sadism, perhaps. Or delusions of grandeur.”
“Absolutely. And it still felt like unsafe sex.”
“That’s because Whitaker is not sex.” Ghost took a sip of his coffee. “Whitaker is a train wreck that happens in your pants, regardless of how hot he looks in those wife-beaters. I hope that wasn’t your first time.”
Church shook his head. “I fucked Mason Rill before I went to Woodbury.”
“Don’t know him.”
“Street kid. Coke-bottle glasses. It happened behind the newspaper stand on Trade. Fifteenth birthday present.”
Ghost smirked. “He gave you his ass for your birthday?”
Church shrugged. “Hey, I was a virgin before that, so it seemed like a pretty good present at the time.”
“Church,” Tobias said softly, his tone hard to read, and Ghost ran his fingers through Tobias’s thick curls a couple of times, the touch gentle even if his expression bordered on mocking. “You should’ve at least had a bed for your first time.”
“It wouldn’t have been good in a bed anyway—I was fifteen,” Church reminded them. “It took, like, three minutes, and that’s counting the time we spent looking for his glasses because they fell off in the middle.”
Ghost made a noise that could only be described as a cackle. “I don’t think my firm is hiring at the moment, Churchy. But we wish you all the best in your future endeavors.”
* * *
After a lunch of canned soup, Ghost and Church watched hours of crappy afternoon television while Tobias studied on the floor at their feet, lifting his head occasionally when the conversation caught his attention. They fell back into the groove of friendship easily, and it was the closest to happy Church had been since getting the news that Nick couldn’t take him in. Being around Tobias always gave Church a rare certainty in the goodness of the world, and there was a spot in Church’s belly that only unlocked when Ghost was right there in front of him, safe and sound when he might otherwise be off getting hurt—or hurting someone else.
