by Anna Martin
“He’s trying to sabotage my relationship with Dylan so he can keep on dating Dylan’s dad without feeling guilty about it,” James said, still sulking.
“See? That’s what I’m talking about. Until you can have a conversation with him that doesn’t end in throwing accusations and insults around, he’s not going to let you go anywhere.”
James scowled. “He’s not taking me seriously.”
“Because you’re acting like a petulant little child,” Frankie said and slapped James’s ankle. “I don’t know Dylan, but he seems like a nice guy. I don’t want you to forever blame Dad for getting in the way of your first true love or whatever, but you need to take responsibility for it too. The more you yell and scream at Dad and refer to his partner as his ‘fuck buddy,’ the less likely he is to take you seriously.”
“I hate it when you’re right.”
Frankie grinned. “I’m always right.”
“I’m still older than you.”
She laughed at that. James patted the bed next to him, and she flopped down on her side.
“How’s Luis?” James asked, feeling like he needed to give Frankie room to vent if that’s what she wanted.
“He’s okay. He’s pushing me to make a decision about college.”
James hummed. “I think we all want you to make a decision about college, if I’m honest. It’ll be weird if you’re really far away.”
“I know,” Frankie said softly. “I kind of have to decide what I want. If it’s theater, then I should go to New York. If I want to do TV or film, I can go to LA. Dance is a bit more open; there’s a great program in Chicago.”
“Do you have to make a decision now? Can’t you do something more generic and specialize after?”
“I could,” she conceded. “I just don’t want to miss an opportunity, you know? I have this amazing choice in front of me, and I don’t want to pick the wrong thing.”
“Did Luis make a decision already?”
“Yeah. Chicago.”
James nodded. The last time he’d spoken to Luis about college, he was leaning toward Chicago. James was pleased he’d gotten into his first choice school, but it did mean Frankie’s boyfriend and brother were definitely not going to be in the same place come September. He couldn’t imagine how difficult her decision was going to be.
“Don’t wait too long,” James said. “I want to start therapy early if you’re going far away.”
Frankie laughed and slapped at his arm. “You’ll be fine.”
“I’m not sure I will,” James said, only partly joking. “I blatantly can’t handle life without you.”
“You’re going to have to talk to Dad,” Frankie said, “but get in the right frame of mind before you do. If you yell at him, he’s going to yell back, and you’re never going to get what you want.”
“I just want to be able to talk to Dylan and clear the air. I hate that he probably thinks I ran out on him.”
Especially after everything Dylan had told him. He probably hated James’s guts right now, and even the thought of that was making James feel sick.
Frankie rolled off the bed and took the shortcut to her bedroom through the bathroom. When she came back, she had the keys to James’s truck in her hand.
“Here.” She tossed them at him.
“Where the hell did you get these?”
“I swiped them earlier,” she said. She looked very proud of herself. “I’m not covering for you if you get caught, but if you’re quick, you can get out to talk to him and get back before Dad does.”
James glanced at the clock on the wall. Frankie was right. He’d only have a few minutes to talk to Dylan if he was definitely going to get home before his dad, but he could do it.
“Why didn’t you give them to me before?” James asked as he shoved his feet into sneakers.
“Because I’m going to get in trouble too, if you get caught,” she said. “And I wasn’t sure if you were serious about fixing it. I’m not going to put my neck on the line for you if you’re going to just fuck things up even more.”
James caught her around the neck in a hug and kissed the top of her head.
“You’re smart and pretty and I love you.”
“Don’t get caught!” she yelled after him as he ran out of the house.
JAMES DROVE as fast as he legally could all the way across town to Dylan’s house. He parked on the street and gathered his nerves before heading up the path and knocking on the door. While he waited, he prayed Steve wouldn’t answer. Because if Steve did answer, he would almost definitely report back to James’s dad, and James would be grounded for whatever was longer than forever.
It felt like forever, waiting for Dylan to answer. James was almost ready to turn and run when the door opened.
Dylan was wearing loose gray sweatpants and a tight black muscle shirt. His beard was more grown in, and his hair looked scruffy, like he’d been pulling his hand through it.
He stared at James, then went to slam the door in his face.
“Dylan, please,” James said, throwing a hand out to stop the door.
“What do you want, James,” Dylan asked. He sounded exhausted.
“Can I talk to you? Five minutes. I want to explain. Please.”
Dylan seriously looked like he was going to punch James in the face, which at this point, James would totally willingly accept. He was that desperate for some physical contact.
“Fine,” Dylan said with a sigh, stepping aside to let James in. After he shut the door, Dylan folded his arms over his chest, clearly not willing to let James farther into the house. That wasn’t the best strategy, though, because it made his arm muscles strain, and James was so incredibly distracted by that.
“First off I want to apologize,” James said.
Dylan huffed and frowned harder.
“I also want to explain.” James pushed his fingers through his hair. “When I got home after… after that night, my dad grounded me. More than grounded, I suppose—he put me on lockdown. I haven’t had access to the internet, he took my phone, took the keys to the truck. I didn’t have your number anywhere, and he’s been schlepping me to school and home again, so I literally haven’t had a chance to get to you and tell you what was going on.”
“You called the garage.”
“Yeah.” James nodded. “It took me a while to figure out I could get hold of you there, on Anthony’s phone. I’m a fucking idiot, Dylan, and I know I hurt you. I understand if you’re mad at me and don’t want to be my boyfriend anymore, but you should make that decision knowing everything that happened.”
Dylan was silent for what felt like forever. He also wouldn’t look at James. It was terrifying and heartbreaking, and James felt like he was going to puke. Again.
“You really couldn’t have gotten hold of me some other way?”
“I swear, I tried,” James cried. “I just snuck out of the house to drive over here. I’m probably gonna be grounded until I’m, like, thirty if my dad catches me.”
“Your dad is an asshole.”
“I agree.”
Dylan fell silent again. Then he sighed, pushed his hair back from his face, and finally—thank God—looked at James again.
“I’m in love with you, James. I don’t think you would have been able to hurt me this much if I wasn’t in love with you. I thought you’d fucked me and decided you didn’t need anything else and ghosted.”
“That’s… that’s not what happened, Dylan.”
“I know. I can’t help but wonder if your dad was right, though. I’m older than you. You’re going to college in the fall. Isn’t it easier to just end it here? We can both move on with our lives and not have to worry about whether or not this is going to work past September.”
“I’ll be in the same state, only a few hours away,” James said, suddenly desperate. “I can drive home on Friday after class, get back here, and spend all weekend with you. Every weekend.”
“You’d do that? For four years?”
>
“I’m not going to make promises about where either of us are going to be in four years’ time,” James said. “I know you’re worth it, though. I know the way I feel about you is something worth fighting for. I know that I love you too.” He angrily pushed hot tears from the corner of his eye.
Dylan nodded. “Okay.”
James waited for him to elaborate, but Dylan didn’t say anything else. “You’re going to have to say more than ‘okay.’”
Dylan smiled, slowly, tentatively, beautifully. “Okay.”
James reached out, and Dylan took his hand, pulling him in close. James let himself be wrapped in Dylan’s strong arms, feeling safer and more protected than he had in days. With his head resting on Dylan’s shoulder, he could finally breathe.
IN THE end, James’s dad offered the first olive branch.
It was almost ten days since their argument, longer than any of the three of them had ever gone without talking. Talking was their thing. The family thing. So the past week had been weird.
On the following Wednesday after school, when Frankie was at her dance class, James went to the library to study until his dad was done with his work and ready to drive them home, since James wasn’t even allowed to walk. It would take almost an hour to walk home, but that wasn’t the point.
He had his headphones on, deep in concentration as he worked through a bunch of math problems, when he saw his dad walk into the library.
Most of the time, they met in the parking lot after school. James and Frankie weren’t exactly big fans of reminding their peers that their dad was a teacher, so it was best if they all kept up the illusion within the school building.
School had been out for over an hour. Even the most hard-core students were on their way home now, meaning the library was pretty empty.
As far as neutral ground went, it was good. At least neither of them could start yelling at each other. Ms. Longbow would throw them out if they did.
“Can we talk?”
James pulled his headphones off and let them hang around his neck.
“Sure.”
His dad pulled up a chair opposite him at the table. For a moment neither of them said anything, then James sighed.
“Maybe we should just go home.”
His dad shook his head. “No, I think we should clear the air. I want to talk to you… and to apologize.”
James raised his eyebrows and said nothing. Which he thought was pretty wise.
“I don’t think any of us handled the other weekend particularly well.” He seemed to stop himself and consider something. “I didn’t handle it very well. And I’m sorry.”
“Uh-huh.”
His dad sighed and pushed his fingers through his hair, then pulled off his glasses. James recognized the gesture. It meant he was really, really tired.
“I said some things about Dylan, which I fully intend to apologize to him for. I was out of line, and that’s not acceptable. I hope you understand that my reaction came from a place of wanting to protect you and not from any prejudices.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I was hoping we could have a two-way conversation about this, James? You know, where you respond to what I’m saying?”
James wrinkled his nose. “You’re right. You said some shitty things about Dylan.”
He didn’t even get scolded for his language, which meant he was definitely right.
“Tell me about him?”
“He’s sweet and kind and funny,” James said, tears pricking at his eyes as he was forced to remember. “He’s a really good boyfriend.”
James hadn’t seen Dylan since he’d snuck out to apologize. He wasn’t sure what was going to happen with them now; if James’s dad was hell-bent on not letting James date Dylan, it was going to be pretty difficult.
“I don’t know how we make this whole situation work, James, with you dating Dylan and me seeing Dylan’s dad. It’s weird—I’m not going to pretend it’s not.”
James sighed again and rocked back on his chair. “So what now?”
“What do you mean?”
“Am I still on lockdown?”
“No,” his dad said, and had the grace to look slightly embarrassed. “That was an overreaction, and I’m sorry for that too. You can have your phone and the keys for the truck back when we get home.”
“Thanks.” James bounced a little on the back two legs of the chair. “I want to go and talk to Dylan.”
“That’s fine.”
James raised an eyebrow. “You’re sure?”
“Yes. I’m not going to get involved in your relationship, James; I don’t want to interfere. I’ve done too much of that already. Maybe by me apologizing to Dylan there’s some opportunity there for the both of you to work things out. I hope so, anyway.” He pushed his glasses back on and grabbed his backpack. “I can wait if you’re not done studying.”
“No,” James said quickly, falling back onto all four legs of the chair. He shoved his books into his own backpack haphazardly. “I can leave now. Leaving is good.”
“James.”
James paused. “Yeah?”
“I really am sorry.”
“That’s okay.”
He felt very big, accepting that apology.
Chapter Twenty
STEVE WAS more than a little surprised when Mark reached out first. He was still trying to figure out what his next move should be; if he could talk to Mark without Dylan and James becoming the focus of their attention, if Mark would even talk to him at all.
Usually a “can we talk” text message was the sign of very bad things; Steve had received a few of them in the past. This time, though, he felt a tiny sliver of hope.
Dylan was working late on an emergency tow job. When he picked up those jobs late in the day, Joe or one of the other guys from the garage would take him out for a burger for dinner. They were decent guys like that.
With Steve fairly confident that he’d be alone in the house for a few more hours at least, he invited Mark to come over. He didn’t exactly want to have whatever conversation was coming in front of Mark’s kids.
Mark turned up while Steve was still washing dishes. Steve answered the door with soapy hands.
“Hey, come on in.”
Mark nodded and silently followed Steve through to the kitchen. Steve was glad he was in front of Mark and not behind him. He guessed Mark had come straight from work; he was wearing tan corduroy pants and a white shirt and his damn tortoiseshell glasses, and Steve knew the feelings he had for Mark hadn’t gone anywhere.
Fuck.
“Do you want a drink or anything?” Steve asked.
“I’m good.”
Steve grabbed a towel and dried his hands, then leaned back against the counter. It had been raining earlier, but the sun had just come out, sending light streaming into the kitchen through the big windows. Mark stood in the patch of light, wringing his hands.
“So, um, I owe you an apology,” he said, and pushed his hand through his hair. “More than that, I owe Dylan an apology, and I’ve already fixed things with James. Or started to, anyway. I wasn’t sure if Dylan would feel comfortable talking to me, so I wrote him a letter.”
“You wrote him a letter,” Steve echoed.
Mark nodded. He pulled a slightly battered envelope from his back pocket and set it on the counter.
“It’s up to you if you give it to him,” he said. “I don’t mind if you read it first.”
“That’s….” Steve shook his head. “Thanks.”
He crossed the kitchen and started shuffling through the cupboard that served as his liquor cabinet. It was more often stocked with wine than hard liquor, but he knew there were still a few bottles in there that were left over from Christmas.
It seemed like a whiskey situation, so Steve grabbed a bottle at random and poured a glass.
“Want one?” he asked Mark.
Mark sighed softly. “Sure.”
Steve passed him the first glass then poured his
own, not waiting for Mark to finish his own before knocking it back. The alcohol burned on its way down, and Steve shuddered, then poured himself another.
He didn’t feel any better afterward. Mark didn’t look any better.
“Steve, I’m not good at talking about my feelings,” Mark said. “I’m not good at relationships, and I’m really not good at holding on to people I care about. The fact that I’m forty-five with two kids who are about to leave home in a few months and absolutely no one else in the world I give a damn about tells you something about the kind of man I am.”
“I know the kind of man you are,” Steve said.
Mark laughed at that, but the sound was hard. “You’re the first person I’ve gotten close to in at least eight years. Before that, it was one-night stands and Karen.”
“So what?”
“I have no idea.” Mark sighed. “At what point do you give up on the possibility of your own happiness for the sake of your kids?”
“At what point do you stop giving up your own happiness for the sake of your kids?” Steve shot back.
“They’ll both be gone at the end of the summer. James to San Diego and Frankie to wherever.”
“Are you trying to tell me there’s an expiration date on whatever’s going on between James and Dylan?”
Mark shook his head. “I’m not saying anything. I don’t know anything about their relationship, only the few things James has told me. I think they mean a lot to each other.”
“Dylan told me he was dating someone a month or so ago.”
“I can’t speak for them,” Mark said. “What I do know is that I feel like you’re a person I’m not supposed to let go of.”
Steve nodded slowly. “Yeah.”
He regretted the whiskey. It hadn’t settled well in his churning stomach.
“I grounded James, and I regret that now. Keeping him away from Dylan was part gut reaction and part self-preservation. I guess I felt like if Dylan and James continued dating, then I had no chance of being with you.”
