by E M Lindsey
Sage was out of the car first, making sure the payment had gone through, and Derek followed him in through the lobby, past the lounge seating, and they quickly found a booth in the corner of the dimly lit bar. He sent a quick text to let Basil know they were back and going over paperwork, but he didn’t get a response and hoped it was because Basil was sleeping off the jetlag and flying anxiety.
Sage went to the bar to grab them a couple drinks, then sat back down with a heavy sigh as he eyed the paperwork like it might spontaneously combust. “This fucking sucks.”
Derek nearly choked on his first swallow of beer, his laugh unexpected and so needed. He wiped his mouth with the flat of his palm, shaking his head with his grin. “Yeah, it really fucking does.”
“I never really thought about money until we didn’t have it anymore,” Sage went on, reaching out to thumb the corner of the folder. “Like, we didn’t really want for shit as kids—I mean, apart from the whole not wanting to get beaten and locked in a shed any time we mouthed off. But yeah, it just never occurred to me until we were on the streets. I told myself that when I got out of that fuckin’ warehouse and started making money, I’d make sure I was stable and never hungry again. Now, with this shit sitting in my lap, I’d rather go back there than use any of this for myself.”
“Feels like blood money,” Derek murmured.
Sage sighed, then picked up his pint and gulped down half before looking at Derek again. “I don’t think I could live with myself if we didn’t use it to help people. I know you got student loans and shit—I mean hell, I’m still paying off mine, but…”
“No,” Derek said in a rush, ignoring the queasy squirm of his stomach at the very thought of using his dad’s money for that. “I got loans, but I can pay them off fine without this. I can’t…I’m with you. I can’t do it like this.”
Sage reached over and took the second folder which detailed out all the property. He rifled through the papers, then came out with one near the bottom and spread it out between them. “This one though…”
Derek peered over and saw what it was. The Ozark cottage. “Sage,” he said from behind a breath.
“Hear me out,” his brother interrupted, making sure Derek was meeting his gaze. “This wasn’t dad’s place. Not really. It was mom’s. I remember…I remember him buying this for her. Her sister had just died, and she was a wreck. I think it was the first time I’d ever seen him look at her like she was a person. It was like two in the morning, and I was sneaking down to get cookies. They were in dad’s office and she was just sitting there crying and he looked so…he looked so helpless. He just kept asking her how he could help, and she just kept crying.” Sage ran a hand down his face, then rolled his eyes up toward the ceiling. “He came home like five days later with the keys, and we went on our first vacation there. He didn’t hit you that trip. Not once. Not that time.”
Every single word was like a physical blow, and it took Derek several minutes to regain his voice. “Why don’t I remember that at all?”
Sage laughed bitterly. “I don’t know. I mean shit, we were like seven? Eight? And dad was already being an epic dick to you, so you had other shit to worry about. I mean, I wasn’t even supposed to see that conversation, it was an accident. But I know that place was hers. Whenever shit got bad, whenever she looked like she couldn’t take it anymore…”
“That’s where we’d go,” Derek finished quietly. “We stopped going that second year after she died.”
“I just think,” Sage said, touching the edge of the blurry, black and white photo printed next to the property assessment, “I think she’d want that for you.”
Derek looked up at him, a bitter laugh tumbling past his lips. “She never stepped in. Not once.”
Sage’s eyes fluttered closed. “Der…”
“No,” Derek said fiercely. “I’m not going to condemn her because she was probably getting it just as bad as we were—maybe worse. But she made me feel so alone. Like I wasn’t worth making that man just…just stop. Then she went and died, and I really was alone. You were the only one,” he stopped when his voice cracked, and he quickly took a drink to help regain his composure. “I don’t want that because of her.”
“So take it because of me. And you,” Sage said, and Derek narrowed his eyes in confusion. “We can remake that place as something else—take it back, make it something good again.” He rubbed his hand over his mouth, then smiled a strange, almost sad smile. “I wanted to take Ted there, but I was too afraid to ask dad for the keys. But I have these memories of…of running through the woods and climbing trees and it was one of the few times in my childhood I felt unafraid. I just…I wanted to keep that.”
Derek felt a pang in his chest, almost physical pain, and he rubbed the heel of his palm up and down his sternum before looking back at his brother. “Okay,” he said. His voice was hoarse, but it was strong, and he meant it because he knew what Sage was saying. “Okay. The rest…”
“The rest we fucking get rid of. We help Sam and Maisy, and I’m going to start talking to someone else because I want to do something good with this. I don’t want to just dump it on some charity that’s going to pay their CEO a three million-dollar bonus and give us some bullshit tax write-off. I want to know kids like us have a place to go that isn’t some frigid warehouse with flea-infested blankets and cold poptarts every day for months.”
Derek smiled at him, reaching for his wrist, and he squeezed down hard. “Yeah. I’m with you, okay? We can fucking do this.”
Sage turned his hand over and squeezed back, and Derek knew he’d never really be alone.
Basil woke from his attempt to sleep off his migraine, a little confused by the unfamiliar smell and feel of the bedding wrapped around him. It took him a long second to remember where the hell he was and why, and then he became aware of the warm body that had woken him.
Derek was in the room, though he hadn’t bothered with lights or pushing back the curtains, instead curling up behind Basil with a firm hand around his waist. Basil could feel a tension in him, and he shifted, reaching for the little bedside lamp, letting the room fill with a soft glow. Turning around, his eyes met Derek’s and he saw they were red-rimmed and swollen, though long-since dry of any tears he’d shed.
Not wanting to make Derek work to understand him, he simply lifted his hand to Derek’s cheek and held his palm against the flush-warm skin. ‘Hi,’ he mouthed.
Derek chuckled, his shoulders rising and falling with it under Basil’s other hand. ‘Hi,’ he mouthed back.
Basil leaned in and kissed him, slow and drawn out, trying to give him as much comfort and support without words as he could manage. Derek took every second of it, his fingers a little rough and desperate as they clung to Basil’s waist. But it didn’t go deeper, and Basil could feel with Derek’s hips pressed against him, his boyfriend wasn’t hard.
When he pulled back, he dragged his hand away from Derek’s face. ‘You ok?’
Derek shrugged, his body going slack with a deep sigh and he rolled onto his back. Basil propped up to look at him properly as Derek struggled through his signs. ‘The meeting was long.”
Basil reached out, rubbing his thumb gently over Derek’s wrist before pulling away. ‘Tell me.’
Derek sighed. ‘I’m slow, sorry. Frustrating.’
‘I don’t care,’ Basil insisted. ‘Please. I came here to help. Talk to me.’
Derek licked his lips, then pushed his hands down onto the mattress and propped himself up, scooting back to lean against the headboard. He crooked one knee up, dragged a hand down his face, then finally met Basil’s gaze again. ‘There’s a lot of money. Almost three million in cash,’ he spelled the number out, and Basil’s eyes went wide. His parents had left a sizable inheritance, mostly from their life insurance policy, but nothing like that. Not even close. ‘More in property. He left it all to Sage.’
At that, Basil felt himself make a noise—something of protest, maybe, or of sympathy. It got Dere
k’s full attention, and normally he would have been self-conscious, but not here. Not now. ‘I’m sorry.’
Derek shook his head firmly, his eyes going hard. ‘I don’t want it. Sage wants us to use it to create a charity to help people like us. Homeless teenagers. It’s the only good thing we could do with that man’s legacy.’
Basil felt the center of his chest go warm, and shit, he knew what that was. He might not have a lot of experience with love, but he was being bashed in the face with it. His fingers itched to form the sign, to place it against Derek’s softly beating heart because he deserved to know. But now was not the time.
‘He also left me a house,’ Derek carried on. His eyes closed a minute, like he was absorbing pain, or maybe old memories. ‘Remember that cottage by the lake I told you about? From my paintings?’
‘Yes,’ Basil replied.
‘He left that to me. I don’t know why, but Sage thinks we should keep it. Make it ours again. Make it something good.’
‘Is that what you want?’ Basil asked.
Derek looked at him for a long time, then a smile played at his lips. He didn’t answer straight away, instead reaching for Basil, drawing him forward and into a kiss. When he pulled back, his eyes were a little clearer and a lot softer. ‘I think so. Would you go there with me someday? Stay a week?’
‘Yes,’ Basil said, because what other answer could he give. He would say yes to damn near anything Derek asked of him, without question.
Derek swallowed thickly, then gathered Basil to his chest, and Basil didn’t hesitate as he let the other man pull him back down to the bed. He octopussed his arms and legs around Basil, pinning him there, and though Basil felt like he’d slept enough for the night, he allowed this moment to carry on for as long as Derek needed it to.
Chapter Eighteen
The day of the funeral was tense. Basil went to breakfast with both brothers, and he could feel the silence between them as neither one of them bothered to communicate with each other. They got ready shortly after, but in the lobby, Basil watched as Sage stopped Derek with a hand to his chest.
He couldn’t tell what was being said, but he knew they were arguing. When people started to stare, Basil realized it was getting kind of loud, but he made no move to stop them. After a beat, Derek wrenched himself away from Sage and stormed off, but before Basil could go after him, Sage stopped him with a hand on his arm.
He held up his finger for Basil to wait, then began to type on his phone. I’m sorry. Derek’s not doing well, and I don’t think he should go to the funeral. It’s not going to do him any good. We need to get out of this city, and I told him he should go to our dad’s penthouse and finish signing off on what needs to be packed up and sold, and I’ll handle the service.
Basil stared at the words and found he couldn’t disagree. Derek would hate it—only because he hated having control taken away from him, but Basil knew full well that attending the funeral wasn’t going to do him any good, wasn’t going to give him closure. The man was dead, and the only thing that would happen was Derek subjecting himself to the lies the community told about what a great man he was.
Okay, Basil typed back. Order us a car and I’ll get him to go.
Sage gave him a grateful smile, taking the phone back to do just that. Before Basil could walk away, Sage took him by the shoulder, then dragged him into a fierce hug. When he pulled away, Sage looked him directly in the eye and signed, ‘Thank you.’
Basil gave him a stiff nod, then hurried out the automatic doors and glanced around for Derek. He assumed his boyfriend would have gotten further than the side alley, but he found Derek pacing, one hand in his hair, the other clenched into a fist. Basil approached slowly, not flinching when Derek looked up at him with fire in his eyes, his mouth set in a firm, angry line.
He stopped pacing the moment Basil walked up, but he didn’t accept him into his arms the way he normally would. He put his palm out, then released his fist full of hair to sign, ‘Stop. Please, don’t.’
Basil sighed, closing the distance between them, but respected Derek’s request not to be touched. ‘Your brother is right,’ he signed carefully, slowly, watching understanding and then anger dawn in Derek’s eyes. ‘You don’t need to go to the funeral. Go to the house. I’ll come with you and we can finish it together.’
Derek shook his head, but Basil was pretty sure it wasn’t refusal, it was just the chaos swirling around his mind, and he desperately wished there was a way he could help soothe him. ‘I want,’ he started, but his hands just hovered there in the air between them.
‘I know,’ Basil replied. ‘I know, but it’s almost over. Sage ordered a car. It’s almost over.’
Derek stared at him a long moment, then gave a stiff nod. When Basil reached for him again, he didn’t pull away.
The silence was stony on the way to the penthouse, and he knew that was his own fault. He also knew how profoundly lucky he was that Basil wasn’t taking any of it personally and was still by his side. He didn’t try to communicate with Derek at all, instead keeping his hand in a firm hold, letting his thumb run soothing circles over his wrist.
Derek kept his eyes fixated on the night bloom emblazoned across Basil’s forearm, and after a moment, he let himself reach over and touch it. The edges of the tattoo were fresh still and peeling a little, and the center skin was still raised around the lines. He traced them with the tip of his finger and let himself absorb just how important this ink was. They were tied together in a permanent way, and Basil didn’t seem afraid of it at all.
Even after everything he’d been through, and the cruel people he’d known, he still trusted Derek enough for this. He still felt Derek was worthy enough to carry something of his for the rest of his life. Even if they didn’t work out, Derek would know he meant something to Basil once. Something important. He thought maybe, just maybe, if he leaned over right then and told Basil he was falling in love with him, he might get the same back.
It wasn’t the right time, but he couldn’t help wondering if there ever really was one.
Switching their positions, Derek took Basil’s hand and laid the back of it on his thigh, studying the lines of Basil’s palm. They were smoother than his own, and he had less callouses and a little more fat deposits at the base of his fingers. His skin felt so good under Derek’s rough fingertips, and he found himself wanting to strip Basil down and touch every single inch of his body with hands, with lips, with tongue.
Their intimate time together was limited to their single night of mutual orgasms, and it had been enough, right up until this moment. Derek had been taking it slow for both their sakes, but he was ready for more. He fucking loved this man and he wanted to show him in more ways than one.
When he finally glanced up at Basil’s face, Basil’s eyes were soft, but intense as they drank him in. His free hand lifted slowly to his chin. ‘What’s wrong?’
Derek couldn’t help his smile, in spite of the situation. ‘Nothing. I’m…’ He licked his lips and shrugged. He wanted to say he was happy, because in a way, he was. But he was afraid he didn’t have enough words to make himself understood and he didn’t want Basil to think there was anything superficial or light in this moment. He lifted his hand and traced his finger under Basil’s bottom lip, dragging it over his adam’s apple, feeling across his collarbone. ‘You’re beautiful. So beautiful.”
Basil sucked in his breath, his cheeks going faintly pink, and he leaned in for a kiss. It had the promise of something deeper, hotter, the passion inside of him threatening to consume this moment if he let it. Instead he put a hand to Basil’s cheek and let the moment simmer gently in the background. There would be time for more. He just…he just had to do all this first.
They reached his father’s building, a too-posh apartment he shouldn’t have been able to afford after being disgraced the way he was. But like any politician, he’d managed to claw his way up from the muck and remake himself because ultimately, no one cared about the fates of two
gay boys who ran away from their good Christian father.
Derek reached into his pocket and palmed the key to the lobby, then dug out his ID for the doorman who quickly gave him directions to the elevator. The keycard swipe got him to the top floor which led them to a short corridor. His father’s door was at the far end, and he felt his stomach twist as he put the key in the lock and stepped inside.
The place was lit mostly from the floor to ceiling windows, and it didn’t smell musty the way it should have after three years of abandonment, but he supposed the cleaning services hadn’t stopped during his father’s convalescence. Derek had been power of attorney for two and a half of those three years, and he hadn’t known about this place, but he had ensured his father’s personal business was run as usual.
He felt something ugly creeping up his spine—a sort of envy in a way, or maybe it was just fury that a man like Brian Osbourne had been subhuman and yet had lived with such luxury. Everything was new and shiny. He’d beaten his kids and driven his wife to an early grave, and he got to come home every night to a three-million-dollar penthouse. He’d never slept on a cold, concrete floor, belly empty, body filthy, unsure when the next time he’d eat.
Derek let out a shaking breath, then jolted when he felt a warm hand touch the small of his back. He glanced over at Basil who was watching him carefully, and he gave a nod to let him know he was okay. It was a lie. He wasn’t okay. He was the furthest thing from okay. He was standing in his father’s home with no evidence that he’d ever existed. There were a handful of photos on the wall—his father meeting presidents, golfing, on a cruise ship with a blonde woman holding a pair of drinks, looking like he didn’t have a care in the world. His bookshelves were filled with the classics he’d probably never read, his walls full of art he never bothered to appreciate. His bank account was filled with zeroes he’d amassed because his wife and children disappeared from his life and he only ever had to worry about himself. His liquor cabinet was full of the poison which eventually killed him.
