Sunday morning was bittersweet. Though he must have thanked me a hundred times for flying the guys out to celebrate his birthday, I could tell Sam was a little down as we packed our bags. After an impromptu brunch put together by the Calloway staff, saying goodbye to the island had me feeling a little blue, myself.
I would have loved to stay another week, maybe longer. In truth, I was emotionally exhausted. Getting away from the office and the incessant expectations relieved some of the daily pressure, but I knew deep down it was a pipe dream. I signed up for this, this life of being a leader. Or whatever I was now. It still felt so foreign to me, and despite Sam’s confidence in me, doubts lingered.
For some strange reason, our time on the island left a nagging in my gut. Something was off, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Was it something to do with my business and the team? My relationship with Sam? Whatever it was, it lurked in the far recesses of my mind, evading every attempt to pull it into the light. If only I had more time before jumping back into the fray.
Sadly, hiding out on Calloway was not an option. The guys had to get back to their lives, as did Sam and I. As it was, they would have to overnight in Denver again, since Captain Ron and Justin were required to rest before completing the long flight to Hawaii, with a stop in California to drop off JP. I would miss them.
“I know it’s a lot to ask,” said Sam, scowling as he threw dirty clothes into suitcases. “But do you think we could visit the guys in Hawaii sometime?”
I smiled. “Sure, whenever you want. Or we can bring them to us. Whatever works. I guess that’s one good thing about having a gazillion dollars and our own plane.”
He grinned for half a second, then frowned and looked away.
“What?” I asked. He didn’t respond. “Tell me, Sam.”
He sighed and glanced at me, then looked out the window toward the veranda. “You talk about the money as if it’s ours, but we both know that’s not true.” He started to say something else, but stopped and resumed packing. Crap. I said the wrong thing again.
To be honest, I was getting a little weary of Sam’s attitude toward the whole money thing. Yeah, it was my inheritance. Yes, legally speaking, the money belonged to me and not Sam. But that was semantics. As far as I was concerned, what was mine was his. It didn’t make sense any other way. But I didn’t want to spoil our last bit of time on the island with yet another argument over money, so I changed the subject.
“Hey, you should call Kat and confirm the whole family is coming out next weekend,” I said.
He perked up with a big smile. “You ready for a few days in the woods?”
“Uh…not exactly,” I said with a grimace. “Couldn’t I stay at the house with your mom and Kat, maybe take them shopping or something?”
He gave me an evil grin. “You’re not thinking about trying to weasel out now, are you? The twins are counting on showing Uncle Jack a thing or two about life in the great outdoors.”
I chewed my bottom lip. I really didn’t like the woods, but no way could I let Cam and Carter down.
“You’re not gonna let anything bad happen to me, are you?”
He smiled, dropped a pile of dirty clothes into his suitcase, then pulled me close. His hands on my waist, he looked down into my eyes as my breath caught.
“I’ll keep you safe, little man. Trust me, you’re gonna have fun. I’ll even teach you how to fish, how about that?”
I could think of a million things I’d rather learn than how to bait a hook, but whatever. This was my opportunity to make it all about him. Sam loved the woods. The least I could do was try.
“I don’t have to clean ‘em, do I?” I asked, giving him my best sad puppy dog face. It didn’t work.
“You catch ‘em, you clean ‘em. Them’s the rules.”
I sighed. “Yuck. Here’s hoping they stay off my hook.”
Sam laughed and kissed my forehead. “Come on, you goof, let’s finish packing. The guys are probably already downstairs waiting on us.”
Mrs. Petit was all smiles as we said our goodbyes at the front door of the guest house.
“It was a pleasure to serve you fine gentlemen,” she said, pushing her large yellow head scarf back a bit. A hint of gray hair peeked under the edge near her temples. “And thank you, Mr. Schaeffer, for finally taking those young ruffians in hand. My word, what a change in attitude. I’ve never seen two boys work so hard in all my days.”
“I’m glad things worked out, Mrs. Petit. I’m sure you won’t have any more trouble from them. If you do, you let me know,” I said with a wink.
She handed me a small metal box painted with multi-colored tropical birds. “Banana bread for the long trip. Miss Hale put the recipe on a card inside.” I grinned. Yum.
Mr. Napier checked his gold pocket watch. “I believe the time to depart is upon us, gentlemen. Do visit again when you can. It has been a pleasure.”
“Thanks for everything, Mr. Napier,” said Tommy. “You run a swell island.”
“Yes, thank you,” said Sam. “We had a great time.” JP and Stubbs just nodded.
And then there was nothing else to say, so we hopped on a couple of golf carts and rode down to the dock. Yari and Aman had already stowed our luggage on board. They were standing at attention dockside, looking smart in their white shorts and white shirts, sporting brite smiles.
I shook their hands, then Sam and the rest of the guys did the same. The boys giggled at the formality. I put a stern look on my face, feeling strangely parental, and clasped my hands behind my back.
“You remember what I told you? Work hard, and if you need help with something, anything, you ask? Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” they said in unison.
“Good. And no stealing.”
“No, sir,” they replied with a salute. We all chuckled and Sam tousled their hair as he passed.
The twenty-five minute boat ride to St. Thomas island was a somber affair. Stubbs spent the trip in the lounge with Felicia. She seemed equally smitten, from what I could tell. I wanted to maybe chat with her for a few moments about her grandfather, but refrained. I didn’t want to take her time away from Stubbs.
JP was quiet. After his big revelations the day before, it seemed like Tommy and Stubbs were avoiding him, which irritated me. I almost said something, but Sam must have sensed where I was headed and shook his head to warn me off. Something was up. I’d ask him later when we were alone.
We docked across from a gigantic cruise ship. Looking down from nine decks in the sky, passengers must have thought we were the slowest moving ants in the world, dragging ourselves and an overflowing luggage cart to the waiting van. I don’t think anyone said a single word the whole drive through the bustling streets of St. Thomas to the airport.
There was a nice ocean breeze as we piled out, moving slowly. Everyone seemed tired and resigned to a long trip ahead of us. I glanced at our plane in the distance. It looked freshly painted, even though I knew that wasn’t true. Maybe everything looked better in the Caribbean sun?
Ben was pacing on the tarmac. He didn’t look so good. He looked pissed. So much for hoping he would come back happy after visiting the “happiest place on earth.” I sighed, bracing for the inevitable as he marched up to us, eyes searching the group.
“Hey, Ben,” said Sam. “How was Disney?”
Ben grunted and looked at me. “Where’s Spencer?” he asked.
Sam looked at me. I shrugged.
“Uh…why?” asked Sam.
“I got a strange text from him yesterday. Something about ‘they’re on their own’?” said Ben.
“Jack fired him,” said Tommy before I could respond.
“You what?” Ben said to me.
“Guy was a dick,” said Stubbs, yanking bags from the back of the van and setting them on the concrete.
“Total douche,” said JP, picking up two bags and walking toward the plane. Tommy struggled with two others, while Stubbs carried the rest with ease.
“Jack. You can’t just fire your security,” said Ben.
I said nothing. Ben looked at Sam, but Sam just shook Paolo’s hand and walked away toward the plane.
“Talk to me, Schaeffer.”
I sighed. “There’s nothing to say. Spencer Madigan was an ass. He didn’t like us.”
“Like you? What difference does that make? Do you realize how foolish it is for you to have no security? I thought we were past all this nonsense. What’s it gonna take…”
I gave him an annoyed look, but he still didn’t get it. “Why are you making that face?” he asked.
I lowered my voice and tried not to sound too pissy. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m gay. Sam is gay. Spencer Madigan does not like gays. He made it abundantly clear from the start he could barely stomach being in our presence, which he almost never was. Couldn’t get away from us fast enough. So much for any ‘security’,” I said, making air quotes. “Trust me, if we had actually needed his help, he would have been very slow on the draw. Plus…he called me weak. So I threw him off my island.”
Ben had the good grace to look stricken. He ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath. “Damn, Jack. That’s…that’s fucked up. You should have called me.”
“And spoil your vacation with Peggy? Why? We were fine. No one was in any danger. Although someone did try to break into our room.”
“What!” he said.
But I was already walking toward the plane, leaving him standing there, mouth hanging open.
On board, I said a quick hello to Nancy as she organized the galley, then slumped on the leather couch and strapped in next to Sam. I watched the others stow personal items and find seats, settling in for the seven hour flight back to Denver. Stubbs popped in his ear buds, JP opened a book, and Tommy watched Justin through the window as he sealed the luggage compartments and completed his final safety inspections. Sam leaned back and closed his eyes.
Ben was the last to board, looking like he wanted to get into it with me. I closed my eyes and put my head on Sam’s shoulder, hoping he would just pass by and leave me alone. For once, he let it go.
Two hours later, after a dinner of Mediterranean chicken, rice pilaf and Greek salad, I listened to the soft noise of rushing wind against the window in the otherwise quiet cabin. My thoughts were jumbled, leaving me restless for reasons I still couldn’t identify. I fidgeted, causing Sam to moan and move away from me in his sleep. The inch or two separation seemed like a mile-wide chasm.
I looked down at his handsome, sleeping face. He looked happy. So why did it suddenly feel like I was losing him? His comment that morning about the money not really being his disturbed me. What could I do to help him understand that all I had was his, too? Saying it again and again didn’t seem to be enough. Why did my inheritance, the catalyst that brought us together, feel like an ever expanding wedge between us?
As tired as I felt, I couldn’t sleep, unlike everyone else, apparently. Even Ben, which was a relief. I didn’t feel like rehashing the weekend’s challenges with him. It all felt…pointless. Which described how I suddenly felt about most of my life at the moment.
What was I doing? I had no business owning a private island in the Caribbean. No wonder Mrs. Petit had her doubts about me. Who gives a twenty-five year old know-nothing, never-accomplished-anything-important kid this kind of responsibility? I wasn’t cut out for all this.
And what kind of fantasy was I living, thinking I should start a multi-million dollar business — of any kind? Forget navigating the shark infested waters of high level finance — I couldn’t operate my email without assistance.
Nothing made sense anymore. On the surface, I had everything I ever dreamed of. The most amazing partner in Sam, who loved me beyond my comprehension. More money than I could ever spend. A beautiful home with a “family” of friends who accepted me and even seemed to like me, most of the time. A dedicated team of people taking care of the business and managing my affairs. My own freaking island, for crying out loud. I lacked for nothing.
But underneath, I was cracking. I could feel it coming. I’d been here before.
Why did everyone else seem to have a clear understanding of who they were and what they wanted out of life, while I was still stumbling around in the dark, confused and frightened of making wrong moves? I had spent most of my life to that point paralyzed with uncertainty.
Not Tommy and Stubbs — they had big dreams they were passionate about. They were after it in a big way, and they appeared to have no doubt they would succeed, despite opposition from Tommy’s family. I was largely estranged from my family, but a deep part of me still hoped for their approval, all the time knowing it would never come. Hence my paralysis.
JP had experienced his share of agony and abyssmal treatment at the hands of a family member, but he didn’t seem paralyzed to me. On the contrary, he had a plan, and he was making progress. He was breaking free from the bondage of alcoholism that had almost destroyed him. And I knew without a doubt he would find a way to help his cousin Robbie do the same.
Like Sam, they were choosing what they wanted out of life, and who they wanted to be. Sam never had doubts about himself and his choices. I thought about that for a while. Choices. Had I ever really made choices for myself, or did I simply fall into predetermined pathways chosen for me by others?
Being gay wasn’t a choice. It was how I was wired. I suppose I made the choice to stop fighting it, but that was more or less acquiescing to something out of my control. I didn’t choose the irrational hatred and rejection I received because of it, that’s for sure.
Not that I could prevent it. Spencer Madigan was just the latest reminder. In his case, I removed the offending thorn in my side, but I didn’t actually alter his ugly opinion of me. Had I acted rashly? Should I have tried to reason with him? Try to convince him I wasn’t a worthless weakling unable to handle life?
Was it even my choice at all? Did Spencer more or less make the decision for me, with his hurtful comments and rejection? Or had I just been overly emotional in a difficult moment, confirming my inherent weakness and Spencer’s negative opinion of me?
I sighed deeply, self-doubts threatening to drown me. My brain hurt. My heart hurt even more as it thumped hard in my chest. How was I supposed to know what the right decisions were? How did Sam and Tommy and the other guys make it seem so easy?
My mood had not improved by the time we landed in Denver in a torrential rain storm. After a weekend in the glorious Caribbean sun, I didn’t want to step foot off the plane. The approaching dusk felt like a heavy curtain closing on a chapter of my life, and I couldn’t shake the feeling of impending doom. It was weird and confusing.
I excused myself to the rear lavatory as everyone deplaned, hoping to avoid conversation. I came out to an empty cabin. I sat down again on the couch and looked out the window. I saw Justin helping unload the luggage from the rear cargo hold. The rest were scurrying to race the bags to the SUVs Ben had waiting in a line out on the tarmac. Sheets of rain sheared sideways. What a mess.
Sam reappeared from the forward cabin. “You coming?” he asked, turning to grab a small bag from under the couch. With a heavy sigh, I stood up and immediately collided with the ceiling.
“Ow!” I hissed, rubbing my head, chasing back blinding stars. “Fuck, that hurt.”
“Whoa, baby. You okay?” asked Sam.
I recoiled from his outstretched hand. “Who the hell are you calling ‘baby’?” I said.
“Uh…you?” The shocked look on his face was new.
“Don’t call me ‘baby’. I am not a baby, I’m a grown ass man,” I snarled, pushing past him.
“Jack, wait!” said Sam to my retreating back.
I didn’t stop. I ducked through the forward doorway, and in my angry haste, I slipped halfway down the drenched staircase. My left ankle twisted as I slid down the last three steps, bumping my head again, on the way to a hard landing on the concrete — flat on my back in an ice-cold puddle of water. Perfect.
I opened my eyes to stinging raindrops and promptly shut them again. I attempted to sit up, but the shooting pain in my head convinced me that was a very bad idea. I settled down into a rising sea of misery and decided to just soak there.
It felt like a very long time, but couldn’t have been a minute at most, before I heard Sam shout, then scramble down to where I lay prostrate in the pouring rain. That very long minute did nothing to improve my disposition.
“Jack! What happened? Are you hurt?” asked Sam, kneeling beside me in the puddle.
What a stupid question. “No, I feel just fine. Thought I’d just lay here and enjoy the rain. Lovely weather we’re having, don’t ya think?”
I cracked one eye and looked up at him. His expression was…pained. Why that gave me a perverse sense of pleasure, I’ll never know. I wasn’t comfortable with that feeling at all.
“Can you stand?” he asked, carefully moderating his voice.
“I don’t know. Haven’t tried,” I replied, closing my eye again.
“Come on, Jack. Get up. We need to get you out of the rain.”
I raised a feeble hand by my side to wave him away. “Just leave me here. Take everybody home. I’ll be fine.”
He pushed back from me and his hands left my body. “What the fuck, Jack? How hard did you hit your head?” His voice was a mix of anger and fear. Strange how when you close your eyes, your ears can make out subtle nuances like that.
He was mad? He was scared?
Well, too bad. Join the club. Unbridled anger flowed like a raging river, from my toes to the crown of my aching head and back again. I was pissed. I was furious. And I had absolutely no idea why.
When I didn’t answer, I guess it scared him. I heard him yelling, “Ben! Ben!”
I was cold and wet and didn’t much care. My only coherent thought was the overwhelming desire for everyone to leave me the hell alone. Especially Sam. His incessant yelling was frazzling my remaining nerves.
At some point the cold rain became a comfort. I imagined it soothing the burning fires of rage boiling under the surface. My breathing slowed and my head cleared, enough to know there was something wrong with my ankle. I tried to move it and winced with shooting pain racing up my leg. Not doing that again.
“What the hell happened?” I heard Ben shout.
“I don’t know. I found him like this,” said Sam. “He hit his head inside, then I guess he fell getting out. He won’t get up.” His voice was on the edge of panic, but I heard his supreme effort to keep it together. That’s Sam. Always calm. Always in control. Whatever.
“Jack? Can you hear me?” shouted Ben. Can I hear him? Half of Denver could hear him. I was two feet away. Why was he shouting?
Now he was in my face. “Open your eyes, Jack.” I silently refused. He had the nerve to push my right eye open with a wet finger. I swatted at his hand.
“Leave me alone.” He removed the offending finger from my eye, but he didn’t leave. Nobody ever listens to me.
“He’ll live,” said Ben.
“What do we do?” asked Sam.
“Let’s get him up and see if he can stand on his own. If not, I’ll call for some help,” said Ben.
Two sets of hands pushed under my back and lifted me against my will to a seated position. I struggled in vain to push them off.
“I said, leave me alone. Go away.”
“Open your eyes, Jack, and look at me,” said Ben “I need to check you for a concussion.”
“No. Go away.”
“Open your eyes right now, or I’m throwing you over my shoulder and dragging your sorry ass straight to the emergency room.”
“Fuck. You.” That shut them both up. Why didn’t I just say it earlier? The silence was bliss. Especially when they took a step back and gave me some space to breathe. I gingerly leaned back on my elbows and settled back into my puddle of drenched despair. With any luck I would hear the cars drive away and I could go to sleep in peace.
Something scraped across the concrete near my head and I felt warm breath on my right cheek. “Please talk to me, Jack,” whispered Sam. “What’s going on?”
He was lying on his stomach in the puddle next to me, once again encroaching on my space. Why wouldn’t he just leave already?
I sighed. “I’m fine. Can’t you see, I’m fine? Please just go home. Get the guys settled. Maggie will help you. They have a long flight home tomorrow.”
“I can’t leave you here like this,” he said.
“Yeah, you will.” The source of my anger crystallized, leaving me breathless.
Sam was going to leave me.
How could he possibly stay? He had no real life with me. I was such a fool.
“I’m not leaving you, Jack.” He sounded determined, but I knew he was just over-compensating for the doubts riddling his mind.
Who could blame him, really? My life, and by association, his, was a chaotic rollercoaster of emotional turmoil and upheaval. I couldn’t even go on a weekend vacation and not have to deal with nine kinds of mess. Mess he got dragged into on a daily basis. Of course, he would leave. Who wouldn’t?
Still, it pissed me off. Hadn’t I given him everything? Including every part of me? What more could I do? I was so tired. So incredibly, painfully tired.
Tired of trying to be everything everyone else wanted me to be. The perfect boyfriend. The perfect boss. The perfect houseguest. The perfect friend. It was exhausting trying to figure out what everybody needed and do everything I could to make it happen. Everybody wanted something. I was tapped out. And I wanted out.
I wanted out of the entire show. The facade I had created from the first day I learned of my fucking inheritance. Outside, I had all the trappings of a self-made success. Gorgeous man on my arm, beautiful home, successful business…even a handful of good friends.
But it was all a lie. None of it was real. It was all purchased at a price. I knew what would happen if I was no longer the guy in charge, the one with the bottomless wallet. The friends, the business, the home? All gone.
Ironically, Sam was the one person who would probably prefer I gave it all back. He hated it. He put on his own show, pretending to be okay, but he wasn’t. Yeah, he sided with me against Tommy’s derision, but that was to save face. I knew deep down he felt the same way Tommy did. People with excessive wealth were disgusting frauds and low-lifes.
They were right. I was a fraud. I played right into the pretense. Fake it till you make it, right? I wasn’t a successful business man. I was fortunate to have a team of people who were giants in their fields. They were the success, not me. I did nothing to make that happen.
Money makes people delusional. They see what they want to see when it’s papered in money. I looked good because I did nice things for people. It cost me nothing. I didn’t sweat and toil for the spoils I shared. I gave away the fruit of other people’s hard work. And somehow people thought that made me a good guy. What utter crap!
The truth was, I was nothing. I came from nothing, and I’d always be nothing. Strangely, returning to nothing sounded really, really good. I was so tired. So, so tired.
“I love you, little man,” whispered Sam next to my ear. He was still here?
I squeezed my eyes tighter. “I don’t know what that means anymore,” I whispered back. “I’m sorry. I’m so tired. Please just go. Other people need you.”
“I’m not leaving without you. I’ll lay here in the rain all night if I have to. But I won’t leave you, Jack. I won’t ever leave you.”
“You will. You’ll wake up one day and realize I’m a fraud. A fake. I get it now. You’re right. Being rich sucks. Sucks the life right out of a person, until there’s nothing left but a fancy hollow shell.”
“That’s not true,” he said.
“Yeah…it is. Take away the money and I’m nothing. I’ve got nothing. I never did. I’m nobody.”
“Yes, you are,” he said, squeezing my hand hard. “You’re my Jack. You’re my life.”
“You need to get a better life.”
He snorted in my ear. “And you need to get the fuck over yourself. I’m sticking. I won’t go, no matter how much you try and push me away.”
“Then I’ll go.”
He gasped and his fingers released my wrist. I could still feel his warm breath on my face.
“What are you saying?” he asked. “Go where?” I could barely hear him above the wind and rain.
I sighed. “I’m done. I can’t be what you and everyone else wants me to be. I don’t have your strength or confidence. I’m scared all the time I’m gonna screw up and really hurt someone. I don’t want to hurt you, Sam. I don’t. You don’t deserve that. But I want out. I’m tired of being a disappointment. I want to go back to being invisible.”
He inhaled sharply as he pulled away. All I could hear was the sound of raindrops exploding all around me. I couldn’t feel him next to me anymore. Did he do it? Did he finally leave me?
Suddenly he was back, leaning in close to my ear, his breath hot on my skin. The intensity of his words could rip cold steel. “You listen to me. I know you’re in over your head. Anyone can see that. Yeah, you’ve probably taken on too much, too fast. You’re overwhelmed. I get it. But don’t you think for one minute you can convince me you’re nothing, because it’s bullshit! I know you, Jack. I know who you are, and I know who you’re not. And this…this pathetic pity party…or whatever the fuck it is…this is not who you are. You might have been invisible before, but you’re not anymore. I see you, Jack. I fucking see you. I’m not leaving, and neither are you. You can quit on yourself, you can quit everything else, but you don’t get to quit on me. You gave me your word, and I’m holding you to it.”
Fuck.
“Why?” I shouted as loudly as I could. It came out in sort of a squeak. “Why won’t you just let go, like everybody else does? What are you holding on to?”
“You! Because I fucking love you!” he screamed, pounding his fists into the deepening pool of icy rain water. A small wave washed up and over my face just as I took a breath, causing me to choke. I had no choice but to sit up to clear my throat. The coughing fit caused an explosion of pain in my head.
Sam scrambled to his knees and had his arms around me before I could lay back down. He was kissing the side of my head and rocking me back and forth. I couldn’t resist anymore. I leaned back into him and everything else just faded away. I was safe again.
I hated that I needed him so much. It made me feel weaker, if that was even possible. But it was my reality, and I guess I had to live with it. Sam squeezing me against his heaving chest felt pretty good, all things considered.
Sam held on and I let him, until the rain turned cold and I heard his teeth chattering against my temple. He was an idiot to stick with me. Look at us — soaked to the skin, freezing our butts off, and why? Because I chose that moment to have a breakdown. Pathetic.
But he did stick. That was something, wasn’t it?
Sam whispered in my ear, “I’ll stay here all night if you want, but…could you maybe think about going home now?”
Home. I never knew what that meant until Sam first put his arms around me on the beach back in Hawaii all those weeks ago. Without them, I was hopelessly lost.
A small cry escaped my lips. Tears mixed with the raindrops running down my face. I held onto his strong arms around me like I would fall off a cliff any second if he lost his grip. “You’re all that’s real, Sam. Please don’t leave me. I don’t want you to go. I really don’t.”
“I’ve got you, little man. I’ll never let you go,” said Sam, squeezing me even tighter. The pain in my head throttled up a notch, but I ignored it.
“You are my home,” I whispered.
I felt his smile against my tear-soaked cheek. “And you’re mine. But at the risk of sounding poetic and shit, could we maybe seek some shelter from this storm?”
I sighed. Time to put my big boy pants back on.
“Help me up?” I asked.
He made sure I could sit up under my own power. Keeping a comforting hand on my back, he scooted around me and stood up, leaned over, and gently pulled me to my feet by a bicep. I wobbled for a few seconds until the world stopped spinning. It didn’t help we were practically floating on several inches of rain water. I closed my eyes to reset my brain. When I opened them Sam was in my face, looking deep into my eyes.
Even in the darkening twilight, the blue of his eyes was electric, drawing me in to his gaze. As only he could, in his special way, he plumbed deep into my soul and searched for something. Clarity? Understanding? Reassurance?
He nodded once, seemingly satisfied. “We good?” he asked.
I squeezed his arm holding me up and made no move to escape. “You’re perfect, I’m a mess…so, yeah, that’s about as good as it gets.”
He grinned, and stroked my cheek with his free hand. He leaned in, resting our foreheads together. “This will always be good. No matter what, you and me together? We’re always a good thing. Don’t you ever forget that.”
Before I could argue or say something stupid — again — he kissed me. The softest, sweetest, most tender kiss ever. So much love. So much acceptance. So much certainty in his kiss. He knew. He’d always known. Sam and me. We were forever.
My injured ankle barked, sending a surge of fierce pain racing up my leg. I winced. Sam sensed a change in my lips and leaned back.
“Okay, little man. Time to go. I’ve got you. We’ll go slow.”
I limped to the waiting SUV, hanging on to Sam’s arm. He didn’t hurry me. He was willing to go at my pace. He did that a lot.
Ben, a stoic, silent sentry stationed at the passenger door, watched us approach. He opened the door and stepped back to allow Sam to help me up into the warm, dry interior. I ignored the rain water pooling on the leather seat under me. As Sam stepped back to go around to the other side, Ben started to close the SUV door and stopped.
He looked at me. He said nothing, but there was something in his eyes, something I had never seen before. He was hurting. Crap!
“I’m sorry,” I mouthed silently, reaching a hand toward him. He hesitated only a second, then grabbed it with a curt nod.
“Me, too,” he whispered, then stepped back and shut the door.
Ben spoke something into his wrist as he circled around the front and got behind the wheel. The lead SUV with the others drove away, and we followed. It was just the three of us and all the luggage. No one spoke. I was keenly aware of Sam’s fingers intertwined with mine. The power of that connection, the meaning inherent in a simple gesture like holding hands, was not lost on me. It was everything. It was the only thing holding me together.
The rain had stopped by the time we arrived at Phillip’s Mountain. I hesitated, not wanting to face the questions and comments certain to come my way.
“Why don’t you go straight to our room and take a shower. Warm up. I’ll get the guys settled with Maggie and be right behind you,” said Sam.
I gave him a thin half-hearted smile and reluctantly let go of his hand. Shuffling into the open garage and through the mudroom, I could smell Italian cooking wafting from the kitchen. All the lights were on, and I heard Maggie bustling about getting dinner ready as I snuck past.
The long walk down the hallway felt like a mile across flaming glass. My ankle screamed in protest with every step, echoed by the constant throbbing in my temples. Shutting the bedroom door, I leaned against it and exhaled slowly. Waterlogged clothing clung in icy layers against my hypersensitive skin. Peeling everything off, I carefully padded into the bathroom and turned on the shower.
Sam found me leaning against the shower wall, gripping the recently installed handles for some fragile hold on what was left of my sanity. I was losing it…fast. I tried to focus on one thing at a time, but I couldn’t shake the relentless thoughts of failure and impending doom bombarding my brain, like an untameable tempest unleashed.
The chill in my soul was impervious to the piping hot water cascading down my back. Even when Sam, all warm and naked, pushed up against my back and wrapped his big arms around my shoulders, I couldn’t stop the chills wracking my body.
“I’ve got you, Jack. I’m here,” he whispered, over and over again. “Whatever you need.”
Maybe because he was my safe place. Maybe it was his confidence in his ability to handle whatever I threw at him. Maybe it was just foolish thinking on his part. Whatever the reason, I chose that moment to shatter into a thousand shards of the sharpest pain imaginable. I completely fell apart.
I collapsed, my legs unable to support me. Sam somehow managed to slide us down to the shower floor, never relaxing his hold. With silent screams shredding my soul, it all hit me in one giant wave. Every doorway of pain I thought I had slammed shut forever flew open in a rush, drowning me in forgotten miseries.
Every rejection. Being given up at birth. My father abandoning me as a young child. My mother pretending to accept me, but only on her terms. My brother’s relentless bullying and attempts to kill me. The cousins and their snickering behind my back, making snide comments when they thought I couldn’t hear.
The ritual taunting and ridicule on the school playgrounds. Stealing my clothes after P.E. class and dumping them in the smelly trash can. The gum that was thrown on the bus and stuck in my hair, to the raucous glee of every other passenger. The tears as I ripped out my hair when I got home.
The counselors who told me I wasn’t smart enough for an Ivy League college. Better to stay local and not set your sights too high. The family that frowned upon the very idea of making something better of yourself, and attacked me for succeeding at anything, ever.
Even after I escaped into a self-imposed obscurity in Chicago, the ever-present rejection remained, though perhaps more subtle. Going out with Fred’s friends, but never really fitting in, never able to navigate the complexities of social interactions. Refusing to drink and let loose had left me on the outside, looking in.
Co-workers not able to deal with my not dating women. The daily comments and innuendos implying there was something wrong with me because I didn’t share my sexual conquests.
Failure upon failure to be what everyone expected me to be.
And the overwhelming, ever-present, relentless fear. Fear I would never measure up. Fear I could never change enough to make everyone happy. Fear that my brother, or other family members, would do anything to remove the blight of my existence from their collective identity. Jack? Jack, who? Never heard of him.
Fear that all the naysayers were right. I wasn’t smart enough, strong enough, or confident enough to do anything good in life. Everything I touched would fail. Every life I tried to help would ultimately be harmed by my interference. It was only a matter of time.
Fear that I would destroy the legacy Amanda left me. Waste it all on selfish, self-indulgent endeavors in a vain attempt to impress people, to fool them into thinking, even for a few moments, that beneath the gay surface, I was almost a good guy.
The unspoken fears – the ones I couldn’t bring myself to voice out loud. Fear that there were others out there, like Arnold Turner, who hated me and sought to destroy me. I tried to tell myself it was irrational. Turner was a fluke. The van that tried to run me down on the street just didn’t see me. The people who tried to hack into our servers made a simple mistake. They didn’t really care about me.
The very idea I needed security at all had me shaking most days. Ben was good at his job. I know he cared. But his criticism of how I handled Spencer Madigan rankled. Maybe he was right. Maybe I was a fool to think I could make such decisions? What did I know about anything? Was it only a matter of time before I slipped up and it cost me my life? Or worse, Sam’s?
The idea of losing Sam sucked my lungs dry, like a hard punch to the solar plexus. Doubled over, begging for another breath, the thought of losing Sam ripped me to the core. Without him, I was absolutely nothing. Nothing mattered without Sam. Nothing.
Sam sensed my struggle for air. I could feel my face burning, in fear and ineffective efforts to make my diaphragm work again.
“Breathe, Jack. Please! Breathe for me,” he pleaded. I shook my head. It wasn’t working. Oh God! I was dying.
In that split second, I knew only one thing — I didn’t want to die. Sam was the only real thing I had to live for, but if he still wanted me, I needed to stay. I couldn’t leave him. I just couldn’t. I gave him my word.
Everything hurt now. My head pounded in my ears. The edges of my blurry, tear-soaked vision faded. I mouthed the word, “Help!” over and over again, but no sound came out. Every muscle went limp, and darkness claimed me.
I drifted in a semi-comatose state, unsure if I was alive or had slipped into some other place. I could hear unintelligible voices in the distance, faint and annoying. Why couldn’t they shut up and leave me in peace?
I no longer physically hurt. I wasn’t sure I was still in my body. That might have freaked me out, but I had no energy for such trivial matters. I felt nothing, really. I drifted away again.
I stumbled back into consciousness with a start, wrenching my hand against a restraint. Who the hell tied my wrists? Why couldn’t I move? I pulled against the bindings, soft grunts escaping through my parched lips.
“Shhh…I’ve got you, Jack,” said Sam into my ear. “You’re okay. Settle down. You’re gonna be okay.” He squeezed my hand and I realized he was holding my wrist. He relaxed his grip and I slowly moved my fingers to my parched lips.
“Thirsty,” I whispered. Faint voices discussed the options. Shuffling and a door closing. Sam’s stubbly cheek against my face, his lips tickling my ear.
“Maggie’s bringing water. Try to relax. Breathe, little man. Just breathe for me. That’s it. Slow and steady. In and out. Yeah, like that.”
Like I was doing anything special. Had Sam lost his marbles while I was away? Breathing wasn’t exactly a choice, was it?
Choices. My breath caught as I plunged back into the quagmire of uncertainty and self-doubt. I didn’t want to choose anymore. I sucked at it. It wasn’t my thing. Let someone else make all the choices.
A straw appeared against my lips and I sucked in the cool liquid. It was only water, but it calmed my nerves like someone threw a magic switch. I heard a deep sigh, not sure if it came from me or not.
“Can you open your eyes, baby?” said a soft voice above me. Was that Sharon? Why was she here? I didn’t remember calling her for anything. The fluttery concern in her voice shocked me. She sounded scared. Crap! What did I do to her?
I raised a hand to my eyes as they slitted open, momentarily blinded by the light flooding in. I was in my bed — our bed. Sam was perched next to me, while Sharon knelt at the side, wringing her hands and shredding what was left of a hapless tissue. Maggie hovered in the background, picking up the wet clothes I had discarded earlier.
“Sorry,” I whispered in her direction. She gave me a thin smile, nodded, and continued her efforts. Turning back to Sam, I saw tears pooling in his eyes. He looked…frightened. It didn’t fit his face. Fear didn’t belong there. Ever.
I reached up and stroked his cheek. “I’m sorry,” I said softly.
He held my palm against his face and closed his eyes. Sharon dabbed at her own eyes and slowly stood up next to the bed. She reached down and squeezed my hand.
“Welcome back, baby. You gave us a bit of a scare,” she said, her voice a little more confident. “You’ve been out of it for a couple of hours now, and Sam couldn’t wake you.”
Sam sniffed and wiped away a single tear. He opened his eyes and looked deep into mine. Gone was the usual deep blue, replaced by a dark gray clouding his eyes, the eyes that had so often probed my soul, searching for answers to unspoken questions. He stared for a long moment and finally looked away, clearly upset.
“I can’t see,” he whispered. I felt tremors in the fingers circling my wrist. “I can’t see what’s wrong. Please, Jack…tell me what’s wrong. Please, you have to tell me how to help you. I don’t know what to do.” His voice cracked.
“Hold me,” I whispered. He scootched in beside me, pushed down the blanket to expose my chest, and squeezed his arm under my back, then slid in close, his other arm tight across my chest.
“See, all you have to do is hold me, so I won’t fly apart,” I said, closing my eyes.
“Careful of his head,” said Sharon.
“Sam, the doctor is here,” said Maggie, holding open the bedroom door. “Shall I have Charles show him in?”
“Don’t need a doctor,” I mumbled, eye still closed.
“Hush, now. He’s come all this way to see you, and you need to let him check you over,” said Sharon. “We’ll give you two another moment, then send him in. Get better soon, baby. Your family needs you,” said Sharon, kissing my forehead.
I sighed heavily. “I will. Thank you for coming,” I whispered.
“You can’t keep me away, baby. You’re one of mine now. You just concentrate on fixin’ what ails you and get your pretty head all better. Come on, Maggie. I could use a cup of tea.” Sharon winked at me and followed Maggie into the hall.
“I’m sorry, Sam.”
“Shhh. Don’t apologize. It’s okay. I’ve got your back. I’m right here, little man. We’ll figure this out together.”
“Whatever this is. I’m totally losing it, aren’t I.”
“Shhh. We don’t have to solve anything right now. Just be with me.” He squeezed in tighter, and I wondered if he would ever let go, for fear I really would fly away.
A soft knock on the door interrupted my thoughts, which was just as well, since they were darker than the night sky out our window. A small round face with round glasses poked his head around the door.
“May I come in?” he asked.
Sam kissed my cheek then reluctantly let go, sitting up beside me.
“He’s all yours, doc.”
A short man with very short grey hair dressed in a blue plaid shirt and jeans stepped in carrying a large black bag that threatened to pull him over sideways. If he was a doctor, he was the smallest one I’d ever seen.
“Good evening, gentlemen. My name is Doctor Swanson, and I understand you suffered a fall earlier?”
I tried to nod and saw stars. “Ow,” I groaned, reaching up to swipe the air beside my head.
“It’s okay, just lie still and I’ll examine you. Can you tell me your name?” he asked, pulling a stethoscope out of his bag. I gave him my full name, and he asked me a few more questions while he listened to my heart.
Pulling the prongs out of his ears, he continued the questioning. Sam filled in a few blanks after I passed out in the shower. He just nodded to our answers.
Passing an intense light pen across my eyes — I’d probably see spots for days now — he asked if I could sit up.
Sam scrambled back onto the bed and together with the doctor, they managed to help me into a sitting position. The room spun for a couple of seconds, then everything settled. My vision cleared and the throbbing in my temples moved to the background. My breathing returned to normal.
“How do you feel?” the doctor asked.
“Like an elephant stepped on my head.”
Sam chuckled and Dr. Swanson smiled. He did the light thing in my eyes again, then examined my ears with some kind of scope. He put the stethoscope back in his ears and had me practice deep breathing exercises, moving that ice cold instrument all over my chest and back.
“Your breathing sounds normal. Now, you told me you passed out in the shower and complained you couldn’t breathe?”
I nodded, somewhat surprised my head didn’t fall off and roll on the floor. “I don’t know what happened after I blacked out and Sam caught me.”
He nodded, then looked at Sam, then back at me. A thin smile creased his lips. “I suppose it was fortunate he was in the shower with you.”
Sam actually blushed and I sighed. “I wish it was what you’re thinking, doc, but I was having a meltdown. Sam holding me was the only thing keeping me from flying completely to pieces.”
A look of concern passed over the doctor’s face. “I see. Tell me, Jack. What were you doing before you fell on the airplane steps?”
I glanced at Sam and sighed. “I was pissed off at something Sam said, and like an idiot I didn’t watch what I was doing. It was raining, and the steps were a little slippery.”
He looked at Sam, who cowered like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, then he came back to me, his eyes narrowed. “Before that…what was the state of your mind?”
“Uh…what do you mean?”
“I mean, what had you been thinking about? What was going through your mind before Sam said whatever unfortunate thing he said?”
I sighed and looked away from both of them. I didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t know how.
It was Dr. Swanson’s turn to sigh. “I see. Very well. Let me ask a different question. Have you ever had an anxiety attack?”
“Yes, he has,” replied Sam before I could respond. I glared at him and he glared right back at me. Score one for Sam.
More sighing from me. “Yes, twice before. And some nightmares lately. Nonsensical stuff.”
“Where did these attacks occur?”
“Once was after I woke up from a nightmare. It only lasted a few seconds, and I never lost focus. The bigger one, I was at my office, talking to a colleague about something I don’t even remember what. That time I sort of zoned out for a minute. Simon almost called for help, but I was fine right afterwards.”
“Have there been any major changes or challenges in your life in recent months?”
Sam snorted. “Try like every other day. Jack’s whole life has been one change after another, some big, some smaller. It’s relentless.”
The doctor looked at me, and I looked down at my hands in my lap, fisting the covers. “Yeah, he’s right. It’s been…a lot.”
Ignoring that exchange for the moment, Dr. Swanson stepped back. “I’d like you to try and stand up for me, Jack. I want to do a little more neuro workup.”
Sam scooted back off the bed and came around to help me, but I grabbed his arm and pulled him close.
“I can’t,” I whispered in his ear. “I’m naked under here.”
Sam stood straight and grinned at me. “Is that all? It’s not like he hasn’t seen what you’ve got every day of his life. Stand up, now. Come on, I’ll spot you.”
Face flaming red, I managed to stand up next to the bed. Dr. Swanson’s expression never changed. He held a hand and led me a couple of steps away from the bed and motioned for Sam to let go of my arm.
“Can you stand on your own?” the doctor asked. I nodded, feeling fairly steady on my feet. The pain in my head remained in the background, and I didn’t feel dizzy. Oddly, my ankle didn’t hurt much at all.
The stethoscope was back in his ears as Dr. Swanson padded across my chest and back, asking me to breath in and out deeply. So far so good.
The doctor stepped back and asked, “I’d like you to try and walk across the room and back. Sam, you can walk next to him, but don’t assist unless you think he’s going to fall down.”
Together we slow stepped across the carpet to the windows, then turned around.
“You’re doing great, Jack.”
“Shut up. You at least have shorts on. I’m the one flapping in the wind here. This is embarrassing.”
The jerk had the nerve to crack a smile. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”
I gave him a look that could cut glass.
“Come on, you know you like me.”
“Not even a little bit, you jerk,” I said, coming to stop in front of the doctor. I looked at Sam and we both laughed on cue. Yeah, I liked him a lot, and he knew it, the cheeky bastard.
“How’s your head? Any dizziness? Nausea?”
“I’m okay, I think. Not dizzy, not nauseous. I am a little cold, though.”
“Of course. Why don’t you hop — strike that — why don’t you carefully get back under the covers and we’ll have a quick chat.”
I did as he instructed, pulling the covers up to my neck. Sam grinned at me from where he stood next to the doctor. Putting the stethoscope back in his bag, he pulled out a prescription pad and scribbled something on it.
“I believe you may have suffered a mild concussion when you hit your head earlier. However, what’s concerns me more is the anxiety attacks and the increasing intensity of those attacks. I am recommending you speak with a colleague of mine as soon as possible. She is the head of psychology at the University Medical Center, but she sees private patients by special referral only. I think she could be very helpful in this situation.”
He ripped off the page from his script pad. “These are her numbers. My number is at the bottom. I want you to call me in three days, without fail. At that time I expect to hear the date and time of your first appointment with Dr. Margolis. In the meantime, I am prescribing bed rest and absolutely no stress. Sam, between you and Maggie Smyth, I am counting on you both to make sure he follows instructions. And, Jack, I can’t state this in strong enough terms. Anxiety attacks such as what you are experiencing are not to be ignored. They will not, no matter how much you may wish it so, simply go away with time. Dr. Margolis will help you. You can trust her with your truth.”
“I will,” I said, then glanced at Sam. The intensity of his bright blue eyes was blazing again. “I made a promise I intend to keep.”
“See that you do. Well, gentlemen, I think the patient will live. Don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything.”
“Um…can I ask you a question?”
“Sure, Jack.”
“Who called you? Who even does house calls these days?”
He laughed. “When Sharon Adams calls, you best not ignore her. That woman is a force of nature when it comes to her kids. I delivered Billy, and I’m head over heels with his little guy, Jaden. What a cutie. She tells me you had a little something to do with making that happen, so it’s my privilege to add you both to the Adams family plan.”
“What family plan?” asked Sam.
He laughed again. “The plan that says if one of Sharon’s family calls, I come running. Simple as that. You boys have a good night, and make sure you get some rest, Jack. Slow and easy.”
“Got it. Thanks, doc.”
“My pleasure. Bye, now.”
Sam showed him out the door and closed it behind him. Turning to me, he was all smiles.
“What?”
He grinned, wiggled his eyebrows and turned out the lights. He paused to slip out of his shorts, then slid under the covers next to me. His body was warm and hard and fit perfectly into mine. He kissed my check and starting nuzzling my neck, his three day growth scratching my skin in a totally sexy way.
“What do think you’re doing?” I whispered, my breath hitching against the rising flame under my skin.
“The doctor said I get you for at least three whole days. Think of me as your home-delivered prescription. I can’t do your thinking for you, but I can damn well make sure there isn’t an ounce of stress in your gorgeous naked body.”
His hands wandered down to my crotch, igniting a flame that raced from chest down my treasure trail and straight into my balls. His tongue followed his hand, tracing that trail, and his lips encircled the head of my engorged cock. I gasped as his tongue swirled and a finger traced the edges of my hole.
“Sam…we shouldn’t…I can’t…”
He pulled off my dick and whispered. “Shhh…I think the medicine is working.”
I woke up with an excruciating headache. Sam snored quietly next to me as the sun’s first rays tried to peek around the drawn drapes. I laid there and took stock of the damage. My head throbbed, and when I tried to move to get out of bed, my ankle protested. I had really done a number on myself. And there was a dull ache in my ass, but that was Sam’s doing.
I heard the sounds of people walking above my head as I padded to the bathroom to pee. Balanced mostly on my right foot, I did my business, flushed, and shuffled in front of the mirror. I was a mess, inside and out.
“One step at a time,” I whispered to my reflection. I searched my eyes, hoping to see what Sam saw in them. All I could find was anxiety and borderline despair. Yet if I looked just a smidge deeper, I could make out a flicker of hope.
It was there, lurking behind all the thoughts of failure and embarrassment and certain doom. Fleeting at best, but it was real. I was surprised I even recognized it for what it was, being largely unacquainted. But that wasn’t quite true, either.
I did have hope. Ever since I came to Denver the first time, and met Billy and Sharon and Clyde, ever since I read the letter Amanda left me, I had hope. Hope that I could be someone good, do something good. I had to hold on to that, however fragile my grip might feel.
Sam appeared in the reflection, hair mussed, expression amused, scratching his hairy flat belly. He suddenly noticed his half-hard dick and looked up at me with a smile. His finger trailed across my bare shoulders as he passed to use the toilet. He hummed happily as he peed. I wanted that spirit in me. Didn’t I deserve that, too?
I splashed some cold water on my face, and rubbed at the stubble. Did I shave yesterday? I couldn’t remember. I needed a shower, but I was scared. What if I fell apart again?
“Sometimes I wish I could hear what’s going on in that handsome head of yours,” said Sam, hugging his arms around my shoulders and pressing his warm body up to mine. His still semi-hard dick nestled in the crack of my ass, and I smiled. He really was like medicine for what ailed me.
“You really don’t want in there, trust me. How’d you sleep?” I asked, clutching his forearms, stroking the dark hair that coated them from wrist to elbow.
“Off and on. You mumbled a lot in your sleep. I couldn’t figure out what you were saying, but you didn’t seem frightened or anything. No nightmares?”
I groaned. “No nightmares. I’m really sorry about yesterday. That was…well, I don’t know what that was.”
“Shhh…don’t do that, little man,” he said, squeezing me tighter. “You don’t have to hold everything together for me. I’m supposed to be your safe place, where you get to be the real you, however messy and messed up that might be. You’re a complex guy with a lot of layers, some of which I don’t think you’ve even discovered yet.”
I spun in his arms to face him. “You’re not disappointed in me for losing it?”
He seemed genuinely surprised at the idea. “Of course not. Jack, we’re partners. We deal with whatever comes our way. Together. That includes whatever messed up shit we’ve got lurking in the darkest recesses.”
“But you didn’t bargain for this…whatever this is. You didn’t know. I’ll understand if you decide it’s just too much.”
He dropped his arms and his eyes darkened. He took a breath and grabbed me by the biceps. “You listen to me good, Jack Schaeffer. This is the last time you talk this shit to me. I am NOT leaving you. Do you understand? I knew from that first night on the beach when you nearly fainted trying to tell me you were gay. I knew you had some baggage. What gay man doesn’t? The shit we have to deal with, just to be who we are? I CHOSE this, Jack. I chose YOU. You and all your mess, however deep it goes.”
His eyes were like flashing blue lights, filled with passion and fire and a determination that was almost scary. I swallowed hard and lowered my eyes to his chest.
“It just doesn’t seem fair to do this to you,” I said, stroking the hair between his nipples. “You don’t have any mess, and I’ve got oceans of it.”
He pulled me into a tight hug. “Oh, Jack. Little do you know. You haven’t seen me in crazed student mode. Wait till school starts and I have midterms or a project due. You’ll see. I’ve been known to turn into a first-class asshole.”
I looked up. “You? Easy going Sam who takes everything I throw at him in stride, like it’s just another day? I don’t believe you.”
He smiled and kissed the end of my nose. “You will. I’ll make a believer out of you, whether I want to or not. Come on, let’s get ready. The guys are probably getting ready to leave.”
He released me and turned to get the shower running. When the water was warm enough, he stepped in and turned to look at me, water matting the hair on his body. He was so casually sexy and he didn’t even know it. So confident. So sure of everything. And I was not any of those things.
“Get in here, Jack,” he said. “I think you need a reminder of what these handles on the walls are for.”
Okay, maybe he did know me better than I knew myself.
Appropriately dressed, properly groomed, and much more relaxed, Sam held my hand as we walked down the hall to the kitchen. My ankle no longer throbbed, and my headache had moved into the background.
Maggie had pulled out all the stops: there were literal mounds of eggs, bacon, sausage and pancakes on platters spread across the island. A tower of homemade blueberry muffins threatened to topple over.
“Oh, Jack! There you are,” she said, scurrying over to grab my face in her hands. “Are you okay? You gave me such a fright. Doc said you’d be okay. Tell me you’re gonna be okay.”
“I’m fine, Maggie,” I said with a real smile. “I promise. I’ve just been overdoing it. I’ll be okay. How could I not? I have you to take care of me.”
She smiled and stepped back, studying my face. Then she looked at Sam. “You make sure he does what he’s supposed to. I know his kind. Burn himself up to nothing if we let him.”
“I’ve got him, Maggie. Something smells wonderful. Did you do all this?”
“This? It was nothing. I had a little time on my hands so I…oh, who am I kidding. I was a nervous wreck last night, and when I get nervous, I bake. There’s three loaves of fresh bread in the basket over there, and a coffee cake in the fridge for tomorrow. Now grab a plate and sit down. Your friends were telling us about your adventures on the island. And what’s this I’m hearing about midnight marauders?”
I groaned and made my way to the table. “Morning guys,” I said, slumping into a chair. JP, Tommy and Stubbs looked up from stuffing their faces and basically grunted their greeting in return.
Tommy swallowed a large mouthful of something and wiped syrup off his chin with a finger, then licked it clean.
“He lives! Morning, Jackson. You look like shit,” he said. Maggie made a tsk-tsk sound from the kitchen sink. “Sorry, Maggie. Won’t happen again.” She smiled and resumed washing a pan.
“Gee, thanks, Tommy. Nice to see you, too,” I replied. “I’m sorry, guys. I sort of fell apart yesterday. It wasn’t anything to do with you, okay? I promise. I’m just dealing with a mountain of stuff and it all…I got in my head and more than a little overwhelmed. Sorry if I freaked you out.”
“Glad it’s nothing serious,” said Stubbs, reaching for more bacon.
Next to me, JP looked at me with his eyes like deep pools of worry.
I put a hand on his wrist for half a second. “I’m fine, JP. A bump on the head and I twisted my ankle. The swellings already down and I can walk on it just fine.”
He wasn’t buying it. He put his fork down carefully and wiped his mouth with a napkin. He looked hard into my eyes and said, “You are so full of shit, your eyes are turning brown.”
I leaned back, startled. He came at me, holding nothing back. “You’re honestly going to sit there and tell us nothing is wrong? That everything is just hunky dory? Bullshit. I saw you fall. I watched your head bounce down those stairs. We all watched you lay in that puddle and tell Sam to leave you and just go away. Sorry if it pisses you off and you never want to speak to me again, but I’m calling you out. You are not fine. You need some serious professional help. In case you’ve forgotten, I know the signs. Hell, I’m Exhibit A. You’re losing control. Now I dare you to tell me I’m wrong.”
I looked away, and the beginning of tears welled up. Crap. The very idea he could see through me made me feel weak and helpless. Was I that transparent?
“Jesus, JP, let up on the guy. He had a bad night. He’ll be fine,” said Tommy.
JP glared at him, then looked up at Sam standing next to me, a plate of food in his hand. They stared at each other, not speaking. Tension tightened around the table. The last thing I needed was for JP and Sam to get into it. From the look on JP’s face, he was not backing down anytime soon.
I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t pretend with him, of all people, now that I knew the rivers of emotional crap he’d had to wade through, with miles still to go. He had faced his demons head on, and came out on top. Maybe I could too.
“He’s not wrong,” I said softly. All motion stopped. Silence replaced the dissipating tension around the table. I didn’t know what they were thinking, but the last thing I could stand was more pity. Time to man up.
“Okay…the truth is, I’m kind of an emotional wreck at the moment,” I said.
Sam put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed. A look passed between Tommy and Sam, but Tommy just nodded.
Stubbs put down his fork and sat back. “How can we help?” His eyes were so sincere, my breath hitched. Did he really care that much?
I sighed. “Thank you, but I’ve agreed to start seeing someone as soon as I can get an appointment. The doctor said she’d be the best at helping me. We’ll see how it goes.”
“What about your work and this place and the island and all of…I don’t know…your empire or whatever it is?” asked Tommy.
“Dude, don’t make him feel worse than he already does,” said Sam.
Tommy put up two hands. “Sorry, I just…damn, this really sucks.” He sat back and looked sideways, uncomfortable with his emotions. Damn, he really cared, too. I knew Sam was important to them, but when did I become more than the plus one at the table?
“Guys, Jack will be fine. I’ve got him. He’ll do what he needs to do, and right now, what he needs is rest and relaxation and a little space to figure some stuff out. I’m gonna make sure he gets it.”
I’d forgotten Maggie was listening to this. She stood behind my chair, put a hand on my other shoulder and leaned into my ear.
“Me, too,” she said, then kissed the top of my head and walked back to the sink. I risked a quick look up at Sam’s face. He smiled at me. Yeah, I was gonna be okay.
Billy arrived with his best sedan, and Sam helped load all the guys’ bags into the trunk. I stood with Maggie at the front porch and watched. Somewhere out back Charles was cutting grass. I loved the smell of fresh cut grass on a summer day.
Stubbs approached and fist bumped me. “Thanks for a cool trip. Tell Mr. Napier any time he’s ready to fix up that pool, I’ve got a few ideas he might like.”
I laughed. “I will, I promise. Keep up the hard work. I’m sure you and Tommy are gonna do amazing things together.”
He nodded, winked at Maggie, and Tommy stepped up to give her a big hug.
“Thank you, Maggie, for taking such good care of this motley lot. I’ll eat at your table any day of the week,” he said. She kissed his cheek, beaming with pride. I smiled.
“Jackson.”
“Thomas.”
He grinned. “You surprised me. I thought I had you figured out, but I was wrong.” He moved closer and hugged me hard, then took one step back. “I’m still learning you, but one thing I do know. You’re stronger than you think you are. And there’s a hell of a lot of good in you. You’d have to be blind not to see it.”
I stiffened. He frowned and sighed and poked my chest with a bony finger. “Take the blinders off, man. All the money in the world can’t buy what you’ve got on the inside. What you’ve done for my boy over there? That’s all the proof I need. I owe you big for that.”
I swallowed around the huge lump in my throat. “Thank you,” I whispered. It came out like a croak.
He smiled. “You need to take care of yourself. You’re worth it, Jack. You hear me?”
“I will, I promise.”
“Cool. Okay, gotta a plane to catch. You guys come back to the islands when you can. I want to introduce you to my girl.”
“Planning on it. We’ll let you know.”
He hugged me a second time, then turned away.
“Bye, Tommy,” I whispered. Maggie touched my arm and turned her head to wipe away a tear.
JP came out of the house behind us carrying the last of his bags. He dropped them at his feet and launched himself around me. It was like hugging a big tree. And it felt good.
“Thank you for everything, Jack. And you know what I mean. Please keep me posted on your progress. Share what you can. Remember, when you get it out of the darkness, it loses all power. Do it afraid, right?”
I smiled. “Right. I will. You’ll let us know what you decide about St. Louis?”
“Yeah. I’ll talk it over with my folks. And my counselors. I want to make sure I have the right support network if I decide to make the move.”
“That’s smart. Say hello to Robbie when you see him. Anything we can do to help, you know to just call.”
“Same back at you. Maggie, you’re amazing. Thank you for taking such good care of us. My momma would be jealous, so I’m gonna keep you a secret.” His eyes twinkled with humor and Maggie blushed.
“You’re welcome. Go on now, behave yourself,” she said with a wave.
JP smiled at me, turned, and hopped down the steps. He hugged Sam for a long time and my heart broke, but in a good way. Maggie and I stood there futilely wiping at our tears until the car rolled away.
Sam watched the car disappear down the hill from where he still stood in the driveway. His shoulders slumped, and I moved quickly to his side, putting my arm around his waist.
“They’re good guys,” I said.
“The best.”
“Yeah, they really are.”
He turned to me and put his arms around my waist and kissed my nose.
“Thank you so much for this weekend. I didn’t know how much I needed it. It was over the top.”
I looked down, sad that I ruined it in the end. But he was not having it. Lifting my chin, he bore into my soul with his deep blue eyes.
“Don’t,” he whispered, kissing my forehead. “Oh, little man. You have no idea how perfect you are for me. But I’m gonna convince you, if it takes the rest of my life.”
I sighed and leaned in, my eyes closed against his chest. I listened to the beat of his heart, and my own settled a bit. I heard Maggie go back into the house and close the front door.
I drank in the cut grass and birds singing and the insects buzzing and the warm morning sun beating down on my back. I had a good life. Now if I could just figure out how to not mess it up.
“Let it go, little man.”
I sighed. He leaned back and smiled at me.
“Okay,” he said. “Birthday is over. Tell me what you need.”
I groaned. “Ugh. I need to call Margie and Todd and tell them I won’t be in today. And why, I suppose. And I better make that appointment with the psychologist or JP will organize a lynch mob and come after me.”
His grin widened.
“Sounds like a plan. You get one phone call to work,” he said, shaking a finger in my face playfully. “And no letting them talk you into going to the office or dumping work on you here. After that, operation Rest and Relaxation commences.”
He wiggled his eyebrows and I laughed.
“What does this big plan of yours entail?” I asked.
He leaned in and whispered in my ear.
Oh, yeah. His plan had real potential.