Flare, page 17
“I can’t either,” she says, “but Brock, this is new. It’s exciting. What if it doesn’t…”
“What if it doesn’t work?”
She sniffles a bit. “What if it doesn’t last, Brock?”
I step backward. Surely she can’t be thinking…
“Oh God, that look on your face.” She touches my cheek. “I don’t mean it that way. I love you. I love you so damned much. I can’t imagine ever not loving you either. But…with everything else that’s going on, Brock. For all I know, Pat Lamone has already sold my pictures to some sleazy social media outlet.”
“Then I’ll kill him,” I say, totally meaning it.
“You have your own issues.”
“Your issues are my issues, Rory. Don’t you see? You’re mine. I’m yours. It’s a package deal. All of the good with all of the bad.”
“I get that, it’s just…”
It dawns on me then.
What I’m going through is bigger—much bigger—than the high school drama she’s going through.
“You don’t want to be saddled with all my issues. Do you?”
She bites her bottom lip.
“Just say it. Rory.”
“It’s not that. Your problems don’t scare me. It’s just… I have no way of helping you, Brock. I live paycheck to paycheck teaching music to kids. My family lost almost everything in that fire. My dad is working at the hardware store to help make ends meet.”
“I can help your family.”
“That’s not what I’m saying. I wish I could just drop everything and be there for you.”
“Rory, I’m not asking you to drop everything and be here for me. I’m asking you to be a part of my life. To share everything, the good and the bad. I could help your family if you’ll let me.”
She shakes her head vehemently. “My family will never accept.”
“Maybe they will. If not from me, maybe they’ll accept it from Donny. He’s marrying Callie.”
“You heard my father at dinner. He’s too proud.”
For the love of… A sliver of anger wells in me. Why won’t they let me help?
“There’s pride,” I say, “and then there’s stupidity.”
I clamp my mouth shut.
Rory reddens.
This time I went too far, and I instantly regret it.
Chapter Thirty-One
Rory
No, he did not.
Brock Steel did not just call my father stupid.
My father, who is the proudest man on the planet. My father, who accepted me without question when I came out to him. My father, who I knew would always accept a man or a woman in my life, unlike my mother, who only gives lip service to it.
I curl my hands into fists, turn, and walk out of Brock’s bedroom.
Only to be yanked back in.
“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry.”
“Save it.” I tear my arm away from him.
“I didn’t mean that. I just…” He rakes his fingers through his hair. “I like your father. I respect him. I don’t for a minute think he’s stupid. I just want so much to help you, and helping your family helps you. I want to take care of you. Do everything for you.”
“But don’t you see? I can’t have you do everything for me. Or for my family. We need to stand on our own feet, Brock.”
“But I have—”
“Don’t. Just don’t. Yes, you have everything. Everything material, anyway. You never have to worry about money. You never have to worry about how the bills will get paid. Or about whether you’ll eat steak or hamburger for dinner. You don’t have to worry.”
“I know. I have enough for five lifetimes, and I want to share it with you. With your family.”
“I’m not ready.”
“Rory…” He gazes at my abdomen, which I’m absently stroking. “What if…”
“What if, indeed? Let’s find out. There are tests now that can determine HCG levels within five days before a woman misses her period. We could find out now, Brock.”
“Fine.” He finishes dressing quickly. “But we’re not relying on any drugstore test. We’re going into the city. You can see a real doctor.”
“I have lessons. I just took time off to go gallivanting around London with you and—”
“Gallivanting around London? Is that what you think that was?” He shakes his head as he pulls on his boots. “Gallivanting. I can’t believe you just said that.”
I’m blowing this.
I’m blowing this so badly, and I don’t want to. Seems we’re both saying things we shouldn’t.
“I didn’t mean it that way,” I say.
“Exactly how did you mean it, then? We went to London to get information from a man—an elderly man who is important to my family. An elderly man who lost the one love of his life when he was a young man—the love of his life who was probably killed because of my family.”
“I know, baby. I’m so sorry.”
“Just get out of here, Rory.”
“But…”
“Please. Just go.”
God. What have I done? He called my father stupid, and I lashed out. I just lashed out. I loved my time in London with him, and I loved meeting Ennis Ainsley and helping Brock deal with his family problems.
And now? I’m screwing this up. Big time.
I reach toward him, wanting to feel his soft flesh against my fingertips, but he brushes my hand away.
“I need to cool off.”
“Are you… Are we…?”
“Over?” he says. “Is that what you want to know?”
I gulp. “Yes. That’s what I want to know.”
“If we are, it’s your choice. Not mine.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I love you, Rory, that I was serious when I asked you to move in with me. I was even serious when I asked you to marry me. I was serious when I said we should go into the city to find out if you’re pregnant. I was serious about all of that. About sharing your life. About sharing your fucking problems. And about you sharing mine.”
“Brock—”
“If we’re over, it’s your decision, not mine. But for the moment? I need to cool off. And I need you out of my sight.”
I chew on my lower lip. I want so badly to touch him.
I screwed this up. But so did he. I open my mouth to say as much, but he shakes his head.
“Please. Don’t.”
Please. He said please.
And I do have a weakness for him saying please.
I nod then, turn, and leave.
Once my lessons are done for the day, it’s slightly after three p.m. I don’t dare go buy a pregnancy test at the local pharmacy, so I get in my car and drive to Grand Junction.
I’m in line at the pharmacy, ready to buy a pregnancy test that claims it can detect pregnancy within five days of the due date of your period, when I change my mind. I take it back to the shelf and replace it.
I get back in my car and drive, not sure where I’m going, until I end up at the Western Slope Family Planning clinic.
I sit in my car. Inside is Davey. And pregnancy tests. What the hell am I doing?
But I’m here now.
They have pregnancy tests here, I’m sure. Plus…I want to talk to Davey. I leave my car and enter the clinic.
“May I help you?” the receptionist asks.
“Is Davey here today?”
“She’s with someone at the moment. Did you have an appointment?”
“No. I… I saw her a while ago, and our meeting didn’t end all that well.”
“Did the two of you have a problem? We could assign you to another counselor.”
“No, Davey was lovely. I know I should have called to make an appointment, but…”
“But what?”
“I really just need to get a pregnancy test,” I say.
“Oh, of course. Were you inseminated here?”
“No…” I look over my shoulder at the few women who are sitting in the waiting room. “I’m so sorry. This was a big mistake.”
“Would you like me to leave a message for Davey?”
“No, it’s fine. I’m sorry to have troubled you.” I turn to walk out the door.
“Rory?”
I turn back at my name.
Davey stands there, having just come out from the back. She looks as pretty as ever, wearing her white lab coat, which is in stark contrast to her dark skin. Her hair is different than the last time I saw her. It’s slicked back into a tight bun, which accentuates the fine lines of her face.
“Oh, Davey,” the receptionist says. “This young lady was just looking for you.”
Here goes nothing. I smile…or attempt to. “Good afternoon, Davey.”
“Is everything all right?”
“Yes, fine. I was just wondering if you and I could talk for a moment.”
“I have about fifteen minutes before my next appointment,” she says, “so you’re in luck. Come on back.”
I follow Davey back to her office, where I met with her previously.
“Okay,” she says. “What can I help you with today?”
“Do you mind if I sit?”
“Not at all.”
I take the same chair I sat in during our heated appointment. “First, I need to be honest with you. I’ve decided to give the other relationship a go.”
“You didn’t have to come all the way here to tell me that, Rory. You made yourself very clear on the phone, and there are certainly no hard feelings on my end.”
“I know that. I didn’t think there would be. If it weren’t for this other relationship, I really would be interested in dating you.”
“I understand. What brought you in, then?”
I chew on my bottom lip. “I think I might be pregnant.”
Davey smiles. “Did you end up going to another sperm bank?”
“No. The relationship I’m in, as I told you, is with a man, and…well… We got a little overeager one time—”
“I see. So you’re not on the pill, obviously, or you wouldn’t have come to a sperm bank. What do you normally use?”
“A condom. But we forgot it. And that’s not the worst part.”
“What’s the worst part?”
“I was ovulating at the time. I took one of those tests.”
“I see.” Davey nods. “I’ve been where you are.”
“But you didn’t end up pregnant.”
“No. But why would you assume that?”
“Because the last time I was in here, you told me you were inseminated here.”
“Right. I did.” She smiles and shakes her head. “I don’t tell that to all my clients. I felt a connection with you right away.”
“I felt it too. But believe me, I’m in love with this man. And I want a baby so badly. You were right last time. I haven’t thought this through. But now it might be happening.”
“So you’ve missed your period, then?”
“Technically not yet. It’s due in four or five days, give or take a little. But I’ve heard there are tests now that can…”
“Yes. The newest tests can detect pregnancy hormone up to six days before a missed period, so you’re well within the time frame. We have them here. I’ll be happy to give you one.”
“Davey? You’re a lifesaver.”
“You know you can get those tests at the drugstore, right?”
“Yeah, I know. I just wanted to talk to someone.”
“You can talk to me anytime. Just because we’re not going to date doesn’t mean we can’t be friends.”
“Thank you for being so understanding about this. I mean, I just barged into your day.”
“You’re lucky that I happen to be free”—she looks at her watch—“for about five more minutes. The test doesn’t take long. Wait here.”
I wait, sitting on the edge of my chair, while Davey leaves and then returns about thirty seconds later with the pregnancy test.
“The bathroom’s right around the corner.” She shows me as she hands me the test. “You know the drill. Pee on the stick and wait sixty seconds.”
“And if it’s positive…?”
“Then you need to talk to your boyfriend, but I can give you a referral to the best ob-gyns here in Grand Junction.”
“I’d appreciate that. And Davey?”
“Yes?”
“Thanks.”
“You’re very welcome.”
“I’ll be back,” I say. “Hopefully before your appointment gets here.”
I take the test, head through the door that Davey motions to, secure the lock, and sit on the toilet. Only to have stage fright.
“Really?” I say out loud. I get up, go to the sink, and turn on the faucet.
Yep, works every time.
Once the stick is sufficiently wet, I set the timer on my phone for one minute.
The longest minute ever.
Clocks seem to slow down to a crawl when you’re on edge, and I’m definitely on edge.
The seconds draw out, one by one, until—
The timer buzzes.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Brock
I work outside all day.
I should be in the actual office building helping my father, helping Uncle Bryce. I love them both, and I’d take a bullet for either of them, but I don’t want to see them today.
So I work outside. I do hard labor. Whenever something’s bugging me, this is where I end up—interacting with the land, the livestock.
I’m superfluous out here, of course. We have enough hired men and women to take care of everything, but still… Nothing takes the edge off like good old hard work—another lesson from the man who fathered me. The man I’m avoiding.
After six hours of hauling grain and tending to animals, I’m still tense, so I take off early in the afternoon. I shower, and then I walk the pathway between my guesthouse and my parents’ home. I head to the pool house, change into my trunks, and then execute a perfect dive into my father’s lap pool. He’s not home, of course. He’s at work, conversing with Uncle Bryce about God knows what.
Probably more secrets he can keep from the rest of us.
I cut through the water like a great white, my strokes in perfect form.
I swim and I swim and I swim. I lose count of how many laps I’ve done, and I keep going, keep going, keep going…
Until—
“Brock!”
My mother. My mother’s voice.
I come to the edge of the pool and bring my head out of the water. “Yeah? What is it, Mom?”
“What are you doing here?” She sits down at one of the tables by the pool, wearing a fleece jacket and jeans.
It’s an early November day, a little brisk at around fifty-five degrees. But my parents’ pool is heated, and I feel fine.
Mom rises, walks into the pool house, and returns with a large towel. She hands it to me. “This is heated. Wrap it around yourself. Then go change and come talk to me.”
My mother is a professional talker.
She’s a medical doctor—a psychiatrist who specializes in childhood trauma.
I didn’t have any childhood trauma.
I had an idyllic childhood, unlike my cousins Dale and Donny.
I take the towel, go back to the pool house, and change back into my clothes.
When I return, Mom has lit the gas-powered fire pit.
“Sit,” she says. “Patrice is bringing some water. I want you to drink up.”
That’s Mom, always taking care of everyone. She knows how dehydrated I get when I go crazy swimming laps like that.
“You’re a dead ringer for your father right now, Brock,” she says. “So many times I’d find him out here, swimming until his muscles could no longer move. But you can’t swim your troubles away, son.”
“I can sure as hell try.”
Mom smiles, and Patrice walks over with the waters.
“Thank you, Patrice,” Mom says. Then to me, “Drink up.”
I down an entire glass of water flavored with lemon, and then Mom pours me another, nodding.
“This one too.”
“Making my bladder burst isn’t going to help anything,” I say.
“Two of these glasses is twenty-four ounces altogether, so nothing is going to burst your bladder, Brock. Trust me. I’m a doctor.”
“A head doctor.”
“I went to medical school, and I did all my rotations. I know basic anatomy, and I know how the bladder works. So do you, for that matter, so stop arguing with me.”
She’s right, of course. I’m not sure why I’m arguing. I down a second glass of water. The tartness of the lemon helps quench my thirst.
“All right,” Mom says. “Spill it.”
Spill what? There are so many things to spill. How much does my mother even know?
“Why has Dad kept so much from me?”
“It wasn’t my idea,” Mom says. “I got outvoted.”
I jerk backward in my chair. “You got outvoted? The one who knows the most about children and their minds? Their psyches? You wanted to tell us the truth?”
“Maybe not the whole truth, but some of it.”
“But they voted against you? The one person who understands children better than any of them?”
“You’re repeating yourself. Yes, they did, and they had their reasons.”
“Which were…?”
“They made some good points. Dale and Donny had just come into the family, and you know what they’ve been through. Your father and the others wanted to make things as normal as possible for those two boys, and that meant not dredging up all the things that had just occurred in our family. Plus Brad was a newborn, and so was Diana. Aunt Ruby had just gotten pregnant with Ava. We had all these innocent souls coming into the world, and we didn’t want to poison them.”
“But still… You disagreed.”
“I did.” She sighs. “Burying the truth is never a good idea. There’s no healing that way.”
“But we didn’t have to heal.”
“No, you didn’t. But Dale and Donny did.”
“Yet here I am, a grown man, and now I have to deal with all this. Why wasn’t anyone watching?”
