The Long Game, page 15
“I needed money,” Colton continued, voice barely a croak. “I needed food and a warm place to sleep and it was so fucking easy.” His voice cracked and more tears fell.
Jack put a tentative hand between Colton’s shoulder blades and Colton fell against Jack’s chest. He hid his face in Jack’s shirt, his breath hitching with a sob, and Jack pulled him in tight, staring at Grady over Colton’s head.
Jack felt cracked open with sympathy and grief, all the tender, vulnerable inside bits exposed to the air, defenseless. Colton’s tears soaked his shirt and the skin over Jack’s heart, where he’d indelibly marked his own journey to excise his demons. Jack wanted nothing more than to spare Colton the distance he’d had to travel to get to this point.
“I don’t belong here,” Colton said, voice muffled. “Maybe if I’d come this way sooner. Maybe if I’d—”
“No,” Grady said, hoarse but firm. “Please don’t say that.”
Jack couldn’t bear to see the agony in Grady’s eyes.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Jack said. “I don’t care if you don’t believe anything else we say, I want you to know that you didn’t do anything wrong.”
Colton shook his head.
“You did what you had to in order to be safe.”
“It’s a crime, isn’t it?” Colton asked.
Grady shook his head. “No. The people who—whoever paid you, they—”
“The johns,” Colton snapped, though he didn’t lift his head to glare at Grady. “The men who paid me to blow them are called johns.”
“The johns—they were wrong.” He held up a hand to stall whatever Colton was going to say. “Because they were adults, I assume, and you are not. But you did nothing wrong.”
Jack squeezed Grady’s hand, ashamed to feel relief. He hadn’t been sure Grady would see it that way. The law certainly didn’t.
“It was the same for me,” Jack said, capturing Grady’s startled gaze. He squeezed Colton tighter, clinging to him as hard as he was being clung to, and risked breaking his own heart to help this boy understand he wasn’t alone. “In prison. I didn’t have a lot of options, and there were guys who…who wanted to hurt me. Who did hurt me. So I did what I had to in order to be safe.”
Grady didn’t look away, even when the tears that had gathered at Colton’s confession finally spilled down Grady’s cheeks. Grady held Jack’s hand and listened in that way that made Jack feel seen.
“What do you mean?” Colton asked, his voice muffled against Jack’s chest.
“I found a protector,” Jack explained. “He was a powerful man and as long as I was with him, no one dared touch me. It was an exchange. Sex for protection.”
Grady’s thumb trailed over the back of Jack’s knuckles, the tiniest gesture Jack felt all the way down to his soul.
Colton sat up, pulling away from Jack, his eyes red and swollen, more bewildered than angry. “How is that the same?”
“You did it to be safe for a few nights, right?” Jack asked.
“Yes?” Colton agreed, confused.
“I traded sex for safety every day for six months.”
The words hung in the air around them like the toll of a bell on a cold, clear night.
Grady’s thumb gently brushed Jack’s skin, again and again, and the tiny, fierce light Jack had buried deep inside himself in that back room of the Brunswicker Ale House—strapped down beneath years of fear and reinforced by his absolute certainty that there were things he couldn’t have—broke free.
“So you’re okay with it?” Colton asked Jack.
“I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about it,” Jack admitted, picturing the ink hidden beneath his damp shirt, “and I am. It took me a while to figure out that wishing things had been different and I’d had other options wasn’t the same as regretting the choices I made. Because I made the best ones I could in that time and that place. I did what I had to.”
“Yeah, that’s…that’s how it felt. At the time.”
“And now?” Jack asked. “Did you do the best you could with the options you had?”
Colton hesitated, then nodded. “I think so.”
Jack pulled Colton against his chest again. “Then I’m sorry you didn’t have more options, but I’m not sorry you survived. And I’m glad you’re here with us now.”
“Me, too,” Grady added, rubbing his damp cheeks self-consciously. “I just want to give you more options, Colton. Hopefully, you’ll agree they’re better ones.”
“Okay,” Colton whispered.
Jack and Grady went still.
“Okay?” Grady asked carefully.
“Yeah,” Colton said with a small smile. “I’ll move into your super bro-y bachelor pad.”
A laugh escaped Jack before he buried his face in Colton’s hair.
“Oh, is that how it’s going to be?” Grady asked, his offended tone utterly belied by his grin.
“Yeah,” Colton said as he sat up, wiping his eyes. “I can even help you with your ice cream problem.”
“I don’t have an ice cream problem.”
“It’s sad you believe that,” Colton said, expression full of pity. He stood. “Ugh. I need to go splash water on my face or something.”
Grady pointed him in the right direction. As soon as Colton closed the door, Grady stood and pulled Jack to his feet.
Jack was afraid to look at him, afraid of what he’d see. He believed what he’d told Colton. He’d come to terms with his past. Hell, the lion’s share of the shame he’d once felt had been put on him by other people and a society and culture that vilified sex work at every turn.
He couldn’t stomach seeing any of that in Grady’s expression.
But Grady was pulling him in, folding his arms around Jack and holding him tight. Jack sagged against his chest, burying his face against Grady’s neck and letting out a breath he’d been holding for years.
Four years, to be exact.
Grady ducked his head and rubbed their cheeks together. “Spend the night?”
“Yes.”
12
They spent most of the day on the couch, talking about next steps, watching the game, and recovering from the morning’s revelations. Jack’s heart felt sore from their talk and for some reason he couldn’t shake a case of the nerves. He felt itchy. Sometimes—like when he looked at Grady—maybe even a little frantic. He wanted to curl into Grady and ask him to hold on, but also run out of that apartment and all the way back to his.
He didn’t do either.
He sat calmly and talked about lawyers—Grady had already left a message with the ones Callum had suggested—and custody agreements and all the careful steps they would take to ensure Colton’s transition to Grady’s home would be as aboveboard and ironclad as they could manage. Colton was, not unreasonably, worried he might get sent back to his parents.
Jack and Grady weren’t going to let that happen. No way in hell.
Unfortunately, the first step would mean Colton’s parents learning where he was and who he was with. Colton accepted that with an expression of grim determination, and even Grady looked bleak at the prospect.
Once the game ended, they took a walk that somehow, miraculously, brought them past the Dipsy Doodle Dangle Café. Colton ordered a drink that nine out of ten dentists did not recommend.
Jack ordered a decaf because the last thing his electrified brain needed was any additional charge. The walk helped settle him, but when Colton asked to go back to Pathways in the early evening, Jack practically leaped from the couch and offered to drive him.
Grady gave him a long, measured look, during which Jack realized they absolutely could have done this as a group activity. Then Grady nodded, his smile uncertain but his gaze warm.
“Sure. I’ll have dinner waiting when you get back.”
Colton sighed dreamily, like it was the most romantic thing he’d ever heard. “He sounds like he’s going to do backbreaking work over the stove for you, Jack, but in reality he’s got every restaurant in town on speed dial.”
“You’re welcome to stay for dinner,” Grady reminded him over Jack’s laughter.
“Nah. Have to get in some more shelter food before I move in to Casa de Delivery.”
Jack ushered Colton out the door, trusting Grady to get something he liked.
Colton was quiet on the drive and that was fine with Jack, since he had his own thoughts to sort out. He felt relief at being out of the apartment, and that didn’t make sense when he also wanted to hurry back and come up with a good reason to go to bed early.
Fuck, he was all mixed up.
His phone chimed as he was pulling into the lot at Pathways, but he ignored it until Colton was safely through the doors. Then he saw it was the group text he had with Garrick and his partners, Savannah Morrison and Rhian Savage.
Garrick: Meet your goddaughter. Fiona Heather Morrison. 8lbs 4 oz, 21” long.
Garrick: [pic001]
Garrick: Savannah is doing great. Dads are totally freaking out.
Rhian: Totally.
Jack grinned, enlarging the image of a tiny baby swaddled in a blanket, barely taking up space in Garrick’s huge hands.
Jack: Congratulations! She’s beautiful!
Garrick: Of course she is. She looks like her mother. You’re welcome any time. Room 421.
Savannah: Jack! I will PAY you to take these guys out for a drink or something. They’re BABY HOGS.
Garrick: We are not.
Rhian: We are.
Savannah: They are. Look.
Savannah: [pic247]
Jack saw the expressions on Garrick’s and Rhian’s faces as they stared down at their daughter and told himself he was not going to get teary-eyed.
Fuck, he totally was.
He saved the pictures and took a screenshot, sending the announcement to Grady.
Jack: Can we put off dinner for an hour or so? I want to bring the freaked-out parents some food and make sure they don’t need anything.
Grady: Awesome. Of course. Send my best.
Jack: Will do.
Switching back to the group, he thought about where he was relative to the hospital and the decision was easy.
Jack: House of Lau. You have 5 minutes to get your orders to me and I’ll be there in 20.
Savannah: Bless you, Jack.
Jack: Don’t thank me. I’m not taking those two off your hands.
Garrick: Hot date tonight?
Jack: No.
Jack thought about his answer for a moment before confessing.
Jack: Maybe?
Jack: I don’t know.
Jack tossed his phone in the cup holder and drove to House of Lau. He wasn’t sure what reaction his dithering texts would get, but after dead air for three minutes, there was an almost constant pinging of alerts for the rest of the drive.
With some trepidation, he picked up his phone and discovered a list of dishes as long as his arm, followed by one, somewhat ominous, note.
Garrick: We’ll talk when you get here.
Jack regretted all his choices. Well, except for adding an order of spring rolls to hold him over until he got home to Grady. That was pure genius.
* * *
Grady paced his apartment, restless and annoyed at himself for not being able to settle. It had been a long, draining day but he wasn’t going to be able to relax until Jack was back. He filled the time by making a list of questions to ask the lawyers and another list of what they’d likely need to know, including his work schedule for the next couple of weeks so they could arrange any in-person meetings. He also dropped a line to the company that owned the building. The first-floor apartment had been vacant and intermittently under construction for most of the last year, but he was pretty sure it was a larger unit. It was a long shot, but he liked the idea of staying in the old Victorian, close to town and his job and, for Colton, the Dipsy Doodle Dangle. Having Travis and Barnaby right upstairs didn’t hurt either.
The busy work helped him pretend he had a measure of control over the shitstorm to come and not think about the fact that pursuing custody of Colton meant some form of contact with his family, even if only through lawyers and the courts. He’d enjoyed living under the belief that they had no idea where he was and didn’t care to learn.
A thump through the ceiling made him pause on his thousandth loop around the apartment, then he was out the door and charging upstairs.
He pounded on Barnaby and Travis’s door. “Hey, guys! Got a second?”
Travis opened the door and arched an eyebrow at Grady. “You okay there, bud?”
“Sure,” Grady said, realizing too late that maybe he should have glanced in the mirror before leaving his place. He’d been running his hands through his hair nonstop for an hour and he felt slightly unhinged. Based on Travis’s expression, he looked it, too. “Can I come in?”
Travis stepped aside and Grady entered the apartment, pausing to kick off his shoes, and only then realizing he’d failed to put them on.
God, he was all over the place. The day had been…a lot. The week had been a lot.
Travis settled on the couch next to Barnaby, who had his laptop balanced on his legs and a raft of papers by his hip.
“Hi, Grady. How are you?” Barnaby asked with a smile.
Rather than sit in the overstuffed chair across from them, as any sensible person would do, Grady hovered, indecisive.
Why was he even up here?
Barnaby’s welcoming smile faded to a look of concern. Travis studied Grady curiously.
“I need to talk about feelings,” Grady blurted out.
Travis grimaced.
Barnaby sat up so fast he bobbled his laptop, barely dumping it onto the coffee table before it could hit the floor.
Grady understood both of these reactions to be signs of their unwavering support.
“You can tell us anything,” Barnaby assured him, a tad too enthusiastically. He, of course, had been trying to matchmake for months, though he’d managed to be subtle about it. Mostly.
“I have them,” Grady said.
Barnaby cocked his head. “You have…what, exactly?”
“Feelings.”
Grady grimaced.
Travis grimaced.
Barnaby frowned at Travis. “Why are you making that face?”
“Because feelings,” Travis explained.
“You have feelings all the time,” Barnaby pointed out. “And you tell me your feelings quite frequently.”
“That’s different.”
“How so?” Barnaby asked.
“We’re naked together.”
Grady nodded. Because Travis got it. That was a big difference.
Barnaby, however, looked at Travis like he’d lost his mind. “We are not always naked when you tell me what you’re feeling.”
“I mean we’re naked together as, like, a rule. We’re people who get naked together. As often as possible even,” he added with a half-hearted leer.
“And that means you don’t make a face like you’ve smelt something dreadful when you talk to me about feelings,” Barnaby concluded, more than a hint of question in his statement.
“Exactly,” Travis said.
Barnaby blinked at his boyfriend, then at Grady—who nodded his agreement—then looked toward the ceiling as if asking the heavens to give him strength.
“Okay,” Barnaby said, drawing the word out, “we’ll touch back on that…um…theory later. For now, let’s focus on Grady’s feelings, even if he’s not our naked person.”
Grady grimaced again. Because feelings. And because he didn’t want Barnaby to talk about him being their naked person, even in the negative.
“Good idea,” Travis agreed, and Grady could see he was trying not to laugh. Asshole.
Barnaby eyed Grady. “At the risk of overstepping…”
Grady sighed. “Go ahead.”
“This isn’t new, is it? The feelings?”
Grady sighed again, louder. “No, it’s not. But I thought I had it figured out. I thought I knew where I stood, but now…”
“You have more feelings?” Barnaby suggested.
“Yes! Actually, no. I have the same feelings I’ve had for a long time. Like, literal years. But I was going out on dates, damn it. I was moving on. I was going to get over it—oh, hell, who am I kidding? I wasn’t going to stop feeling the feelings I’m feeling, but I was going to see if I could convince my stupid heart that I could have feelings for someone else at the same time. The feelings I’ve been feeling were never going to mean anything because I was the only one feeling them.”
Travis and Barnaby blinked up at him.
“I’m an idiot,” Grady summarized.
“No, you’re not,” Barnaby said loyally.
“This whole unrequited thing is the worst idea I ever had.”
“Did you have a choice?” Travis asked.
“No,” Grady allowed. “Hell, I never had any choice once I met him. Then I got to know him and…” He waved his hand uselessly.
“…there was more pining than an old-growth forest in harvest season?” Travis suggested.
Grady’s laugh sounded suspiciously like a sob. “Fuck me.”
“No, thank you,” Travis answered.
Grady glared at his unhelpful friend.
“Yes, well,” Barnaby said crisply, like his boyfriend wasn’t being a pain in the ass, “I think it’s lovely that you have feelings.”
Grady glared at him, too. “It doesn’t feel lovely from where I’m sitting.”
“Perhaps that’s because you haven’t shared these feelings,” Barnaby suggested.
“I’m telling you about them right now.”
Barnaby looked thoroughly unimpressed. “Yes, but since we’re not your naked people, perhaps we aren’t the right people to share them with.”
“I already regret that explanation,” Travis muttered.
Grady shook his head. “I can’t.”
“You can’t what?” Barnaby asked.
“Share my feelings. It would make him uncomfortable and I never want to do that. What if he started avoiding me? What if he didn’t feel”—Grady swallowed to moisten his suddenly dry throat—“safe with me anymore?”
