Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

brONX

Monty was at the counter stirring coffee when Bronx found him, and he smiled softly, pushing an empty mug toward the edge of the counter. Bronx softened all over and leaned in for a kiss.

"Mm. Minty. Did you use my toothbrush?"

Bronx grimaced. "No. I wouldn't use another man's toothbrush."

Monty snorted. "But you'll put your tongue in his ass?"

"I—that's a fair point," he conceded. He was going to argue about sharing bacteria, but he'd also plundered Monty's mouth pretty thoroughly too. And Monty had even let him kiss him after, so yeah. He had nothing in his corner. "You're a good lawyer."

Monty burst into soft laughter as Bronx helped himself to the pot of coffee. "You're easily impressed, mon coeur."

"That means?"

Monty tugged him close by the loops on his pants and went onto his toes to kiss him. "My heart. Not…not that I'm implying—it's just a term of endearment. I don't—" he fumbled .

"It's okay. I told your dad and his wife that I was your boyfriend after they burst in here while we were going at it. You've earned a little pet name, sparky."

Monty flushed, and Bronx kissed the pink on his cheeks before taking a sip of his coffee. It was nice—warm and not too bitter. He smiled and leaned back, letting himself feel the simple joy of having Monty standing so close he could feel the heat of his body.

"So," Monty said after a long beat, "may I ask a question?"

"You can ask anything you want."

Monty ducked his head a little shyly. "If I were to…not tell my father immediately that this thing between us isn't what he thinks it is…"

Bronx reached out and lifted Monty's face by the chin. "Is he homophobic?"

Monty shrugged. "A little. I think he'll be more irritated that I'm dating a man closer to his age."

"So he's a giant hypocrite," Bronx said.

Monty blew out a puff of air and shrugged. "Yes. He's a hypocrite, and he's unkind. He and my siblings don't like me very much."

"Will keeping up this story make your life easier or harder?"

Monty scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Nothing I say or do will make them harder on me than they already are. And I can't think of a way to make them kinder to me. But maybe…" He bit his lip and glanced away for a moment. "Maybe having you with me will make it easier to bear when I'm around them."

Bronx couldn't ignore the fact that this was exactly what happened to Dallas—mostly. Though his brother had gone a bit deeper and, at the time, hadn't realized he was attracted to Kylen. But it had led to his epic love story, and that both terrified and thrilled Bronx in equal measure.

He also didn't know if Monty was aware that Kylen and Dallas had started the same way. If he did, he hadn't drawn the same conclusion, so maybe it was better to let sleeping dogs lie.

"Come to my house for dinner this week."

Monty choked on his swallow of coffee. "I'm sorry?"

"Not like… shit , not as like a requirement for me to act like your boyfriend," Bronx said in a rush. "But if we're going to do this, I want you to meet Lucas so he has some idea about what's going on. I've kept a lot from him recently, and if he gets asked an uncomfortable question, I want him to know what it's about."

Monty softened. "Yes, okay. I'd like to meet him before the flying lesson anyway."

"Right. The fucking flying lesson where you're taking my one and only son a billion miles into the air in a rickety old plane."

Monty took Bronx's cup away from him, setting it on the counter, and then he kissed him long and slow. "No, mon petit chou. I'm taking him about six miles into the air in a very expensive, very well-maintained plane that your brother-in-law pilots for me all the time. I would never put him in danger. Never."

Bronx closed his eyes and knocked their foreheads together. "What does mumpty shoe mean?"

Monty laughed. "My little cabbage. It's a good thing. Trust me."

Bronx opened his eyes and met Monty's gaze. He took a beat, and then he smiled. "I do."

"Petit chou," Bronx said aloud.

Lucas turned his head to the side. "Are you speaking French?"

Bronx flushed and closed his laptop. "How do you know that?"

"I took it for my language last year," Lucas said, fiddling with his braille Rubix cube. He'd never solved it, but it had become one of his favorite stim toys when he was at home. He twisted the squares, making them click. "Who's your little cabbage?"

Bronx flushed harder. "Uh. No one. I just heard the term, and I was curious about it. Anyway, how was work?"

"Smooth," Lucas said dryly. He reached forward and felt for the table, sliding the cube next to his empty glass, then sat back and rested his arms behind his head. "And it was good. It was…I don't know. Weird, I guess. I mean, I've never had a job, so I was nervous as hell, but Marc was really cool."

Bronx stiffened. "Lane wasn't training you?"

"Uh, no? He's the owner. I don't think he trains line cooks. Marc's basically his right-hand man, and he was super cool about everything. He's going to be running the food truck, so Lane wanted to see how well we worked together."

Right. Bronx had known that…hadn't he? God, his head was such a mess. "So you liked him."

"Mhm. Yep." Lucas stood up and walked over to the kitchen table, setting his hands down and leaning toward Bronx. "You're being weird. What are you hiding."

"Jesus, it's like you have ESP."

"No. I just know when my boring dad, who should be stressed about his new business, is being weird about something else. You have a boyfriend, don't you? "

Bronx choked, which he knew immediately gave him away, and he slapped a hand over his face. "He's not a boyfriend. He's a friend."

Lucas stood upright and lifted both hands into the air. "And who is this ‘friend'?" he demanded.

"Oh, for fuh—uh, heck's sake, who showed you air quotes?"

"Gage," Lucas said with a shit-eating grin. "And don't dodge the question, young man. Who is he?"

Bronx didn't want to say. Not now. Not yet. It felt strange talking to his son about this stuff. Realistically, he knew that one day, he and Lucas would have a relationship that resembled friends more than father and son. That was just how aging worked. And hell, he was looking forward to it. Just…not so soon.

It also didn't help that he'd tried to keep Lucas away from all his personal drama, but that had cut Lucas off from him so much he almost felt like a stranger. So maybe it was time to share.

"You know the guy who offered to let you use his plane for flying lessons?"

Lucas's face lit up. "The hot French guy?"

"You…don't…I…" Bronx flopped forward, dropping his face to the table, and groaned. "Please don't call him hot."

"Why? Because you like him?" Lucas crooned.

Bronx turned his head to the side so he could look at his son. "Truthfully, I don't know what I'm feeling. Or what I'm allowed to feel. After your dad, I just…" He swallowed heavily. "It's a lot. I never thought I'd have to start over like this."

Luke felt for a chair, pulling it out softly, and he sat. His fingers crept over the table until he found Bronx' s hand, and he squeezed it. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be a buttface."

Bronx snorted and lifted up on his forearm. "You're not being a buttface. I just didn't want to burden you with all this adult crap I'm dealing with. You have enough on your plate. I know I made a mess of things before, and I want to make it right."

Lucas sighed. "Can I meet him? I mean, I know I'm going to meet him when Kylen takes me up, but?—"

"No, yeah. I already invited him to dinner this week," Bronx confessed. "Things got a little complicated last night, and we figured I should talk to you before you meet him for the lesson."

Lucas worried his lower lip between his teeth. "You like him though, right?"

"A lot."

"But you're not dating."

Bronx bowed his head. "No."

"Is this because of him ?" His tone told Bronx exactly who Lucas meant.

"Your dad?"

Lucas grunted. "Jules. Yeah. Him ." He clenched his fists on top of the table and began to rock gently back and forth. "I hate him. I hate that he's still fucking up your chance at being happy all because he sucks."

"Language," Bronx said weakly, knowing full well Lucas was going to ignore him. "And this isn't about him. Not really. Monty's young, Luke. He's really good-looking and a lot of fun, and I'm…not."

"Dad—"

"You know I'm not. I've been the annoying, overprotective stick in the mud for all your life. Before Dad?—"

" Jules ! "

"Before he left," which was as far as Bronx was willing to concede just yet, "you and I were barely speaking."

Lucas went quiet for a long moment. He reached up, rubbing at his eyelids, which knocked one of his prosthetics sideways until it righted itself after a few blinks. "I thought I was in the way back then. I'm not saying you made me feel that way or anything, but you never talked to me. I could feel the tension at home. It was obvious that Jules never wanted anything to do with me. I mean, I figured that out before I went to boarding school," Lucas added with a small scoff.

Bronx's heart twisted in his chest. He'd fucked up so badly. How could he ever make this right?

"Part of me wanted to be out of the way so maybe you two could be happy. But then I'd come home, and there was just…silence, and I could tell it was like that for you while I was gone. He didn't talk to me. You didn't talk to me. You didn't talk to each other. It felt like I was being sacrificed for nothing."

"You were not being sacrificed. Fuck. I thought—Christ, I was given the worst advice with you. I sent you there because they said you deserved to be in a place that could accommodate you. Not because I didn't want you around."

Lucas laughed quietly and shrugged. "I know. And I mean, yeah, they don't always get it right at the blind school because more than half the staff are just well-meaning sighted people or whatever. But I know you were trying. I know you wanted me to have a good life that wasn't super hard. And I know all the choices you had to make for me weren't easy. God dropping a totally blind autistic kid in your lap was a pretty fun joke, I guess."

Bronx huffed and reached for his son's hand, squeezing his fingers. "You're not a joke , Lucas. You' re a gift ."

"Well, I hope you know there are no returns or refunds," Lucas said with a grin. He pulled his hand back and rubbed the back of his head before dragging his fingertips along his jeans. That was one of his more relaxed stims, which let Bronx unwind a bit, knowing his son wasn't being emotionally tortured by all of this. "I just hope you're not holding yourself back because of some fucked-up idea that Jules put in your head about who you are and what you deserve."

That wasn't it. Not really. Not entirely .

Jules had done a number on his self-esteem, but Bronx had meant what he said to Lucas moments before. Monty was a good-looking, kind, wonderful man who deserved more than some washed-up, middle-aged mess.

"Look, I think—" Bronx's words were cut off by his phone buzzing, and he looked down to see Adele's name on the screen. "Hang on. Adele's calling me."

"Ooh. Ask if Gage is there. He wanted me to come by to check out the Civilization board he put together."

"Give me a sec." Bronx stood up and walked into the kitchen with his phone pressed between his ear and his shoulder. "Hey. Everything good?"

"Not bad. I have a favor though. Most of the guys are busy, and I'm killing myself trying to put together this IKEA bed. Could you come by and help? I'll pay in tamales that my brother just stress steamed and dumped in my freezer."

"I'll do it for free," Bronx said.

"Ask him!" Lucas hissed.

Bronx rolled his eyes. "Lucas wants to know if Gage is around. Something about a?—"

"Civilization board?" Adele guessed. "Yeah. He's been up my ass about getting you to drive him over. He'll be back from rehearsals in about twenty minutes. We could probably use the extra hands. Dinner's on me. It doesn't have to be tamales."

"You don't have to bribe me. Count us in."

"Fuck yeah," Lucas said.

Bronx turned and sighed. "Language. Now, go get your shoes." He hung up with Adele and realized in that moment his life was full. It wasn't totally settled, but he had his son, who was talking to him again, his brother who was close by, a new little family growing of strangers who were quickly becoming brothers, and someone who he couldn't quite define yet, but he had a feeling that Monty was meant for more than just ships passing in the night.

Who knew a divorce that had rocked his world would suddenly lead to this?

On the deck, Bronx could hear Gage and Lucas talking excitedly about their game. The window was open per Adele's rules—he was convinced that if he was going to catch his kid smoking weed, that was the way to do it. Bronx didn't have the heart to tell him that teenagers would be more clever than that.

He wanted to let the man live in his fantasy.

Besides, Gage was a good kid, so even if he was indulging from time to time, he wasn't one Bronx would have worried about. In fact, he was beyond grateful that they'd ended up somewhere his son could have friends like him.

The door slid open, and Adele walked out, handing Bronx his water as he sat with a beer in his hands. The evening was quiet—crickets chirping in the distance, and along the fence, there were the last winking fireflies of the season.

"Thanks for the help," Adele said after taking a few sips. "I have an agreement with Gage that I don't ask him for help with IKEA stuff after our last desk disaster."

"Do I want to know?" Bronx wondered.

Adele snorted a laugh. "Please don't make me relive that trauma."

Chuckling, Bronx shook his head as he sipped on his water. "Don't worry about it. That's what friends are for, right?"

Adele grinned. "I'm glad you see us as friends finally."

Had he been so distant from them? Yeah, he had been, and it was clear he'd been obvious about it. "I know I'm not as much of a golden retriever as my brother is, but I promise I like y'all. A lot. And I can't tell you what it means that you've taken me and Luke in."

"Aw. He's such a cool kid. And it's nice to have someone around who gets it, you know?" Adele sat back and scratched at the back of his freshly shorn undercut. "I love these guys a ton, but their kids are still babies. They don't know what it's like to be emotionally devastated by a single word of teenage judgment."

Bronx burst into laughter. "Yeah. There's no greater pain than having your sense of style, music, and general humor summed up in a single, bruh ."

Adele grinned down at his hands as he twisted his beer bottle between his fingers. "Mind if I ask you something?"

"Shoot, though if you're looking for sage wisdom, I don't have any. My relationship with Luke before we moved was rocky as hell."

Adele smiled softly and shook his head. "Nah. It's just…well, are you dating anyone right now? "

Bronx felt a well of panic. Was Adele asking because he was interested? Bronx and Monty weren't a thing, but they weren't not a thing either. He'd meant what he said about not being interested in dating other people.

"Relax," Adele said, reading his face. "I think you and Dallas are both hotter than the sun, but y'all are not my type."

"Ouch."

Adele laughed. "Not like that. It's just…aww, hell, I've been in love with someone nearly half my life, and he doesn't know."

"Not your ex," Bronx asked. He didn't know much about Adele's situation, and he didn't feel right asking.

Adele scoffed and pinched the bridge of his nose as he sat back. "God, no. But it was probably one of the reasons she was comfortable walking away. She never did like that I was bi. She was convinced I was gonna cheat on her."

"Did you?"

Adele winced and shook his head. "No. I can't say I wouldn't have ended things with her if he ever showed the slightest interest in me though. But he and I—we've been best friends since we were kids, and he's never shown interest in me, so it is what it is."

It dawned on Bronx what Adele was talking about. He leaned over the table. "The room you're setting up is for him, isn't it? Your friend that's moving back?"

Adele bit his lower lip and nodded. He let out a long rush of air, then set his beer down and scrubbed his palms over his face. "Yeah, Kash. I can't wait to have him here. We've been living apart for so damn long. He and I practically raised my little brother, and then our lives just…"

"Separated?" Bronx asked.

Adele nodded. "You have someone like that? "

If only. But he'd been kind of a loner at school. Jules was the first person to pay any real attention to him, and he knew deep down the reason he'd gotten so attached right away was the fact that he was starved for affection.

"No, but I can understand it. I'm glad he's coming home."

"I am too. Well, I want to be, but something's off with him. He hasn't told me, but he had to leave his job as a firefighter. He's got an interview here working at a desk, but I know the idea makes him miserable." Adele scratched at his jaw in thought. "Am I pushy?"

Bronx blinked at him. "Pushy?"

"Like, do I come across as some pushy asshole? I just can't think of any reason why he wouldn't tell me."

"Maybe it's bad enough he wants to wait until he's face-to-face," Bronx suggested. "When Jules and I split, I couldn't tell Dallas over the phone. It was too much."

Adele blew out a puff of air. "That's what I think, and I hate it. Would, ah…would you be interested in meeting him? I wanted to have a little gathering, and I know you're iffy about big group stuff, but?—"

"I'd love to." Bronx didn't know how to tell him that he was flattered about being included. That it mattered that Adele wanted him there. It made him feel pathetic. "Just let me know when, and if you want me to bring anything, I can. As long as it doesn't involve elaborate cooking."

Adele laughed. "From what I hear, we can leave that to your son."