Chapter 15

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JOHN

JOHN KNEW what the call was about even before he pulled his phone out of his pocket. It hit him all at once, right at the first vibration: the realization that he'd been expecting this—braced for it, even—deep down in his bones.

He barely registered Morgan's name on the screen before he answered.

"Hello?"

" John? " Morgan replied, his voice just audible over some shouting in the background. " I'm so sorry to bother you at work, but– " Morgan broke off as another shout sounded over the line, followed by a crash. " Adam– "

John flew out of his office. "I'm on my way," he told Morgan. "Do not let anyone call the cops on him." He ended the call without waiting for a reply. John jumped into his truck, fired it up, and raced into town.

When he finally reached the coffee shop, he had to park almost two blocks away, the Friday crowds taking up all the spaces. John sprinted down the sidewalk and flung open the door, pausing only for a second to look around. A few customers sat at the tables, muttering to one another and eyeing the back of the shop.

John spotted Morgan behind the counter. The boy pointed, which was all the permission John needed. He raced behind the counter and ducked into the back rooms.

He almost ran right into a middle-aged man whose hair stuck out wildly, like the man had been pulling at it in frustration. The man saw him and held up a hand. "I'm sorry, sir. You can't be back–"

"Where's Adam?" John demanded.

The man blinked. "Oh. He's locked himself in the employee bathroom. Are you his…?"

"Boyfriend," John bit off, for once in his life not even caring what anyone thought. All that mattered was getting to his boy.

"Ah." The man winced. "I'm afraid I'll have to fire him for this. I was about to call the cops when he looked like he might get violent, but Morgan insisted–"

"Yeah, thanks," John muttered, pushing past the man. He didn't have time for chatter. John strode right up to the bathroom, cringing at the sound of gut-wrenching sobs within. John banged his fist on the door. "Adam? It's me. Open the door."

" J –" Adam sobbed again. " John? "

"Yeah, baby," John said, softening his voice. "Open up, and I'll take you home."

A heartbreaking wail echoed inside the bathroom. " I don't wanna go home because if I go home I'll be alone and I won't be able to resist drinking more and I can't handle it, John! The voices. It's so loud. Make it stop! Make it– "

"Adam, open this door right now," John bit off in an order.

Adam went silent, like he was holding his breath. John strained to listen, then finally heard the soft, faint sounds of movement before the deadbolt clicked back.

John muttered a curse. Adam looked awful . His eyes were red and underscored by dark smudges from lack of sleep. His skin looked paler than usual, making his red cheeks stand out vividly. The boy's hands shook as they fussed with his rumpled clothing, which didn't even match.

But the reek of alcohol on Adam's breath overpowered everything else. Christ . Ten o'clock in the morning, and Adam was drunk.

John narrowed his eyes, his nostrils flaring as he fought to rein in his anger and worry. "Did you drive here like this?"

"No," Adam spat petulantly. "Well, yeah. Sorta. I bought a bottle at the liquor store just down the street and drank some and then drove here. And then drank some more because I couldn't face walking in here and pretending to be happy."

"Where are your car keys?"

Adam scowled. "Morgan already stole them from me and he won't tell me what he did with them."

"Good." John reached out and took off Adam's work apron, which wasn't even tied on properly, and set it aside. "Let's go."

Adam opened his mouth like he was going to argue, but then all the fight drained out of him. He ducked his head and shuffled along in front of John, not saying a word.

Morgan peeked into the back rooms and handed Adam's car keys to John as they walked by. John managed a nod of thanks, then turned away, hating the look of pity and worry on Morgan's face.

He should have fixed this. Damn it . He should have fixed this a long time ago.

Now he wondered if it was too late.

John shoved Adam's keys into his pocket after he pulled out his own. He got Adam buckled into the passenger seat of his truck, then paused on his way to the driver's side, closing his eyes and taking a slow, deep breath.

Finally, when he felt calm enough, he got in, started the engine, and took his time driving home, trying to come up with a plan as he went.

Adam sat slumped in the seat beside him, staring blankly out the window. At one point, he started to close his eyes, only to jerk them back open and go completely tense, neither blinking nor breathing.

"Gonna be sick?" John murmured.

Adam sat there for another moment, then slowly shook his head and began to relax. He blinked slowly and looked around. "Where are we going?" he asked, his voice sounding dull and lifeless.

Something John never wanted to hear ever again. He shuddered as the sound punched right into his stomach, making him wonder if he might be the one to get sick instead.

John gave himself a moment to shake off the feeling, then said, "My place."

Adam frowned, but only for a moment, like he didn't even have the energy to do that. He slumped back in the seat and resumed staring at nothing.

John quietly let out a heavy breath, trying to calm himself down. Adam throwing a drunken fit was one thing. But this?

This was scary.

He pulled up his driveway, still debating a couple of options, trying to decide the best course of action. The first thing he'd have to do was put his wine collection somewhere Adam couldn't reach. He definitely didn't need the boy drinking more. But Adam also needed some kind of lesson. Maybe he could accomplish both at once.

John pulled into the garage, eyeing an old, locking file cabinet next to the washer. It even still had the little key hanging in the lock, though there had never been a need to use it. John had picked up the cabinet for free at a neighbor's garage sale and used it as a place to set the laundry basket while he was sorting dirty clothes into the machine. But the drawers also held the few things one would normally see scattered about a garage amongst piles of clutter: a small toolbox, laundry supplies, gardening gloves, old rags and towels. He visualized all the contents, mentally planning how to cram everything together so it would leave room for all his wine bottles. It should be enough.

He shut off the truck's engine, pressed the button to close the garage door, then eyed Adam as he removed his seatbelt. "Come on."

John got out of the truck and walked around to Adam's side, but the boy hadn't moved, so he yanked the door open, threw off Adam's seatbelt, and dragged the boy out. He had to steady Adam on his feet before steering him towards the kitchen door.

Adam didn't make a sound in protest.

John pushed Adam inside, stopped them both there so he could get their shoes off, then led the boy into the bathroom. "Strip," he ordered.

Adam finally showed a sign of life. "What?"

"You smell like you haven't showered in days," John pointed out. He saw Adam wince as a guilty look flashed across the boy's face. "And the alcohol isn't helping. Strip."

Adam squirmed. "John–"

John dropped down to one knee, grabbed Adam's leg, and lifted it so he could whip off the boy's sock. He did the same with the other foot, then ripped open Adam's pants and yanked them down his legs. John did the same with the boy's underwear before turning Adam around so the boy's back was to him. "Arms up."

Adam tensed and sucked in a breath. " John –"

John yanked Adam's arms straight up in the air and grabbed the hem of the boy's shirt before Adam managed to struggle. But as soon as the shirt was off, leaving Adam in nothing but his chest binder, Adam's arms came down, slamming across his chest as his shoulders rounded, his body hunched over.

Adam sobbed, finally showing something other than that empty, robotic lifelessness that he'd sunk into in the truck.

John didn't even bother ordering Adam to put his arms up again. Instead, he grabbed the hem of the binder and started pulling. Adam tried to squirm away from him, but John was stronger. He yanked the small garment off and flung it aside, then let go of Adam so the boy could cover himself with his arms again.

"Get in," John ordered, pushing Adam towards the shower.

Adam stepped inside on shaky legs, choking on sobs and keeping himself turned away so John wouldn't see his chest.

John reached into the shower and cranked on the water.

Adam screamed as the icy cold blast hit him square in the back.

John winced, hating to cause his boy any suffering, but Adam needed to learn that actions had consequences. And if a cold shower was the worst consequence of his drinking, so be it. Far better than a drunken car accident.

He yanked the curtain shut between them, then called through it, "Get cleaned up. I'll be back in a minute to check on you."

With that, John left the bathroom and headed straight for the kitchen. He checked the refrigerator first, but there was only that one bottle of chardonnay that Adam had nearly finished several days ago. John hated to throw it out, but he did anyway, dumping the last few mouthfuls down the sink and tossing the bottle into the recycling bin.

Then he went to his wine bar and carefully started gathering his reds, cradling a few bottles at a time as he carried them out to the garage. John set the bottles on the file cabinet and opened the drawers, moving the contents within until there was enough empty space. He carefully arranged the rags and towels, then lay the bottles down on top of them. Once all the bottles were safely stashed, John closed the drawer, locked it, and pulled out the key so he could attach it to the chain that held his others.

He stepped back inside and felt a painful tug in his chest at the sight of his empty wine bar. The whole thing looked so useless now. So void of purpose. His skin itched all over, having things where they didn't belong.

But it was for the best. He couldn't risk Adam hurting himself even more.

John went back to the bathroom and called through the curtain, "Adam?"

Adam's teeth chattered as he replied, " A-Almost done ."

John carefully peeked around the curtain as he reached in to feel the water. Adam had turned the temperature up, but not much. The boy shivered as he stood with his back to the spray, letting it rinse the soap from his hair. John stepped back with a sigh. At least Adam was doing as he was told.

When Adam finally shut off the water, John grabbed a towel and held it out, wrapping it around the boy the second the curtain opened. He helped Adam step out of the tub, turned him around, and dried him off, watching the boy stand there and shiver the whole time. Then he told Adam to wait while he went to his room and dug out a clean shirt for Adam to wear. He pulled it over Adam's head, the shirt hanging to mid-thigh so it covered his nakedness, then took Adam's hand and led him to the bedroom. John tucked Adam into bed and sat there until the boy stopped shivering, his eyelids drooping in exhaustion.

"Go to sleep," John murmured. "And when you wake up, we're gonna talk."

Adam winced, but the reaction was weak. A moment later, he was out.

John exhaled heavily, then got up and crept back into the bathroom to retrieve Adam's dirty clothes. He tossed them into the back seat of his truck, opened the garage, and headed back out. With any luck, Adam would sleep the whole time he was gone. And if not, there was nowhere for the boy to go. With no car and the house being miles outside of town—besides not having any clothes—Adam would be good and stuck until John got back.

He drove to Adam's apartment, let himself in with Adam's keys, and went straight to the boy's bedroom. John lurched to a stop in the doorway. The room was even more of a mess than he'd imagined it might be. He muttered a curse as he started gathering up all the clothing scattered about the room, not caring to figure out which were clean and which were dirty. They all got added to the pile, along with what Adam had worn that day, and wound up in the washer. Then John stripped the bed, the sheets reeking of sweat and alcohol, and set those aside to wash, too. He remade the bed with clean sheets and opened a window to air out the room while he tackled the most important job.

Finding Adam's stash.

It took some searching. John checked the entire kitchen, reaching behind cans and boxes and dishes to make sure there wasn't anything hidden in a dark corner somewhere. Then he searched the bathroom, then finally tackled Adam's bedroom again. He eventually found one half-empty bottle wedged at the back of a shelf behind a stack of old vinyl records, which had probably belonged to Adam's dad. John carefully searched the rest of the room, making sure there wasn't anything else to find, then dumped out the bottle and tossed it into the trash.

By the time he got through all that, the first load of laundry had finished washing, so he moved Adam's clothes into the dryer, shoved the sheets into the washer, and got everything running before he went to pack clean clothes into an overnight bag. John locked up the apartment, got back into his truck, and began the trip back home.

On his way back across town, he stopped by the coffee shop and searched Adam's car. Sure enough, there was a brown paper bag with a bottle of cheap whiskey sitting on the passenger seat, along with a receipt dated that morning. John left the receipt but threw the bottle into the nearest garbage can, then searched the rest of the car before he locked it up and continued on his way.

When he got home, he found Adam in the bathroom, bent over the toilet. John crouched beside him and rubbed his back, silently waiting until Adam scrabbled for some toilet paper to wipe his mouth.

John helped him, then got up to get a glass of water from the kitchen. Adam swished and spat several times before he finally flushed the toilet and sank down to his backside, fresh tears streaming down his face.

"Did you sleep much?" John asked.

Adam gave a languid shake of his head. "Not really, no." The boy swallowed hard, then sniffed. "I heard you leave…"

John winced. Shit . The heartbreak in Adam's voice could have killed him.

"I can't do this, John," Adam whispered. "I can't. It's too hard. Today is too hard. And tomorrow–" A fresh sob choked off his words. "And I'm a fucking disaster and you hate it and you're gonna leave me, aren't you?" Adam blurted out. "Just like you left nine years ago."

Christ . "Is that what you think?" John asked. He sat down and pulled Adam into his arms. The boy went willingly enough, but almost with resignation, not making any effort to return the embrace. "I'm not going anywhere. I made you a promise, remember?"

"Maybe you should. I'm a mess and you hate messes and I'd deserve it. You had to leave work to come get me and I'm gonna ruin your life just like I ruined my dad's and–" A gut-wrenching sob tore out of his throat, and Adam collapsed against him, clawing at John's shirt, hanging on for dear life.

John held him tight and squeezed his eyes shut. Shit . Yes, Adam was a mess, and, yes, John hated it, but he wasn't going anywhere. He'd abandoned Adam once before and swore he'd never do it again.

But maybe words weren't enough. Maybe he'd have to prove it.

Oh fuck . A chill ran down his spine when he realized he had only one option.

Was he really going to do this? Could he truly make himself? John clenched his jaw and shook his head. It didn't matter. He had to. He had to be there for his boy.

No matter how terrifying it might be.

John's heart hammered wildly as he hauled Adam to his feet. "Come on." John went to retrieve the bag he'd packed for the boy. He set it on the counter beside the sink and yanked open the zipper. "Let's get you dressed. I'm taking you home."

Adam's breath hitched, but he didn't protest. He nodded with resignation and turned his back on John, slowly and methodically digging through the bag, pulling out clean pants, socks, underwear, binder, and a shirt.

John left the bathroom, pulling the door shut to give the boy privacy. He heard water running and the sounds of Adam brushing his teeth, then watched Adam slowly emerge from the room, eyes downcast, fully dressed, bag in hand.

He led Adam out to the truck and made the trip back into town once again. John unlocked Adam's apartment for him and nudged him inside. The boy turned and set down the bag, looking like he was getting ready to shut the door between them. Like he was expecting John to simply leave him there.

But John stepped inside, slowly and deliberately removing his boots while Adam watched in confusion. He helped Adam out of his own shoes before taking his hand and leading him to the bedroom.

"John?"

"Hush." John crouched down and took off Adam's jeans, then pulled back the covers on the bed. "Lie down."

Adam frowned, but did as he was told, sliding in under the covers. He watched as John stood there, gazing across the bed.

John swallowed hard, staring at the urn on the far nightstand. He fumbled the button on his own jeans, then finally shoved his pants down, folded them carefully, and set them aside before joining Adam in bed. It was several hours too early for bedtime, but heaven knew they could probably both use a nap, and if this didn't show Adam that John was determined to fix things, he didn't know what would.

"John?" Adam asked again, a little bit of life returning to his voice as he looked from John to the urn and back.

John pulled Adam into his arms, curling up behind him, and pulled the boy down onto the pillow. "Try to get some sleep."

Adam's chest hitched like he wanted to cry again but was using all his strength to hold it back.

John closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then looked up at the urn. "Goodnight, Frank," he whispered, forcing the words out.

A sob tore out of Adam as the boy grabbed John's arms where they were wrapped around his body, clinging to him like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to the world.

And John held Adam as the boy cried himself to sleep.