Chapter Nineteen

The last dish was in the strainer, and the leftover omelets were in a container in the fridge. Greg grabbed the dishtowel off the oven handle and dried his hands.

Arms came around his waist from behind, and Brian pressed against him.

Greg smiled and put his hand over the top of Brian's. "I thought you said you couldn't cook."

"I can't."

"You did a good job helping me."

"Don't get any ideas." Brian made it sound as if Greg had expected a five-course meal. "All I did was cut up veggies for the omelets and followed directions."

"You do that very well."

Brian worked his way to Greg's front, all without letting go. "Do you have to work?"

Greg wrapped his arms around Brian, meeting his gaze. "Nope. Day off."

"Good. Want to spend the day together?"

Greg winced. "I'd love to, but I'm meeting Isaac at Roger's house. We're going through it. You can come if you want. I might get emotional."

"Is that why you're going? To grieve and all that."

Greg shook his head. "Isaac wants to clean it out and maybe find out what needs fixing. I think he needs to do something to grieve properly. I don't want him to go by himself. He needs to know that I'm family now."

Brian pulled back. "And what about you? Are you grieving?"

Greg shrugged and averted his gaze, out of the sliding glass door. "I've grieved the loss of my parents a long time ago. Nothing to it now."

Greg swore silently when he saw Brad Flynn across the span of the yard, sitting on his back step, smoking a cigarette.

He pulled out of Brian's arms when the memory of the day Brad had beat Jaron Heath with a baseball bat flooded his mind. Greg remembered the weight of Beverly Heath's shotgun in his hand and the way he had pointed it at Brad for long seconds, wanting to shoot him. Instead, he had raised it high enough that the bullet went over his head.

He had wanted to kill then, and he wanted to again as he watched Brad take a drag from his cigarette as if he hadn't a care in the world.

"What's wrong?" Brian followed him to the sliding glass door and out onto the deck before he swore. "Shit. Okay."

Brian's backyard wasn't big, but it did have a small deck and an expanse of yard for Molly to play. One of her toys lay on the grass a few feet from the end of the deck.

Greg knew Brad's brothers, Luis and Caden. They came to the farm for barbeques and stuff. Jaron had befriended them after the attack and Greg got why. Pickleville wasn't always very forgiving. The gossip alone could isolate the innocent simply because they were associated with a person.

Greg had been on the receiving end a lot as a kid simply because he was the son of the Mitchells, also known as the town addicts who beat the shit out of each other. It hadn't been any different for Luis and Caden after Brad had gone to jail, and it wasn't only about gossip. There weren't very many homophobes in Pickleville anymore and hadn't been for a lot of years. Most folks were welcoming, and it didn't matter so long as they were upstanding.

Except there Brad sat, and Greg felt like some vigilante about ready to have a go at the man who'd hurt his family.

Brian stood in front of him with a hand on Greg's crossed arms. He didn't even remember folding them over his chest. "Greg. You need to listen. Jaron wouldn't want you to fight. I know him well enough to know he'll forgive Brad the second he finds out he's not the same anymore."

Not the same, huh? "How do you know he's different?"

"Because I have eyes."

Greg felt the burning in the bottom of his gut. "Go inside."

Brian gestured to Brad with his free hand, and that was the thing that got Brad's attention. "Look at him."

Their gazes met. He fully expected Brad to say something, but he sat there with his arms on his knees.

He had pulled his long blond hair back from his face, but a few strands escaped, making him look a little messy. As well as a T-shirt that was a size too big and baggy jeans that had seen better days. He had lost weight and with it, muscle mass. Greg remembered Brad as a big guy, and he wasn't exactly skin and bones, but he wasn't the same as the last time Greg saw him. His eyes were brighter than Greg ever remembered, even before the incident, when he and Travis were friends, and he'd come to the farm to shoot the shit. Greg always remembered him as having cloudy eyes. Greg recognized the look well because of his parents, so he'd steered clear. Brad had a wounded quality about him as if life had beaten the shit out of him, and while his body had recovered from the bruises a long time ago, his soul had not.

So yes, Brian was right. He seemed different, but Greg didn't give a fuck.

"Stay away from Brian. And Jaron Heath."

Brad nodded. "I don't want trouble."

Greg didn't know what he'd expected, but it wasn't easy compliance. "I mean it. I'll fucking kick your ass."

Brad didn't say anything right away. Instead, he took in the way Brian stood in front of Greg, holding him back. He took another drag of his cigarette. "I remember you from when I assaulted Jaron McAllister. I'm sorry for any damage I might have caused you. I'm more than sorry for any damage I caused him and his son. I'd like for him to know that, but I won't cause trouble trying to tell him."

That gave Greg pause, and some of the fear eased. He uncrossed his arms and pulled Brian into his side. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are you sorry?"

"Because he didn't deserve it. None of that was even about him."

"Then what was it about?"

"My dad was a shitty fucking parent. Even shittier than yours. I needed prison and counseling to figure my shit out." Brad's response left Greg speechless.

He said the first thing that came to his mind. "Shitty parents I get. Drug addict mom and alcoholic dad."

"Dead mom. Alcoholic dad who molested me through most of my childhood. He tried to get to Luis at one point. I put a stop to that. Anyway, the abuse left me confused. Unfortunately, I handled it wrong." Brad stood and stubbed out his cigarette in the grass. He kept the butt in his hand. "Be grateful you had a man like Leonard who taught you how to handle your shit."

For the first time since he'd first seen Brad, Greg smiled. "I am."

Yeah, okay. He wasn't the same man at all, and if Leonard had taught him anything it was that some people deserved a second chance. Maybe Brad was one of those people.

"I'll talk to Travis. He's the one you'll have to worry about."

Brad nodded. "I appreciate it, but you don't have to. I said I don't want to hurt them any more than I already have, and I mean it."

"Do you need work?"

Brad nodded.

Knowing Pickleville, no one would hire him. He had a bad reputation for drinking and fighting even before he'd gone to prison, and no one would forget that either. Not that Greg blamed anyone. He hadn't earned trust back, not even with Greg. But offering to pay Brad to fix shit around Roger's house so they could sell the place wouldn't hurt Greg. It wasn't like Greg lived there, so he didn't have to deal with Brad if he got all crazy violent and the neighbors would call the police if that happened. Greg would have to warn Isaac.

But Greg didn't expect anything bad to happen.

"You used to do construction, right?"

Brad nodded. "Yeah."

"Well, I need someone to do some handyman work on my father's house. You remember the place where I grew up?"

Again, Brad nodded.

"I can give you a list and make sure you have the supplies you need."

Brad seemed relieved. "Thanks. Seriously."

Greg shut off the truck's engine and stared at the house. Nothing changed from the last time he'd been there except that the lawn needed a good mowing, and Roger wasn't inside anymore. His hands felt sticky on the steering wheel. Prying his fingers off proved difficult. It wasn't until Brian grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand away that he attempted to try. He laced his fingers with Brian's and let the man comfort him.

On his first visit, the past hadn't resonated with him like he thought it should have. The second time, it haunted him in stark color, and the rusted ten-speed with the bent frame lying against the house in the same spot it always had was as brightly colored as it always had been.

"Things could have been so different. I could have been so different." Greg hated them for so long he never really remembered loving them. But Greg remembered the cookies his mother used to make when she was sober enough to handle the oven, and he remembered the swing set his father had put up for him in the back yard. He remembered his father giving it to the neighbor kids when Greg had gotten too old for it and stopped swinging.

He pulled his hand away from Brian's and hit the steering wheel with the side of his fist. "Damn it."

He wanted to keep his anger, hold it like a toddler with a blanket. For so long, he felt nothing at all. Or he thought he didn't. Roger's death had made the bubble pop, and there wasn't anything he could do about it but let himself feel.

Isaac stood on the small stoop where Greg used to take off his shoes. Isaac's hands were in his pockets, and his pants were dirty. Wood shavings clung to his right knee. It was as if he knew Greg needed help deciphering his feelings.

He took a deep breath as he opened the truck door, stepping out. He went around the front and opened Brian's door.

Brian appeared uncertain and even hesitated before stepping out. After the way Greg had yelled at him, it was no wonder he was afraid of it happening again. Greg held out his hand and tried to smile in reassurance.

Brian took it, so Greg leaned in and kissed Brian on his temple. "Thank you for being with me."

Brian smiled and nodded. "I know it's hard for you."

That was an understatement. The macho cowboy part of him wanted to deny every single negative feeling he had, including hitting the steering wheel, and with someone else, he might have. Brian was different, so he decided to open up about it. "The difficult part is letting go of the hurt they caused. They didn't care about me more than they cared about the drugs and booze. That's a fact I'll have to live with, and I haven't figured out how yet."

He thought he'd had everything locked down, and then Roger dying had brought it all back again in stark clarity.

Brian leaned into him but didn't respond. With his parents being upstanding people, he probably didn't know what to say. He had no frame of reference.

They crossed the yard to Isaac and Greg let Brian go long enough to hug Isaac. "You okay, man?"

When Greg pulled back, Isaac seemed surprised by his question for some reason. But it was fleeting. He held up a hand and moved it back and forth. "I wouldn't mind it if you invited me to yours again."

"You don't need an invitation. You come and stay as long as you want." Greg smiled. "Leonard needs someone else to worry about besides me anyway. You'd be doing me a favor."

Isaac chuckled and shook his head. "He's great. I miss the chats on the front porch already."

"Then get your ass to the farm, man."

"I'll be there after work tonight."

Greg pulled his key out of his pocket and handed it to Isaac. He pulled Brian into his side afterward, keeping him close. "I hired someone to fix things, and then I'm selling the place if you don't have any objections."

Isaac unlocked on the door. "None, but I could fix it."

"Yeah, I know. The guy needs the money and a break."

Isaac pushed open the door. It was dark inside, except for the sun streaming through the dirty windows.

Greg gripped Brian's hand tighter. Even though it was probably painful, he never complained.

It was hard for him to admit that he'd loved the guy who'd run behind him when he had learned how to ride a bike. He'd loved the man who'd let him sit on his lap as he'd mown the lawn, even though it had probably made mowing harder. Somewhere along the way, that man had devolved into smoke and pickled himself in alcohol.

Greg could still hear Leonard in the back of his mind, saying, "Know your place in things." His place had been on the farm. His parents had discarded him, giving him over to the state and the state had given him to Leonard, and he had gotten lucky. He had a family that didn't involve Roger's house. He had a sounding board and a parent who had put him first since the day they'd met. He loved and was loved in return.

He made his way through the house to the kitchen, because he expected the worst.

Brian squealed like a girl, nearly jumping on Greg when a bug came out of nowhere. "Shit. Sorry. Have I told you how much I loathe bugs or really anything with either no legs or more than four?"

Greg chuckled, the tension of the moment breaking. "No, you never told me that."

Isaac smiled and entered the room. "He never let me call an exterminator."

"Yeah, we should call."

Isaac nodded and immediately pulled out a cell phone. Him being a contractor, he probably had access to a lot of different people, and Greg would let him take the lead.

"For our third date can we maybe do something that doesn't involve bugs," Brian screamed when a cockroach ran straight for him. "Oh my God. I can't."

Greg laughed so hard tears came to his eyes. He swung Brian into his arms, carrying him like a baby. Brian was no lightweight. He might have been smaller than Greg, but not by much.

Brian put his arms around Greg's neck and settled in. "My hero."

Greg met Brian's gaze. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For making me laugh. For coming here with me. Everything."

"Anytime." Brian kissed Greg on his cheek.