9. Ever

9

Ever

I wanted to go after Tracy when he left the rec room. He'd told me some pretty personal stuff—maybe more than he'd intended—and it had obviously stirred up some emotions for him. But he probably wanted a few minutes to himself after all of that, so I stayed with the boys, and the three of us finished putting up the decorations.

Half an hour later, the place looked great, and the residents settled in to play a game on the X-Box. When I went to wash up, I found Tracy scrubbing the ground floor bathroom. That wasn't in his job description, but I'd noticed he started cleaning whenever he had something on his mind.

"The rec room and dining room are both totally decorated," I said. "We used everything, and then we put away the empty boxes. What else can I do to help?"

"I can't think of anything."

"Then I guess I'll head home and hang out with Phil. Want me to pick you up when you get off work? It's supposed to rain this evening."

"No, thanks."

"Okay. Text me if you change your mind." He nodded, but he didn't look up from the perfectly clean sink he was scouring.

I wanted to stop him—to grab his hands, hold them in mine, and beg him to talk to me, instead of trying to lose himself in busy-work. He probably would have hated that, though. So instead, I gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze and told him I'd see him soon before leaving the bathroom.

I could still hear him scrubbing that damn sink when I reached the exit at the other end of the building.

Phil was in his usual spot when I got home—on Tracy's neatly made bed. He looked pissed, but resting bitch face was his default expression.

"Hey, buddy." I sat beside him and ran my hand down his back. My cat ignored me and started licking his paw while I looked around. The room was blank as ever, with the exception of the shark-shaped cat bed I'd left on the dresser. Surprisingly, Tracy hadn't chucked it into the hallway yet, even though he probably found it annoying.

I glanced at Phil and murmured, "You like him, don't you? That must be why you're always in here. I like him, too."

Actually, I'd nearly kissed him today. Would that have been a mistake?

I wanted to talk to someone about it, so I thought about calling Roger. But since he was friends with both Tracy and me, he couldn't exactly offer an unbiased opinion.

I pulled my phone from my pocket and posted a quick selfie with Phil before scrolling through my contacts. There were plenty of names, but nearly all of them had something to do with my job. It had seemed like I'd had a busy social life when I lived in LA. There were parties, dinners, and other events every weekend, but they were hosted by clients or colleagues and nothing more than a chance to network.

I kicked off my sneakers and sighed as I stretched out beside Phil. I had too much time to think. That was the problem. The lack of friends hadn't bothered me when I was working seven days a week and busting my ass to make my business a success.

My head was on Tracy's pillow, and his clean scent caught my attention. It was familiar and comforting.

What was I going to do about this man?

I'd been attracted to him right from the start, and the more time we spent together, the more that attraction grew. I kept telling myself I couldn't start anything with him because in a matter of weeks my new business was going to consume me… but maybe that was just an excuse.

The fact was, I'd spent my whole life avoiding anything beyond superficial relationships. The lack of friends in my contact list was a testament to that. My only long-term friend was Roger, and that worked for one simple reason—we lived separate lives in different cities and could go months on end without a word. Neither of us took that personally, and we always picked up right where we left off when one of us finally reached out.

I hadn't thought my life was empty. I met lots of people and built connections. It was all surface level, but that was what I wanted.

Why? Because I'd learned early on that the people you loved left you—my dad, my brother, my sister, even my mom when she got her new family. They'd all left in different ways and for different reasons, but it cut deep, every single time.

There was a solution though, a way to keep from getting hurt again. All I had to do was avoid getting close to anyone. I'd operated under that philosophy all of my adult life, consciously or unconsciously, and it had served me well.

And now, my attraction to Tracy was throwing me for a loop. I didn't want to get attached to him. That would just set me up for potential heartbreak.

But maybe we could still enjoy each other, if he was willing…

I closed my eyes and pressed my face to his pillow, breathing in his scent. I wasn't sure what to do, but I had a feeling things between us were going to change very soon—one way or another.

Sometime later, I woke with a start to find Tracy standing beside me. "Hi, Goldilocks." He sounded amused. "What are you doing in my bed?"

I sat up and mumbled, "This is where Phil was when I came home." Of course, the cat was currently nowhere to be seen. "I sat down to say hi to him, and I guess I fell asleep. What time is it?"

"About ten-thirty."

"I can't believe I slept the whole day away." I climbed off the bed and finally focused on Tracy. "You're soaking wet."

"The rain you mentioned turned out to be a torrential downpour. I'm going to warm up with a hot shower."

"Come find me when you're done. I'll make us some hot tea."

Surprisingly, he said, "Sounds great." Usually, he made an excuse whenever I tried to do something nice for him.

I left his bedroom and found my traitorous cat sitting on the kitchen counter. "You know you're not supposed to be up there," I told him, as I filled the kettle. "Also, thanks for leaving me alone in Tracy's room and making me look like a complete weirdo."

Phil stared at me for a moment. Then he stuck his back leg straight into the air and started licking himself while maintaining eye contact. I sighed and muttered, "Lovely."

Tracy joined me a few minutes later, dressed in grey sweatpants, a blue Henley, and thick socks. As he took a seat beside me on the couch, he gestured at the tray I'd prepared and asked, "Are those cookies, and if so, is this some sort of cry for help?"

He'd dubbed my diet "absurdly healthy," and as much as I would have liked to contradict him, I had to admit, "They're actually high-fiber, high-protein, multigrain bars."

"Are they sweet or savory?"

"Sweet…ish."

"What do you think would happen if you ate a real cookie? Would your millions of followers call you a fitness fraud and disown you?"

"No, but I try to set a good example. I posted this recipe and a how-to video for them a couple of days ago. It'd be pretty hypocritical if I touted these, then turned around and smashed a plate of snickerdoodles."

Tracy grinned. "I love those."

"When was the last time you actually had one? Because I don't know if you've noticed, but your diet's almost as regimented as mine."

"I'd eat a cookie. If they were warm from the oven, I'd eat several. My mom used to bake them for me, and they were the best things ever."

"That's the first time you've mentioned her."

"I know. She died when I was a kid, and it's not the easiest thing to talk about."

"I'm sorry. That must have been so hard."

He nodded. "It also wasn't great that my dad remarried seven months later."

"That's really fast. Are they still together?"

"No. They divorced after three years. His third marriage lasted half as long, and that was followed by a string of live-in girlfriends. I learned not to get attached, because I always stopped mattering to them once their relationship with my dad ended."

After a pause, I asked, "Are you planning to see your father at Christmas?"

"No, but he's coming to the Bay Area in mid-December for an event. We've made plans to get together for an extremely awkward dinner."

"You two don't get along?"

"It's not that. He's just not easy to talk to. I opened up to him a few years ago when I was in the middle of a mental health crisis, but he wasn't ready to hear what I had to say to him. Things have been strained between us ever since." He took a sip of tea and straightened the napkins on the tray.

"Is it okay to ask what happened? Feel free to tell me to go to hell if it's too personal."

"I don't mind talking about it." He started fidgeting with his mug as he said, "A lot of things came to a head at the same time, and it was more than I could handle. Part of that was PTSD from my time in Afghanistan. In case you're wondering, I've done years of counseling since then, and I'm healing."

He exhaled slowly, and after a moment he continued, "The thing is though, I was struggling even before the PTSD. Like I said earlier, I was lost and confused, and that went back a lot further than my deployment. I was deep in the closet, living a lie. I lost Sawyer because I couldn't be honest with him, or with myself. On top of that, I was living a life mapped out by my father from the day I was born. I ended up giving the Army over a decade of my life, but it was never what I wanted."

He paused before saying, "As much as I tried to keep pushing it down, all my pain, anger, and unhappiness finally built to the point where I couldn't keep it contained. I didn't know why I was acting out at the time, but I started doing self-destructive things, like talking back to superior officers and picking fights in bars."

"I understand," I said quietly. "We aren't taught how to ask for help, and you're not the first man to finally reach his breaking point."

"That's exactly what it was, my breaking point. One of those bar fights ended up putting me in the hospital, and that's where I was when my dad decided to come and see me. I was lying there bruised and broken, but instead of asking if I was okay, he started yelling at me. How could I be so stupid? Did I want to throw away my military career? What the hell was I thinking? On and on.

"And that was it. Something in me snapped. I started screaming and crying, and I couldn't stop. I began trashing the room, breaking and throwing things. I couldn't put my pain into words, so I turned it into actions."

Tracy paused again before telling me, "All I can say is, it's a damn good thing I was in a hospital at the time, or who knows what would've happened to me. Several orderlies ran in and ended up physically restraining me while a doctor shot me full of sedatives. Before the drugs kicked in, I remember looking at my dad. He'd stepped back into a corner while all of that was going on. I expected to see anger, horror, or disgust, but instead, he looked worried. It was the first time in my life I thought he might actually care about me."

Tracy fell silent, and I moved closer and took his hand. After a while, he continued, "Anyway, when you act like that in a hospital, a stay in a psych unit is pretty much a given. I spent two weeks in one, and honestly, it was the best thing that could have happened. It's where I met a counselor who ended up changing my life, and it's also where my dad and I had our first truly honest conversation. Among other things, I finally came out to him, which I'd dreaded from the very first moment I realized I was gay."

"How'd he take it?"

Tracy shrugged. "He wasn't thrilled, but I guess it didn't seem like such a big deal at the time, considering everything I was going through. I also told him I was done with the Army in that same conversation, which hit him harder than the news about my sexuality.

"To this day, he still can't understand why I ‘threw away a promising career.' Actually, to him it's more than a job. It's who he is. I tried to explain it was never right for me, but that made no sense to him."

Tracy let go of my hand so he could pick up his mug. After he took another sip of tea, he said, "Anyway, that's the very long story of my mental health crisis, and how it led to a lot of positive changes. I'm still a work in progress, obviously. So's my relationship with my father."

I glanced at his profile and said, "Thanks for being so candid about all of that."

"It's not a secret or anything. There's this huge stigma surrounding mental health, but I think it's important to talk about it openly. That was one of the big take-aways I got from that counselor I mentioned—that it's nothing to be ashamed of. It's a message I want to pass on to others when I become a counselor."

"I really respect that."

After a minute, he said, "You mentioned your dad left when your parents got divorced. Is he a part of your life now?"

I shook my head. "He used to call me once in a while, but it's been a few years. I'm not sure where he's living now."

"Are you going to see your mom at Christmas?"

"No. She spends the holidays with her new family. They invited me to join them for Christmas once, maybe fifteen years ago, so I flew back to Ohio. But I felt like an outsider, so I ended up leaving after just a couple of hours. They didn't invite me again."

"What about your brother and sister? Where are they now?"

"They're both married with two kids apiece, and they live three blocks from each other in New Mexico. I haven't seen them in years."

"Do you miss them?"

"I don't even know them. I reached out over and over again when I was younger, but they never made the slightest effort to be a part of my life. Finally, I gave up."

"I'm sorry."

"It is what it is." We both fell silent again. After a while, I asked softly, "Do you think there's really such a thing as a happy family?"

"I know a happy found family, and so do you." Tracy turned to look at me. "Vee and all of his housemates think you're great, and they'd love to make you a part of their inner circle. I assume they invited you to Thanksgiving dinner."

"They did, but I'd signed up to volunteer at the shelter on Thanksgiving. A lot of your coworkers wanted the day off, and you were going to be short-handed."

"I'm planning to do both, and you should, too. Their celebration will run later than the one at work."

"Okay, I'll let Vee know. Do you think I should plan on bringing anything?"

He grinned at me. "Not those cookie bars."

"You haven't even tried them yet!"

"That's because they look like dry roofing tiles."

I picked up a bar and dunked it in my tea as he pretended to recoil. After I took a bite, I told him, "See? It's edible."

"That's a pretty low bar. Technically, a piece of cardboard is edible, but that doesn't mean you should actually eat it." He picked one up though, and dipped it in his tea like I had. Then he took a bite, and his eyes went wide in alarm. Tracy asked, around a mouthful of grains, "What's that flavor?"

"Which one? The quinoa is fairly pronounced, and so is the spirulina extract."

"What's spirulina?"

"A type of edible algae with amazing health benefits."

He choked down the bite in his mouth, then took a large swig from his teacup before saying, "No wonder it tastes like swamp water."

"It's good for you, though. It's high in protein with antioxidant properties, and?—"

"Nope. Don't care."

"But it?—"

"That shit could add five years to my life, and it still wouldn't be worth it."

"It's not that bad," I insisted. "But if you hate the taste, next time I'll leave it out and use cricket flour instead to boost the protein."

His voice rose in alarm. "You'll use what?"

"Cricket flour. Don't worry, it's all perfectly sanitary. What they do is dry the crickets and?—"

Tracy slammed his hands over his ears. "Stop talking! And never, ever feed me anything with crickets in it!"

"Okay, but they're?—"

"No!"

I raised my hand, like I was taking an oath. "No crickets, I promise. I never realized you were so squeamish."

"They've always grossed me out—crickets, locusts, grasshoppers, anything along those lines."

As he shuddered dramatically, I nodded. "Nothing jumpy. Got it." I ate another bite of my bar—which admittedly tasted a bit like swamp water—and asked, "If you're going to be up for a while, would you like to watch a movie or something?"

"Sure. What should we watch?"

"How about A Bug's Life ?" He sighed, and I grinned at him. "Yes, there are mean, giant grasshoppers in it, but they get their butts kicked by the good guys."

He got up and announced, "I'm going to bed."

"No, wait!" I jumped up and caught his arm, and when he turned back to me I said, "How about the most recent Jurassic World movie?"

Tracy gave me a playful shove. "I've seen it, and there are giant locusts in it!"

"I know, and I'm kidding. Please come back." I took his hands and tried to guide him back onto the couch. "You can pick the movie, and I'll stop teasing. I promise."

He tried to frown but ended up grinning instead. "I never realized you have a cruel streak."

"Maybe I just liked the idea of you turning to me for comfort when the movie got too scary."

He rolled his eyes, but he returned to the couch and picked up the remote. I grabbed a blanket and draped it over both of us, and he selected a generic action movie with a lot of car chases and explosions.

Five minutes into it, he fell asleep. When his head dipped onto my shoulder, I muted the movie and pulled up the blanket to tuck him in.

Outside, the rain had picked up again. It was tapping steadily on the windows and turning the city lights into a soft bokeh pattern. Phil jumped onto the couch and settled in with us, and I tilted my head, so my cheek was resting against Tracy's hair.

I didn't want to like this as much as I did.