Twenty

TWENTY

FELTON

For the last few days, I've been playing games with Willits and Dasan. They're over a lot. While Dasan says his controller is broken and Willits claims his cousin has taken over his house while he looks for his own, I suspect there's a reason they're here instead of us going there.

But I don't care. I like them here.

Ren stopped over last week to check on me while they were here, so I invited him to play. Since then, we've been playing the four of us because we can make even teams.

I enjoy sitting close to him. We're on the couch and I'm practically touching him with how close I'm sitting. In fact, when I bend my leg so my foot is under me, my knee is definitely pressed against his thigh. I sit like that for a while until my foot falls asleep and begins to tingle.

His warmth pressing into me makes me relax. There's always tension, even though it feels more manageable now. Like, I know those who think I live my life like shit are just barely on the outside looking in. Waiting for their time to strike. I can hear their whispers. Their glares. I can feel their disapproval hanging heavily over me.

Thankfully, Dasan and Willits' presence keeps them away, and keeps my mind from lingering there too long.

Ren being here, where his heat transfers from his body to mine, is an extra blanket of warmth and security. His presence doesn't just push away the clouds that hang around, he brings in the sun.

I lift my foot and tuck it under me again, letting more of my leg press against his. I'm always very aware of him being this close. There's no way my focus is as trained on the game as it should be. Fortunately, this is a brand-new game for all of us, so we're learning together. I can reasonably claim that my distraction is actually just me learning the game. It's totally believable.

In reality, at least 40% of my attention is on Ren. The way he watches the television. How smoothly his fingers move on the controller, as if he's been playing his entire life. He doesn't have the knee-jerk reaction to lean forward with the joystick or even yell at the television when something goes wrong.

He's always just… calm.

I don't imagine that he looks at me often. At first, I thought I was because I wanted him to. I like when he looks at me. There's no judgment there. No disappointment. No disgust that I'm failing at life. No horror that I was making porn.

His expression is always kind. Warm. When he smiles, I can pretend it's only for me.

I'm ready to come out of my skin when he rests his hand on my thigh. It's not just warmth that spreads through me but a sudden surge of fire races through my body until I'm nearly sweating and panting. I think even my pupils dilate because everything looks brighter and yet I can't quite see anything clearly.

Ren's fingers move on me. Gently. Not a lot, but small motions. I feel his fingers everywhere. My cock is truly trying to raise a flag right now, which is wildly inappropriate.

I'm startled out of my head when my phone rings. A shudder races through me as a bucket of icy water dumps over my head. There's a moment when the sound feels foreign and far away. It makes me jump and then stare at it with confusion.

Leaning forward, I don't recognize the number. I almost don't answer it, but then, what if it's Ren's lawyer friend, Imry? What if it's the other lawyers? What if it's a new agent calling to talk to me?

In the end, I lean forward and answer. "Hello?"

"You've really blocked your own father's number?"

The ice bucket is now a fireman's hose, and it feels like I was just slammed in the chest with the blast of water. My gut twists.

I shouldn't have answered the phone.

"You sneak out in the middle of the night like a child and then block our numbers? Is this really how a grown man acts?"

His voice grates over me, making me shiver. The light feeling, the happiness and beginning to feel comfortable in my skin again that I've achieved over the last few weeks has been viciously torn apart. I feel the shreds of it hanging off me like the fringe on a leather jacket.

"No," I whisper.

"Your mother and I only knew you were still alive since you're still playing hockey. Not well, but somehow you keep your contract."

Every word feels like a projectile. It hits, making me catch my breath, and lodges in my chest where it burrows in deeper like a parasite. The numbness I used to feel had been coaxed away by Ren's kindness and now I feel unprotected.

"What's this I hear that you're suing your agent? Who's going to want you?"

"How did you?—"

"It's all over," Dad says. "And it sounds like lies. You need to end it and apologize. Give them whatever they want."

I don't answer. The sick feeling in my gut climbs, making me taste bile.

"When does your break start?" Dad asks.

We have ten days off for the holiday. It's unusual that we have so long off but I'm not questioning it. "Last game is the nineteenth," I whisper.

"Good. I expect you here the day after. Arrange your flight. You're staying until the new year as you should. A good son spends holidays with his family."

The sick feeling inside me coils. I can't spend ten days with my family! I'd rather be buried alive. I'd rather jump from my bedroom window and hope I break every bone in my body. Being in the hospital—or even the morgue—will be less miserable than being there!

The phone is suddenly gone. In a daze I look down, expecting to see that I've dropped it in my lap. But the only thing there is my abandoned controller.

It takes me several moments to blink through the dark haze that's settled around me and recognize my living room. Ren has my phone. I register what I'm seeing just as he blocks the number before tossing it back on the table and turning to me.

I need the numbness back. I need to live in that again so his words don't hurt so much. Being bare like this is too hard. It makes me think of really dark things.

But with the way Ren's looking at me… like he's concerned and like I matter… I don't have the strength to bring the numbness back around me where it belongs. Like a comfortable blanket.

His hand raises and I flinch as if he's going to slap me. A flash of my father's hand and the echo of the sting blinds me for a minute, but Ren's touch is gentle, and I suck in a breath, shoving every past moment far away.

He brings me to him, and I have no shame right now as I practically climb into his lap and curl up. I suppose I've managed to reclaim a little of the numbness because I'm not crying right now. I'm panting as if I have been unable to catch my breath.

Ren's fingers are soothing through my hair. Minutes go by before he says, "What happened, Fel?"

"That's a new number," I murmur. "I've never seen it before."

He nods but doesn't respond.

"He… says I have to come home for my entire break." My voice cracks while I say the words. Tears sting my eyes.

His arms tighten around me. "What do you want to do?"

Literally anything else. I think being skinned alive or having nails shoved into my eyeballs would be less painful.

Then I feel guilty. You shouldn't think that about your family. They're your family. They're my parents. They love me.

They do love me, right?

"You're not going," Ren says. "You'll stay here for break."

I chew the inside of my lip as a whole new set of fears and loneliness settle over me. "Alone?" I whisper. Surely being with my family is better than being alone. Isn't it?

"No. With me and my family."

Relief washes through me and I swear, I sink into Ren a little more. Being alone never truly bothered me in the past, but I'd never felt alone before either. It's loud now. Echoing. Yelling in my head.

But now I don't have to spend days agonizing over whether the right thing is to be a dutiful son and spend my holiday miserable with my family because it's the right thing to do or not. Ren's taken that weight from me before it's truly had a chance to claw its way inside and infect me.

Already, I can breathe a bit easier.

We remain like that for a long time as I slowly shed the dread and hurt from the phone call.

"No more answering unknown numbers," Ren instructs.

"What if it's the lawyer?" I ask.

"Imry will call me to have you get in touch if he can't get through to you."

"What if it's an agent?"

"Have you called an agent?"

I wince and shake my head.

"Then they won't be calling. No more unknown numbers, Felton. Understand?"

Honestly, I shouldn't appreciate being told what to do quite so much. But even more tension melts away and I nod. "Yeah."

More silence. Then the wind chimes' song fills my head and I absently smile. When I open my eyes, I'm staring at the television screen split into four and my heart nearly stops. I'd forgotten we weren't alone.

I sit up and look at Willits and Dasan with wide, horrified eyes. They'd seen all that. They'd witnessed my… Oh, my god!

"Shared blood doesn't make a family," Dasan says. "It makes you related. Family are those who make you feel safe, protected, cared for. Loved."

Willits nods. "You're safe here. We've got you."

Honestly, I'm not a sap but fuck if tears don't sting my eyes. In an effort not to sob like a baby, I close my eyes tightly and will them away. "Thanks," I whisper.

"Want to talk about it?" Dasan asks.

"There's nothing really to talk about. My father has made it clear that my four-year-old cousin's participation trophy is a far more distinguished achievement than anything I've ever done and will ever do. Literally, I can do nothing right. Nothing is good enough."

"That's bullshit," Willits says, frowning.

I shrug. "I've lived with it my entire life. Now I have the ReachMe thing all over the internet?—"

"That they still haven't proven without-a-doubt is you!" Willits cuts in.

I shrug again. "Yeah, and apparently it's in the news that I'm suing my agent. I didn't know that."

"I saw it the other day," Willits admits. "I thought you knew. Sorry; I would have warned you."

"How did it get out?" I ask. "I haven't told a soul."

"I've already asked Imry to look into defamation as well. I have little doubt it's leaked from their office," Ren tells me. "I'm not sure what they're hoping to accomplish, but Imry will strip them bare and expose all their dirty laundry if need be."

"Did you hire a hitman?" Dasan asks.

Ren smirks. "No. A lawyer."

"Imry?" Dasan asks. "What law firm is that? I need their number in my back pocket."

"Who are you suing?" Willits asks.

Dasan shrugs. "No idea, but we're athletes. I feel like it's only a matter of time before someone wants what we have bad enough and will make some kind of bogus claim or attack." He waves at me.

Ren nods. "Imry Van Doren. Van Doren Law. I think you can look up their number."

Dasan and Willits stare at Ren.

"Goddamn," Willits says. "My pockets aren't that deep."

"Yes, they are." Dasan snickers. "But, dude, I've heard that people can disappear when they've wronged one of the Van Dorens' clients. Like… how do they even get away with that?"

"Money talks," Willits says, shrugging. "Honestly, I'd rather them be on my side than be against them if rumors are true."

Maybe I should crawl out of Ren's lap, but I just lay my head back on his shoulder and listen to Willits and Dasan exchange rumors they've heard. I mean, they're just rumors. Rumors rarely hold any truth to them.

Ren's fingers continue to smooth through my hair, and I sigh, letting their familiarity and peace, accompanied by the soft chanting of the wind chimes, soothe away all the panic that worked its way up.

Dasan's right. I need to redefine what family is to me. These guys have always felt more like family than anything that concerns my parents' presence.