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16. Mickey

CHAPTER 16

MICKEY

Mickey didn't like being alone. Even when Ethan wasn't home, there had been signs of life around him. Photographs on the mantle. Ethan's coffee cup that never made it into the sink, but sat next to it instead. The way Mickey could get up right after Ethan had left and still see the steam on the bathroom mirror. At the end of the day, Ethan would come home and Mickey wouldn't be alone.

Having a job helped, probably more than he realized at first. Shane was a patient teacher and the other staff were equally helpful. But once The Anchor closed for the night, everyone went home and Mickey went upstairs alone.

He still didn't have much up there, but he'd scrubbed the place from top to bottom and had applied the first coat of paint in the living room. It was how he spent his days now. After waking up and playing handyman, he'd cobble together something to eat from his meager pantry, take a shower, then go to work.

Every night he watched the doors, waiting for Ethan to walk through them. But Ethan hadn't come back, not after that hug. Mickey tried not to think too much about it because the hug made him sad and horny all at once, and he was positive both reactions weren't the ones Ethan had planned on when he'd hugged him.

Mickey wrapped his blanket tighter around himself and looked out at the quiet streets. At night, after his shift, he'd often sit at his living room window and stare out into the night. It wasn't that long ago when Mickey had been sleeping on the other side of the walls. It was a miserable existence and he'd often felt invisible. But Taylor saw him. Ethan saw him.

And where other people might do nothing, Ethan went above and beyond to help Mickey. For a while he thought his feelings for Ethan might be a little bit of hero worship, but he knew now they weren't. They were something far more dangerous. Something far more real.

When Mickey had fallen for Lance, he'd fallen for his pretty words. Lance always knew the right thing to say. He'd had so many compliments for Mickey. All the time. And Mickey had been drunk on them. That had to be love, right? Someone wouldn't say all those nice things to him unless they really loved him. With the ink barely dry on his diploma, Mickey went to Lance.

Spider, meet fly.

Mickey shivered, even though he wasn't cold and he tugged the blanket up to his chin, cocooning himself as if it could protect him from his past. By the time he left Lance, he'd known that Lance hadn't loved him. Not at first and maybe not at all. Whatever they had, it wasn't love.

Love was more than pretty words.

Mickey shifted around and brought his knees up close to his chest. Love was making room for your kids' boyfriends around the fire. Love was remembering the ways everyone liked their coffee. Everything Ethan did for his kids was out of love. Mickey had watched them all around the fire that night.

Jonah and Spencer worked as a team to assemble their s'mores, while Colby had crafted the perfect one and presented it to Milo. And any idiot could see that Taylor was dead gone for his boyfriends. If he smiled any brighter around them, it could be seen from space. The Bennett brothers been raised with love and it showed in everything they did.

And then there was that fucking hug. There had been something there, Mickey was sure of it. But he was also sure that Ethan would never make the first move. In a few weeks, he'd forget all about Mickey. He'd come into the bar sometimes and Mickey would pour him a beer. They'd be polite and make small talk, and there would be no more curling up with him by the fire. No more guitar lessons or quiet support as Mickey took the broken pieces of his past out and showed them off.

Mickey didn't want that life, though. Ethan was too important to him and the idea of being just some guy Ethan helped one time was a knife in the chest. He played that hug over again in his head. Ethan was average in every sense of the word and it made him the perfect height to hug Mickey. God, he'd smelled amazing. Whatever soap or cologne he wore really did it for Mickey. He smelled rich and fresh and a little like coffee.

The life Mickey wanted probably wasn't within his grasp. Ethan was older and had already lived through so many things. He'd loved and lost and raised a family by himself. He didn't need someone like Mickey who was half his age and still wobbling around through life like a freshly-born fawn.

On the one hand, he knew it wasn't fair to compare himself to other people—but on the other, people his age had gone to college, gotten degrees, met someone, got married, had kids, gotten divorced and were working on family number two… and Mickey was still spinning his wheels at the starting line.

Though maybe that was a good thing. Kids weren't something Mickey had ever wanted. Though he wouldn't mind a pet. Something small like a cat. At least then he'd have someone to come home to.

In the days after leaving Ethan's, Mickey couldn't help but feel like maybe it had been a mistake. Ethan hadn't been in a rush to get rid of him, but Mickey had been so bent on proving himself. But prove what? That he could pay for a space to be sad and alone in?

Mickey leaned his head against the wall and fell asleep. It meant he woke early, and with a horrible kink in his neck, but he'd slept well enough and he could always grab a nap before work later.

It didn't take him long to make the decision. After a quick shower and a change of clothes, Mickey wrapped himself up in a warm jacket and made the walk to the diner. Having a destination made walking good again. Mickey hadn't minded walking, but it got arduous when he had nowhere to go.

Like the night Mickey stumbled into the diner out of the dark and cold. The diner was a beacon, cutting through the darkness of the early morning. Mickey spotted Ethan in the window, pouring coffee for another early riser and chatting away. Mickey smiled and his feet carried him a little faster after that.

He'd never understood the saying "a sight for sore eyes" until he laid eyes on Ethan that morning after days of not seeing him. Mickey hadn't even realized how much he'd missed the man until he stepped inside and Ethan turned to greet him.

He wasn't sure if Ethan smiled that brightly at all his customers, but Mickey returned the beaming grin with one of his own.

"I thought I'd sit at a table and eat this time." Mickey wiped his snowy boots on the mat in front of the door and made his way over to a table.

"Not that one," Ethan told him when he started to sit. "Have a seat in that one over there. It's slow this morning, so I'll grab a coffee and join you."

Mickey tried not to read too much into being seated at the family table. He didn't want Ethan to think of him like one of his kids. His steps faltered and he suddenly had the sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach that this was a mistake. Why had he come? He shouldn't have. He should've stayed away. He could've walked across the street and gotten gas station coffee and a muffin.

But it was too late now. If he fled, he'd look like an idiot and he'd probably make Ethan worry about him. He sat down, but kept his coat on. The morning chill still clung to his bones. Maybe he could buy one of those plug-in fireplaces for his apartment. He missed the fireplace at Ethan's. But there were more pressing needs he had to take care of first before luxury items like fireplaces.

Ethan appeared and poured two cups of coffee before whisking the pot back behind the counter. He was smiling when he returned.

"I'm glad you came. How've you been?"

"Busy. Tired. But good. It's—I'm good."

"That's good." Ethan nodded.

Fucking awkward. Mickey wanted to die. He should've stayed home. But it didn't feel like home, not yet at least. Maybe that would come with time, but it had taken no time at all for Mickey to feel at home at Ethan's house. Even the diner felt more like a place he wanted to be than his own apartment.

"What's a guy got to do to get breakfast around here?" Mickey asked, cocking a half smile. Anything to try and ease the weird vibe that had settled between them.

Asking about food put Ethan in host mode and he rattled off the breakfast menu.

"How about you choose for me? Make it a surprise."

"Let me put the order in and see if anyone is ready for a refill and I'll be right back."

"I'll be here." Mickey felt like an idiot for saying it. It was like the hug had infected his brain and he suddenly didn't know how to act around Ethan. Where they never used to falter in conversation, Mickey felt self-conscious now and it was making him act like a fool. Nothing had changed between them. For better or worse.

Watching Ethan work wasn't a hardship. He was friendly with everyone. When new people came in, he greeted them by name and told them to sit anywhere. It took a few minutes for Ethan to come back to the table and when he returned, he had a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and two pieces of whole wheat toast cut on the diagonal.

More people came in and Ethan apologized and went to do his job, which suited Mickey fine. Just being in Ethan's bubble was enough to make him feel less alone. He ate his breakfast while Ethan worked. The diner seemed to have a healthy breakfast crowd and even though Ethan didn't have time to talk, being surrounded by people was a lot better than sitting at home by himself, staring out the window.

Mickey finished his meal and was pulling out his wallet to pay when Ethan appeared with a coffee pot in hand.

"Top up?"

"Thanks, but no. I should get home. The walls don't paint themselves."

Ethan spied Mickey's wallet and shook his head. "Put that away, Mickey."

Mickey narrowed his gaze and took the money out anyway. He set it on the table. "Consider it a tip then."

"If you don't put that back in your wallet, I'll come to where you work and tip you twice as much."

Mickey complied and tucked his money away. "You could come by my work anyway. You don't even have to tip." He couldn't tell Ethan how much he missed him or how often his thoughts strayed to him, but he could pretend they could be friends and that it wouldn't tear him up inside.

"When's your next day off?"

Mickey had to stop to think about it. "Tuesday."

"You should come by the house for dinner Tuesday night."

Mickey's stupid heart nearly exploded and he accepted the offer without thinking. First the hug, now an invitation to dinner. Mickey didn't know what was going on, and though he tried not to read too much into it, he couldn't help the little voice down in the bottom of his beat-up heart whispering— what if?

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