29. Ethan

CHAPTER 29

ETHAN

Ethan wanted to give Mickey space. Kind of. Mostly he wanted to storm into The Anchor and bundle Mickey up and bring him home. Home, where they could sit by the fire and Ethan could play the guitar, and they could just go back to how things were before Mickey's mom burst their bubble.

He was a grown man. He'd raised three kids into adulthood. He was officially mid-life, but Mickey felt like anything but a crisis. He was necessary to Ethan's life. Like water and oxygen and the blood in his veins. But Mickey had been out of sorts. They'd texted a little—mostly it was Ethan bombarding him like a lovesick teen, and Mickey responding here and there. Or not at all.

"What's that look for?" Taylor's voice jolted Ethan out of his stupor.

Ethan tucked his phone away like he was hoarding secrets. He supposed he was. If it were one of his kids in this position, he'd tell them keeping shit inside just makes them feel worse. But it felt weird for him to be the one needing someone to lean on.

He raked a hand through his hair. Business was slow that day and Ethan didn't really need to be there. Not wanting to go home, he'd slunk into his office under the guise of getting caught up on paperwork. He hadn't even turned the computer on, though, so the jig was probably up.

Taylor slipped into the room and shut the door. He sat down on the couch that Ethan kept in the office. It had been there since the kids were small and needed a place to nap while he worked. It was strange to see the memory of a tiny Taylor, curled up with his thumb in his mouth, and now to see the man that tiny child had become.

"Dad?"

"It's been a long time since I was in a relationship and I guess I forgot how anxiety-inducing it could be when things go sideways."

"What happened? I thought you and Mickey were doing good. I mean, you did come out of the closet for him."

"What do you know about his past?"

"I know enough. The abusive ex. The shitty parents. I don't have details, but I can fill in the blanks. His parents must have been super shit if he didn't have anywhere to go."

Ethan nodded. "They didn't like his boyfriend. They told Mickey that he wasn't welcome to come home. His mom stopped by the house the other day. She left Mickey's dad. It… it's been really hard for him. He's got a lot of feelings about it and I don't know how to help him." Ethan pulled his phone out and checked for any new messages. "And apparently he's not into talking to me right now."

"Why the fuck not? It's not your fault."

Ethan shrugged. "Maybe I wasn't angry enough on his behalf when she showed up. I was nice to her. I made her tea and told her I'd get her in touch with the shelter."

Taylor leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "That's because you're a good person."

"Well, I don't feel like a good person. All I really wanted to do when she turned up was berate her for how she treated Mickey. How she allowed him to be treated. Instead, I made her fucking tea and paid for a cab to take her to the shelter."

Taylor rolled his eyes. "Yes, I can see why that would make you feel like a monster. Dad, if you were a shitty person, Mickey would turn tail and run. He's had enough shitty people in his life and he's not stupid. He knows he's got a good thing going on."

"Does he? It's just… I know he wants to be independent. I get why he needs his own place and his own job. His own life and shit, but fuck. He doesn't have to do everything on his own."

"Why don't you just go talk to him? You know, like adults do sometimes."

How did he tell his kid that he was too afraid to? That he worried if Mickey saw him, he'd break up with him? The longer Ethan went without seeing him, and the longer Mickey went between text messages, the more Ethan worried that Mickey was shutting him out for good. That if he went to confront him about it, to ask to be let in, that Mickey would slam the door on them forever.

Ethan liked that Mickey wanted to stand on his own two feet, but he assumed that he'd at least be allowed to stand next to him. Being left out while he knew Mickey was struggling had left Ethan feeling cold inside. It felt like the universe was against him.

He'd finally found a little bit of happiness again. Mickey had breathed new life into him and now Ethan worried that he was going to lose all of the joy Mickey had brought to him.

"Dad, why don't you go on home? I'll whip up some dinner for you later and swing by with it and check on you."

"You don't need to check on me."

"That's funny, but I didn't ask if you needed me to. Maybe I need to check on you ." Taylor pushed himself to his feet. "Maybe I want to check on you. Take your own advice, Dad. Let other people be there for you."

Ethan scowled at Taylor, but there was no malice in it, just poorly hidden affection. "You're not supposed to use my words against me."

"Too bad, I'm afraid." Taylor held his hand out and when Ethan took it, he pulled him to his feet. "Go home, Dad. Water your plants."

Ethan furrowed his brow. "Tell me you didn't."

Taylor's face lit up. "Okay, then I won't tell you."

"How many plants did you re-home to my house this time?"

Taylor was forever growing plants from seeds. Ethan blamed the internet for teaching him how to propagate seeds from fucking avocados of all things.

Taylor only smiled and patted Ethan on the shoulder.

"Hey, you've been here all day. If I have new plants, how did you get them there?"

"I do have not one, but two exceedingly hot and loyal boyfriends."

Ethan rolled his eyes. "Of course they'd be in on it. You know, you could always just stop growing new things and concentrate on the plants you already have."

Taylor shrugged. "I could. But where's the fun in that?"

Taylor ducked out of the office and went back to work, leaving Ethan with orders to go home.

So he went. He might not have if Taylor hadn't intervened. He'd had half a mind to sleep on the ancient couch in his office, but that would be stupid of him. He had a whole house at his disposal. A whole, too big, too quiet house to rattle around in all alone.

Fuck, that was depressing. Nevertheless, Ethan didn't want to be around anyone so alone sounded like the best option.

True to his word, there were three new plants in Ethan's living room with care instructions carefully penned on a note card.

"Fucking Taylor," Ethan grumbled, but only a little. The sight of the plants sitting neatly lined in a row in the living room window made him smile. One day, Taylor was going to run out of people to bomb with plants and he'd have to find new victims, or a new hobby.

"The man has two boyfriends and yet he still finds time to annoy me." Ethan wasn't annoyed, though. Some people's love language was food. For others it was acts of service. Taylor's love language was stealth-bombing people with plants.

Ethan plugged his half dead, silent phone into the charger by his side of the bed then stripped the sheets. He couldn't just sit at home and do nothing or he'd go insane. After getting a load of laundry going and putting new sheets on his bed, Ethan went into the basement apartment. Maybe he should rent it out again. It had been vacant since Taylor moved out, needing more privacy than living in his dad's basement allowed him.

But Ethan didn't want a stranger living in his house. He checked the windows to make sure they were locked and that the appliances were still working before he went back upstairs.

Maybe he'd sell. Ethan knew he was being stupid. Of course he wasn't going to sell his house. It just felt so fucking empty without Mickey. It seemed impossible for him to have fallen so hard in such a short time, but the ache in his chest indicated that he had. He was stupidly head over heels for Mickey and his absence, his silence, made Ethan feel cold.

When Sarah died, Ethan had other things to focus on. His boys. The house. The restaurant. All the work of two people was suddenly his sole responsibility. Comparing the two made Ethan feel dramatic. Mickey wasn't dead. He was across town at work, and not answering more than half the text messages Ethan was sending.

Ethan glanced at the time and decided that it wasn't too early for a beer. Taylor would be stopping by with dinner for him later. Instead of texting Taylor, Ethan unplugged his phone and consulted the weather app. He opened the group chat he and his boys were in and told everyone when the next fire night would be, if the weather cooperated. He shot off a text inviting Mickey, then tucked his phone away before he could obsess about whether or not Mickey had read his text or not.

He didn't think they were fighting, but Mickey's silence made him question if he might need to apologize for something. Maybe he shouldn't have answered the door and let her in. But sending her away when she was clearly upset would have been the wrong thing to do. Ethan wasn't sure what the right answer was.

Taking his phone with him to the living room, Ethan grabbed his guitar and sat by the fire. At first he didn't play anything, then he started playing. As always, he opened with CCR, but soon he was playing songs that made him think of Mickey. Songs he should've played for him while they sat here by this same fire.

Ethan checked his phone. It was well past dinner time now and there was no sign of Taylor. And no response to any of his texts from the group chat. Or Mickey. Mickey's lack of response didn't surprise Ethan. He was at work and Ethan shouldn't have been texting him anyway. But the fact that his kids were all silent was weird and he couldn't help but wonder what they were up to.