30. Mickey

CHAPTER 30

MICKEY

His brain felt like a bowl of soup. Ethan kept texting and it wasn't that Mickey didn't want to answer. He did. The comfort Ethan was offering should have made him feel good, but he couldn't wrap his head around everything. How could Ethan be so calm? So perfect? So… everything that Mickey wished he'd had years ago. He wasn't stupid enough to believe that Ethan would have ever gone for some barely out of high school kid. Hell, Mickey was surprised that Ethan wanted anything to do with him now.

While his brain continued to torture him, he went to work. He was trained enough now to be left on his own for short times, but Shane was always there as steady as Ethan. It seemed like the men were cut from the same cloth. Shane's cloth had more tattoos, though.

Shane had also pinged that something was up with Mickey the minute he'd walked into the bar to start his shift. It made him wonder if he looked that bad or if Shane just had a radar for these things after so long behind the bar. Maybe he just knew when people were having a bad day. It was his super power or something.

"You want to talk about it?" Shane asked him.

Mickey shook his head. Shane nodded, accepting his answer. Never pushing for more. Shane was good like that and it made Mickey want to tell him things.

"My mom left my dad," Mickey said a few minutes later. Grabbing a glass he busied himself with polishing it, buffing out any of the water marks before moving on to the next one. "She should have left him years ago."

Shane nodded. Offered no empty words like oh, that sucks. Or gee, that must be hard. Instead he said, "Sometimes it takes people too long to do the right thing."

Something in Mickey's chest rattled loose and crashed around when he inhaled his next shaky breath. He wanted to reach out to Ethan, but he didn't feel worthy of it. Of anything Ethan offered. The comfort. The safety. The affection, love, and even the tender way Ethan looked at him.

Seeing his mom so broken after leaving his dad made Mickey feel everything he suffered was for nothing. She could have left him years ago. Logically, Mickey knew it wasn't that simple, but he wasn't feeling very logical at the moment. Logic was a distant cousin, something he knew about in concept only.

Mickey didn't know how to say that being there for her kid would have been the right thing. He didn't know how to say anything without every messy emotion tumbling out of him. Another heavy breath sawed in and out of his lungs and he tried not to shake too much as he polished another glass.

Then another.

It almost became meditative. Polish. Breathe in. Buff. Exhale. Gently set the glass down and get another. Repeat.

He was so absorbed in his task that he almost didn't notice the shift in the atmosphere. Looking up, he saw Ethan's kids—Taylor, Jonah, and Colby—come into the bar. They looked nothing like a mafia in body, but Taylor strode over to the bar like he owned the place. His gaze slid from Mickey over to Shane.

"Can we borrow him?" Taylor asked.

Shane didn't answer Taylor. He looked to Mickey and raised an eyebrow, seeking his approval. Mickey nodded. It would be better to get this over with. Clearly they were here as some sort of intervention. They probably saw Mickey for the mess he was and wanted him far away from their dad. He didn't blame them.

Mickey put down the towel he'd been using to buff the glasses.

"Why don't you take the rest of the day off," Shane said. "It's my idea so I'll still pay your full wages. If you polish the glasses any harder, you're going to wear holes in them."

Still not trusting himself to speak, Mickey nodded again. He hoped Shane knew how grateful he was. Maybe later, when he was more himself, he'd remember to thank him.

Colby had taken the liberty of ordering a few drinks and Shane took care of that while Mickey untied his apron, tucked it away under the bar, and followed the brothers to a booth out of earshot from Shane.

If he thought they were going to be merciful, he was wrong, because Taylor urged him to take the inside seat, then slid into the booth next to him, trapping Mickey between him and the wall. Mickey's heart slammed against his ribs, a wild, thrashing thing that was terrified of what might come out of their mouths.

"I know why you're here," Mickey blurted.

Colby slid a drink across the table to him. "Do you?"

He didn't seem angry with Mickey.

"You don't think I'm good enough for him. And I'm not. You don't need to have the whole big intervention. I was going to break up with him anyway." The words fell out of his mouth and detonated into the heavy silence at the table. Everyone looked stunned and Mickey continued. The feelings he'd tried so hard to calm churned in him like a storm. "I'm a mess. I'm too young. My life is in tatters. I think I hate my mom. I literally owe your family my life. The least I can do is not make things worse. Tell him—" Mickey broke off suddenly because there was a hand over his mouth.

Taylor's hand. He looked at Mickey with a soft sort of affection, not unlike the way Ethan looked sometimes. Just without the depth of feelings that Mickey often saw in Ethan's eyes when he looked at him.

"We're not here to break you up. Okay?" Taylor waited for acknowledgement from Mickey before removing his hand. Mickey saw him wipe it on his pant leg before taking a sip of his drink.

"Then why are you here?" Mickey asked.

Colby and Jonah stayed silent. It seemed they'd chosen Taylor as the leader of this little… whatever this was.

"I don't know—we don't know a lot about where you've been. About what you've been through or what shit was like for you growing up. But we do know that we want our dad to be happy. That's a concept that is sadly lost to you because your parents are shit, so their happiness isn't something you've ever concerned yourself with."

"They were too busy making you miserable," Jonah offered quietly.

Mickey's jaw wouldn't unclench for him to form words even if he'd known what to say.

"We want our dad to be happy," Taylor repeated. "And that means you not breaking up with him, unless that's what you really want. And we don't think it is."

"Why—" Mickey cleared his throat and asked again, "Why are you here?"

Colby let out an exasperated sigh but it was Jonah who spoke.

"Taylor was so young when our mom died. He barely remembers her. Colby has a few more memories of her. Of what it was like to see our dad so light. Happy. But I remember. And it's been a long damned time since I've seen my dad as happy as you make him. None of us care that your parents are shit, or that you made X-rated content on the internet, or that you're our age."

Mickey gaped at Jonah. "How did—" Stupidly, he'd almost forgotten to worry about that little tidbit in particular. And it seemed that the other brothers were also unaware.

"Oh, please don't tell me you've been making porn with my dad." Colby groaned and wiped a hand down his face, then readjusted his backwards hat.

Jonah slugged Colby in the arm. "You're an idiot."

"You're the one who didn't elaborate, okay? Conclusions were jumped to."

"It was my ex and me. And I don't do that anymore. I'm retired."

"And it doesn't matter to us. I only brought it up so that later you have one less thing to panic about." Jonah folded his arms and put them on the table. Leaning forward, he met Mickey's gaze. "My brothers have never seen my dad as happy as you've made him. Why would we want to stop that from happening?"

"We don't," Taylor assured Mickey. "What we want is for you to want to go to him and let him fuss over you. Let him be there for you. I might not have seen him as happy as you've made him, but that also means that I haven't seen him as fucking sad and lost as he was today, and if it can be helped, I'd rather not see him like that again."

"You're really not here to give me the you-need-to-stay-away-from-our-dad talk," Mickey said, but Colby answered it like it was a question and not a statement.

"We're here to tell you that we don't suck as humans and we're never going to be selfish and try to control our dad's romantic life. If you're who he wants… well, you're a good guy, Mickey. Consider this the official Bennett brother stamp of approval. Now, are you going home or not?"

"Colby!" Taylor said. "Way to be gentle with him."

Colby rolled his eyes. "Calm your tits, he's fine. Mickey is tough."

Mickey didn't feel tough, but Colby's faith in him was surprisingly welcome. And he'd called it home. They said they wanted their dad to be happy. With Mickey. And that they wanted him to go home. Home should be the place upstairs, but it wasn't. It was wherever Ethan was.

Did Ethan still want him? Him and his insecurities and his shitty past? His less-than-stellar parents and his confusion about how he felt about his mom. He was so tangled up about everything and he hated how much more complicated his life felt lately. With his basic needs being met, there was suddenly all this extra room for him to worry about other things like his feelings about his past and what he wanted for his future.

The past couldn't be changed and if Mickey wanted a future, he had to deal with the present. Guilt swam in his stomach when he remembered all the messages he'd been ignoring. Ethan had only wanted to reach out to him, to help. To make things better in any small way he could.

"Are we ready to go?" Colby looked to Mickey for an answer.

"I just need to get my coat."

Taylor slid out of the booth so Mickey could get up. When he ducked into the back to grab his coat, Shane followed him.

"You okay?" Shane folded his arms over his chest, making him look thicker, taller, and infinitely more intimidating. Mickey had been around him long enough now to not be affected by the posturing.

"I think. Maybe?" Mickey slid into his coat. "Can I get back to you on that?"

"You'd better. You have my number. Use it if you need it, okay?"

Mickey nodded and blinked to combat the way his eyes stung. Even before he left home, he hadn't felt like he had a family. His dad was trash, and his mom was a mouse of a person, unable to stand up for herself or Mickey. Lance had made it so Mickey didn't have friends that weren't friends with Lance. And then suddenly Mickey had Ethan. And Taylor and his brothers. And Shane, who unfolded his arms and ruffled Mickey's hair like he was his kid brother or something.

"You'll be fine," Shane declared, then motioned to where Colby, Jonah, and Taylor waited for him. "Go fix your shit, okay?"

Mickey did as he was told and something in him calmed when he walked out of The Anchor with Colby on one side, Taylor on the other, and Jonah bringing up the rear, jingling his car keys.