Clueless (Keeping Secrets) by J. Roman

did tighten on the steering wheel when we got into the car. The drive home was tense, and even though Jason and I sat beside one another in the backseat, we didn’t speak and barely even touched. I guess he sensed I was angry because when he put his hand on my thigh in the darkened back and started stroking my leg, I pushed him off. He huffed a little at that, leaning his forehead against the window, causing it to fog with his heat.
    It was always sex with him. I knew it was a girly thing to think, but I couldn’t help it. Jason solved his problems in one of two ways: getting smashed or getting screwed. With me he always seemed to opt for touching. We had a fight, therefore he wanted to rub. He made a C on his midterm, blowjobs were good for that, too. Don’t get me wrong, I loved being with him, loved rubbing against him and finding that embarrassing/wonderful moment of bliss that required washcloths and cleanup, but he didn’t really want me . He wanted a distraction. Not for the first time, I was wondering what the hell I’d gotten myself into.
    When we pulled into the driveway and Uncle Mark put the car in park, he turned around and looked at the two of us. “Tommy, take Christian upstairs and get him ready for bed. Jason, come talk to Charlie and me in the living room, please.” Dread filled me. I knew what that meant. He had noticed. Crap! It wasn’t really surprising, as Jason smelled like booze and vomit, but I had hoped Uncle Mark wouldn’t say anything . Shit. Shit. Shit .
    I was helpless to stop the train wreck that was about to happen in front of me. I leaned over and pressed a kiss to Jason’s neck, silently pleading with him to be on his best behavior. In the mood he was in, it was an ice cube’s chance in summer sunshine on the panhandle.
    I unbuckled the baby and gathered him up in my arms, along with the diaper bag on the floor beside his seat. Christian made a little gurgling noise as he rested against my chest. It was a happy little sound that was preferable to the shrieks he was making earlier.
    Trying not to jostle him too much, I opened the door and then crossed the foyer, heading to the stairs. Dean and Danny were sprawled out on the couch in the living room watching some kind of sci-fi movie. It surprised me because usually they were glued to Dean’s Xbox, playing Call of Duty until bed. Uncle Charlie was nowhere to be seen.
    I headed on upstairs and went straight into the nursery/Danny’s room. The left side was quietly declared as Danny’s and it looked like a solitary island of teen in a sea of baby, though even Danny’s comforter was a matching blue. I went ahead and put Christian in his crib, straining my ears for signs of trouble downstairs. Half paying attention, I stripped off his day clothes until he was down to his diaper. I threw his dirty clothes in Danny’s hamper and listened to Christian chirp out a string of nonsense words while I looked around for his binky. Where was the pacifier? I dug through the diaper bag to no avail. I was pretty sure Uncle Charlie stashed an extra one around the room somewhere for just this sort of emergency.
    Christian made a little noise of distress, slapping his little hands against the wood of his crib.
    “Don’t start, Christian,” I whispered, panic filling me. I grabbed the bear on the floor and walked it over to the crib, hoping it would entertain him for a second. He settled somewhat as I put it down beside him, and he wrapped his arm around it. I opened the nightstand by Danny’s bed. Success. There was an army of pacifiers inside. I grabbed one and popped it in Christian’s mouth.
    “You don’t know shit!” The muffled shout was audible from the foyer, and the slamming of the front door made Christian whimper.
    “Shhh, it’s all right, Chris. No worries. Jason is just being pissy.” Was it okay to say pissy in front of the baby, even if he couldn’t repeat it?
    “Living room now, Jason! Dean, Danny, upstairs!” Uncle