lust had very little to do with it.
His steps set the rotten planks of the front steps creaking, and Nicky thought about the wood he’d need and when he’d find time to replace them. He thought of anything but the way he’d felt at Seward Park, with Michael kissing him and happier than he’d ever been in his life.
“Is that you, Nicky?” his mom called.
“Yeah.” He wished he could say good night quickly, then run upstairs and avoid her like he had a few times in high school, but he no longer had the luxury of that kind of disrespect. Nicky grabbed a sweatshirt off the bench by the door and held it in front of him as he went into the living room.
“Did you have a nice time?” Her forehead was creased and her eyes tense. Nicky suspected it was because of her pain, but he couldn’t ignore the needle of worry that she was angry with him.
“Yeah. The movie was great.” Nicky tried to ignore the hospital bed, though it kept drawing his gaze.
She coughed gently and leaned forward from her spot on the couch to get her cup of water. Her skin seemed so thin now. Much thinner than a week ago, and had a tinge of yellow under the surface. “You weren’t gone long enough for a movie.” Her voice was soft, and he could tell by how she swallowed that she was trying hard not to cough.
It took Nicky the space of three breaths to realize she was teasing him. Now that he looked, he could see that she was trying to smile.
“Yeah. We didn’t end up going. Just had a beer instead.” Nicky couldn’t tell what hurt worse, seeing her in pain or the guilt clawing his way up his throat and threatening to choke him. Stepping across the coffee table, he settled next to her on the couch.
He put his arm around her and eased her into a hug. She felt so brittle, like one wrong word and she’d break. When he was a kid, she’d been so strong. Only five foot three, but a whirlwind of energy.
He missed that part of her so much, the strength he could turn to whenever he needed more than his own, her arms gripping him tight even when he’d grown a half-foot taller than her.
“Is something wrong, Nicky?”
He pulled away, getting himself back together. She needed him to be tough, not searching for the parent who was no longer there. “No.” He wiped his face. His nose was running a little, but his eyes had managed to stay dry. “I’m fine.”
“Is it about that girl? You know if you’re seeing her, you can tell me.”
“It’s not about a girl.” At least for once he was telling his mother the truth.
“Why do we have to stop at your mom’s place again?” Henri cranked the handle, trying to lower the window on Michael’s car.
“She wants me to pick up some tomatoes.” Michael leaned across the seat and slapped Henri’s hand. “Stop it. You’ll break the thing.” Michael hated how his mother thought he would come running every time she called. In fact, visiting his mom was almost ruining his buzz of contentment over his night with Nicky.
He was walking a slippery slope, risking getting emotionally involved, but damn he hadn’t felt so good with a guy in ages.
“Geez. When in the hell are you going to trade this thing in for something that doesn’t stink like an oil spill?”
“It’s not so bad.” Michael rolled down his window to get some cross ventilation. Much as he hated to admit it, his car was starting to reek. The last three bouts of repairs had gotten her running again, but hadn’t done much for the stench of gasoline every time he turned over the engine. “And anyway, I can’t afford a new one.”
The light flicked to green, and the cars rolled forward. Unfortunately, the light ahead of that one turned red, so the traffic stuttered to a halt before Michael even got through the first.
“With the money you put in to fixing this heap…” Henri trailed off, probably because they’d bickered like an old married couple over Michael’s car a hundred times.
“God, I hate driving to
His steps set the rotten planks of the front steps creaking, and Nicky thought about the wood he’d need and when he’d find time to replace them. He thought of anything but the way he’d felt at Seward Park, with Michael kissing him and happier than he’d ever been in his life.
“Is that you, Nicky?” his mom called.
“Yeah.” He wished he could say good night quickly, then run upstairs and avoid her like he had a few times in high school, but he no longer had the luxury of that kind of disrespect. Nicky grabbed a sweatshirt off the bench by the door and held it in front of him as he went into the living room.
“Did you have a nice time?” Her forehead was creased and her eyes tense. Nicky suspected it was because of her pain, but he couldn’t ignore the needle of worry that she was angry with him.
“Yeah. The movie was great.” Nicky tried to ignore the hospital bed, though it kept drawing his gaze.
She coughed gently and leaned forward from her spot on the couch to get her cup of water. Her skin seemed so thin now. Much thinner than a week ago, and had a tinge of yellow under the surface. “You weren’t gone long enough for a movie.” Her voice was soft, and he could tell by how she swallowed that she was trying hard not to cough.
It took Nicky the space of three breaths to realize she was teasing him. Now that he looked, he could see that she was trying to smile.
“Yeah. We didn’t end up going. Just had a beer instead.” Nicky couldn’t tell what hurt worse, seeing her in pain or the guilt clawing his way up his throat and threatening to choke him. Stepping across the coffee table, he settled next to her on the couch.
He put his arm around her and eased her into a hug. She felt so brittle, like one wrong word and she’d break. When he was a kid, she’d been so strong. Only five foot three, but a whirlwind of energy.
He missed that part of her so much, the strength he could turn to whenever he needed more than his own, her arms gripping him tight even when he’d grown a half-foot taller than her.
“Is something wrong, Nicky?”
He pulled away, getting himself back together. She needed him to be tough, not searching for the parent who was no longer there. “No.” He wiped his face. His nose was running a little, but his eyes had managed to stay dry. “I’m fine.”
“Is it about that girl? You know if you’re seeing her, you can tell me.”
“It’s not about a girl.” At least for once he was telling his mother the truth.
“Why do we have to stop at your mom’s place again?” Henri cranked the handle, trying to lower the window on Michael’s car.
“She wants me to pick up some tomatoes.” Michael leaned across the seat and slapped Henri’s hand. “Stop it. You’ll break the thing.” Michael hated how his mother thought he would come running every time she called. In fact, visiting his mom was almost ruining his buzz of contentment over his night with Nicky.
He was walking a slippery slope, risking getting emotionally involved, but damn he hadn’t felt so good with a guy in ages.
“Geez. When in the hell are you going to trade this thing in for something that doesn’t stink like an oil spill?”
“It’s not so bad.” Michael rolled down his window to get some cross ventilation. Much as he hated to admit it, his car was starting to reek. The last three bouts of repairs had gotten her running again, but hadn’t done much for the stench of gasoline every time he turned over the engine. “And anyway, I can’t afford a new one.”
The light flicked to green, and the cars rolled forward. Unfortunately, the light ahead of that one turned red, so the traffic stuttered to a halt before Michael even got through the first.
“With the money you put in to fixing this heap…” Henri trailed off, probably because they’d bickered like an old married couple over Michael’s car a hundred times.
“God, I hate driving to
Similar Books
