not to do what your father had planned for you, he'd have gotten angry and told you to do what you wanted anyways and to not come back."
Tre nodded, rubbing his eyes. "Yeah, you're right. He's had my life planned since I was born, and I've never had much say in that. Working at the garage, that's been a big fight for years, ever since I told him I wasn't going to seminary after high school. Now, well...I don't know what I'll do."
I sat on the stool next to him, loosening the robe a little. "Do you regret it?" I asked him. "Do you regret what we did together?"
He took a long moment to answer, honestly considering.
"No, I don't," Tre said. "I made the choice, and I don't regret it. It was the most amazing experience of my life, and I can't believe it was wrong. Maybe it was, but I don't care."
"Good," I said. "We'll figure this out. And listen, if you want to try to work things out with your dad, I understand. I mean, if you have to...to not see me, to work it out, then I understand."
He looked at me, his gaze mature and understanding. He seemed to sense how hard that was for me to say.
He shook his head, saying, "No, that won't work, even if I wanted to try. Even if I crawled back to him and begged him to forgive me, and promised to never see you again and did everything he said, he still wouldn't let it go. It'd always be there between us."
He turned to face me, putting his knees on either side of mine, his gaze flowing over my body, taking in my hair, still sleep-mussed, and down my neckline to my breasts peeking out of the robe, to my crotch, visible to him as I sat with my feet on the rung of the stool, knees apart a little.
"So now what?" I asked. "What do you want? You're welcome to stay here, of course, for as long as you want."
He shrugged, a gesture of not knowing rather than not caring. "I don't know. I don't have anything here, not even a toothbrush or a change of boxers. I can't just hide out in here, never coming out." He grinned at me, flirting. "Although I might enjoy being holed up in here with you..."
"But we both have lives to live."
He nodded. "You know everyone will know, now. Everyone will be talking. They already are right now, since Mrs. Henderson must have seen me drive by and not drive back. There's only one house past hers, and she'd do the math, come to the same conclusions as Daddy."
I grimaced. "Don't call him that. I know it's a Southern thing, but it seems weird to me, a grown man calling his father 'Daddy.'"
Tre shrugged again. "Okay." He slipped his hand onto my thigh, sliding it up and back down. "I don't care about people, right now. I know they'll talk. I don't care."
"This is your home, Tre...and I just wanted to say I'm sorry you're in trouble on my account."
He moved closer still, moving his hand to my hip, spreading the robe apart. "I'm not. You said it yourself: this was coming, one way or another. This just sped it up a bit."
I sat still, letting him touch me, letting him explore me with his hands and his eyes. When his fingers moved down between my legs, I scootched back off the stool and out of his reach.
"Not just yet," I said. "First, we need to eat. You need your strength, you know."
He grinned. "I am hungry."
I made sandwiches and served him coffee while he waited, sipping my own while I slathered mayo and layered cheese and ham. We devoured the meal, munching on chips.
He seemed deep in thought as he ate, and I elbowed him. "What's up, buttercup?"
He shrugged. "Just wondering. Why can't you have kids? If you don't want to talk about it, I get it. I'm just wondering."
I took a deep breath and let it out. "That's a long story, Tre. It's long and depressing and old history. I'll tell you some time, I promise. For now, lets just say that I got sick, and things in my body stopped working like they should. I'm not sick anymore, so you don't have to worry."
He nodded. "Okay, well, tell me when you're ready."
We finished eating, and I led him back upstairs.
Tre nodded, rubbing his eyes. "Yeah, you're right. He's had my life planned since I was born, and I've never had much say in that. Working at the garage, that's been a big fight for years, ever since I told him I wasn't going to seminary after high school. Now, well...I don't know what I'll do."
I sat on the stool next to him, loosening the robe a little. "Do you regret it?" I asked him. "Do you regret what we did together?"
He took a long moment to answer, honestly considering.
"No, I don't," Tre said. "I made the choice, and I don't regret it. It was the most amazing experience of my life, and I can't believe it was wrong. Maybe it was, but I don't care."
"Good," I said. "We'll figure this out. And listen, if you want to try to work things out with your dad, I understand. I mean, if you have to...to not see me, to work it out, then I understand."
He looked at me, his gaze mature and understanding. He seemed to sense how hard that was for me to say.
He shook his head, saying, "No, that won't work, even if I wanted to try. Even if I crawled back to him and begged him to forgive me, and promised to never see you again and did everything he said, he still wouldn't let it go. It'd always be there between us."
He turned to face me, putting his knees on either side of mine, his gaze flowing over my body, taking in my hair, still sleep-mussed, and down my neckline to my breasts peeking out of the robe, to my crotch, visible to him as I sat with my feet on the rung of the stool, knees apart a little.
"So now what?" I asked. "What do you want? You're welcome to stay here, of course, for as long as you want."
He shrugged, a gesture of not knowing rather than not caring. "I don't know. I don't have anything here, not even a toothbrush or a change of boxers. I can't just hide out in here, never coming out." He grinned at me, flirting. "Although I might enjoy being holed up in here with you..."
"But we both have lives to live."
He nodded. "You know everyone will know, now. Everyone will be talking. They already are right now, since Mrs. Henderson must have seen me drive by and not drive back. There's only one house past hers, and she'd do the math, come to the same conclusions as Daddy."
I grimaced. "Don't call him that. I know it's a Southern thing, but it seems weird to me, a grown man calling his father 'Daddy.'"
Tre shrugged again. "Okay." He slipped his hand onto my thigh, sliding it up and back down. "I don't care about people, right now. I know they'll talk. I don't care."
"This is your home, Tre...and I just wanted to say I'm sorry you're in trouble on my account."
He moved closer still, moving his hand to my hip, spreading the robe apart. "I'm not. You said it yourself: this was coming, one way or another. This just sped it up a bit."
I sat still, letting him touch me, letting him explore me with his hands and his eyes. When his fingers moved down between my legs, I scootched back off the stool and out of his reach.
"Not just yet," I said. "First, we need to eat. You need your strength, you know."
He grinned. "I am hungry."
I made sandwiches and served him coffee while he waited, sipping my own while I slathered mayo and layered cheese and ham. We devoured the meal, munching on chips.
He seemed deep in thought as he ate, and I elbowed him. "What's up, buttercup?"
He shrugged. "Just wondering. Why can't you have kids? If you don't want to talk about it, I get it. I'm just wondering."
I took a deep breath and let it out. "That's a long story, Tre. It's long and depressing and old history. I'll tell you some time, I promise. For now, lets just say that I got sick, and things in my body stopped working like they should. I'm not sick anymore, so you don't have to worry."
He nodded. "Okay, well, tell me when you're ready."
We finished eating, and I led him back upstairs.
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