With Trust - 18. Back

I was out of my fucking mind.

“You’re out of your fucking mind,” Caleb said.

I nodded in agreement as I glanced over at him where he sat behind the steering wheel of his jeep. He’d gotten out of his promise to babysit, took Joe and Haily home and shortly after met me at my house. Now we both looked up at the Trust house from where we were parked on the curb, and I found myself wishing for clouds to develop in the clear sky as if they could cradle my surroundings, offer some sort of protection.

“So, you’ll call my parents if...”

“Let’s focus on not getting arrested,” Caleb suggested. “And if not... Ray’s probably better at stuff like that.”

“Right. But if they let me in...”

“I’ll knock in five minutes to make sure no one’s burying you in the basement.”

I swallowed. “Neat.” I took my eyes from the house, looked back at Caleb. “They’re going to slam the door in my face, aren’t they?”

Caleb gave a small shrug and looked kindly sympathetic. “Maybe he’ll be the one who opens the door.”

I looked at the cars in the driveway, feeling doubtful. Hell, even if Milo did answer the door there was no guarantee that he wouldn’t slam it in my face after I’d walked away from him. I wanted to explain. And fuck Jame for not doing it. I’m sure it was possible that Milo had heard the rumors by now. But then, Stratfort was an entirely different crowd, and even if he had heard something there was no telling what Jame might have told him.

I took a deep, nervous breath. “Okay. I’m going now.”

“Okay.”

I didn’t even reach to open the door.

“Caleb?” I asked quietly. “Do I look like I might cry?”

He reached over and twisted my nipple. Hard.

“Ouch!” I objected, swinging my fist roughly into his big arm.

Caleb laughed at me, grinned approvingly. “You look pissed.”

I rolled my eyes at him as I rubbed soothingly at my chest. A small smile formed on my mouth as I worked up the nerve to leave the jeep, but faded quickly as I opened the front gate enough to slip through and headed up the front walk.

It felt like it took me an unreasonable amount of time to choose between ringing the doorbell or knocking. Eventually I went with the doorbell. Not long after the front door was opening, and I refrained from the strong urge to take defensive steps back down the stairs.

Juanita’s dark eyes took me in, widened slightly even as I tried to force a smile.

“Hi,” I said, my voice suddenly ragged, as if I’d been screaming for hours.

She cocked her head at me. “Hi,” she repeated, her tone both expectant and worried.

“I want to see Milo.” She’d at least understand that. “Please, Juanita. Could you please tell him I’m here? I need to see him.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but then suddenly the door she was tucked cautiously behind was being pulled from her hands and she looked up the same way I did at the way Mr. Trust hovered, his eyes narrowing angrily on me.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded, but didn’t bother waiting for an answer as he looked down at Juanita. “Vas aseguras que él está en su cuarto.”

The lines between Juanita’s eyes deepened as she let out a breath. “Esto no ayudará.”

They glared at each other for a moment while I looked between them, and then took it upon myself to add, “Gracias.” And I rolled my r. I didn’t tell them where I’d learned to do that, though, as they both looked back at me until Juanita finally rolled her eyes and walked off.

I faced Mr. Trust’s anger with disappointment. “So, she’s probably not going to get him, is she?”

“You’re not wanted here.”

I held his eyes evenly, despite the way his intimidating glare had me wanting to look anywhere else. “Thank you.” Big, scary, mean man. “But if you could ask Milo to come out here, I think I need to hear that from him.”

Mr. Trust cocked his head, incredulous. I was slightly less intimidated by that look, having plenty of exposure to it from a younger version of him.

“You need to leave, or I’ll be calling the police and they can make you leave.”

“Tell my uncle I said hi.” Oops. That slipped out. But at the moment I wasn’t trying to be cocky. I was serious. Mr. Trust could do whatever he wanted. I just wanted to see Milo.

“You arrogant little shit,” the man hissed, this time causing me to jump, step back. “You stay away from here, and you stay away from my son. I won’t let you brainwash him into thinking he’s something he’s not.”

That stung, but I found myself calling out anyway, before he could close the door. “I’m not the one who wants him to be something he’s not.” I was surprised how steady my voice sounded, that I seemed to have struck a nerve because while obviously perturbed, Mr. Trust paused long enough that I continued. “He thinks you hate him.” Maybe that wasn’t my business to say, but I couldn’t seem to help myself. “I don’t think that’s true, because I do know him, and I don’t understand how anyone could. But maybe you don’t know him.” Mr. Trust opened his mouth, so I threw words out quickly. “I would never want to hurt him... You don’t know me, but I think, for the most part, I’m not a bad person. I like Milo for who he is, not who I want him to be. I mean, I even like him when he’s cranky and that has to count for something, right? You might love him because he’s your son... but can you say the same thing?”

Despite the emotionless slate that had taken over Mr. Trust’s face, there was no doubt about what he felt about me and what I had to say, in the way his glare pinned me as he closed the door. “Do not come back here again.”

I heard the lock, instinctively raised my hand to knock at the door, make him come back out here because obviously, I hadn’t done enough to convince him to let me see Milo. It was Caleb’s whistle that stopped me, had me hesitantly leaving the Trusts’ doorstep, hoping that Milo would come through it before I reached Caleb’s jeep; that he’d know when I’d walked away from him it wasn’t because I’d wanted to. And I wondered how long it would take my Uncle Ray to get here, or if Mr. Trust would request Trujillo, because he stood a better chance of convincing that officer to shoot me.
...............................

I had clammy hands. I never got clammy hands. I wiped them on my jeans, leaned back in the uncomfortable theater seat and stared at the screen, pretending the stench of hot popcorn and the way spilt soda on the floor was sticking to my shoes wasn’t bothering me. That I wasn’t ready to snatch the half-eaten bucket away from Caleb just so I could puke in it.

Feeling normal, sitting in a dark theater with my best friend had worked for at least the first half of the movie. It was one of those comedies that had little plot, but plenty of outrageous situations that normal people were supposed to laugh at.

I hadn’t wanted to come, but Caleb was determined to end my life as a hermit. I guess, initially it wasn’t as bad to get out as I’d thought it would be. Somewhere where I was guaranteed to run into people. But Caleb and I stuck to ourselves, sat in the back, and I tried not to pick out potential enemies in the crowd. And I tried to relax, forget. At least, I figured I owed Caleb that much.

It occurred to me that maybe I’d never given my best friend enough credit. I couldn’t say that I would have told him all of my secrets had I not been forced to, but I was beginning to realize I didn’t have to regret him knowing. Maybe he didn’t like it--in fact, I know he didn’t like it. He would have liked it if I liked girls, if we had two of them sitting through that movie with us, not odd stares that would likely result in rumors that would affect Caleb as soon as we got back to school on Monday. But then, that, I think, is where Caleb surprised me the most. He didn’t seem to give a fuck. Or maybe he did, but wasn’t interested in letting it show. He wasn’t worried about being seen with me. And more importantly, he hadn’t attempted to pick any fights over it. And I knew he wanted to, especially when one of the basketball players from our school and his girlfriend whispered cruel things behind our backs while we were waiting for tickets.

And he’d gone with me to Milo’s house when I’d told him the only thing that would make me feel remotely better was to see him. Caleb didn’t like that, either, but I guess the point was that he didn’t have to, not to be my friend.

So I felt bad when my mind couldn’t stay in the movie, couldn’t return Caleb’s whispered comments about it. But I couldn’t help it, not when there was so much to think about. Like, what I’d do about getting face to face with Milo somewhere safer to say the things I wanted to say, or ask the questions that had been stacking up for weeks. And later, when I went home and found my Uncle Ray waiting for me with my parents, I wondered how much harder that particular task was about to get.

He asked to speak to me alone, and from the way my parents looked at me I knew they didn’t know why he was there. In uniform. But once alone, I didn’t flinch when he told me to stay the hell away from the Trusts. He wasn’t pleased when I told him I didn’t intend to make any promises.

“Nelson, this isn’t a joke,” he informed me where he stood in the living room, pacing in front of the chair I’d made myself comfortable in. “I promised Mr. Trust that I’d keep you away, and in return he’s not going to request a restraining order.” He looked at me pointedly. “That’s not something I want to see you in court for.”

I met his eyes evenly while considering what he was telling me. Finally, I responded with the first thing that came to mind. “Mr. Trust is a douche bag.”

Uncle Ray looked aggravated and amused all at the same time as he tugged at his wiry, red beard. “You’re not going to make my job any easier, are you?”

I gave a small shrug and tried my best to look apologetic. “It’s nothing personal.”

He let out an exasperated breath and seated himself on the sofa across from me. “Your parents talked to me a few weeks ago. Told me what was going on with you.”

I nodded slowly, acknowledging that I’d guessed that on my own. But with Ray, it occurred to me that I didn’t feel nervous. He was still there, talking to me like I was the same nephew he’d always had. What was there to be afraid of, anyway, after already facing everyone and everything else? Instead of commenting on it, I told him, “Milo wants to see me. Ask him. No one else will let me do it.”

“Nelson... Milo has parents.”

“A parent,” I replied. “And he’s a douche bag.”

Uncle Ray shook his head, frustrated. “What can I do to help you let go of this?”

My eyes widened slightly, and I was surprised by how I took offense to the very idea as my eyes drifted to the painting on the wall, the one Milo had put his time into, something he was proud of and something he’d done for me.

“Let go of it?” I repeated. “I tried that when I lost the choice to say who I care about is no one’s business but mine. Now I’m being told I can’t be with the person who I want to be with. But why should I listen, if there’s a chance he wants to be with me, too?”

His eyes crinkled at the corners, turning sympathetic. “You’re so young.”

I snorted at the excuse adults seemed to love using. “Maybe, but that doesn’t mean the way I feel isn’t real... and even if it isn’t, I should get to figure that out. I don’t want... I don’t want to let it go.”

He rubbed at his face, not seeming sure of what he wanted to argue next. “You know I have to tell your parents you went over there today, right? I’m going to have to tell them they need to keep you away.”

“I figured.”
“Nelson...” he paused, regarded me sternly for a long moment. “How about a compromise? Give me a chance to talk to Mr. Trust. Maybe I can convince him you’re a good kid. I won’t make any promises on how it’ll all turn out, but in the meantime... do you think you can stay away? Give it a little distance?”

I pressed my lips, met his eyes. “Sure I could, Uncle Ray.”

I’d like to point out that could and would are two completely different things, so I didn’t consider myself a liar the next day when my parents visited Grannie Tenny and I declined so I could stalk out Milo’s house again. And stalk is sort of a strong word, I think. More like I drove past it six times in an hour, hoping I’d catch him coming or going. Maybe it was a bad idea to begin with. Or maybe it was a good idea that led to a bad idea, when Jame Graham was dropped off by an older woman, and ten minutes later was leaving, alone, in Milo’s borrowed car. It did cross my mind that following him was a bad idea. It did. I think maybe, I was just past caring about it anymore.

Gracie’s Dancers.

I stared at the little pink building, Milo’s car tucked into the parking lot. The building again. Jame walking into it, black duffle bag in hand.

Really?

Suddenly, following Assface didn’t seem like a terrible idea at all. I sat in the parking lot for several minutes, mind moving in several directions before I decided there was no way I was waiting out here.

The building was familiar enough when I walked into a wide hallway equipped with lockers and chairs. There were older women and a couple of men packing up bags or stripping out of their street clothes, stuffing items into lockers, moving in and out of the rooms to both sides of the hallways. The rooms were visible through glass walls and lined with mirrors and various ballet dancers stretching against the wooden bars that wrapped each room.

I would have liked to see my own face when my eyes were drawn to Jame Graham, black unitard stretched over his long body, his leg stretched upwards and his toe perfectly pointed. Who. The. Fuck. Knew. I suddenly needed to sit down, and felt fortunate that there happened to be a chair directly behind me.

“Nelson?”

I was on my feet as quickly as I’d gone off them, turning to face Leanna as she walked towards me, covered head to toe in shiny pink fabric, her glasses replaced by contacts and her hair clipped to the top of her head.

“Is everything okay?” she asked. It wasn’t often I visited her at work. I hugged her back when she neared me, shook my head and tried to force my expression to appear perfectly untroubled and normal.

“Yeah, I was just...” My eyes darted to Jame Graham, and then quickly back to Leanna. “I was... so, how are you and Chad doing?”

Leanna raised a thin eyebrow at that. “Fine... wait, did he say something?”

“No,” I said quickly, feeling like an idiot. “I mean... he loves you, and don’t tell him I said anything because I like living... and he really didn’t say anything. Swear.”

“Okay...and you’re here because?”

I sighed, let my gaze drift pointedly through the glass to where Jame was now lined with several other students, his focus on the instructor. “He’s why I’m here.”

Leanna looked. “Oh, you know him?” she asked. “Great dancer.”

“I know him.” I replied, and Leanna frowned at my tone. “You know how every once in a while when I mention that kid, Assface?”

Leanna did a double take at Jame and then frowned at me. “That’s the guy who outed you?” She sound indignant on my behalf, and I felt some satisfaction over that, but then her brow creased with worry. “Nelson, please tell me you’re not getting yourself into trouble.”

I looked back at Jame and made a face that resulted in her narrowing her eyes on me and grabbing me by the shirtsleeve. Small as she was, Leanna meant business as she pulled me away from the windows towards the exit. “You have to go.”

“Wait,” I insisted, turning to look at her pleadingly as I lowered my voice. “Leanna, please. There are things I need to say to this guy. I don’t know when else I’ll be able to do it. I won’t cause a scene in here, I promise. Please... just pretend you didn’t see me.”

Leanna regarded me warily, her grip on my sleeve slowly loosening. “I have a class to teach,” she informed me, pointing into another classroom. “You can stay, but I’m watching you.”

I smiled at her. “Thank you.”

She was silent for a moment, and then curiously cocked her head at me. “Will it make things better, Nels? Talking to him?”

I shrugged. “I don’t think it can make things worse.”

She sighed, gave my shoulder a reassuring pat. “I’m coming to dinner with Chad tonight. Tell me what happens if I don’t catch you after class?”

I smiled at her. “Sure.”

She left me then to venture towards the window where I looked in on Jame, half wishing he’d see me so he’d trip over one of the strange little twirls he was doing. Shaking my head, I seated myself and watched, and slowly came to resent the fact that Leanna was right. Jame Graham was good at this.

The class seemed advanced, and the instructor seemed to gravitate towards him as an example for others more than correcting him. He made things look easy that I didn’t see myself pulling off, and something about that fact rubbed me the wrong way before I realized why. It was because for Jame Graham, this seemed entirely out of character, especially since at every school dance I’d ever spotted him at he came off as an uncoordinated moron. He stepped on toes, he bumped into other people, and then he’d laugh about it with them. Here he was... kinda graceful. Partnering wasn’t a problem for him either, I noticed as he performed lifts with more than one girl in class.

Who knew? Milo, probably. But maybe not many others, and that made me realize that maybe it did all make sense. Maybe he pretended he couldn’t dance because he cared about what people thought. He was the kind of person who’d changed his name for the sake of being different, but wanted to fit in so badly that he pretended he was a terrible dancer so no one would suspect he was a ballerina. Ballarino? Whatever. Jame Graham had toe shoes. And he knew how to use them. Regardless of how much it irked me, the more I watched him the more I respected what he could do. This was something that defined him. Made him a little bit different than most of the guys I knew, and he wanted to hide it.

In an odd way, it had me thinking that we had something in common. So it pissed me off that much more, that he’d done what he’d done. And there was no question about it, either. It was Jame. The rumors. Everything. It couldn’t have been anyone else. And I couldn’t understand it.

I knew he hated me. But he didn’t hate Milo... so why? And what the hell was his deal, anyway? It had crossed my mind before now that he’d known what he’d find that morning. My car would have been easy enough to spot, and if Milo had skipped out on him to spend time with me, well I could understand the confrontation. I could even understand him wanting to catch us, because it was obvious he’d had his suspicions. The fact that Emily got sick on their trip and Mr. Trust was around to witness my downfall, too, well I’d dismissed that as an unfortunate coincidence; but still, if Jame cared about Milo as much as he seemed to think he did, as much as Milo thought he did, then why no warning? There were probably still things that Jame knew about Milo that I didn’t, just like Milo likely knew about Jame’s dancing thing... so he’d know. Jame would know how Mr. Trust would react to all of this. He’d know that Milo was already miserable at home, know that my involvement could make things worse for him. If he’d wanted to hurt me then his methods had worked. But they hurt Milo, too. If he cared about Milo, then why the hell would he do anything to make things worse for him?

I found myself straightening a little an hour later as class let out, my composure breaking as Jame Graham walked through the doors, chatting up two girls following behind him, my anger over everything becoming more difficult to control. But I remained where I was, knowing the moment he noticed me because of the way he went red in the face, and it had nothing to do with being winded from his class.

This wasn’t like at school; suddenly I was the last place he wanted to look, and having turned the tables brought be a sense of... well, decidedly, I think it was peace I was feeling. And maybe, a great deal of fuck-you-Jame-the-Assface-Graham, too. Dick. And it got better. So much so that I found myself barely suppressing the same kind of smug smile he’d been throwing at me for fucking weeks, when I realized that I’d seated myself close enough to the locker he was using that he couldn’t avoid me, his posture suddenly becoming cramped, as if he wanted to shrink out of the skintight ensemble, hide the fact that the black fabric covering him left little to the imagination. And toe shoes. Remember the toe shoes.

And the sad thing was, I didn’t even want to make fun of him for it. If I had more respect for him, which I didn’t for obvious reasons, I may have even told him how... well, how fucking amazing he could be. Flexible. Long. Steady. I found myself eyeing him, fantasizing about what Milo would look like in the same clothes, pulling the same moves... coming from me that was a fucking compliment where Jame Graham was concerned, so take it or leave it, okay? Assface had every ounce of discomfort I was currently inflicting coming to him. He saw it, too, because as he hastily dragged his jeans out of his locker and pulled them on he cut his eyes hostilely in my direction. Hostile, wary, downright paranoid. It was as if he fully expected me to have our entire school hiding behind me, ready to chime in on his secret hobby.

And then my laugher slipped out. Not because I was making fun of him. Humorless laughter that bubbled and slipped as I moved my arms wide, gesturing at our surroundings. “All this,” I remarked. “I can’t keep it a secret what I do when I’m naked, and you keep all this a secret.”

“Fuck off, pervert,” he hissed.

Smile disappearing, I couldn’t help the way I stood, crowded him at his locker. His eyes darted over the crowd, his classmates. He didn’t want to make a scene any more than Leanna wanted me to. Somehow, that made it easier. “Pervert?” I spat. I was so sick of that word. “Does Milo think I’m a pervert?”

His eyes cut to mine, dark and furious as he shook out a t-shirt but avoided pulling it over his head, as if it would have the same effect as him turning his back on me would. “What do you want?” he demanded.

I crossed my arms, leaned my shoulder against the lockers, effectively closing his with it, preventing him from reaching into it again. Escaping. He noticed it and his frown deepened. “What do I want?” I repeated, and then suddenly grew passive, serious. Just not pleading. The last time we’d met like this all I could do was beg. I wasn’t going to give him that again. “I want to know why you had him picking you up from school when he doesn’t have a fucking clue, does he? Why would you do that to him?”

Jame looked uncomfortable. More than a little offended, and even more defensive. “Don’t you fucking dare. If you’d just stayed away...”

“He didn’t want me to stay away,” I cut him off, and noticed the way his eyes narrowed in response. “And you knew that,” I added carefully. “Didn’t you?”

Jame turned towards me, shoulders growing stiff. “He doesn’t know you.”

“You don’t know me,” I corrected. “And turns out, you’re so fucking self-absorbed that you can’t even figure out when you’re hurting him. So tell me something, fuck-head. Do you actually give a damn about Milo, or do you just think getting close to him makes you normal? There’s a reason why people don’t like you, Jame. And know what? I think if I’ve ever said that before... I didn’t really mean it until now. Did it ever fucking occur to you that starting shit with me would hurt him?”

Jame took a quick glance around, so I didn’t expect it when he suddenly shoved me off his locker, opened it, and tore his belongings out before I could close it again. Deodorant and a little white comb fell from his duffle bag onto the floor and he quickly moved to retrieve them.

“You got exactly what you were asking for,” he informed me, his voice raising enough to draw attention. He noticed the looks as much as I did, took a moment, and dropped into a whisper again. “You’re such an asshole. You got what you deserved, Larmont. I just made sure it happened to you before you could do it to Milo.”

Shaken, furious over those words, I hardly had time to realize I was reaching for Jame, my hand gripping his shoulder the way I wanted to wrap it around his neck, and I pulled him up to his feet, turned him and pressed him against the locker in the most subdued way possible. “You stupid piece of shit.” I was so in his face that I could smell the strawberry milkshake he’d had for lunch, but what was worse was the burning in the bridge of my nose, the wetness behind my eyes. “Stop lying. You read what I had to say to him. I’m not the one who’d do that to him. You--you’re the one. What did you think saying shit like that about me would do to him? Does he even know? What have you been telling him, huh?”

Furious, Jame pushed away from my hand, meaning to get off the lockers but I found myself pushing him back, his back slamming against metal. “Back off,” he warned.

“What I can’t figure out,” I said, “is if you did it because you don’t give a fuck about him as long as everyone thinks you’re as cool as he is, or if you did it because you care as long as you’re the only one he cares about... do you wanna kiss him, Jame? Does he miss me, huh? Are you the one that gets to make it all better?”

He shoved me, hard enough that I almost ended up against the glass window behind me as I watched his face contort in disgusted rage. I was pushing, I knew, but I was so tired. Fuck the high road. Fuck being patient. I wanted my life back. Milo, too, and at the moment I was looking at Jame Graham, and somehow he became the one thing standing between me and both of those things.

“You’re fucking twisted!” Jame snapped. “Stay the hell away from me.”

“Then make it right!” I retorted. “Not for me. Make it right for him and tell him exactly what you did.”

“Nelson!”

I jumped at the sound of Leanna’s voice. Gentle, even while sounding stern, I couldn’t help but look to where she was standing in the hall, her eyes wide on me, and then at the rest of my surroundings. Okay. So much for not making a scene. It appeared she had to leave her class. There were people standing in the halls, at the classroom doors, eyes turned silently in my direction.

I met Leanna’s eyes. I’m sorry. But I couldn’t get the words out, my scorn sliding back in Jame Graham’s direction, my voice tearing from my throat in a strange, painful whisper. “You fuck. Make it right.”

Leanna moved towards me, but I didn’t let her get close as I turned and fled the studio. Not because I was afraid, but because suddenly I understood how Caleb felt all those times I was pulling him off someone. Except I was sober. Sinking. I felt out of control as I practically ran through the parking lot and snatched my car door open, dropping myself unceremoniously into the driver’s seat before staring blankly at the blinding glare against the windshield.

Pervert.

Faggot.

Shitlicker, even. Who’d said that? Right. Theresa Milldrum had no doubt heard one of her syphilis-providers mention the word, and of course from there it became part of her favorite vocabulary.

Ugly words. Ugly people. It gave me the warm-fuzzies, picturing Jame Graham buried beneath all of them. If I was losing it, whatever. Didn’t feel like it was the first time through all of this.

I held up my hand, watched silently at the way it shook. I couldn’t even feel it anymore. I wondered when it would happen--when I’d wake up and not feel anything. I felt something hot and wet rolling down my face, reached up and caught it with my stupid, shaky hand. I resented tears. I waved my hand away, as if to send the warm droplet elsewhere. Away from me.

I let out a breath, choked on it. Asked myself when I’d stopped breathing, if I sealed it in every time air reached my lungs. I couldn’t breathe.

But then there was the notebook on the floor beneath my passenger seat. I stared at the yellow cover, labeled from last semester’s physics class. The corners were bent, edges of papers frayed. Footprints even, from everyone sitting in the front seat of my car.

I reached for the glove department first, found a pen. Then the notebook. I flipped for a blank sheet of paper and I wrote. My eyes slid from the dance studio to paper and I was opening the door of my car before I was even finished, my eyes scanning for where Jame had left Milo’s car.

I went to it, slid my fingers over the hood as I peered through the windows. Driver’s door locked. Passenger door wasn’t. I pulled it open, dropped myself in the seat and for a moment inhaled what I hoped was Milo as I looked over the interior, cursing him for being more responsible than I was when it came to keeping the inside clean. Nervously, I glanced back at the studio, worried I was running out of time and finally pulled open the glove compartment. No fucking telling when he’d look in there, I thought as I tore my scribbled-on sheet of paper from the notebook, shoved it in. But Jame wouldn’t. And who knew... maybe I could get Uncle Ray to pull Milo over or something...

I shook my head at the idea, but left it regardless. Maybe it would be my only way to get to him. Maybe it was all I could do.

For now.

I didn’t know when Jame came out of the studio. I didn’t know when anyone did. Milo’s door was closed, and I was gone long before then.
..................

I think I was a little in love with my brother’s girlfriend. Seriously, if I swung that way there was a good chance Chad would have some serious competition. He showed up with Leanna for dinner on Saturday night, just as she’d said they would, but she didn’t mention a thing to my parents, or Chad for all I knew, as they all seemed relaxed and happy to have all of us around the table. But that didn’t mean she was going to leave the situation alone. The nervous glances she sent in my direction all through dinner told me that Leanna definitely had other ideas about that, and I had a feeling I’d be visiting with her well before she and Chad took off for the evening.

I had no objections. In fact, now that I’d had the chance to cool down and shower two times more than necessary, I figured I owed her an explanation, anyway. I imagined she wasn’t pleased at all when Caleb came knocking on the door just as we were finishing dessert and she realized she probably wouldn’t be getting one--tonight, anyway.

His arrival was a surprise. He’d told me earlier on he was going to a party, one I refused to show my face at. When I asked him what he was doing there he’d explained that he’d gotten bored and that was that. He came in, sat with us for a while.

I think one of the reasons why my parents loved Caleb was that he never turned down a free meal, and regardless of the fact I knew he’d probably eaten already he made my mom feel like her cooking was the best thing that had happened to him all day as he joked with Chad and my father, told Leanna her new glasses looked cute. But then that might have been a mistake because Chad hadn’t exactly noticed them yet and Leanna made it apparent my brother would be catching hell for that for the rest of the evening.

“Do you want more pie, Caleb?” my mom asked.

He’d been sitting with us for over an hour and was the only one who had a plate left.

“That would be awesome,” he replied, grinning and thanking my mom as she cleared her glass pie pan, dropping the last piece onto his plate. I think he had his fork in it before she was finished, and I found myself rolling my eyes at him as my parents excused themselves to go to the living room, where Chad and Leanna were already putting on a movie, despite how late it had gotten.

“You spending the night?” I asked Caleb when we were alone.

“Nope,” he said before shoveling more apple and dough into his mouth. “We’re going out.”

I raised an eyebrow at that. “If you knew what kind of psychopath I’ve been today, you wouldn’t be encouraging me.”

Caleb frowned. “What do you mean? What happened?”

I forced a smile, shrugged his question off. If I told him, we’d be hunting down Jame Graham all night long. “Never mind. Where did you want to go?”

“To meet Haily,” he replied, once again focusing on his pie before he eyed me almost cautiously.

“Where?”

He cleaned his plate, and when he stood to rinse it in the sink I found myself following him. “What time is it?” he asked.

I glanced at the clock. “Almost ten.”

“Yeah. Okay.” He turned, regarded me seriously. “So what would you say to your parents if we needed to talk about something serious and didn’t want them coming down to your room for a while?”
My brow flew up. “What?”

Caleb shook his head as he reached for my shoulder, suddenly pushing me towards the living room. “Never mind. Think of something. Hurry up, okay?”

I found myself frowning, nerves working themselves through my gut. Something serious? Things had felt almost normal when it came to Caleb, and it was hard not to worry about what was on his mind as I regarded him suspiciously, allowing him to guide me closer to my parents nonetheless. “Is there something wrong?” I demanded. “If there is, just say it, okay? I’m tired of the guessing games.”

He had the nerve to look irritated. “Just, tell them something.”

Suddenly on edge I made my way into the living room, trying hard not to glance back at Caleb, who was keeping his distance but watching me intently while I tried to come up with a list of things that were unsettled between us. I didn’t like the idea of having to talk about something serious. Not now. Not today. My day had been shit.

But still, when my parents asked when we could start the movie I found myself telling them that I needed to talk to Caleb for a while. Made it sound as serious as he’d indicated. My parents looked optimistic while Chad looked curious and Leanna was still eyeing me with concern, probably wanting to volunteer to sit and moderate whatever it was. She hadn’t exactly seen the best side of me today.

Caleb was still waiting in the kitchen and wasted no time in leading the way to my room.

“Caleb... I thought we were supposed to meet Haily.”

“We are,” he replied as he moved down the stairs ahead of me. “That’s what I wanted to talk about.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Is it because of Joe? Because look, I get he doesn’t want anything to do with me. Just say it. It’s not going to hurt my feelings.” Much.

Caleb frowned back at me as we reached my room and he flipped on the light. “Joe’s not talking to any of us, so I wouldn’t worry about him... look, I talked to Haily about yesterday.”

“Yesterday?”

“You know,” he said, shrugging. “How you’re supposed to be pulling your head out of your ass.”

“Caleb--”

“Don’t tell her, but she’s a bitch. And she wants you to know you’re an idiot for asking me for help with anything.”
“What?”

He was across my room, staring up at my window as he pulled the string for the blinds, sending them upwards. “I’m letting her get away with it for now because she probably has a point.” He paused, shook his head as he looked up at his own reflection in the glass while he reached to unlock the latch. “I’m never going to fit through here.”

I was already next to him. “Why would you have to fit through there? We have a door.” It was like a familiar sixth sense, the moment it occurred to me I’d just ended up trapped in one of Caleb’s schemes, or Haily’s by the sound of it. I was more worried than excited about it. “Caleb, why aren’t we using the door?”

“How do you open this thing?” he asked as he stretched in an attempt to get the glass to rise.

Despite my reluctance, I pushed past him, jiggled the frame in the way only I knew how and shoved it upwards.

Caleb looked at me in approval, and then he was suddenly shoving my screen into the window well.

“Hey! My parents are going to notice that!”

“Will you be quiet!” Haily’s voice suddenly hissed around the same time feet appeared just outside the window, only slightly visible from the light in my room.

“What the...”

Haily was suddenly crouching, her head tilted to look in on us. She looked over the room and then smiled at me. “Hi, Nels. I’m your favorite, right? Because I should be.”

“Will you guys hurry up?” a muffled voice came from outside.

“Who’s that?” I demanded. “Joe?”

“Jerry,” Haily replied before looking at Caleb pointedly. “Ready?”

Caleb released a sigh that suggested he wasn’t entirely enthused, but ready nonetheless, and before I could ask any more questions, he was lifting himself up the wall, twisting his body the best he could to fit through my bedroom window.

“Why are we going out the window?” I asked again.

Haily peeked around Caleb’s broad frame, pulling at him as if she stood a chance in hell of supporting any of his weight. “Not we, him,” she told me.

“I didn’t have a chance to tell him,” I heard Caleb whisper.
Haily flicked his ear with her fingertips, and since he was in no position to fend her off, he settled for releasing a string of cusses that blocked out everyone’s voices. But then Caleb’s feet disappeared through the window, and I was feeling both annoyed and curious enough to follow him out of it. But the moment his feet were gone two more replaced them, followed by jean-covered calves that had me stepping back so I wouldn’t get kicked.

“You guys!” I hissed, taking a quick glance back at my bedroom door, which was still cracked open. I could only imagine what anyone in my family would have to say about all of this.

But by the time I turned back the feet had turned into a body, and I found my eyes widening on a long, lithe form with paint stains on an old t-shirt tucked under a dark jacket, and stepped back, just before Milo Trust landed on my bedroom floor, the cap that I assumed had been on his head hitting it just after he did.

I watched him pick it up before he ever even looked at me, folding the material in his hands, knuckles white against it as his green eyes darted over his surroundings as if he hadn’t yet figured out how he’d come to be there. I looked over his messed hair, the way his jeans were stuck inside of one shoe from his struggle with the window, and finally settled my gaze over the dark purple bruise that blemished the arc of his left cheekbone as his eyes finally settled in my direction, his lips parted as if they hadn’t quite released all the air he’d been holding in his lungs. I hardly had time to take notice of Caleb as he pushed the window down as best as he could from outside before he and Haily disappeared altogether.

For a moment all I could do was stare before a reaction hit me and I found myself turning, trying my best not to slam my door as I fumbled with the lock, suddenly understanding Caleb’s emphases on needing privacy. When I turned back Milo seemed to be working on composing himself, his nervous gaze more steady in my direction. He looked pale, but it could have been the bruise against his complexion. Nervous. Terrified. Trapped.

Holy fuck.

“Did they kidnap you?” I was looking for explanations, I guess, and that was the first that came to mind.

It led to a break in Milo’s shock. He made a sound. Half laugh, half something else. “No,” he whispered.

I took a few tentative steps in his direction, paused and reached out, not really knowing what I was doing, just knowing that I didn’t want him looking like that. Scared. Hurt. It was the way he lifted his hand, let the tips of his fingers brush my wrist that urged me on as I moved closer, brought my warm hand to his cold face while my thumb carefully brushed over the bruise there.

“What the hell?” I demanded, feeling horrified, shaky as he closed his eyes, leaned into me. “What happened to you? Did your dad do this?”

He released a short laugh, eyes cracking enough to show me green. “He doesn’t have time to hit me.”

“Milo--”

I was cut off as he leaned into me and I moved my arms around him, my cheek drawn to his even as he moved to rest his chin tiredly against my shoulder. “I didn’t think you’d want to see me,” he whispered. “Even after I heard you...” he paused, suddenly pulled back and glared at me in a way that was all him. “I can’t believe you said those things to my dad. Are you out of your mind? Do you ever think?”

My eyes widened. “You heard me?”

I found myself staring at him, not missing a thing as his gaze drifted back towards my window, his body shaking with a silent tremble that had me moving away from him long enough to close the blinds before I moved back, slid my fingers under his jacket and pushed it off his shoulders. He shook out of it, didn’t seem to care as it landed on my floor and allowed me to take his hand and guide him towards my bed where we seated ourselves and I drew him against my side. “I only did it because...” I started. “I wanted...”

He was regarding me intently, but somehow didn’t seem very focused on my words. Maybe less than I was, and the moment his gaze dropped to my mouth I leaned into him, covering his lips with mine. I felt him open and for a while the only thing I was interested in was exploring his mouth with my tongue as he sighed and his fingers warmed where they were laced through mine.

I slid my hand down his side, my fingers digging just below his ribs, holding on as if I worried over something tearing him away from me. He leaned into me only to wince and pull back as his bruise brushed too roughly against my cheek and as our mouths parted I lifted careful fingers to it again, frowning over its presence even as his eyes slid back towards the window. “They said they’d be back in twenty minutes,” Milo whispered.

“What happened to you?” I asked, not wanting to think about what he was saying. Not wanting to wonder how much time I had left because now that he was there, I didn’t want to keep track. If he asked me to I’d lock everyone out, fuck the consequences.

I watched his mouth turn up in one corner, his lazy smile making me want to imitate it, kiss him again.

“Jerry,” he said as he pressed his palm against his sore face.

My eyes narrowed at that, suspicions rising. “Does he know...”

“He knows everything,” Milo explained, not looking as nearly as bothered as I was as he met my eyes and lifted his fingers to tug at my blond bangs. “Haily has a big mouth.”

My eyes widened on that, and suddenly I found myself growing angry. Milo noticed, shook his head at me and pointed to his face.

“Jerry did this for you,” Milo said wryly. “Or her, maybe. I think he was trying to impress her, since I, apparently, hurt one of her friends.”

I raised an eyebrow at that. “Milo, you didn’t...”

“It didn’t work,” he continued. “She got pretty mad at him.” He paused, met my eyes evenly. “She told me what happened.”

I nodded slowly, trying to hide my sudden apprehension over that. “No one knows about you,” I said, wanting to reassure him. “I swear, I haven’t said anything about you. I didn’t even tell Haily, but she...”

He made another strange little sound, another bitter little laugh. “No one should have known about you. Fuck, Nelson. You were supposed to leave, let things cool down with my dad... I heard you were out a few days later and I thought you did it. Jame said...”

“What did Jame say?” I said shortly, my tone rougher than I meant it to be.

Milo let out a breath. “I thought you decided to do it yourself, because he saw you. I wasn’t upset, Nelson.” He shrugged helplessly. “I thought you’d blame me for it. I’m the one who asked you to stay. I thought we were safe. I’m sorry...”

I don’t think he understood it when a short laugh escaped me as I pressed my forehead carefully to his, mindful to stay away from the hurt part of his face as my mouth moved to kiss away his frown.

Idiot. That’s what came to mind, but I had no idea which one of us I was referring to. I’d been so worried about whether or not he’d ever want anything to do with me again that I hadn’t considered much when it came to how he was doing with everything. Figuring out that he’d probably been struggling at home was the easy part. I guess it had never occurred to me that Milo was willing to take blame for our current predicament as much as I was. It replaced my burden with something else, something touching, relieving, but uncertain, too as I worried over how much time we had, knowing it wouldn’t be enough to talk about all the things we needed to talk about.

“I’ll tell them to go when they come back,” I whispered against his mouth. “Don’t leave.”

Milo pulled back, his concern too apparent to miss. “I’m not supposed to be here. Your parents...”

“My parents like you,” I insisted.
“But I’m still not supposed to be here,” Milo said, and I couldn’t exactly disagree with him. After the latest visit with Ray, my mom or even my dad would feel obligated to let Mr. Trust know where his son was.

“Where are you supposed to be?” I asked him.

“Jerry’s. My dad made sure first. Jerry will cover for me, but I can’t stay here.”

I reluctantly nodded my agreement. “Then we’ll go somewhere else.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know... just, give me some time, okay? Don’t leave.” Don’t leave.

Milo nodded slowly, closed his eyes as I moved my mouth back over his. I just needed more time with him. I needed Caleb to walk out the front door with me first, so I could have it. And then we’d figure it out, because saying goodbye to Milo Trust wasn’t on my list of options tonight.