Take the Long Road Home - 8. Chapter 8

TROY

I paced impatiently as Carson and I waited for the first sight of Miles and Dad. We watched their plane land and taxi to the gate. Carson said that prior to 9/11, we would have been able to go through security and meet them as they got off the plane. I wish that were still the case. Instead, I had to settle for wearing a path in the lobby carpet.

Thankfully, Boulder wasn’t as big as Denver. I didn’t have much longer to wait before I saw Dad’s favorite Stetson poking up from the group of passengers walking towards us. I bounced as I tried to get a glimpse of Miles. As soon as I saw him, I waved and hollered, “Miles! Dad! Over here!”

Miles picked up the pace, weaving through the slowpokes ahead of him, finally breaking into a jog once he passed the TSA agents manning the exit. We slammed into each other and held on for dear life. I was so happy to have him back.

Even though it had been only a few days, the days had been stressful. Having my arms around him was nothing short of heaven.

“Ohmygod! I missed you!” he said, kissing my cheek.

I settled my forehead against his. “I missed you, too.”

“What about me, kiddo?” Dad pouted.

I reluctantly let go of Miles and hugged Dad. “I guess I missed you, too.”

Dad put me in a headlock and noogied the top of my head. “It’d be a different story if I missed giving you your allowance now, wouldn’t it?”

I laughed as he let me go. “Yup!”

At the baggage claim, it was only a few minutes before the conveyor belt started rolling, and not long after, the big Samsonite they shared dropped onto the moving belt with a thunk. Dad hoisted it onto the floor, and within ten minutes, we were on the highway headed home. I held Miles’ hand the whole time.

“How was it going back there?” I asked.

Miles turned to me with his brows drawn. “It was weird. It didn’t feel like home anymore. It was as if I’d been gone for years instead of just a few months. It was familiar, but didn’t hold the same emotions as it did before I left. Even seeing Kyle felt different.”

“How so?” I admit I was nervous to hear his answer. He told me Kyle had been his first boyfriend, and I was worried there were still feelings between them.

“Well, first of all, I had to deal with a stern lecture from his mom about stealing Morgan’s identity. She was upset, but not because I took his information, but because I didn’t come to her and Kyle’s dad for help. She called me reckless, which, in hindsight, I admit I was. I apologized, and we moved on. As for seeing Kyle, the moment I laid eyes on him, I knew we were both over each other. I still love him, but like a brother, not a boyfriend. He hasn’t replaced me, but admitted that there’s someone he has his eye on. I’m happy for him.”

Joyful endorphins flooded through me with relief at his revelation. “Good for him. I’m glad you two got closure.”

Miles nodded. “Me too.”

When we turned onto the private road and under the scrolling ranch brand hanging overhead, Miles smiled and said, “Now I’m home.”

It was still early, and as we piled out of the truck, Carson informed us that Mrs. P said she would have sandwiches waiting if we were hungry. Carson and I skipped lunch, so I knew we had room for food. Miles and Dad had a snack on the plane, but both said they could eat too.

Meg ran across the kitchen the moment she saw Dad and hugged him tight. It was evident in the way Mrs. P hugged Miles that she was happy to have him back. The kitchen became a flurry of sandwiches and chips being passed out. Mrs. P firmly stuck to her limit of one per person. “I won’t have you spoiling your appetites for dinner. I made Miles’ favorite.”

Miles’ eyes lit up. “Lasagna?”

“Yes. So put down the bag of chips, you’ve had enough,” she admonished.

Miles quickly complied. We polished off our late lunch, and when we were done, Carson excused himself, and Dad addressed us, “Boys, come into my office when you’re finished cleaning up.” He pushed in his chair and cleared his place before he strode down the hallway to his office.

Miles and I exchanged glances. “Any idea what that’s about?“ he asked me.

I shrugged. “Nope.”

“Well, let’s get this over with.”

We finished helping Meg clean up the lunch debris and headed to Dad’s office.

”Shut the door,” he said as we stepped in.

“Are we in trouble?” Miles asked.

Dad snorted. “Did you already do something to get yourselves in trouble?”

We looked at each other, perplexed.

“Boys, you’re not in any trouble,” he said with a chuckle. “I want to set some ground rules now that Miles is a part of this household. You’re not going to like some of what I have to say, but it’s non-negotiable, understood?”

I’d been down this road with Dad before, when I was having so much difficulty a couple of years ago. I knew whatever rules he was about to impose came from a place of concern. I nodded, and Miles did the same.

“Good. First, Miles, you will have your own room. I’ve spoken with Meg, and she’s agreeable to taking the extra bedroom down here. She’s been bugging me for a while because it’s bigger. I was only procrastinating because I wasn’t looking forward to painting and moving all her shit.”

I snorted. Meg did have a rather large collection of horse and unicorn bric-a-brac.

Dad smirked. “Don’t laugh. You two will be chief painters and movers.”

Damn. That wiped the grin off my face.

“You can repaint Miles’ new room, too. As a ‘welcome to the family’ gift, we can go online and order furniture for the room.”

“You don’t need to do that, sir. I can make do with whatever you have.”

“I know I don’t need to do it. I want to do it. Believe me, the cost of some paint and a bedroom set is worth it to have you here.”

I heard Miles’ breath catch in his throat.

Dad smiled. “Now, for the new ground rules. I understand how things are at your age. I was there once, too. I’m not forbidding you to have sex, but I am asking that you refrain from anything serious, and by serious, I mean penetrative, until you’re a little older. I know I can’t stop you from doing other things. I am asking that you be respectful and find somewhere other than the house.”

Miles spoke first. “Mr. Riggs, I’m grateful for everything that you’ve done for me. I’ll follow any rules you lay down for us. Honestly, I like the idea of having my own room. We all need a place we can retreat to when we need it.”

“I agree with Miles. Dad, can we still have the occasional sleepover?”

“Provided you abide by the rules, yes, but only on weekends. We also have the matter of school. I’ll be taking you boys in tomorrow so we can get Miles enrolled. Tony had his assistant get all of his transcripts and medical records. I’ll be making an appointment with Dr. Jessup for a physical. There are a few other things we need to take care of, like opening a joint bank account so the lawyer handling your trust can deposit your money each month.”

When Miles told me how much he had inherited, I admit I was gobsmacked. I couldn’t imagine having that much money. He admitted that he was relieved he didn’t have to manage it. Even having a monthly allowance made him uncomfortable, which was reflected when he addressed Dad.

“Sir, you can have the money every month. Use it for the house or whatever. I don’t need it.”

I watched as Dad pursed his lips before answering. “Would you prefer if I gave you a weekly allowance as I do with Troy?”

Miles thought about that for a moment. “I think that would be okay. I guess we will need some money for after-school stuff or whatever. Yes, sir. That would be fine, as long as it’s not more than what you give Troy.”

Dad nodded. “Noted. Now, another thing we need to address. You can’t keep calling me ‘sir’ or ‘Mr. Riggs’ all the time. I’d prefer if you used Erik.”

Miles’ eyes widened. I knew from a prior conversation we’d had about his uncle that he had had it drilled into him that he addressed his elders with ‘sir, ma’am, Mister, or Missus’. I could see the panic welling in his eyes, so I offered a middle-ground solution. “How about if he calls you Mr. Erik?”

The relief was visible, and Dad didn’t miss how it swept across Miles’ features. “I think that’s a good compromise. Thank you, Troy. Is that acceptable to you, Miles?”

Miles squeezed my hand and nodded. “Yeah, I can work with that. But don’t be surprised if I keep using ‘sir’. It’s been drilled into me.”

“I understand, son. Your uncle may have been cold-hearted, but he taught you well in some areas, and I’m grateful for that.”

After a few seconds of silence, I cleared my throat. “Anything else, Dad?”

“Nope. Why don’t you grab your stuff from the suitcase and bring it to Troy’s room? You can stay there until this weekend, and we’ll swap the rooms then.”

We did as we were told and ran into Meg in the upstairs hallway.

“Welcome to the family, Miles!”

“Thanks, Meg. Are you sure you’re okay with moving downstairs?”

“Oh, heck yeah! Have you seen the size of that room? Plus, the bathroom has twice as much counter space. Dad brought home some paint samples. Do you wanna see what you’re gonna paint for me?”

We laughed at her ready acceptance of the whole situation. Meg and I had gotten closer since the entire debacle with Tyson. She had really gotten the shit end of the stick. For years, the adults had been focused on Tyson and trying to figure him out. Then, after he died, Dad had me and my mental trauma to deal with. Thank god for Mrs. P. She was the mother figure Meg needed. Once I was back on the path to an everyday life, Dad realized he’d been neglectful when it came to paying attention to Meg. She told me he had a long heart-to-heart with her and they got a lot aired out. If there’s one thing my little sister didn’t do, it was hold a grudge.

Since Miles had been here, I’d been a little remiss in giving Meg the attention I used to. I vowed to change that, starting now. “We’d love to see what you have planned for us.”

We followed her to her room, which was currently painted pink and lavender. Horse posters adorned the walls, and she had two shelves of trophies she and SuzyQ had accumulated. She was a damn good barrel racer for her age. A large curio cabinet held an array of horse and unicorn figurines. Those would be a bitch to move. If we broke any, we’d be better off running away and taking our chances on the streets than facing a thirteen-year-old’s wrath.

Meg grabbed a metal ring loaded with every color sample under the sun. I was surprised when she showed us a hunter green and an almost café au lait cream color.

“I want the big wall this green, and the rest cream. What do you think?” she asked.

“I love the combination,” I replied. “They’re very grown-up colors. I think the room will look fantastic.”

Miles agreed.

Meg held out the sample swatches. “Here. Why don’t you pick out colors for your new room?”

Taking the ring from her, Miles couldn’t hide his grin. We shuffled through the samples, immediately nixing any form of red or orange, as well as anything pastel. His eyes kept landing on a cobalt blue.

I pointed and said, “That would be great for this wall.” I patted the wall behind us that we leaned against.

“What about the rest of it? Would it be too dark if I did the whole room this color?”

“What if you did three walls this color, and one wall light gray?” Meg suggested.

Miles flipped to the gray section, and when he placed a smoky, medium gray against the cobalt, we knew we had a winner.

“Look,” I said, “they both come in a metallic option. That would look killer.”

Miles bit his bottom lip. “I think I’ll do three walls in the metallic gray and the other one in metallic cobalt. I don’t want the room to feel closed in.”

With the decision made, we kept Meg company until dinner time. I had missed hanging out with my sister and was glad Miles didn’t mind.

Nole and Pete welcomed Miles back with open arms. Dinner felt like a celebration, which I guess it was, especially when Mrs. P brought out a chocolate cake with ‘Welcome Home Miles’ written on it.

After dinner, Dad pulled out his laptop and helped Miles pick out a queen-size bed, a matching dresser, and a nightstand. He heartily approved of the colors he’d chosen and ordered the paint and supplies for both rooms. Afterward, he shooed us off to get ready for bed. We had to leave a little early in the morning so he could take Miles to the school office to register him. Plus, we still had our morning chores to take care of. Horses didn’t feed themselves.

By the time Miles and I dropped into bed, he was yawning so wide I could hear his jaw crack. I couldn’t help but cup his cheek when he turned to me. Our kiss was sweet, yet possessive. He was mine, and I wasn’t about to let him go. I pulled him close, and having his head rest on my chest felt entirely right. Mindful of Dad’s request, we kept things PG as we snuggled. I don’t think Miles could’ve found the energy for much else. It wasn’t long before his soft snores lulled me to sleep.

The following day was busy, but thankfully uneventful. Dad got Miles squared away with school registration. They had an appointment at the bank after school to take care of all the legal paperwork that needed to be signed and notarized. There would also be a Zoom call with the Casper law firm that would handle Miles’ trust.

My high school was small, so Miles and I had matching schedules. He was just as fond of chemistry as I was. At least we could stumble and struggle through it together. All of our teachers took pity on him and allowed Miles to take it easy the rest of the week, which was only three days.

I introduced him to my circle of friends, which, honestly, wasn’t very many. My school career could be divided into two categories: BT— Before Tyson and AT—After Tyson. There were a few guys who had considered Tyson a good friend, and none of them would lend a hand if I were drowning. The rumor mill had been swift and judgmental in the immediate aftermath. There were a few diehard Tyson fans who were positive I had murdered Tyson in his sleep.

I did have two people I considered good friends: Riker Malone and Kelsie Goodwin. They had been a couple since eighth grade, yet they included me in their inner circle. When Miles and I joined them at lunch, Kelsie immediately bounced in her seat, declaring double-date nights a bona fide must-happen-and-soon scenario.

Riker groaned. “Beware, Miles. Kelsie will suck you into her pre-planned mayhem if you’re not careful. Before we know it, we’ll be dragged into the mall, and you’ll be forced to give your opinion on twenty pairs of black shoes that all look the same.”

Kelsie swatted his chest. “Says the man who owns six pairs of identical Wranglers and the same number of brown cowboy boots. Need I mention the matching black-and-red plaid flannel shirts? And remind me again how many blue T-shirts you own? I can explain it again, but I can’t understand it for you.”

I snorted, and Miles coughed to try to hide his smirk. Our wardrobes weren’t much different.

“Babe, when you find something that works, you gotta stick with it.,” Riker declared.

“Amen, brother!” Miles agreed.

“Boys.” Kelsie huffed. “You’re impossible.”

We exchanged glances and together shrugged. Kelsie rolled her eyes.

“Kelsie, we’d love to go on a double-date with you,” Miles assured her, thereby scoring a few brownie points.

Placated, she smiled at him before gathering her tray, giving Riker a quick kiss, and then left. She had promised a friend to swap notes for one of their classes.

“Phew. I love her, but she’s a lot.”

“Girls seem like a lot of work,” Miles remarked. “Makes me glad I don’t swing that way.”

Riker laughed. “Yeah, lucky you. So, how about next Friday? If I don’t at least attempt to lock down a date, Kelsey’ll hold out this weekend, and I’m horny.”

I stood and clapped his shoulder. “In that case, my man, count us in. We’d never stand in the way of a fellow dude getting laid.”

We cracked up as we cleared our trays and headed to our next class. The rest of the day flew by. Dad was waiting in the pick-up line, and the bank was only a few blocks away. It took an hour for them to sign everything and confirm the trust’s term. It was boring and tedious, but necessary.

We had chores to do as soon as we got home, so we headed to the barn after changing clothes. Dad insisted that school clothes were reserved for school. Miles’ wardrobe had been expanded while he was in Ohio. Mrs. P had taken care of getting new jeans and shirts for both school and chores.

After mucking out the stalls, we saddled up the horses and headed out at a brisk trot. Duncan was feeling his oats and danced beneath me, wanting to break free. It took a lot of concentration to keep him reined in. Aggie picked up on his antsy-ness, and Miles struggled to keep her under control.

Once we were away from the ranch, I said fuck it and gave Duncan his head. With a whoop, I hung on as the horse took off. I heard Aggie thundering after us.

Life was good.