Promise Rock 03 - Living Promises (MM) (28 page)

T
HE
wait went on.
About half an hour after Martin fell asleep, Crick got up and came
over.
“I'm so glad you've got his back,” he said softly.
“He's going to feel awful,” Collin told him, stroking the dark hair back from that fair skin for a moment. “He… he really loves you guys.
All he wants is to be part of the family.”
Crick's grin was crooked and watery, strained almost beyond recognition, but right there, Collin saw the boy he'd idolized in high school and realized that the man was so much finer than the boy had even promised to be. Maybe, maybe, Collin was like that too. “Maybe if you're
really
a part of a family, you can make it all about you, and they'll forgive you,” Crick said, and Collin managed a wicked grin back.
“I'll tell him you said so,” he said dryly. Then, because it needed to be said, “God, Crick—I sure do hope Deacon's okay.”
Crick nodded. “Yeah, well Jeff had a point when he was swimming in the crazy pool—if Deacon leaves me, it's not because he wants to.” Crick nodded firmly, like he was trying to prop himself up. “And if anyone's stubborn enough to live for that, it's Deacon.”
Collin reached out and squeezed Crick's shoulder, and Crick closed his eyes.
“You've got a big family, don't you?” Crick asked.
“Four sisters, three nieces, a nephew and a mother who knows everything.”
“Well, your family is welcome to ours anytime. Just ask Mikhail— we're hard to shake.”
Collin grinned. “Thanks. My mom would figure you need more women in your family anyway.”
Crick's grin was a little more real this time. “My little sister would probably agree with you.” He breathed out then, a true, worried, pained sigh, and then he did what Collin figured was the grown-up thing, and Collin hoped that he could measure up the same way.
“Benny and Amy are trading places around 6 a.m. Maybe ask Martin if he wants to go back to The Pulpit by then. We should know something, good or bad. They're putting in a pacemaker, and the doc says that after the surgery, recovery goes pretty fast. We should know something by then.”
Collin nodded. “So if this goes well, he should be all right, then?” Crick shrugged. “Jesus… I don't want to tempt the gods, but… but yeah. Yeah. If we can make it through the next few hours and the two weeks of recovery, the doc says it will be like he was never sick.” Crick shook his head in amazement. “Wouldn't it be great, if someday this was just a really shitty memory?”
Collin thought about that, thought about the memories of people who
hadn't
made it, and knew that Crick was probably thinking the same thing. “Yeah, Crick. I'll be rooting for that until we get news.” Crick wandered off, Jon joining him to make sure he wasn't alone, and Collin dozed for a bit. He woke up when Jeff stretched and yawned, then got up quietly, careful to make sure Martin had adjusted and wasn't going to go flopping backward when he stood up.
“Gotta use the john, Sparky. Back in a moment.”
He was, and after he wiggled back in against Collin and behind the sleeping teenager, he was awake enough to talk. “Sorry about the meltdown,” he murmured. “I don't know if I'll ever be able to look Crick in the eyes again.”
“Crick gets it,” Collin told him honestly. “You know, he was a real hellraiser in high school. It's funny to see him so sober and responsible and grown-up and shit.”
Jeff's laugh was like sandpaper on a badly tooled engine part. “You should talk, Sparky. You're not that long out of high school yourself.” Collin groaned. “Aw, Jesus, not that shit again!”
Jeff sighed—but his relaxed, intimate pose didn't change. “It's going to bother me, Collin,” he admitted. “I mean… you were what?
Eighteen? I feel like I cheated to get you. I imprinted on you early, like a baby duck—”
“A baby duck!”
“And you just kept following me.”
“And what? I was too cute to give back?”
Jeff's smile was crooked. “Yeah, baby. You're just too damned beautiful to throw back. So I'm going to try and keep you. It may not be the most noble thing I've ever done, but… but you came. I needed somebody, and you came. I can't just give you back after that. I'm sorry.
That's me—weak gay man. Make me a T-shirt, but it had better be athletic fit with that window-pane material that's so very, very in fashion, you know?”
“Off-white,” Collin said with a little bit of a smile. “It should be off-white, because gray wouldn't do justice to your eyes.”
“You're playing my song, Sparky.”
“I'm not a baby duck, Jeff.”
“I know.”
“I'm a grown-up—I got all the kid out of my system a long time ago. I know how to sac up and take care of things.”
“I can see that.”
“That includes you.”
Sigh. Shiver. “Lots of damage that you didn't have a fucking thing to do with, Collin. God… I don't want to dump it on your shoulders.” “Give me a chance, Jeff. Your damage on my shoulders might feel as good as you feel in my arms.”
Jeff raised his face—swollen red eyes, washed out, pale skin, vulnerable quiver to his mouth and all—and said, “Good answer. I'll take you up on it.”
Collin lowered his mouth and kissed him, and they both shuddered with sudden need. Jeff pulled back first—there was a teenager lying on him, and “need” was going to have to get tabled to “want” for a little while, if they were both going to be as grown up as they'd just pledged to be.
They talked quietly then, about not much in particular—what Jeff and Martin had made for Thanksgiving dinner, how Collin thought his mother might actually really love Jeff.
She hadn't really approved of his other boyfriends, he admitted.
“But I think she really likes you.”
“She's seen me once!” Jeff protested as spare, gray light made its way through the waiting room window.
“Yeah, but you were being a good guy then. She thinks I'm a bad boy—I need a good boy to keep me honest.”
Jeff looked slyly at him through long, dark lashes. “I'm not
that
much of a good boy.”
“Thank God.”

AT 6 A.M., Amy left, taking Martin with her and promising to let him sack out on the couch before she put him to work in the kitchen. “We need to feed everybody, dammit!” she moaned, a little hysterically. “Yeah, but I've been cooking for two days!”
“Well, I'll give you a break to watch the parade,” she said practically, and Jon was behind her making “night-night” faces to Martin and then crossing his heart in promise. That alone was probably the only reason Martin actually agreed to go.
A little slip of a girl arrived just as the sky was brightening to real day, and she was immediately rushed by everyone from Crick to Mikhail and Jeff as they all fought for a hug.
“I don't see anyone doing this to Kimmy!” the girl complained, obviously trying to keep things light in spite of the terrible strain of worry at her eyes. The shape of her eyes was pretty familiar, and Collin took a couple of looks between the girl and Crick to realize that they were somehow related.
Kimmy looked up from the sock she was halfway through and smiled blearily. “I've got sharp pointy things in my hand, Benny. They tend to keep men at a distance.”
“Don't even think about it, little sister,” Crick warned, his voice sounding like powdered cement. “I know how to use those things too.”
Benny rolled her eyes. “Yeah. You're an amateur. Here, sit down with me, and I'll show you how it's done.”
Benny settled down with her knitting and gave her brother a project she'd obviously brought for him in her bag. Collin started to wonder if he'd have to learn or something—was it a membership requirement? Was there yarn that didn't soak up engine grease? And before he could ask the questions aloud, the doctor walked in, and everyone stood up in a jangle of electric nerves.
It's funny, how relief can hit like a wave, either buoying your body up in a surge or knocking your knees right out from under you.
At the doctor's quiet smile, Crick rolled to his feet and leapt, shouting, “
Whooooo!
He's okay? He's okay!
He's okay
! We can see him, right? When can we see him? Oh God, can I see him now?” Benny leapt at her brother, practically climbing him like a tree, and Crick held her tight, whirling her around for a minute while they chanted, “He's okay, he's okay, he's okay….”
The doctor waited for a moment, still smiling, while Crick and Benny leapt and everyone else fell back down quietly into their seats. Eventually Crick had to put his little sister down and listen to the doctor's instructions. The “sick sinus rhythm” had been eradicated, and a normal rhythm had been restored, with a pacemaker to keep things functioning well. Of course Deacon would have to have regular checkups, and the next two weeks would be critical in terms of keeping Deacon still (“Oh Lord!” Benny moaned) and making sure he didn't stress himself out (“Oh Lord,” Crick muttered), and he could come home in two days.
Collin couldn't remember being hugged or hugging other people so much in so short a span of time, and his skin drank it in like
really
good coffee—it was rich, it was life-sustaining, and it made him feel alive, but at last the coffee buzz failed, and everyone felt, deep in their bones, the weariness that came from worrying for a friend until the night turned.
Of course Crick and Benny would stay there until Deacon woke up, and everyone else was advised to go home and get some sleep.
“But dinner, at The Pulpit, at six o'clock,” Benny said, looking a lot older than eighteen. “We all made food, I'll be damned if it's going to waste, and you know, I think we've got something to celebrate.”
Everyone nodded wearily but happily. Jeff moved closer to talk to Benny, and she looked up as she packed her knitting away. “Amy texted me. She said Martin is
out
in my bed right now, so go ahead and leave him there, okay?”
Jeff nodded. “Yeah, that's fine. He'll be happier if he wakes up at The Pulpit and has something to do, anyway. Thanks for letting him stay.”
Suddenly Benny's arms were around Jeff's neck super-tight, and he was hugging her back. Collin looked at the two of them and thought of his sister, Charlene, the one he hated, and wondered if maybe he should do something about that. He tended to take his sisters for granted—too many girls and only one boy. But Jeff was hugging the girl like he'd die just to make her happy, and Collin was struck again by the truth. This was his family. They came with Jeff, hell, high water, or hysteria in the hallway. It was a good thing, but Jeff hadn't been kidding about a lot of drama. Of course, Collin hadn't been kidding when he said he could take it, either.
Eventually they were out in the parking lot, and Collin said, “I'll follow you home, okay?”
Jeff blushed, looking flustered since the first time he came apart in Collin's arms. “Uhm, okay. I thought you were going to go hang with your family or something, Collin.”
Collin scowled, tired and not ready to put up with this shit again. “Careful, Jeffy, you're a few degrees and a good swing away from getting me square in the nads.”
Jeff blushed again. “That would be a shame,” he murmured. “Your balls are two of your best qualities.”
Collin let himself smirk. “Glad you agree. Now get in your car, and I'll be there about ten minutes after you.”
“Ten minutes?”
“I'm starving. I'll bring home breakfast.”
Jeff's shoulders bent a little, and a wistful smile crossed his face. “Coffee? Real coffee. With caramel, since chocolate's killing me right now. Can that be part of breakfast?”
“If you want it to be,” Collin said mildly, arching his eyebrows to make that more suggestive than Jeff probably meant it.
But Jeff didn't let him down. “I'll let you know what else I want with my sausage, Sparky. Just bring me the coffee—you'll be surprised what I can rustle up.”
Collin managed a laugh on the way to Starbucks for coffee and croissants.
When he got to Jeff's house, Jeff was in a red, silk dressing gown, still wet from the shower, and he answered the door on the phone. He grimaced, ushered Collin inside, and looked with lust at the coffee in the cup tray. “Thank you!” he mouthed, and Collin nodded and made his way to the kitchen/dining room while Jeff made a series of complicated expressions into the phone.
“Yeah, yeah, Archie, I appreciate the fact that you're calling me up on ten o'clock Thanksgiving morning and all, but I'm sorry, I can't make it.”
Collin raised his eyebrows. “Your dad?” he mouthed, and Jeff's sour grimace was all the answer he needed.
“No, I'm not calling you „Dad'—not right now. No, I'm not going to sit in my apartment and sulk. I told you I have a family—in fact, most years, I've got two.”
Jeff listened to the other line, but not patiently. Collin took off the lid to his latte and blew on it, watching in amusement as Jeff swiveled his hips and made little talking motions with his hands as his father spoke on the other end. Jeff didn't really need to worry about the age difference—apparently, he was emotionally stunted enough to put them both on equal ground.
“No. No, you don't take precedence. I know you just had some lovely epiphany about the fact that just because I'm gay doesn't mean I'm the devil, and I'm real fucking glad for you, Archie, but you know what? The family that cares about my narcissistic ass even when I'm being one?
That
family really needs me right now. I just shared twelve hours in an OR waiting room with my kin, and we're going to celebrate a happy ending to that, okay? You want me to come around Christmas, you let me know—but I warn you, Christmas is usually taken up by three little girls and a whole bunch of gay men falling over themselves to spoil them rotten. I might see Mom a few days after—you let me know if you want to be there.”
Jeff clicked his phone shut with a sigh that didn't seem at all exaggerated and then put his face in his hands. Collin handed him a caramel latte, and Jeff blew on it through the cup lid, sighing appreciatively when he finally took a sip. He took another, took a bite of the offered croissant, and sighed again.
“I probably seem like a real bastard, don't I?” he asked, sounding depressed, and Collin shook his head.
“Ten years? Eleven years? No. I don't care if you were in college—he abandoned you. It takes more than a shitty day and a phone call to make you want to drop your real life and go run into his arms.” Collin took another sip of his coffee and said maybe his tenth prayer of thanks that day for his mother and even, although he'd left way too early, for his father. Collin had been loved—and it hadn't just been picture love. His mother had loved him—desperately, worriedly, but with her whole heart. His father had been a kind man. His sisters all said so, his mother talked about it constantly—all of Collin's memories were of his kindness. As an adult, he'd asked his mother once if his father would have been disappointed that Collin was gay, and his mother had rolled her eyes.
“He would have been disappointed that you didn't manage to get the bicycle over the roof of the garage that last time you tried, but the gay thing? No worries, Collin—your dad would have been proud that you lived to see some settling down. He was nice that way.”
“I know,” Jeff muttered. “I mean, I feel all righteously dignified, you know? But at the same time, I feel like I'm setting a really shitty example for Martin. I mean, he was going to call his parents today— what kind of… I don't know, big brother? Adult? Whatever the hell I am to him—what kind of whatever am I if I can't forgive my own parents for….”
“For exactly what his parents did to him,” Collin said grimly. “Jeff, I'm not saying that the two of you should
never
forgive them, but, you know. Hatred isn't a small thing. It's not a „wave your hand and poof! It goes away!' sort of thing. I mean, it would be great if we could just rush up to every bigot we know and say, „I'm so sorry I'm gay! I forgive you for hating me even though I never did anything personally wrong to you!' but I'm not wired that way. I don't expect you to be either.” Collin took another drink of his mocha, and Jeff smiled at him wearily.
“You're really wise, Sparky. Can I be like you when I grow up?”
Collin gave a cheese-eating grin and the world's shittiest sensei impersonation. “Absolutely, grasshopper—but first you must take me to bed and allow me to drool on your pillow!”
Jeff laughed a little and scrubbed his face. “Yeah. Sleep is a good idea. But I warn you, you're going to be sharing that pillow.”
“You mean that fur hurricane that tried to cave in my chest? No worries. I think it likes me.”
Jeff snorted. “That's what you think. If they like you they try to sand your face off. You want to shower?”
Collin smiled. “Only if I can wear your boxers to sleep in.”