The Arrangement (22 page)

The sight greeting him when he entered the kitchen hurt his heart. Sitting at the table, huddled under a Superman comforter, Jacks held on to a big mug, his face pale and sad. When Carter walked in, he set the mug on the table and ran to him, flinging himself in Carter’s arms.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I’m really sorry.” His voice came out muffled, buried in the thick of Carter’s jacket, but Carter heard his words. He always heard Jacks.

Carter held on to his slight, trembling frame, clad only in a T-shirt and sleep pants. Michelle wordlessly handed him the comforter, and Carter tucked it around Jacks’s narrow shoulders. From the beginning when Jacks first came to live with him, he’d reminded Carter of a wounded baby bird; fragile yet desperate for survival.

“Shhh. You didn’t do anything wrong. Everyone has bad dreams sometimes. Even me.”

“You do?” Jacks gazed up at him. “But you’re old. What are you scared of?”

Everything,
Carter wanted to say.
Failing you, failing in my business
. Thinking back on earlier in the evening and the talk he had with Reed, Carter swallowed hard at the thought of how close he’d come to failing Reed and losing him for good. Of course he didn’t yet know Reed’s reaction to Jacks, and how or even if he’d fit into the family dynamic where Jacks and his needs would have to come first.

“I worry about you.”

Jacks pulled away from him and straightened his shoulders in an attempt to act grown up. Carter’s heart squeezed watching his little brother’s struggle for independence.

“You don’t have to. I’m almost eleven.” In a smaller voice he said, “And I’m getting better, right? The doctor said I was.”

Oh, God, if he fucked this all up, he’d never forgive himself. Where did he come off thinking he could be responsible for another human being when he’d made such a mess of his own life? But he was, and Jacks needed him.

“You are, buddy. You’re doing great, and I’m so proud of you. But no matter what, I love you, you know that, right?” He smoothed Jacks’s hair off his face. “Nothing will ever change that.”

“Okay, but…” he bit his lip and rubbed his eyes, stifling a yawn.

“You need to get back to sleep, buddy. It’s way too late for you to be up.”

“Please, can I stay? I know you came all the way here, but I don’t want to go home.”

Carter hesitated, his urge to circle around Jacks and protect him warring with the knowledge that Jacks needed this independence.

“Are you sure?”

“I don’t want them to make fun of me for going home.” Jacks dragged his feet back to the table and sat down, the picture of exhausted dejection. “What if they call me a baby and don’t want to be my friend?”

Michelle piped in. “Don’t you worry about that. It’s not gonna happen, I promise.”

“But I wanna go back upstairs. We were gonna play more Minecraft in the morning and then go to the park.” His little face crumpled. “Can’t I stay, please?”

“Of course you can.” Carter knelt at the side of Jacks’s chair. “If that’s what you want, then you go back upstairs with Henry’s mom and go back to sleep. I bet in the morning no one will even remember what happened.”

Casting him a doubtful look, Jacks hugged him, the comforter sliding off his shoulders and onto the floor. Carter picked it up and handed it to Michelle. “You call me in the morning and let me know how you feel.”

“Who’s that?” Jacks pointed to Reed, who’d remained standing in the half shadows of the kitchen, pale moonlight laying stripes across his solemn face.

“That’s a friend of mine. His name is Reed.”

“Is he your best friend?” Jacks yawned through his question.

A sweet smile curved Reed’s lips, but he said nothing.

He shot Reed a quick glance. “Something like that. Right now you need to go back to bed, but maybe you can meet him tomorrow.”

Carter kissed Jacks’s cheek and watched as Michelle tucked her arm protectively around him. Jacks lolled against her, half-asleep, and together they walked carefully up the stairs, leaving him alone with Reed and Evan.

“I’m really sorry for all this.”

Evan waved him off. “No big deal. It wouldn’t be a sleepover without one of the kids waking up.” He yawned. “Can I get you guys anything?”

“Not a thing. I’ll wait until Michelle comes back, and then we’ll be on our way.”

“Here I am.” Michelle reentered the kitchen from the back staircase, so prevalent in these old homes. She slipped her arms around Evan’s waist and rested her head against his shoulder. “Jacks was out even before I pulled the covers over him.”

“Thanks.” The weight of fear lifted from his chest, and Carter found it easier to take a deep breath. Reed put an arm around his shoulders and gave him a quick hug, and Carter flashed him a grateful smile. “We should get going.”

“Is this the man you told me about? I’m Michelle, by the way, nice to meet you. I tried to fix your boyfriend up with my brother a few months ago, but Carter was quick to inform me that he wasn’t interested.”

Remaining very still, Carter cursed inwardly. Michelle was nice and all, but damn she was nosy.

He needn’t have worried, as Reed understood his need for privacy and remained quiet. Or perhaps it was because he had no idea what they were to each other.

“Nice to meet you. I think Carter’s right and we need to let you guys get some sleep.”

Carter zipped his jacket. “I’m sorry we all caused you such a rough night. Thanks so much for everything, and I’ll call you in the morning.”

Before Michelle could say anything further, Carter gave her a kiss on the cheek, thanked Evan, and took Reed’s hand. They walked out to the front where Evan unlocked the door for them.

“Nice job. Many have tried but few have succeeded in shutting Michelle down.”

Carter laughed aloud for the first time since receiving the phone call and, still holding on to Reed, walked down the steps of the porch to the street. The night air blew cool, and only the faintest sounds of traffic could be heard from the avenue in the distance. It was getting on toward dawn, and perhaps he was giddy from lack of sleep, but Carter wasn’t tired any longer. He wanted to bring Reed home with him. He’d already seen him at his worst and hadn’t run.

“Should we go back to the hotel?” Reed nervously played with the zipper on his jacket, pulling it up and down, over and over. “I left my bag there.”

“Would you mind if we stopped somewhere first? I want to show you something.”

“Okay, but I’ll need to get my bag sometime this morning.”

Wondering what Reed had back at the hotel room that caused him such concern, Carter held out his hand. “We can walk. It’s only a few blocks.”

They walked in silence, Carter finding he liked Reed’s company because the man didn’t fill his ear with incessant chatter or try to make small talk over nothing. Reed also didn’t bombard him with questions about Jacks, showing respect and understanding that Carter would tell him everything.

After about ten minutes they reached his house. Pride rose within him that this pretty limestone with a small garden and glossy black wrought-iron fencing in the front belonged to him. Instead of going up the steps, he stopped and faced Reed, who slouched against the fence, a tired but quizzical expression in his eyes.

“This is my home. Mine and Jacks’s. I’ve never brought anyone here before, but I’d like you to come inside and see how we live. If you want to, of course,” he added hastily, suddenly cognizant that he’d dragged Reed here without any idea what the hell he was getting into. “I mean, I understand if you’re overwhelmed by all this, but I wanted to explain Jacks’s situation to you, and if you still want to be involved with me after that,”—he scrubbed his face with his hands, then smiled tiredly—“I’d like to try.”

In wooing new clients to sign with his firm or in negotiations over contracts Carter prided himself on possessing a natural instinct to pick up positive signals and move in to finalize the deal, or cut his losses when the transaction went sour. But that was business, something he was familiar with. In treading the waters of personal entanglements, Carter was a novice and more scared to hear Reed’s answer than if he was diving off a high board, fifty feet in the air.

Reed closed the distance between them, and wrapped Carter in his arms. A quiet peace descended over them in the hushed pre-dawn on this narrow little street. A wonderful languor stole through Carter as they stood, clutching each other.

“Don’t worry about me leaving, Carter. I’ve been running for forever, and I’m ready to be caught. After you tell me your story, I’ll tell you my own. But I promise I won’t be going anywhere unless you’re with me.”

‡

H
aving no idea
what to expect from Carter any longer, Reed certainly didn’t imagine him living in a house where, when he entered and followed Carter down the side hall, almost all the free space on the walls was filled with pictures drawn by a young child. Or where a big box of Legos sat side by side with a state-of-the-art computer system Carter needed for his publicity campaigns at work.

The kitchen stopped him in his tracks. Comfortable and country-like, glass-fronted light maple cabinets ran the length of the wall painted a mellow lemon-yellow color. A huge center island took up residence on the working side of the room, its wide, white expanse the setting for a large bowl of citrus fruits as well as the art supplies he assumed Jacks was using to create his pictures. The other side of the room had a cozy eating nook, complete with a homey, round wooden table and deep-cushioned chairs. Two bay windows flanked either side of a tiled fireplace, its mantel crowded with pictures of Carter, Jacks, and an older woman.

This home was the antithesis of the style Reed imagined Carter living in. On the weekends when he and Carter didn’t see each other, Reed had pictured Carter entertaining in a trendy loft apartment with views of the city skyline, the furniture polished and sleek, befitting a high-powered, single Manhattan executive.

Instead he found a home that exuded the essence of family, warmth, and love, and his admiration for Carter grew exponentially, recognizing he’d done all this for his little brother.

He pulled out one of the barstools and sat, patting the seat next to him. “Come on, let’s talk.”

Rather than choosing to sit by his side, Carter circled around to the opposite side of the island to face him. Reed recognized that as a defense mechanism, putting space between them in case Reed bolted.

“Jacks, if you didn’t notice, isn’t your average ten-year-old. Most likely he was born prematurely and he’s had to deal with a whole host of problems. Our mother,”—Carter pursed his lips in distaste—“dropped him off here one day, claiming she was tired of dealing with his issues and didn’t want to be weighed down by him anymore. He’s only recently begun verbalizing, and we have no clear idea what he went through when he lived with her, and maybe we never will. But it doesn’t matter.” Carter’s voice wobbled, and Reed’s heart lurched.

“Of course not. He’s your little brother. You love him.”

“It’s more than that—he was neglected. He wasn’t like me; he didn’t have the capability to be independent and take care of himself. He suffers from anxiety and is slightly learning delayed although he’s recently begun catching up so quickly even the doctors are amazed. I’ve gotten him occupational therapy that dealt with some physical problems, but he still sees a psychiatrist for his other issues.”

Carter braced his elbows on the top of the island and avoided Reed’s gaze, as if he didn’t want to see his expression. “So, if you want to be with me, you also take on the responsibility of Jacks. He’s my brother, and I want him to have the life I never had—family, stability, and love. He’s the reason I only go away once a month; every other weekend I spend with him.”

Watching Carter discreetly wipe at his eyes, Reed blinked away his own tears. How foolish and tragic it would have been for him to walk away from Carter, thinking he was nothing more than a vain and selfish player. What he’d created all on his own paled in comparison to the trials he’d lived through as a child and the selfless dedication he’d shown to his little brother. If Reed had thought he might be in love with Carter before hearing this final piece of his life story, now that love was cemented forever. But the time had arrived for Reed’s own midnight confession. Or, actually five a.m., if one wished to be technical.

“Carter, there’s something—”

“Can we table this for the night, though?” Carter came around from the other side of the island and slipped his arms around Reed, nuzzling into the curve of his shoulder. “I’m beat, and you look half dead as well. I think we ought to get some sleep.”

Thwarted, Reed considered Carter’s suggestion and thought it might be a wise one. He was hardly in the best mindset, and maybe a night’s rest would make it easier to talk. Carter might be worried about Reed’s reaction, but Reed had no problem thinking Carter wouldn’t want the extra burden of a lover with a mental illness.

“Sure, that’s a good idea.”

He allowed himself to be led up the stairs, where they passed a bedroom Reed immediately identified as Jacks’s, with comic book superheroes hanging on the wall. It was the picture perfect boy’s room, and imagining Carter in a children’s store, picking out all the decorations, desperate to give his brother a happy, normal childhood, Reed’s heart squeezed with love for Carter.