Page 149 of All The Things: The Last Thing He Needs Omnibus

For some reason Ben had always been hesitant about inking Gavin. Which was weird. Usually he loved getting a virgin on his table. Fresh canvas and all. And Gavin’s body was so beautiful. But that was part of the problem. It would have to be perfect because Gavin was perfect. Not to mention if Ben fucked it up, he’d never hear the end of it. “Gonna tell me what it is?”

“Not yet. I’ll tell ya on my birthday.”

“You sure? If you tell me now, we could start working out the design.”

“It’s not that complicated, and I wanna be sure before I tell you.”

“Fair enough.” Ben took another bite of his breakfast before asking, “Anything else you want?”

“A cake I don’t have to bake myself.”

“Then you shouldn’t complain about every bakery in the city.” Ben wagered it wouldn’t be too hard to get his mom to whip something up, maybe get Tina in on it too.

They laughed and talked for a few more minutes, and Ben felt like his life was pretty damn perfect as he finished his breakfast.

Gavin rinsed the dishes and stuck them in the dishwasher. “I’ve got a couple errands before I head to get your mom.” He went to Ben and pressed a kiss to his scruffy cheek. “I’ll see you this afternoon.”

Ben watched him go. Gavin had a strangely determined look on his face as he left, as if he were heading out to battle. An anxious awareness settled in the pit of Ben’s stomach. Whatever Gavin had on his mind, whatever he wasn’t saying, hung in the air after he left, like ozone before a big storm. Ben didn’t know what it was about, but he knew he didn’t like it.

So much for his perfect life.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Gavin

Gavin hadn’t realized how close his parents lived to them until he made the drive. Less than twenty miles lay between them, but it felt like they were worlds away. The points on the map between his parents’ house and his own felt like a wasteland of pain and anger, regret and broken promises, not side streets and suburbs.

He parked his car across from the house and sat silently for a long time. How long, he had no idea. An hour? Maybe more. Gavin thought back over his entire childhood. Not all bad, but not much good, either. His mother had never been especially warm, and his father ran a twisted circuit between stern and almost loving that sometimes curved into unexpectedly cruel. Gavin couldn’t put a finger on it, couldn’t point at one defining moment and say, there, that was the abuse. But he felt abused. Even now, years later, he felt it. Deep in his bones, he felt… ashamed. And how fucked-up was that?

He couldn’t even say they were bad people. Not entirely bad anyway. They never beat him or his brothers and sisters. Sure, they got an ass tanning from time to time with their father’s belt, but a lot of kids did. There weren’t a lot of hugs and kisses, even when they were little, but that’s not a crime, right? His mother volunteered at a food bank once a week, and their father hired homeless people who were trying to get back on their feet. Good things, right? Charitable. Christian. Why couldn’t they extend that charity to their own children? Why couldn’t they teach their kids about God’s love, forgiveness, kindness? Why was it all about the wrath and the disappointment and making Baby Jesus bleed when they sinned? Why did they expect so damn much from children? Gavin doubted he’d ever figure that out.

The last time he’d tried was the day he graduated, days before his eighteenth birthday. He went to the house, holding his transcript in his hand. He didn’t have his actual diploma since those weren’t mailed out yet, but he had the record for them to see. For some reason it felt very important to him at the time, to show them that he’d made it. Despite having been kicked out, despite having lived on couches and having to work, he’d graduated on time. He’d even gotten a decent GPA, all things considered. He’d stopped trying to get them to listen to him, get them to see reason, or hear him out. The last time he was there, he’d just wanted them to know how well he was doing without them.

He never got a word out, though. His mother had opened the door, his father had come around the corner with Elise on his heels, and then, as soon as she realized who was on her doorstep, his mother quietly closed the door again. Not nearly as dramatic as it felt. Simple, almost silent rejection. Gavin knew for a fact that she would have at least said something to a salesman. If he’d been a stranger asking for food, she might have even asked him in to dinner. But, no. To her, Gavin was only the ghostly reminder of the son she never should have had.

Maybe she thought Gavin would be a strike against her good name in heaven.

Shifting in his seat, Gavin pulled out the Bible page from his wallet. Last night, he had no idea why he’d kept it. But as he and Ben had gone about their morning, been so happy together, so peaceful, that scripture had rankled deeper and deeper. Now, he stared at it. He read the words over and over, and then he looked at the house again. The shame was falling away, burning up and turning to ash in the fiery rage in his chest.

Gavin got out of the car and strode across the street, thinking he’d like to tear that house down, brick by brick. Instead, he lifted the doorknocker and tucked the thin paper under it, then silently walked away.

He was going to be late picking Nora up if he didn’t hurry, and Christ knew, he shouldn’t waste another second of his life thinking about Carter and Patricia Van Loen.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Ben

Ben stood in Tina’s doorway. The guys had delivered the fridge, set it up, and taken away the old one without a question. Now, he watched as Tina folded little white onesies and paired tiny socks together. “You find some stuff ya like?”

Tina’s grin answered for her, but she looked up and nodded. “I can’t believe how much she sent.” Six boxes. His sister was the most organized pack rat on the planet. “I wish the baby had been in the right position on that last ultrasound. I wanted to know if it’s a boy or a girl.”

Ben hadn’t admitted it to anyone, but he’d wanted to know too. “Surprises are good too, right?”

With a laugh, and one of Gavin’s classic shrugs, Tina said, “This whole year has been one surprise after another.” She ran her hand down her round belly and looked like she might cry. Ben cringed. He hated it when Gavin came home and found Tina crying.

“Hey, it’s—”

“I meant that in a good way.” She laughed. Thank God. She sniffled too, but she laughed. Ben was safe. For the moment, at least.

---