Page 25 of No Rhyme or Riesling

John lurched back, holding up his hands, his eyes wide with worry. “Adam? Shit. What happened? Did I hurt you?”

Adam sank down to the floor, hugging his knees to his chest as he shook his head. “You–” he started, but it was all he could get out, so he quickly flicked a finger towards his chest before hugging himself again.

John crouched down, sighing as he ran a hand back through his hair. “Okay, that's it. We're gonna find you a surgeon–”

“No!” Adam screamed.

John flinched in surprise, then gave him a concerned frown. “But I thought you wanted–”

“Don't you see?” Adam choked out. “I can't ever have top surgery. I can't! It's bad enough I even let myself start on the hormones, but I couldn't keep living that way, and the thought of going back now…”

John's expression softened. “I know you're afraid. And, yes, there's always a risk with any surgery, but–”

“It's not that,” Adam said. He sniffed and wiped his nose, then hugged himself again, shaking his head and staring at the floor.

John waited silently.

Finally, Adam took a deep, shuddering breath and said, “I don't deserve it.”

Chapter 9

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JOHN

JOHN GROANED when his alarm went off the next morning. He rolled over and silenced the noise, then seriously considered going right back to sleep. Except it was Monday already.Christ. John rubbed his eyes and got up, shuffling into the bathroom to relieve his bladder. What he needed was another weekend.Hell. Maybe a vacation.

Because as hard as Wine Fest had been, yesterday was worse.

John shuffled into the kitchen just as his coffee machine finished brewing. He poured himself a cup and turned around, leaning back against the counter while he waited for the coffee to work its magic.

He yawned and rubbed his eyes again, then finished his coffee and poured another cup, staying right where he was. John knew that if he went to sit down yet, he'd give in to the exhaustion and go back to bed. A part of him was sorely tempted to skip work that day, except he'd never called in sick a day in his life and he wasn't about to start now.

John closed his eyes, cradling his mug in both hands.Poor Adam. He'd felt completely useless and out of his depths yesterday, watching Adam fall apart like that. John shook hishead. He'd been running purely on instinct and best guesses, and those weren't enough.

It didn't help that they were facing a problem so big, it seemed like it simply couldn't be fixed. And John hated messiness. Whether that be actual filth or clutter or simply a financial, emotional, or logistical problem, he had to fix it. Had to find a solution. The sooner, the better.Hell. He should have been trying to fix this the moment he and Adam reconnected back in December.

But what the hell was the solution to Adam's grief? How was John supposed to fix that? How was he supposed to help Adam get over those feelings of guilt when he couldn't even get over his own?

Which was exactly why he hadn't done anything about it. He couldn't face his own issues surrounding Frank Barnes's death, so how could he even begin to help Adam do the same?

It had been so much easier to just float along in their happy little bubble and ignore it. But now that bubble had burst. Real life was flooding in, and John didn't even know where to start.

John breathed a humorless laugh and rolled his eyes skyward. “Man, I wish you guys were here,” he muttered to himself, thinking of his parents. “I could really use your advice right about now.”

He shook his head and laughed at himself, feeling ridiculous, but the thought still held true. His parents had an amazing relationship. They'd had their share of arguments like any couple, of course, but they never let an issue linger. Everything was discussed rationally and calmly, a solution found sooner rather than later so that they never went to bed angry. It left them in a perpetual honeymooning state. John had found it annoying as a kid, seeing how sappy they were with one another all the time, but once he'd gotten into adulthood and started to appreciate how happy and strong they were as a couple, he'denvied them. Hell, his father had literally died of a broken heart after Mom passed away. The man simply couldn't go on living without his other half.

And John felt that with Adam. The boy was his other half. Always had been, even during the eight long years they'd been separated. It was why he'd never dated anyone seriously, despite thinking Adam was lost to him for good. But he had no idea how to be there for Adam now other than to keep his promise of being present. Of never abandoning him again. It was why he'd sat there, simply holding Adam, the entire time the boy had cried yesterday even though the tears made him feel uncomfortable and helpless, making him itch to run away. But he'd known he couldn't leave Adam like that. He'd had to show the boy he was there for him.

Still, he doubted that would be enough to truly fix what Adam was facing in the long run.

John eyed his phone, sitting on a table by the door to the garage. Maybe he should call Pete. His little brother had been married for over a decade, and even though the couple had their share of problems, John knew their foundation was rock-solid. Even when Pete called to vent about a fight he'd had with his wife, John heard nothing but love underneath the frustration.

It had been the same with their parents.

John's stomach grumbled, cutting off his thoughts. He turned around and set down his mug so he could make himself some eggs, then carried everything over to the couch. His little house had room for a small dining table, but he'd never seen the use in having one, considering he lived alone. Even now, with Adam coming over most weekends, he couldn't justify buying one because they preferred eating while watching a movie, anyway. Besides, a table would be just one more thing to have to step around or clean.

He thought of the spare bedroom in Adam's apartment and shuddered.Christ. Maybe he should start there. Encourage Adam to get rid of the clutter. Maybe it would help the boy let go of some of his grief. Reduce a physical, tangible burden tied to the past in order to help alleviate some of the emotional burden.

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