Page 93 of Out of the Storm

“I hope it helped.”

“Yeah, I feel a little better now.”

“I’ll be with you tomorrow, Gare. It’ll be okay.”

“I know. I can’t tell you how much that means to me, either,” he said. “Did talking to me help you feel better too?”

“Yeah,” Jeff said, surprised to realize that it had.

His eyes found the business card again.

Talking reallyhadmade him feel better. Somehow.

Chapter Seventeen

Gary

Gary’s stomach was in knots as Jeff pulled up the driveway to his father’s house on the outskirts of Youngstown. When Jeff cut the engine, Gary continued to stare out the window, thunderstruck. Somehow, the man who had missed so much of Gary’s childhood had been living relatively close by, and yet, Gary hadn’t seen him once in the more than twenty years that had passed. Gary tried to picture his father living here, walking up the rickety-looking stairs that led to the porch, coming home from... whatever it was he’d done for work, and the image made the knots in his stomach tighten. He had been less than a half hour away all this time. And now he was gone.

Jeff’s hand found his.

“I’m here.” Jeff kissed his knuckles.

“I know.” Gary paused to swallow. “Should we wait for Dawn?”

“We could. Didn’t you say she was a flake, though?”

“Yeah. God, what if she doesn’t show?”

“Then you can take home whatever stuff you want to keep and tell her how long she has before you call Bereavement Cleanout Services or whatever that company is called.”

“Yeah, okay.” Gary let out a long breath. “Geez, I’m nervous.”

Jeff let go of Gary’s hand and took hold of the collar of his T-shirt. “Come here.”

Gary couldn’t help but smile a little as Jeff pulled him in for a kiss. And then, when they parted, Jeff proceeded to leave soft little kisses all over Gary’s face before kissing him once more on the lips.

“You’re not alone. Even if your family bails on you.”

Forcing a nod, Gary said, “Okay.”

Slowly, they made their way to the front door. Gary kept stopping on the way, pausing to inspect the unstable railing or check out the bushes. His heart was in his throat the entire time.

When they went in, Gary was nearly knocked backward by the smell. It wasn’t that the house smelled bad—for the most part, it smelled like every other old house he’d ever been in—but that there was a second smell, one that was so strangely familiar.

Jeff’s hand found the small of his back.

“It smells like him,” Gary said, his voice faraway. “I hadn’t even... I mean...” He shook his head, bewildered. “It’s been so many years. How could I...”

Trailing off, Gary staggered farther into the house and tried to take in everything else—the ratty furniture and how everything looked so beaten up, the fact that there weren’t ashtrays on every surface, the bare walls.

Jeff came up beside him. “Do we need to clean out the fridge or something?”

“No.” Gary shook his head. “Dawn said that Aunt Grace—his sister—she came by and took care of it already. I only need to see if there’s anything I want to keep.”

Gary started for the stairs. He wanted to see the bedroom. Would his father’s scent be stronger there? Could it really be that his brain remembered his father’s smell from over twenty years ago? Or was his mind only trying to make sense of everything? Assigning memories to the scent at random? Nighttime cuddles. Hugs when he’d skinned his knee. Little him hiding in a closet filled with his father’s long-sleeve plaid shirts.

“Do you want me to follow you?” Jeff called as Gary began climbing the stairs.

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