Page 40 of Resilience on Canvas

“I think there’s only a few left to peel,” Robert said, tugging on Henry’s hand.

He supposed there was no harm in holding it for a little while longer.

“Thanks for helpin’ me with the splinter,” Henry said, pink clinging to his cheeks as he stood. “It barely even hurt. It’s like yer some kind of expert splinter-remover.”

Robert laughed softly. “Yeah, well, we have the twins here, and they’ve had lots of splinters. Other injuries, too. It’s my responsibility to take care of them. And everyone else.”

“It’s impressive,” Henry said, his voice shaking the slightest bit. “I’m so impressed by you, Robert. I really mean that. Yer...” He paused and squeezed Robert’s hand. “I’ve never met anyone so...”

Robert stopped walking and crooked a teasing eyebrow. “Impressive?”

“Yeah. Impressive.” Henry turned to face him, his eyes filled with something like... like wonderment. “So, so impressive.”

Robert’s stomach leapt up into his throat. Good God, Henry’s fawning was stirring up a whole storm of longing inside Robert’s heart. How the heck could he remain friends with Henry Sherwood without smashing their faces together?

Maybe he couldn’t.

Robert could keep a secret, couldn’t he? Henry probably could, too. No one had to know.

Robert wet his lips, moving his tongue over them slowly, hoping that he could make them feel soft and smooth and every other thing they ought to be for Henry, and then, mustering every bit of courage he had, Robert leaned in.

CRACK.

Both men startled from the sound of the front door slamming into the wall, reflexively releasing each other’s hands.

In the doorway stood Raymond Davis, his eyes wide and wild, his clothes a rumpled mess. He hobbled over to the kitchen counter, coughing without even bothering to cover his mouth. Robert took a couple of steps forward but stopped when he caught a whiff of the man. Smells of sweat and grime and some kind of hard booze were wafting off his skin.

What a sorry excuse for a father he was.

“What’s this? Were you and yerfriendthere playin’ house?” Robert’s father asked before hacking a laugh-cough that made Robert shudder, embarrassment churning in his stomach.

Christ, why was it that the Lord saw fit for someone as sweet as Henry to have to be subjected to someone so vile? Robert lifted his chin, hoping that Henry wouldn’t see how much shame he felt in that moment and trying to instead look like the proud man he sorely wanted to be.

“We were makin’ marmalade,” Robert said. “You know, takin’ care of the family.”

“Oh, is that boy there family? Are them kinds of marriages legal now?”

Robert curled one hand into a fist, focusing every bit of hatred he was feeling into that the one spot, and then, he slowly released it, letting his hand relax. He repeated the motion twice more, praying he could keep his fury contained. Because, holy hell, if he released it, there was no Goddamn way that both him and his father were leaving this house alive.

Keeping his voice as steady and calm as he could, Robert said, “Henry’s a friend. Only a friend. And we promised Clara that we’d make marmalade. Somethin’ we could have on toast or pancakes later. Go take a rest. We’ll call you when supper’s ready.” Robert’s father narrowed his eyes. He chewed on his cheek like he was thinking this over. Robert thumbed over his shoulder toward the bedrooms. “Go ahead, Pop. I can see how tired you are. Clara will be back with the kids soon, and I know how loud they can be. Ain’t no way you’ll sleep well once they’re here.”

Raymond Davis stood there sucking on his teeth for a few moments, and then, wordlessly, he started toward them. Robert sucked in a breath through his nose, and his whole body went rigid. He’d maim that son of a bitch if he so much as touched Henry.

With a fake smile, Raymond smacked a hand on Robert’s shoulder as he passed, ignoring Henry completely. Thank God.

Both men waited, fixed to their spots, while Raymond made his way to his bedroom, and then, they waited some more. They waited and waited. And when Robert heard a faint snore, they each let out a long breath.

But Robert was still too embarrassed to speak, his tongue leaden in his mouth.

In a whispered voice, Henry said, “Oh, Robert, I’m sorry that . . . that he’s . . .”

“It’s fine, Hen. I’m fine. But maybe you ought to head home.”

Henry shook his head. “Why?”

“When he wakes up, it’ll be better if you ain’t here.”

“Oh.” Henry took a tentative step forward. “What if you come to my house?”

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