Page 125 of Something Like Forever
“Don’t kiss me right now,”Tim said, trying to back away but he was up against the counter.“It’s not the right time.”
“It is,”Ben disagreed, “because you’re much braver than youthink.”
He came near, and as muchas Tim loved that face and the person attached to it, he was forcedto shove Ben away. Then he was running for the guest bathroom atthe front of the house, skidding painfully on his knees just tomake it on time. Tim threw up into the toilet, which wasn’t evensurprising because the chemo or the cancer or maybe just theconstant emotional strain had him puking a lot these days. Hecouldn’t even enjoy a beer or a kiss from his husband. Fighting foryour life wasn’t easy when all the joy had been sucked out ofit.
Ben came to check on him.Tim waved him away, not wanting to be seen like this. Once he wasfinished retching, he brushed his teeth and used mouthwash. Anextra set was kept in the downstairs bathroom lately. When he feltstable again, he went to the living room. Ben stood there with adetermined expression on his face and a phone in hishand.
“I’m canceling my trip,”he said.
Ben had planned on goingto Warrensburg with Nathaniel, and had looked forward to it sincethe wedding when the idea first came up. Together they were goingto revisit old haunts. Tim had encouraged him to make solid plans,not wanting his illness to limit Ben as it did him. The flight lefttomorrow, but they had expected to be buoyed by good news bythen.
“You’re going,” Tim said.“I know how much this means to you.”
“Not as muchas—”
“I coulduse some space. Seriously. You’re home way toomuch.”
Ben looked stung. “Ifthat’s what you want.”
“No,it’s what I need!” Tim snapped. Then he exhaled. “Sorry. Sometimesyou’ve gotta wallow in your own misery. I’ll be fine. I’ll feelsorry for myself a few days, and by the time you come back, I’ll beover it and we’ll face whatever’s next. Okay?”
Ben shook his head.“You’re sure?”
“Yeah.”
It might be the only thinghe was sure of. As Tim went about his day, trying to pretend thateverything was normal, he couldn’t help thinking of the huge blackwave looming over everything, threatening to crash down on all heloved and leave only wreckage in its wake. Cancer was a monster,one harder to face than coming out and years of living alone, butnot worse than losing Eric and Chinchilla. The only comfort Timcould find is that he might be seeing them sooner than he hadanticipated.
ChapterNineteen
The weather was notcooperating. Ben stood beneath a large umbrella held by an evenlarger man. He was used to feeling small because Tim was so muchbrawnier than him, but Nathaniel was ever bigger. Both in heightand muscle. He wasn’t as toned—from what Ben could see, anyway—butit wasn’t hard to understand how he had landed a smoking-hothusband like Kelly.
Romance was the furthestthing from both their minds at the moment. They were standing onthe sidewalk outside a small house, the rain pouring down. Asinconvenient as the weather was, it fit the somber mood.
“This is where he grewup?” Nathaniel asked.
“Yes,”Ben said after double-checking the address on his phone. Beforemaking the trip to Warrensburg, he had grilled Michelle and Gregfor every detail about Victor they could remember. They promised tomeet with Nathaniel the next time they were in Austin, so theycould share personal stories. For now, the information theyprovided had helped greatly when planning this trip. “Victor wasborn here. Or at least, we think this is where his mother broughthim after they left the hospital. We know for sure that he grew uphere, although from the sound of things, by the time Jace met him,Victor didn’t stay here often. Not until he was older.Um.”
Nathaniel looked over athim questioningly.
Ben supposed there was noeasy way of saying it. “This is also where he took his ownlife.”
Nathaniel returned hisgaze to the house, considering it in silence. Ben left him to histhoughts for as long as he could, but they were supposed to meetsomeone soon, and the time they had left was dwindling. “Do youwant to go inside? We could knock and see if anyone ishome.”
“Would there be anypoint?”
Ben didn’t take offense.Nathaniel could be gruff, but he was a good guy. More direct thanmost people, but not with the intent of being rude. He simplydidn’t sugarcoat things.
“Sometimes I still drive by the house where Jace and I livedtogether,” Ben said. “I’m never tempted to knock because I knowit’ll be different inside. It’s not the house itself that’simportant, or that he died there. The memories we made together,that’s what matters most to me. I wish I had memories of Victor Icould share with you. Sorry.”
“You’redoing fine,” Nathaniel said. “All of this helps. I knowWarrensburg, but not in the same way Victor did. Now I feel likeI’m starting to. I wouldn’t have gotten that by coming here alone.Thank you. Jace’s parents have been generous too. If there’sanything I can do for them, let me know. Hearing their stories lastnight was amazing.”
“I’m glad.” After flyinginto Kansas City yesterday and driving to Warrensburg, they hadgone to see the Holdens. They treated Ben like a surrogate son andextended that same courtesy to Nathaniel, welcoming him into theirhome and sharing whatever memories they could. This was a treat forBen too, since most of them involved Jace. “There’s someone else Iwant you to meet. Ready?”
“Yeah,”Nathaniel said, still holding the umbrella above them as theywalked back to the car. “Bernard, right? Who was heagain?”
“Victor’s boss at the local gas station. I know that soundslame, like he wouldn’t know much, but he was a sort of mentor toJace. They were close.”
They drove to the edge oftown to a large house tucked deep within the wooded lot of acul-de-sac. An older woman opened the door, her hair long and darkexcept for graying temples, her skin baked from a lifetime ofenjoying the sun. She introduced herself as Alani, Bernard’swife.
