Page 4 of Mr. Frosty Pants
“Just curious. Hope he’s happy. That’s all.”
She put down her recipe cards and gazed at him warily. “I admit I was surprised when you didn’t keep in touch with him. Though, in retrospect, I suppose your father was always right. It’s one thing to play together when you’re young, or to hang out when you’re teenagers. That’s a matter of proximity.” Her light eyebrows rose pointedly. “But it was only natural to discover as adults that you have absolutely nothing in common.”
Ah, there was the sharp pain of a word arrow well-landed. Casey rubbed his chest, an ache over his heart, and said nothing in reply.
After a long silence, he picked up the recipe card for his favorite autumnal dish: sweet potato casserole. Studying it carefully, like he was putting it to memory, he recalled the time he took a scoop of it over to the Vreelands’ house. Joel had warmed it up in his dad’s messy, food-encrusted microwave before eating the casserole like it was ice cream, moaning with each bite.
“You don’t know how good you have it, man,” he’d said enviously as he’d polished off the bowl. “Having a mom who makes something like this?”
Casey had wanted to share every good thing in his life with him after that. For almost a year, every time Casey jerked off, he’d thought about the noises Joel had made eating that casserole. They’d been sexier than any sound he’d ever heard—sexier even than the moans men made together in the gay porn he’d dared to watch in the dead of night on his phone.
Buteverythingabout Joel had been sexy back then. Like the way Joel’s lips curled up in a snarl when he played bass, or how his eyes softened whenever he really looked at Casey—instead of looking at everythingbuthim. Or how his face brightened with excitement when he told Casey the storyline to one of his dark, morbid stories. Or the way he said Casey’s name all gruff, while they sat side by side on the bench and shared their forbidden cigarettes.
Hell, Casey’d been half-hard nearly constantly around Joel back then.
“I always knew it was a puppy crush,” his mother said, eyeing him. “Your father, of course, was terrified your obsession with Joel meant you were gay.”
“Iamgay.”
She laughed. “I know, dear. And now that you’re out and your father’s come to terms with it, his terror has subsided. It was just such an uncertain time for him, you understand.”
“It was an uncertain time for me too.”
“I’m sure it was.” She cocked her head, trying to peer into Casey. He tightened his walls, battened the hatches, and endeavored to make himself unreadable. Screw Ann. What did she know about the relative safety of his parents’ home? Nothing.
His mother asked, “So youdidhave a crush on him then?”
Crush? Hardly. He’d been madly in love with Joel and still was if the barely restrained pain in his heart was anything to go by. Casey wasn’t going to give her that much, though. She hadn’t earned it with her behavior so far today. So he only met her gaze and held it silently. Even that said more than he really wanted her to know.
“Never say I don’t understand my son.” She patted his hand. “But it’s good he’s in the past now. You deserve so much better than someone like him. Speaking of… Have you heard from Theo? He’s such a delightful young man. And your father likes him so much.”
Casey almost laughed. Theo was the only reason his father had “come around” about him being gay. Even the “black thing,” as Theo had called it, hadn’t been an issue in the end. As the son of a famous black NBA player and a wealthy New York City heiress, Theo had brought a certain caché that the crushes of Casey’s past, especially Joel, lacked. Casey’s dad had enjoyed flaunting Casey’s glamorous connection amongst his pals, especially when that connection led to some pretty amazing courtside tickets.
“Mom, I know you both liked him, but he’s not coming back.”
“We liked him, yes, but what aboutyou? I’m sure it’s been hard for you since he left. You were quite serious about him, after all. You were living together.”
“We weren’t, actually.”
“He was there all the time!”
“Just on the weekends.” Casey frowned. “And now we’re not seeing each other at all. There’s a reason for that.” He picked up another card. Chess pie—Theo’s favorite. He rolled his eyes. Wasn’t the universe just full of jokes today? “We weren’t a good fit. It’s better this way.”
“Is it, though? You always sound so lonely when I call.”
Did he? He hadn’t realized he was letting it show. Maybe he’d lost his touch at keeping his emotions tucked away. Maybe living alone had made him soft. Ann would be proud. “I’m fine. You don’t need to worry about me.”
“I can’t help it. You’re my baby.”
Casey raised a brow. “I know, I know. Let’s not go there, okay?”
“Oh, men. Always so afraid of their feelings.” She sighed and returned to her dinner planning.
Casey couldn’t argue with that. He’d been terrified of his feelings since he was eight and…
Nope. Not going there. He ruthlessly shoved away those useless thoughts and moved over to the window by the kitchen table. The view of the lake was undoubtedly better in summer when everything was lush and green, and the blue sky was reflected in the water. But it wasn’t bad in winter either, with the fuzzy gray of the leafless trees gentling the edges of the water and softening the winter ashen sky.
God, he hated how quiet he had to be here. At least in New York, he was so alone these days he could speak freely. No one gave a shit what he said or did. Ann called it the liberation of anonymity. Seriously, why had he thought it was a good idea to come back to Knoxville?
