I released the breath and made my way back to my bedroom. All of Kade’s stuff was still in half the room per my mother’s pleas despite the long prison sentence he’d just begun serving. He’d finally done one too many stupid drug deals with the idiots he called friends. Honestly, it had been a relief to see him sent away. My mom had been very young when she’d gotten pregnant with Kade, and the two of them had been more like friends than mother and child in recent years. I’d worried maybe she was at risk for getting caught up in the same shit as Kade. Luckily, it appeared she was smarter than he was because I’d never seen any sign of her using or dealing.
But, she’d adored him. Needless to say, she’d been devastated at the sentencing. It had been like a death to her, and she’d had to come to terms with the massive disappointment he wasn’t as perfect as she’d thought. To add insult to injury, her boss at the cement plant was an uptight prick who’d fired her as soon as he discovered she’d been associating with criminals. His implication her own son was a criminal lowlife had crushed her, but she hadn’t been able to disagree with his assessment. Which only depressed her more. The only upside was the change in her attitude toward me. For the first time in my life, she seemed to realize I was the “good” son after all. She’d begun offering vague, hesitant apologies here and there which were so awkward, I just wanted her to stop trying. I was grateful for the change in her attitude, but I’d have been more grateful if she’d snapped out of her funk and found another full-time job.
Her losing that income, especially after hiring a lawyer to help Kade, was a blow. At least she’d been able to take over Kade’s part-time job at the vape shop when he left, which meant she got out of bed every day and brought in some money again. I was thankful forthat regardless of feeling the greater burden of the living expenses on my measly income.
But despite being employed again, she still wasn’t herself. She was still a bit withdrawn, moody, distracted, and getting skinnier by the day. Seeing her had brought it all back to the forefront of my mind, and I realized I’d been spending too much time away from home. Willow needed me. Both of them needed me. I knew Dina, Aria, and Ayana had done a great job having Willow spend lots of time with them to distract her from the loss of my brother, but she needed love and attention from me. From family.
“Mama,” I called down the hall toward the kitchen. “How about I handle dinner for us tonight? Anything special you want me to make?”
“I don’t care. Whatever you and Willow want.”
“Are you working tonight?” I asked. There was no response for a full minute.
“No. I quit. That guy’s into some shady stuff, Stevie. And I don’t have the energy to deal.”
I opened my mouth to scream out a million questions including, “How the fuck are we going to pay rent,” when I realized she was full-on depressed. She needed help, but I wasn’t sure I had enough money to help her get it. I really needed to start that job at Feathers.
I blew out a breath and lay back on my single bed, pulling my phone out to reread some of the messages Evan had sent me that morning.
Is it strange I miss you already?
If you need anything and can’t get me, call the fire house.
Don’t forget to take a nap, sweetheart.
Did you get your car? Otto was supposed to bring it to you.
And the last one that had come in only moments before:
There’s $200 in a yellow coffee mug in the kitchen cabinet. Please take it if you need it.
I’d expected to feel smothered or at the very least annoyed by his parental attitude toward me. But that’s now how I felt at all. Never in my entire life had anyone cared enough about me to remind me toget some sleep or to arrange to get my car gassed up and delivered to me. Or offered me money to ease my financial worries. I carried those messages in the deepest recesses of my heart where I begged fate to let them be real and not part of some elaborate scheme to fool me.
Before I could second-guess myself, I sent him a message back.
Is this really real?
10
EVAN
I wasin a meeting around the tiny folding table that served as the Haskell FD’s conference room when I saw Stevie’s text.
Is this really real?
My heart ached for him. I never wanted him second-guessing my feelings for him or thinking he wasn’t worthy in every way. My fingers flew over the screen.
More than real. I’d like it to be permanent.
While I would have preferred to give him that sentiment in person so I could judge his reaction, I needed him to know as soon as possible that I was in this. Whatever he wanted of me, he had. Period. I was his for the taking and for as long as he would have me.
I tried my best to focus on the job at hand. The explosion that had sent half the Haskell force to the hospital had been contained before I arrived thanks to the help of volunteers and crews from nearby towns. Since the investigators were following up on the case, I was left reorganizing the shift schedules for the fire department and assessing the remaining resources to make sure the town was covered while the affected firefighters were out of commission.
The following day was Sunday, and I spent most of the morning at the hospital touching base with the Haskell fire chief. Thedoctors had assured him he’d be able to return to work on Tuesday if he continued resting and following their orders at home for the next forty-eight hours. I was selfishly relieved to hear it. Every cell in my body was craving Stevie, and I felt like if I couldn’t touch him again before a few more days passed, I might lose my shit. I’d only just gotten the sweet man before having to leave him behind in Hobie.
We texted back and forth about little things. I’d ask him how work was at the bakery, and he’d tell me the Hobie gossip. He had a crazy suspicion that Hudson Wilde was attracted to his coworker at the pub, which was ridiculous since Hudson was the only straight Wilde man for miles in any direction. He told me about Carrie-Ann Clapper-Fickle’s impending divorce and confirmed the town rumor that Leonard Fickle’s much younger wife had been sleeping with the even older owner of Ritches Hardware Store. I wondered if she thought he was wealthier or closer to dying than her first husband. Neither were true.
I texted Stevie some sunset pictures my mom had sent me from my parents’ cruise in the Caribbean and answered his never-ending questions about my family and what it was like growing up the youngest of four boys. We discovered that while my parents were close to eighty, his mom was in her forties, only a few years older than I was. Stevie had warned me not to freak out, but I’d just laughed.
