My Brother's Keeper (19 page)

Jon’s wallet tripped over his fingers and landed on the counter.

“You sure you’re okay, you don’t look so good.”

“Yeah.” He put two twenties on the counter and the woman handed him the bag.

“Hang on, I’ll have to get you some change, register is low.”

Everything brightened and Jon elbowed his way into the crowd.

“Sir, you forgot your change. Sir?”

Jon yelled back, “Keep it.”

Sweat ran rivulets down Jon’s back and the tightness in his chest expanded into a pain. He crossed the road. A car door slammed shut in the motel parking lot and the sound shredded his nerves.

Don’t be surprised if he tries to hurt himself.

He should have listened to Mike and taken Ellis to the hospital. Jon’s foot caught the edge of the sidewalk. He stumbled.

The door ahead of him opened and a couple stepped out. Jon clipped the guy’s shoulder as he jogged past.

This is really happening isn’t it? This isn’t a dream. It’s real.

Don’t be surprised if he tries to hurt himself.

Jon froze with his hand on the door knob.

I failed him. This isn’t a dream. He knew he was going to die.

Hurt himself.

A tremor ran down his arm. Just open it. Open it and go in. He’s fine. He’s okay. Mike said he wanted to live.

What if Mike was wrong? Jon had been gone a good twenty minutes. It didn’t take any time at all for a person to hang themselves.

Then there was the gun in his duffle bag.

How the fuck could you forget about the gun?

Jon squeezed the door knob.

Open it.

The shadows inside the room hit the sunlight, blinding him. Ellis dead, gunshot, sheet around his neck, crushed by the sheer weight of guilt and left broken on the floor. Blood or no blood? Would there be a note? If there was, he would blame himself.

The green and red spots in front of Jon’s eyes dimmed and the room came into focus.

Ellis still sat on the bed where Jon had left him.

The vice around Jon’s heart let go and the rush of blood made everything tip. “Sorry that took so…” One of the bags shifted and he almost lost it. “Long. I’ve got a little bit of everything here.” He kicked the door shut. “And two pieces of pie.” He put the bag on the table near the door and took out one of the drinks. “The pie is really good.” Jon chased the hole in the to-go cup with the straw. He caught it and brought the cup over with the box of pie. “I got you milk and there’s sweet tea, if you’d rather have that.” Jon set the milk on the bedside table and knelt in front of Ellis. “But I figured you’d rather have milk with the pie.” The to-go box of pie almost tumbled from his trembling hand. “You said you wanted pie first. If you don’t, I can open one of the hamburgers or the turkey club. Extra mayo. I remembered the extra mayo.” He opened the lid. “Just go ahead and try the pie first.” His arm jerked and he squeezed the plastic box. The sides crumpled. “Here, try it.” The bite he spooned up wouldn’t stay on the fork “Jesus, Ellis. I’m sorry.” His heart thundered. “I don’t know what’s wrong. I just can’t quit shaking.”

Ellis took the box and fork out of Jon’s hands and put them on the side table.

“Shhh—”

Jon found himself cradled in Ellis’s arms. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.” He pushed his fingers through Jon’s hair. “I’ve got you, Jon, and I promise I won’t let go.”

The thump of Ellis’s heart blanketed Jon in peace. He closed his eyes and stopped trembling.

Jon leaned against the brick wall.

Since the motel room was too small for him to talk to Mike in private, the front walkway had become their meeting place.

Tonight, the sky gave birth to a soft misty rain, arming the chill in the air with teeth.

Mike huddled in his coat. “How’s he doing?”

Jon crammed his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. “As well as can be expected, I guess.” The white cloud of his sigh drifted away on the breeze. “He hardly speaks, he hardly sleeps. He doesn’t eat enough.” Jon shivered. “All he does is poke at his food or move it around on his plate.”

“Loss of appetite is a normal symptom of depression.”

“It’s nerve wracking.”

“I’m sure.” A woman walked up the sidewalk. Mike stepped to the side so she could get past. When she was gone, he said, “Has he spoken to you at all about what happened? How he feels or what he thinks?”

“Not really.” His teeth chattered. “What little he has said has been to blame himself. I tell him it isn’t his fault. It was a stupid accident there was no way for him to prevent.”

“I seem to remember someone else who did the same thing not all that long ago.”

“This is different.”

“How so?”

A car pulled into the parking lot. A man got out with a bag of groceries. “It just is.”

“I see.”

“Don’t patronize me, Mike.” Jon rested his head against the brick. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“Don’t make excuses for me either.”

Mike chuckled. “All right, if you insist. But something tells me Ellis isn’t the only one who hasn’t been eating and sleeping.”

Jon nodded. “I try. But every time I close my eyes, I see him dead.” Blood. So much blood. And death.

“Rudy?”

“Ellis.”

“You realize this has probably compounded your PTSD, right?”

“Yeah.” Compounded was too small a word. A woman squealed from inside one of the rooms. The sound was followed by a man’s laugh. “I think a motel in town will help. It’s quieter. I called a few, but they’re booked up. Supposedly, there will be a couple rooms open in a day or so, we’ll see.”

“Have you asked Ellis what he wants to do?”

Jon shifted his weight. “No.”

“I think you should.”

“Yeah, probably.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“How are you holding up?”

Jon shrugged. The light from the front office made the water droplets on the cars gleam. “I’m not too sure.”

“Any nightmares?”

“Not the typical ones.”

“Panic attacks?”

“No.”

Mike put a hand on Jon’s arm. “Look me in the eye and tell me no.”

Jon huffed a breath. “Maybe a couple.” How long had he knelt pressed against Ellis, wrapped in his arms? By the time Jon regained control, his legs were asleep and his bad knee was so stiff, he could barely straighten it out.

“Do you need me to call Dr. Kale and get him to prescribe you something?”

“No. I don’t want to be a space cadet. Ellis needs me.”

“If you change your mind, let me know.”

He nodded. “How long do you think it will be before he’s…”

“Normal?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s normal is usually a matter of opinion.”

“You know what I mean.” When was Ellis going to hold a conversation? When was he going to eat without having food practically shoved down his throat? When was he going to smile or laugh? When was he going to be Ellis again?

“I think he’ll improve over the next couple of weeks. It’s going to be slow. He’s suffered a very traumatic event.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“Yes, but think about it in his terms. He’s worked for the past twenty years to shield Rudy from being hurt by the outside world. In the process he’s shielded himself.” Mike took out a pack of gum. “Most of us have had exposure to violence and tragedy. We see it in movies, hear it in music, and, most of all, the news. For Rudy, Ellis has had as little exposure to those things as possible. This is his first real experience with tragedy.”

“What about his parents?”

“Considering the circumstances, I doubt he ever had time to grieve. Now that grief is weighing on him. But even if he had that chance, he never saw death beyond the sterility of a hospital. This time, he experienced it on the front line.”

A car drove up to the check in office and a man got out. The woman in the passenger seat looked barely legal. Jon toed the concrete. “He thinks Lenny did this.”

“Has he told you why?”

Jon rubbed the back of his neck. “Ellis found some drawings in his room. He says they show Rudy knew he was going to die. He says there are other drawings.”

“What kind?”

“He says Rudy drew me with Ellis before he even met me.” He met Mike’s gaze. “What? No psycho babble?”

Mike smiled.

“Oh, come on. You don’t actually believe it’s possible.”

“I don’t think I have the authority to say anything is or is not possible. A lot of cultures believe in the supernatural—curses, prayers, visits from the dead. Especially their family members.”

Jon flexed his hands. The memory of fabric and flesh clung to his fingertips.

“You okay?” Mike said.

“Fine.”

Mike pulled his coat tighter around him. “I’m going to head back to the bed and breakfast.” He stepped off the curb and pulled out his car keys.

Jon stopped at the edge of the overhang. “We really should stop meeting like this.”

“I don’t know.” Mike looked up at the sky. “I like the stars. You know, a room with a view.”

Jon laughed. “It’s raining, there are no stars.”

“The clouds are only temporary, the stars are still there. We just can’t see them right now.” Mike opened the car door. “Out of curiosity, have you heard back from Sheriff Marsh about the autopsy results?”

“No. Since it was a hit and run, it isn’t a priority.”

Mike nodded and started to get into the car.

“Hey.”

He stopped. “Yeah?”

“Thank you again for buying the clothes. You never did tell me what I owe you.”

“Don’t worry about it. It helps Ellis, that’s all that matters.” Mike climbed in his car and left.

Jon went back inside. The hush of the shower echoed from behind the bathroom door. Jon kicked off his shoes and stripped down to his t-shirt and boxers.

He knew Lenny was going to kill him.

Rule number four, Jon. It has to happen.

He sat on the edge of the bed and picked up the phone. It had only been a few days. Not nearly enough time for a low priority autopsy to get done. And the last thing George needed was something else to worry about.

He put the receiver back.

In the bathroom, the shower silenced.

Jon turned off the light and lay back.

A gap in the curtain let in a strip of halogen light. It cut across the bed, outlining objects in the room. The corner where he’d seen Danny was empty.

But Jon didn’t just see him. He’d touched him, smelled him, and heard him. What would Mike have to say about that?

The bathroom door opened and there was a moment of harsh fluorescents then they clicked off. As Ellis emerged from the darkness, the strip of orange light slid over his nude body. He put something down on the bedside table and climbed in on Jon’s side of the bed.

Ellis picked up one of Jon’s hands and used it to touch his face, his chin, his neck. Jon took over, tracing Ellis’s jaw to his ear, then running his fingers through his damp hair. Warmth left behind by the shower radiated from his skin.

Ellis rested his cheek on Jon’s shoulder and slid his hand over Jon’s chest. He startled when Ellis pinched one of his nipples through the t-shirt. The wet heat of Ellis’s tongue on Jon’s neck was followed by the scrape of teeth.

Jon turned his head and caught Ellis’s mouth.

He took over the kiss, plundering Jon’s mouth, biting his lip, and knocking their teeth together.

God, how Jon missed this. The taste of Ellis, the feel of him, his body pressed close.

Jon cupped Ellis’s face. His wet cheeks burned with a river of tears.

“Ellis?” He pushed closer but Jon held him back. Ellis yanked Jon’s shirt. “Ellis, stop.”

Ellis shook off Jon’s hold and attacked his mouth again.

Jon took Ellis by the shoulders and forced space between them. He sobbed. “Let me.” He dug his fingers into Jon’s chest and dragged stinging lines all the way to his hips.

“I don’t think this is the right time.”

Ellis shoved his hand down the front of Jon’s boxers. He bit back his groan. “Ellis, stop.” He didn’t. Jon shook Ellis hard enough snap his head back. “Stop, Ellis. This isn’t right.”

He slumped in Jon’s hands and his shoulders jerked with silent crying.

“Talk to me, baby. Please.” Jon sat up. “I want to help you, but you’ve got to talk to me.” Jon cradled him against his chest.

“I can’t feel anything.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t feel. I eat, but don’t taste. I sleep, but don’t dream. I’m numb everywhere. I don’t even feel like I’m here. I’m just an empty shell.”

Jon held him tighter.

“Please, Jon. Make me feel something or I’m going to lose my mind.”

“You’re here. I promise you’re here.”

“Prove it to me. Let me make love to you.” Ellis lifted his head.

If Jon did, it wouldn’t be anything close to love. Something bitter, greedy, and full of anger maybe, but there would be no love. There would be no room for love.

The faint orange glow illuminated the desperation in Ellis’s eyes.

Jon pulled off his shirt and maneuvered out of his boxer shorts. Right or wrong? Did it matter? Because Ellis wanted it.

He caught Jon’s wrists. “Lay back.” He did and he didn’t resist when Ellis pushed his hands down on the pillow beside his head. Ellis straddled Jon’s waist. The crack of Ellis’s ass rubbed against the base of Jon’s cock.

In the sickly light, Ellis became a picture of long lines and strong highlights. The true toll of the last few days cut valleys between his ribs.

Ellis picked up the item he’d left on the bedside table. There was the snick of a cap and then the smell of something similar to pears. All the motel condiments, except the soap, had that strange sweet smell. He put the bottle back.

Cool, slick fingers coated Jon’s flagging cock in a layer of lotion. It didn’t take long for him to harden.

Then Ellis braced himself with his hand on Jon’s chest.

Ellis made a strangled sound and rolled his hips in a lazy motion. The wet sound of him working his fingers in and out of his ass accentuated his rapid breathing.

A deep moan bubbled in Ellis’s chest, his wide eyes became half lidded, and his lips parted.

How deep did he penetrate himself? How many fingers did he use? Jon gritted his teeth, and the mattress creaked in his grip.