The Way Things Are (24 page)

“He was protecting you.” Ken smiled at him so brightly Patrick felt his stomach flutter at the sight. “That’s actually really cool.”

“Even if he was, he wasn’t being selfless about it,” Patrick insisted. “He likes the attention. But he’s so obvious, and I can’t be with someone who’s that….” Patrick rubbed his hands over his eyes.

“Open?”

“No, that’s not the right word. But there isn’t a better one. After Denise….” He shook his head sadly. “Never mind.”

“I take it that topic’s still off-limits?” Ken asked, rubbing Patrick’s ankle with the top of his foot.

Patrick waved a finger at him. “I didn’t know you were gay at the time,” he reminded Ken. “But I still don’t want to talk about it.”

Ken nodded slowly. “Okay. If you ever want to, though, I’ll listen.”

“Just not right now. Not yet. Why are you so curious about Corbin, anyway?”

“I figured running into him at the gym was a given, and I wanted to know what to expect. I mean, if you two were together, I could see how there could be issues with me hanging around.”

Patrick laughed again. “Are you kidding? Corbin’s been trying to set me up with different guys for months. Ever since I moved back. And he’s got a thing for one of his big, quiet bouncers. Trust me, he won’t be jealous. If anything, he’ll tease us both. But as long as we’re at the gym, it shouldn’t be too bad.”

“That’s a relief. Somehow I really don’t want to see what a jealous Corbin Hollis looks like. I’ve never really been in the closet, but he’s a bit flamboyant for my taste too.”

“Never? Even as a teenager?”

Ken shook his head. “Nope. My stepdad figured out I was gay before I did. My brothers were freaked about it at first, but Mark and my mom were great.”

“He’s a cop, too?”

“Yeah. He’s why I wanted to be a cop.”

“Your stepdad figured out you were gay? And it was a good thing?”

Ken chuckled. “I know how fucked-up that sounds, but it’s true. My real dad used me and my brothers as punching bags for as long as I can remember.”

“What?” Patrick’s throat felt dry. He reached toward Ken, setting his hand on Ken’s forearm.

“Yeah. My mom was terrified of him. He made damn sure she never had enough money or enough gas in her car to make it all the way to her parents’ house. When I was ten, she packed us all up in her old Ford Pinto to leave anyway, just to get away, but a neighbor called and told my dad she was taking off. He actually crashed into the car to keep her from going anywhere, then tried to shoot her. Thankfully, another neighbor called the police.

“Mark was one of the officers who responded. After we gave statements, he took me and my brothers out to play soccer in the park. It was the creepiest thing, seeing him chase a soccer ball in uniform. He kept coming around to check on us every week or so for the next two years. He and my mom started officially dating once the divorce was final, and he asked her to marry him two weeks later. It took another two years before he convinced her to say yes, but she eventually did, and they’ve been together ever since.”

“Two years to convince her to marry him?”

“She had a hard time getting close to anybody after my dad went to prison. She’d felt totally trapped—no job, no education, no money, and he made her cut herself off from her friends and family. He wouldn’t even let her talk to the neighbors, as far as I can remember. She didn’t want to jump back into a relationship where she’d be stuck depending on someone else again. At least”—Ken shrugged—“that’s what she said. After talking to Mark about it as an adult, I think my biological father just fucked up her sense of self-worth so badly that she didn’t think anybody could want to be with her again.”

“I’m so sorry,” Patrick whispered, shocked by how easily Ken talked about the abuse he’d suffered. He wasn’t sure if Ken’s dismissive tone made it easier to listen to, or harder. Harder, he decided at last, because it reminded him of how his lies had trapped Denise. He had never hit her, never intentionally hurt her, but he’d never been able to treat her like his wife. “That’s….” He shook his head, at a loss for words.

“It’s a hard situation to bounce back from, but it’s not impossible. My mom’s got a master’s degree in social work now, and she’s a counselor at a women’s shelter down in Tacoma. And instead of coming out to a father who probably would have killed me, I got a stepdad who treated me being gay like a normal part of life. Since he acted like it was normal, Mal and Bran have always been decent about it. They’re not all that eager to hear about my love life, but they’re not jerks about it. Usually.”

“Is he still a police officer?”

Ken nodded. “Him and his brothers too. He’s planning on retiring in about six months.” Ken set down his cup and leaned across the table. He brushed his lips against Patrick’s, then stood up slowly. “So do I get to see you sweaty and topless again?”

Patrick leaned forward, trying to lean into the kiss, but Ken kept pulling back. “We could just skip the gym,” he whispered. “There are other ways to get sweaty.”

Ken traced his fingers along the edge of Patrick’s jaw, making Patrick squirm. “Do you have to work tonight?” he asked.

“I don’t know yet. Ethan sent a text this morning saying everything is still shut down, but the police might finish up by tonight.”

“Then we should have time for both, right?”

D
ESPITE
HOW
long it had been since he’d gotten laid regularly, Patrick found himself enjoying just spending time with Ken, in or out of bed.

Monday, they spent an hour working through basic footwork drills, then another half hour sparring, and finally stumbled out of the gym laughing and hungry. They had a late lunch in the same pub where they’d eaten the day before, and the familiarity made Patrick feel giddy and warm at the same time. This time they made halfhearted jokes about a PGA tournament on the pub’s flat-screen TV for an hour, sharing an extra order of french fries and finding excuses to drag the day out. By four o’clock, though, the possibility of dragging Ken home for a shower was out because he had to get home and make Jay dinner and grab a nap before heading to work at seven.

When Ken had to work, Patrick found he couldn’t get to sleep during the day no matter how exhausted he was. Ken sent him a text at two in the afternoon to see if he might want to hang out before he went to work, and he’d jumped at the chance.

“I brought takeout. Is Jay home?” Ken asked the moment Patrick opened the door.

“Boxing,” Patrick said simply.

Ken dropped a plastic bag that smelled like tacos inside the door and dove toward him. He almost yelped as Ken dropped to the floor in front of him, shoved the front door shut, and pulled his cock free of his flannel pajama pants.

“Fuck,” Patrick gasped, flailing as his knees nearly buckled beneath him.

Ken sucked him deep, then pulled off him with a pop. “Eventually, sure. But I’ve wanted to do this all day.”

Ken wrapped his hand around the base of Patrick’s cock and stroked him as he sucked him in again. He set a quick, efficient pace that had Patrick convulsing in minutes. Drained, Patrick slouched against his own front door and chuckled. “That is one hell of a kiss hello.”

Ken climbed to his feet, and Patrick reached out to help him when he saw Ken grimace.

“We could have aimed for the bed, you know.”

“Would have taken too long.” Ken wrapped his arms around Patrick’s neck and kissed him, driving his tongue into Patrick’s mouth so hard their teeth scraped. “I didn’t want to lose track of time like we did yesterday.”

“And you brought food? What did I do to deserve all this?”

“You picked up the tab for lunch yesterday.”

After, they ate hot sandwiches sprawled in front of the television, talking and laughing through
Batman Begins.
Patrick eventually rambled about the comic books he’d loved most as a kid.

“I never had any comic books,” Ken admitted.

“You’re kidding me?” Patrick stared down at Ken, who was using his lap as a pillow. “Never?”

Ken wrapped his hands behind his head, not even pretending to watch the movie. “Nope. My oldest brother did, but he was obsessive about them. He never even read them, just kept them in those plastic covers, hoping they might be worth something someday. When I was twelve, Mark brought me home an
X-Men
comic book, and Malcolm caught me reading it and got all excited about teaching me about comic collecting. The only thing he taught me was how to put it in a plastic sleeve and forget about it. It sucked.”

Patrick didn’t hesitate to run his fingers over Ken’s abs, tracing the waist of his jeans just to feel the warmth of his skin. “You missed out. I had a lot of
X-Men
comics.
Batman
was my favorite, though, because it was always more edgy. I think comic books were the only thing my dad and I ever talked about until I started getting into sports,” Patrick said, surprised by how much he regretted never getting to know his father better while he still had the chance.

Ken set his hand on top of Patrick’s. “Are they still around?”

“Tampa. White sand beaches for my mom and Buccaneers season tickets for my dad. I hope they like it.”

“Do you talk to them?”

“Not since my divorce,” Patrick admitted. “The whole story got back to them, probably through Denise’s parents. My mom called me, crying, and said sometimes God teaches us harsh lessons. She said she hoped no one else would have to get hurt before I learned the consequences of living in sin, and that she would pray for me. Then she hung up.” Patrick shut his eyes, wishing to this day that he hadn’t bothered answering the phone. “I was so angry with her. Jay was lying there on a ventilator, he hadn’t even woken up yet, and she decided God had done that to him to punish me.”

“Jesus,” Ken hissed. Ken sat up on his knees and climbed into Patrick’s lap, his weight settling on him like a comfortable blanket. He wrapped his arms around Patrick’s neck and set his forehead against Patrick’s.

Patrick wrapped his hands around Ken’s waist and held him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to unload on you like that.”

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for,” Ken said in a tone Patrick knew would have made Jay flinch.

“You don’t know,” Patrick whispered, shaking his head.

“I know enough. Most of those records are sealed, but a few of them came up in a background check. I know you shared joint custody with your ex for about three months after your divorce was finalized, and I know she filed a motion to have your parental rights revoked. I know you were awarded full custody of Jay after that, but the transcripts from the hearing are sealed. And I know that a week after you got full custody of Jay, his mother was arrested on child abuse charges. Temporary protective orders were filed, barring his mom and a man named Anthony Richards from having any contact with him. I know that you blame yourself for whatever happened, even though you shouldn’t.” Ken cupped his hands over Patrick’s cheeks. “And I know that, despite all that, you don’t let Jay call his mom a bad name or say he hates her. And you don’t say shit about her either.”

“Of course not. I love him. Jay is mine, but he’s hers too. I see so much of her in him. Her gestures, her mannerisms, her bone structure, all of it. I don’t see how it could possibly help Jay for him to think that I hate half of him. I don’t want him to hate that half of himself.”

Ken dropped his head to Patrick’s shoulder and sighed. “I wish there was some way I could show you how amazing you are,” he said quickly. “Because I really think you don’t realize it.”

Patrick tightened his arms around Ken and held him flush against his chest. “Biased much?”

“No,” Ken said, his tone confident and certain. “I’ve worked with thousands of single parents, Pat. I have seen a lot of decent people talk shit about their exes to their children. I guess most hope that their kids will blame the other parent for their family falling apart. Maybe they’re trying to make themselves feel justified for filing for divorce, or feel less guilty for giving up on their marriage, or just ease their own bruised ego. They don’t realize that it crushes whatever self-esteem their kid has left, and it makes them feel like both their parents have betrayed them. I’ve given up trying to figure out what they’re thinking, but it still infuriates me because I see what it does to their kids. You’ve got every reason in the world to be angry, but you put Jay’s well-being first. That, by itself, is pretty fucking amazing.” Ken kissed the tiny spot of skin where Patrick’s neck met his shoulder.

“You shouldn’t say things like that,” Patrick whispered. “You’re going to make me all sappy.”

“No one’s here but us. If you want to be all sappy, you can. I won’t tease you too much about it.”

“I don’t do sappy,” Patrick joked, pulling Ken’s hips down against him hard.

The sound of a key turning in the front door echoed over the movie, and Ken shot out of his lap fast. Patrick crossed his legs, covered his deflating erection with one arm, and tried to look like he was actually watching the movie.

Jay shuffled inside, taking short, exhausted steps. He looked at Patrick, then quietly put his shoes and jacket away.

“You okay, kiddo?”

Jay’s shoulders slumped, and he dropped his backpack below the coat tree. “Tired.”

“How was school?”

Jay shrugged and grunted.

“What about the gym?”

“Eight rounds. Michael won five. Thirsty.”

“There’s Gatorade in the fridge. You want to watch
Batman
with us?”

Jay shook his head and staggered toward the kitchen. “Thirsty. Pizza?”

“Yeah.”

“Stuffed crust?”

“I guess.”

“Chicken wings?” Jay looked hopeful.

Patrick had to struggle not to laugh. “Yeah, sure. You got homework?”

“No.” He came out of the kitchen a moment later, chugging a bottle of orange Gatorade. When the bottle was empty, he stared at it like he might cry, then went back to the kitchen and filled it from the sink. “I’m going to go pass out now. Wake me up when dinner gets here?”

“Sure, kiddo. Remind me to give you some extra lunch money so you can grab a snack between school and getting beaten up.”