Kid

The best part of living here is this amazing, comfortable, expensive bed Hawke and Cole furnished the spare room with. The worst part of living here is the personal privacy I seemed to have given up in order to stay here.

“Get up,” Hawke says, pulling the covers completely off my body, making me shiver instantly.

My shirtless body is exposed, the tattooed sleeves doing nothing to keep the heat in as he rips the comforter onto the floor in my room.

“Fuck off, man,” I groan, clutching my chest.

“Are you wearing bacon covered sweatpants?” Hawke asks, his tone totally demeaning.

I peek an eye open, keeping the other firmly squinted as I look down at the pajama pants covered in dancing slices of bacon hand in hand with grinning pigs I’ve named Kevin. They are really quite morbid if you think about it long enough.

“These are my Kevin Bacon pants,” I reply, scoffing at his tone.

He shakes his head. “Get up. I need your muscles.”

I pop up, ruffling my hair. “I’d like to say I’m surprised by this desire for my newly acquired man meat, but truly, it’s expected.”

“I need extra hands is all, don’t give yourself too much credit, stickman.”

I scoff yet again at his rude statement before getting up and hitting the showers.

It turns out he did need a hand. Thirty hands would’ve been better. We left in a large U-Haul truck Hawke rented to go shop at some expensive furniture shops along the coast, attempting to furnish one of the new properties.

I wait, kicking back on some ridiculously expensive couch with my feet propped up on the coffee table, placed solely for looks before me. A woman in her forties wearing a pencil skirt and suit coat walks past, giving me a scowl, eyeing my feet on the furniture or possibly my whole grungy look, before clearing her throat suggestively.

“God bless you.” I smile my big cheesy grin, sure to piss her off.

She huffs and scurries away to the next customer to judge on the showroom floor.

Twatty Tammy can’t ruin my day.

Hawke finishes signing some paperwork at the desk as he rejoins me on the fancy couch, kicking back alongside me.

“Can I ask you one question?” I say, watching Twatty Tammy make her rounds.

“Shoot.”

“Why didn’t you just pay extra for them to deliver?”

He laughs, clearly not expecting the question.

“Because I can do it by myself. Why would I pay extra for something I can do?”

It’s always about being a man with Hawke, and being fiscally responsible while saving money.

“You’re not doing it by yourself. You need me,” I grumble. “Ever heard of working smarter, not harder?”

“Bro, quit being a bitch,” he says in his deep, moody tone. “Light exercise would do you some good.”

“Says the bodybuilding Bob the Builder,” I groan.

“Your classes start this week?” he asks, changing the subject.

I nod, rolling my head against the back of the couch to face him.

“That’s good.” He nods reassuringly. “It’ll be good for you.”

“Really?” I groan again, rolling my eyes.

“Yeah, really,” he says with a hint of attitude. “Listen, I just genuinely care about you,” he starts, his tone softening. “I want to see you succeed, but I’m by no means trying to be a father figure to you or whatever it may seem.”

“Good, we don’t need another one of those. Mine is shit enough.”

“Yeah, he is,” he agrees, making a pained face.

Hawke witnessed it all. My dad was trash. An alcoholic who literally lived off of the money the government gave him to support me. He was a liar, a cheater, a drunk, a piece of shit who didn’t mind teaching his son lessons in life when the whiskey hit just right.

“Worthless piece of shit,” I comment beneath my breath, picking at the hole in my jeans.

Hawke sits in silence next to me, probably remembering the time I came to stay at his dad’s with him for a week when mine left me with a nice shiner that paired well with the bruises along my back and chest. I always felt safe at their place. His dad was so much like him. Smaller than Hawke turned out to be, but he had a tough exterior with a heart of gold. Hawke was lucky to have him in his life as long as he did, even if that time was cut short. The lessons he learned from that man would bleed into his life when he needed it most. I was always a little jealous, if I’m being completely honest.

“You’re not your dad,” he says, finally breaking the silence.

I scoff at the statement before a smile stretches across my lips. “I know.”

He turns to face me, the seriousness in his eyes hitting me in the gut.

“Kai,” he breathes, that same look breaking through me. “You’re nothing like him,” he reiterates.

“Thank God for that, right?” I laugh.

He doesn’t laugh with me. I roll my eyes and look at him again, where he’s silently waiting for me to look.

“You aren’t him,” he says again, the look in his eyes finally breaking me down. My smile vanishes as I tighten my jaw. It hurts. “You’ll never be him.”

I swallow down what feels like a lump in my throat. Hawke’s the best friend I’ve ever had, and he’s proving it every day I’m here by killing the thoughts he knows I’m thinking. He knows I compare myself to that awful man, even if I hate him. It’s hard not to, knowing you have the same genes. I’d like to think I’m nothing like him, but I see his disgusting traits materialize in my worst moments.

“You have a real chance to do amazing things,” he finally says. “I just hope you stay on the right track.”

He knows I haven’t been around much, both with work and around the house. He knows I’ve been dabbling in extracurriculars like I normally do. He doesn’t know my dealings with Silas and Dario, and he doesn’t know the secrets between me and Han. He does, however, know who I am better than anyone. This is his warning to me. His plea for his friend.

“Is this really why you brought me here? For emotional bro talks?”

“Did you really think I needed your arms?”

“Ha,” I scoff. “You dick.”

“You’ve come a long way since Kiddie the Titty,” he says bluntly, shaking his head.

“Dude…” I groan at the audacity.

“I’m just saying.” He throws his hands up, laughing. “If I hadn’t stepped in and saved you from your school bus beat down, who knows where Kiddie the Titty would be today? Probably still curled up beneath the seat.”

“I saved myself with my wit and my charming ways. Don’t you dare take credit for that,” I scold him, pushing him until he tips over, laughing into the couch. “Besides, Kiddie the Titty is the one sucking ‘em these days.”

He shakes his head at me. “You still hanging with Johanna?”

The name does something to me. Sends a rock right into the glass balloon inside of my chest. I knew the topic would come up. It’s not like he hasn’t heard us in my room, or around the house, for that matter. But since our little text situation yesterday, I haven’t heard from her, nor did I know the next time I would.

I went deep with the conversation and her answer proved more than I thought it would. Love gives life meaning, while simultaneously ending it. It didn’t take a psychology professor to figure out the depth behind that. She was trapped between needing something and being terrified of it ruining her.

“Ah, a little bit.”

He cocks his head, arching a brow.

“Yeah, I don’t know…she’s been busy…lately.” I try to answer all nonchalantly.

“So she left you again,” he says bluntly.

I stare at him, blinking slowly.

He shrugs, looking at me with empathy as if to kindly say, I warned you, bro. But the thing is, it’s just not like that for me anymore. I’m not disappointed in what happened because I understand it now, better than ever.

“Does Cole still try to talk to Han about what happened?” I wince while asking, knowing this is a sensitive topic. “Like, the situation with their mother?”

“Nah. Cole tried to get Johanna to go to counseling with her for months after she found her, but not everyone can process unexpected death the same way.”

“Unexpected death?”

“Yeah, like a freak accident.”

Freak accident? Suicide isn’t a freak accident. Whatever his story is can’t be accurate.

“Yeah, I mean, didn’t you hear what happened?”

I hide the information I know and play stupid in order to hear what he has to say.

“Uh, no. I mean, how would I know?”

“Guess I thought maybe for some strange reason she’d actually confide in you.” He shakes his head, sighing. “She slipped while she was cleaning the bathroom, got hung up by the towel hangers. She was all alone.”

My face distorts in confusion, which luckily for me, also looks like concern. None of this sounds right. Is he joking? This would be a sick fucking joke. No chance in hell this was a freak accident. No chance in hell they actually believe that.

“It’s fucking awful. She was clawing at her throat, attempting to free herself and everything, couldn’t get the traction beneath her feet because of the floors. By the time Johanna found her, it was too late.”

The conflicting story has me wondering about the validity of Gerald’s small town gossip. I mean, I would assume that Hawke and Cole know better than the old owner from a washed-up antique store. Besides, there’s no possible way Han would’ve watched her mother hang herself without helping, right?

“Cole seems to process it better than Jo. Jo kind of went crazy afterwards, got heavy into drugs, started fucking around a lot. This was the same time she caught Bran cheating, among other terrible things. So much happened in such a short amount of time, she just went into a tailspin.”

My brain is trying to understand, but all the conflicting stories have me questioning everything.

“She hasn’t been the same since, according to Cole. I tell Cole to go easy on her, that everyone deals with death in different ways, but she was so concerned with losing Johanna to her addictions that she ended up taking her anger out on her, which of course, only pushed Jo further away. They’ve been slowly working on mending their relationship, but it’s not easy.”

I let out a deep sigh, blowing the air through my puffed cheeks. “I had no idea.”

“I shouldn’t be telling you this. It’s their story, but maybe it’ll help you understand why Han is pushing you away, give you the ability to move on.”

That’s where he’s wrong. I don’t want to move on. I want to move forward. With her. He has no idea of the real reason for her pushing away love and connection. The real reason has to be a secret hidden so deep, not even her own flesh and blood is aware. Han is holding onto something so heavy, so dark, and so twisted. It’s literally eating her from the inside out.

“But anyway, what are you up to this weekend?” Hawke asks, totally pulling me from my thoughts.

“Uh, I don’t know. Probably going to a party. You?” I shrug.

He looks somewhat disappointed by my answer.

“Truthfully, I was gonna ask if you wanted to have a guy’s night. Maybe get some drinks somewhere else instead.”

I get he doesn’t want me partying until I’m blacked out, popping crazy pills or snorting coke like my life depends on it while attempting to drive home again, but it’s not even about that to me. Han is going to be there.

“So Cole’s letting you off leash this weekend, eh?”

“Ha, c’mon man.” He shoves into me with his shoulder. “You know damn well she’s the one that likes to be leashed.”

“Don’t tempt me with anymore erotic thoughts of Cole. I don’t think my dick can handle it,” I say, keeping my face straight, raising my hands before him. “My hands are calloused.”

His face distorts, understand my meat beating joke. His glare eats through me, and I know he’s imagining suffocating me with one of these fancy throw pillows until I’m blue in the face.

“But this weekend,” he says, totally changing his tone and attitude. “Me and you. Let’s do it.”

The only thing I can think about is how I’m going to get Hawke to join me in meeting up with Han at Bran’s. Eventually, I can talk him into going there or get him drunk enough to do it. I’m sure of it.

“Fuck it. I’m in.”