Where We Left Off (Middle of Somewhere #3)

THE NEXT day, while Will took Claire back to the hospital for her tests and got her car fixed, I went to go see my mom and Janie. My dad and Eric were both at work, but they’d be home for dinner.

The first thing my mom said was how much taller I was. I hadn’t realized it until Will and I were lying side by side on the air mattress the night before, taking elaborate care not to touch, but I was taller than him now by an inch or two. I’d been so busy lately with school and everything that I hadn’t even noticed. And I guess my slouchy jeans had kind of covered it up anyway. Besides, with a roommate as tall as Charles, I always felt short anyway. She also told me how handsome I looked, but she was my mom, so. I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror after she said it. But, no. Same old Leo, my nose too small for my mouth and my straight eyebrows making me look like I took everything too seriously.

We talked about what New York was like, but no matter how much I explained it, she couldn’t seem to understand that I didn’t live in Times Square since it was the foremost picture of New York she had. She was delighted to hear about my new friends, and she seemed really impressed when I told her I had declared a physics major. “I took that class in school,” she remarked, meaning at the high school in Holiday. “I think I liked it.”

Janie thought it was incredibly cool that I worked at a real-life New York City coffee shop, and when I told her about Layne she said, “Oh, lesbians are so in right now,” and I didn’t even have the energy to ask what that meant.

It was nice to sit there in my mom’s kitchen, eating the Girl Scout cookies that she arranged on a plate and sipping the chemically lemon tea she always drank while we talked. Nice, but not like home. It was a sensation I’d had before. Of being a guest in the place that felt like home to the rest of my family.

As the sun started to set, I caught my mom beginning to cast glances at the oven clock. It was time for her to start cooking dinner. I cleared away the cookie crumbs and cold tea bags, and my mom stood up quickly, pulling ingredients out of the refrigerator before I’d even rinsed the dishes. A quick glance at the counter told me just what she’d be cooking. A casserole with chicken, peas, and cream of mushroom soup, and Pillsbury dinner rolls.

I had intended to stay for dinner, but when Eric and my dad got home a few minutes later, it was clear that things wouldn’t be different than they’d ever been. They were happy to see me, sure. I asked them each how work was and Eric told me about his new gym routine. I told my dad what classes I was taking when he asked, unsure if he was just trying to make conversation or if my mom really hadn’t told him.

But after a few minutes, as always, we ran out of things to say to each other. They weren’t interested in hearing about my life. Not really. And they didn’t have anything more to tell me about theirs.

Once, early in the year, I told Milton that I kind of wished I’d had some big confrontation with my dad about being gay and how he never really acknowledged it, because that at least would be easier than always tiptoeing around it. Milton had said, “Maybe. But you don’t have to tiptoe just because he does. That’s his problem.” At the time I’d dismissed it because my dad’s reluctance to bring it up always felt like such a condemnation. Like I would be embarrassing myself as well as him if I mentioned anything.

Now, though, it just didn’t seem worth it. It was so clear, suddenly: my dad had nothing to offer me, really. I guessed that I had always kind of been waiting for him to come around. To decide that really knowing me was worth feeling a little uncomfortable for.

But I was done waiting for people. So I kissed my mom, hugged Janie and Eric, shook my dad’s hand, and left with the casserole still in the oven and the rolls unbaked, walking slowly through town and into the woods toward Rex’s, knowing that Will would be home soon.

THE FRONT door closed, and Will slumped backward against it, closing his eyes, like everything outside the cabin was a nightmare he was trying to escape.

“What happened?”

Without thinking, I went to him and slid my hands around his back underneath his coat, as if touching him were natural again. It felt natural? Touching him felt like finally letting out a breath I’d taken months ago.

Will transferred his weight from the door to me and let out a rumbling groan of exhaustion and exasperation. I could feel how tense he was in the muscles of his back and shoulders.

“Do you want to take a shower or something?”

Will shook his head and dragged himself upright, dropping his expensive coat in a heap on the floor and coming to the couch.

“Here, one sec.”

I brought in the spaghetti I’d made from the kitchen and handed Will a bowl, settling with my own on the other end of the couch, facing him.

He gave me a thankful smile and toed off his shoes before falling on the pasta like a wolf.

“You seriously have the worst table manners I’ve ever seen. What’s up with that?”

He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and smirked at me, a shadow of his usual attitude in place.

“My parents would leave food for us in the fridge when they went out to dinner, so I’d end up just eating something standing at the counter a lot. Or peanut butter out of the jar with a spoon fast enough that I wouldn’t taste it.” He made a face.

“That why you don’t like it now?” I asked, remembering he’d mentioned that months before. He gave a one-shoulder shrug, then nodded.

“Now, I guess I usually eat while I’m running out the door to work, or at my desk between meetings, or in front of the TV. I don’t know, it’s probably terrible for me. Whatever.”

He went back to his food, finishing the bowl and slouching against the cushions before I was even half-done.

“So how’s Claire?”

He closed his eyes and blew out a breath.

“She’s fine, physically. I fought with her for, seriously, hours about going back on her medication. Who the hell knows if she’ll comply. Nathan came home from school while we were fighting about it, though, so we had to explain. Kind of. Like we told him about how taking medicine made his mom calmer and more… the same every day. And—fuck—he looked right at her and said, ‘I always like you, but I guess it would be better if you were more the same every day,’ and patted her on the shoulder.”

“Oh man.”

“So she’s crying, and I’m practically crying because, shit, the kid’s ten years old. He shouldn’t be worrying about this crap. And Nathan goes, ‘But don’t worry if there are days you can’t because Uncle Will takes really good care of us on those days, even if it is over the phone.’ And I started actually crying because, damn. And Claire just about gets hysterical because apparently she didn’t fucking know that they call me constantly and then I call all over creation looking for her. So, I don’t know. Maybe it’ll be different this time. Maybe she’ll be able to see how much she’s hurting everyone by not taking the damn medicine. Like, in the past I’ve made her. But when I’m not here… I can’t really.”

“You’ve made her?”

Will’s eyes flashed, immediately defensive. “I didn’t force it down her throat or anything, Jesus. She always thanked me later, when it had kicked in—said it was the right thing to do. She just couldn’t always come to that decision when she wasn’t on the medication. That’s how it’s always been with her. I knew what was the right thing, and I made sure she did it. Even if she hated me for it in the moment—and believe me, there have been plenty of times she’s fucking hated me. But sometimes, you know, there are things that are more important than someone liking you.”

“That’s a lot of responsibility to have for someone. A lot of pressure.”

“It’s just… I know how much she hates it. Admitting there’s something… wrong with her.” He closed his eyes. “Or, I shouldn’t put it that way. Not wrong. Just, we spent so many years swearing we’d never be like them. We’d never be that fucking selfish. For me it was easier, maybe. I knew I’d never have kids. Never be in that situation. Claire. Christ. When she got pregnant with Nathan, she was eighteen. I thought, well, no problem, she’ll just get rid of it. But she fucking didn’t.”

Will’s voice wavered, and he bit his thumbnail.

“I don’t know why she didn’t. And obviously I love Nathan now. But, fuck, Leo. How could she—”

He bit his lip and shook his head and I moved across the couch to him. When he spoke again, it was so quiet I could hardly hear him.

“How could she mess them up this bad when she knows how much it fucking hurts?”

He took a deep breath, and when he spoke again it was like he was forcing himself to tell the other side of the story.

“It’s different. I know that. It’s completely, totally different. She loves her kids, and our parents didn’t love us.”

He stood abruptly and cleared our plates, though I wasn’t done with mine. The starkness of the sentiment left something stuck in my throat as I followed him into the kitchen, every molecule of my being wanting to make it better. To somehow find the right thing to say or do that could take a stitch in time and act as a balm to the kid who had one day come to the conclusion that he wasn’t loved by the people whose job it was to do so.

My own love for him bubbled against my lips, and I gritted my teeth to hold it back. It wasn’t the right moment, I knew. Hell, it probably wasn’t even the right sentiment.

Being loved by one person didn’t cancel out not being loved by another like a math equation.

“Look,” he said, his back to me. “Just… just don’t say anything, okay?”

It was like he’d plucked the thought right out of my head.

“I just mean… in case you’re about to try and convince me that my parents did love me, deep down, in some secret chamber of biological necessity or something, just… please don’t.”

I swallowed hard. “I wasn’t going to.”

“Good.”

He walked back into the living room without looking at me and busied himself with the fire.

“So, um, I think I’m going to do it. Go into business with Gus.” It was a clear bid to change the topic, and I was happy to let him.

“Yeah? That’s great. What changed your mind?”

“Well. Kinda you, actually. I was thinking about how you said that I cared a lot about my work. It’s true, I do. But sometimes I get so hung up on getting ahead in the business, or on one of my bosses approving of what I’ve done, or on how impressed people get when I tell them where I work and they’ve heard of it, or they ask what books I’ve done covers for and they’ve heard of them. So, really, that’s caring more about what other people think than it is actually caring about the work itself. If I do it, then I won’t have that recognition. There won’t be anyone to approve of the work or disapprove because I’ll be the boss.

“But I’ve already achieved all the shit I set out to do when I took that job. So now it’s time to do something else. To move forward. Challenge myself. Set new goals. I don’t know, seeing college and the city through your eyes—everything new and uncertain—reminded me what it felt like to be that way. To be excited about shit rather than to bend it to someone else’s desires.”

He looked embarrassed, but it sounded amazing. And the idea that I’d had anything to do with it made me buzz with happiness.

“That’s awesome!” I told him, sliding a hand up his arm. “I think you guys are gonna kill it. Besides, it’s like you told me about school. Don’t believe that the people in charge necessarily know what the hell they’re talking about. You know what you’re doing. You know when something’s good or not. Oh man, I’m so excited for you!”

Will’s eyes lit, and he crushed me to him, kissing me hard.

“Sorry,” he said, pulling back. “Shit, sorry! Thank you. For being excited for me. I just really missed that.”

And fuck, I still wanted him so much.

Wanted to be close to him—intimate. And things had changed. I’d changed. I couldn’t fall back into the same situation and expect not to get pulverized all over again. But maybe it didn’t have to be the same situation.

“Don’t be sorry,” I said slowly.

“No. You told me you didn’t want this, so.”

And wasn’t that just about the most absurd thing I’d ever heard. The idea that I didn’t want something with Will.

“I’ve always wanted this. You know that.”

“Leo, I—” His voice was choked, and he seemed more worn out than I’d ever seen him.

I thought he couldn’t hurt me more than he had the night I’d walked in on him with another man, but, no. This would hurt more. If after calling me and wanting me here with him, he told me that things were the same as they’d ever been.

But then I looked at him, really looked. In the firelight, his eyes were haunted. And I had the sudden horror of something even worse. That he was about to actually give me what I’d wanted for all the wrong reasons. That out of fear and exhaustion and trauma and stress, he was about to tell me what I had been desperate to hear from the moment I met him. And then regret it.

“I slept with someone else.” The words exploded between us and I had the momentary satisfaction of watching something like loss break open in Will’s expression before he schooled it again. “I was going to tell you.”

“Okay,” he said. “Um, how was it? Or, not it it, I don’t mean, but….”

How was it? It was nice. It was hot. Satisfying in the moment. And I had kind of congratulated myself afterward, in an Oh, well done, you. You had a genuine College Experience kind of way.

“It was… important,” I said. Will clenched his jaw. “Not the guy, exactly. Russell,” I added because it seemed wrong to imply that he was nobody. He had been sweet and kind, and he’d definitely wanted to see me again.

“Important because it made me understand something. It made me understand that what you said about having sex with other people not having any bearing on what you felt about me? I… I get it. Like, I can see what you mean now.”

That felt strange to say, here, in Rex’s cabin where I had fallen in love with the idea of a relationship like Rex and Daniel’s.

Will was staring at me intently, but I couldn’t quite read his expression.

“It’s not for me,” I went on. “I just… I don’t think I’m the same way, you know?” He nodded. “And, okay, I’m not saying that should be proof for you that I will want to be with you forever or something. Not that I did it so I could have definitive data or anything. But I guess it is good to know that about myself.”

“You want to be with me?” Will echoed.

“Yeah, I know you’re not into it. We don’t have to go through it all again.”

Will shook his head. Frustrated? Irritated? I wasn’t sure.

“Does that… I mean, does it hurt you, that I slept with someone else?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Not… not exactly.” But his hands tightened on my shoulders.

“I kissed him first,” I said because it felt important for Will to know that I hadn’t just gone along with something. That I’d wanted it. Not the way I wanted him. But that had nothing to do with it.

Will looked at me intently, throat moving as he swallowed. “How did you kiss him? Show me.”

I blinked at him, but he just looked at me.

“Um, well.”

I moved toward Will and touched my mouth to his. I kissed him as if he were someone I had no physical history with. A kiss that wasn’t a promise but an exploration. That carried no past, only a potential future.

When I broke away for air, Will was breathing hard, his eyes intent on mine. “What happened next? Show me.”

I took Will by the hand and led him to the bedroom, since unlike the table in the geology lab, there was no furniture here that would take our weight. I unzipped his pants and pulled them off. He started to strip off his shirt, but I stopped him.

“He didn’t take his shirt off.”

I pushed him down on the air mattress, pulling my own pants off and kneeling between his legs to kiss him. I could smell the unfamiliar shampoo in his hair and the unfamiliar soap on his skin, and a bolt of longing for Will’s usual homey smells hit me.

“He kissed my neck,” I said, touching the spot where my shoulder met my neck, and Will latched on, kissing me, scraping his teeth over my skin. When he shifted to the other side, I reached into my bag and got lube and a condom, handing them to Will.

Will moved to push the lube away like he often did, but I pressed it on him.

“I don’t need that,” he said.

“I do.”

“Oh. He… okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

Will bit his lip and slicked his fingers, never looking away as he reached for me.

“Do you want me to tell you how he—?”

“No.” Will pulled me toward him, kissing me hard. He pulled my shirt off, getting lube all over it, then pulled off his own. When he pulled me back toward him, his kiss was desperate, his movements clumsy, his fingers sticky in my hair. I groaned and wrapped my arms around his neck, pressing him back down into the pillow.

Will fumbled with the lube again and then slid slick fingers inside me, his breath catching. I ground against him and held on tight. When I was panting into his mouth and he was hard beneath me, I knelt up.

“The way he—”

“Stop. Please,” Will said, squeezing his eyes closed.

“Okay,” I said, kissing him softly on the mouth.

Will propped himself up against pillows and rolled on the condom, then pulled me into his lap. I braced myself on his shoulders, fingers just touching his neck so I could feel his pulse. I sank down on him slowly, opening to him as he slid inside. I bit my lip, forcing myself to breathe through the strangeness of penetration, waiting for the inevitable shift from invasion to heat.

His hands came to my hips, and his stomach muscles flexed with the effort of keeping still. We looked at each other and moved at the same moment, our mouths meeting desperately as our hands tangled together between us.

I started to move my hips in circles slowly, the feel of him inside me turning to sparks of pleasure as my body adjusted.

“Oh fuck,” he said, kissing me again, then putting his feet flat on the floor so I could brace against them. I lifted myself up and slid down, building the rhythm between us, watching the flush spread from Will’s face down his throat to feather across his pale chest as his breathing grew ragged. He was watching me intently, his eyes endlessly blue. I rose and fell, then rested my weight down, pressing him deeply inside of me, feeling so full and so light at the same time.

“Touch me?” I said, and Will sat up, grabbing hold of my straining cock and kissing me at the same time, my legs sprawled on either side of his hips, his arms around me, his mouth on mine, and his dick inside me the only things keeping me from falling.

I was sweating, getting tired. I allowed the distant thought that I really needed to add more bridge pose to my yoga practice in case we were going to make this position a regular part of our repertoire, but I let it go when Will swore, frustrated, and dropped back on his forearms, pulsing his hips up, fucking me from below as I moved on him from above.

Heat collected at the base of my spine and each clench of my stomach muscles drew my orgasm closer, my whole body clenching up. As I lost the rhythm hopelessly, Will groaned, grabbed me, and flipped us. His expression was desperate, his focus intense. I landed on my back, and he pulled me toward him by my shoulders, thrusting into me and burying his face in my neck. I spread my legs wide and rolled my hips back, giving him more room, and we rocked together, every movement flooding me with heat.

Will touched my cock and I moaned, pulling him to me and lifting my chin to beg for a kiss. He jerked me off as we kissed, and pleasure seized me, all heat and tension and then a release like a supernova. I exploded between us, dragging Will down on top of me and holding him inside me as the orgasm took me over.

Will was flushed, his teeth gritted and the tendons in his neck standing out with his efforts. I squeezed my legs around him, pulling him closer to me. He circled his hips and let out a whimper, and I kissed him, biting his full lips. He looked like an angel of vengeance, all blond hair and burning blue eyes. He pulled back once more, thrust hard and came, his mouth open on a silent scream, eyes closed, hair dark with sweat.

“Fuck,” he muttered, collapsing next to me, chin on my shoulder. He licked a line up my throat, and I shivered, then he kissed salt back to me. We cradled each other’s faces as we kissed. Then, exhausted, we just lay there, looking at each other.

I didn’t ask and he didn’t offer. We just pulled the covers up over us, foreheads nearly touching, sharing each other’s breath, and went to sleep.

I WOKE, warm and comfortable, my back pressed to Will’s front and his arms around me. My whole body said Yay! at being snuggled up with Will and my mind said… well, mushy things about the way Will had opened up to me since I got here.

I couldn’t stop thinking about the moment he’d stopped me from playing the game he’d begun. The moment he stopped being able to bear thinking about me with someone else. It made my heart beat fast and my palms sweat. It made the roots of my hair tingle and my teeth itch. It made every surface of my body alive with the effort of holding back my feelings for Will. Of stopping myself from waking him up to ask him what it all meant. Where we stood.

But things weren’t about me right now. It was one hundred percent not the moment to pull focus from Will’s stuff with his family. So I just brought Will’s hand to my lips and kissed it. I got up and took a shower. I sliced bananas into bowls of instant oatmeal because it was the healthiest thing I could think of and that felt like something I could do to show Will how I felt. I made coffee and put it all on the table, and then I sat there waiting for Will to wake up.

When he slouched into the kitchen and flopped down at the table, he stuck his face in his coffee and didn’t look at me right away. After the first cup had kicked in, though, he took a bite of oatmeal and made a face, looking up at me like I’d betrayed him.

“There’s no brown sugar here,” I told him. “But it’s good for you.”

He pouted and pushed the bowl away, then dropped his head on my shoulder and buried his face in my neck, talking into my sweatshirt.

“What?”

His arms came around my waist and he turned his head slightly.

“I hate stuff that’s good for me.”

MY FLIGHT left from Detroit at 9:30 a.m., but Will was staying until the next day so he could try to talk to the parent of one of Nathan and Sarah’s friends about providing some support if Claire needed it.

Will drove me to the airport in silence, flicking through radio stations and finding nothing he wanted to listen to, then flicking it off again.

We were both exhausted. The easy intimacy of the morning had given way to a day made long by necessities. We’d gone grocery shopping for Claire while she met with a psychologist, then I hung out with Nathan and Sarah while Will took Claire to buy new things for the house.

We hadn’t had a moment to talk, but it wasn’t as if I’d know what to say anyway. Things felt… different? Will seemed different. But he was also in the middle of a crisis and away from home, so I reminded myself for the umpteenth time that it was definitely not the moment to address it.

“Thank you,” Will said as he pulled to a stop at the curb. “For coming here. It never really occurred to me that you would, but… it should have. I—hell, I should’ve known you that well by now. Anyway, thanks.”

And he kissed me, leaning over the cup holders and gearshift. Kissed me like it was a thing we did again. Then he was gone, saying he’d see me back home, leaving me standing at the curb staring after his rental car with my head a total mess and my heart a quivering, hopeful thing.