Choices and Changes Read online

  “Wait. It’s okay.” Patrick reached for Adam’s hand, pulling him over to sit on the couch between Patrick and his father. Adam was livid and of course, his lover knew that and his first priority was to soothe him. “Baby, it’s okay. She’s your mother; her fears and questions are valid and she has a right to feel that way.”

  “No, she doesn’t,” Adam countered.

  Patrick turned to face Adam, reaching for him, his hands brushing across Adam’s collarbone and neck, coming to rest on Adam’s tense shoulders. “Shhhhh…baby, listen to me.” Patrick eyed him, waiting for Adam to calm down before he spoke again. “You are so much like her; I can see that now. Passionate, unyielding, loyal to a fault. I see so much of her in you now that we’ve met.” Adam heard the sharp intake of breath when his mother gasped, felt his father’s weight leave the couch, but his eyes remained focused on Patrick.

  “We have to figure this out, okay? I love you Adam, so fucking much, but I won’t be the person that tears apart your family.” There was no room for argument in Patrick’s tone; he was completely serious and Adam knew it. The only option was to make his mother understand, make her accept that he and Patrick were in it for the long haul—because he couldn’t lose Patrick. Not yet, at least.

  The outburst had tipped the scales in their favor though, Adam’s parents witnessing firsthand just how much their son not only loved Patrick but how much he loved Adam. Glynis and Harold stayed in California for almost a month getting to know their son’s partner. Before they flew back to South Africa, they made sure Patrick obtained a passport and purchased tickets for he and Adam to fly in and join them for a couple of weeks during Christmas break.

  The short ten years they were together were spent well. Adam and Patrick traveled all over the world, and Adam captured everything on film—sometimes with Glynis and Harold, sometimes with Patrick’s brother, Neil and his husband, Gus, sometimes just the two of them. They surfed in Hawaii, danced the waltz in their underwear on the patio of their suite in Austria, searched for four-leaf clovers in Ireland, proudly wore kilts and attempted to play the bagpipe in Scotland.…Adam lived a lifetime of memories with Patrick before the disease finally took him.

  A crackle of thunder jolted Adam back to the present, the lights flickering before he was pitched into near darkness, the fire and the lightning wreaking havoc outside now the only source of lumination in the house. He stood and reached for the long matches, holding one to the flames until it sparked to life. There were several sconces and candles scattered throughout the house, so he made his way from room to room, lighting them, stopping and looking at each picture along the way.

  After Patrick’s death, he’d sworn to never love another man that way; it was too painful, a soul-deep ache that left Adam cold and bereft. But spending thirty years by himself was lonely, and the solidarity of his life was beginning to weigh him down. Work kept him busy and he still traveled occasionally, either with his parents or for Doctors Without Borders to countries where HIV/AIDS ran rampant. It wasn’t the same as sharing the world with someone by your side, something Adam thought more and more about with each passing day.

  Candlelight filtering softly through the house, Adam made himself a cup of tea and settled in on the couch with one of his favorite books, A Heart Without Borders by Andrew Grey. He loved gay romance, this book in particular—about a man anxious to escape grief who signs on with Doctors Without Borders—probably because he saw many similarities between the character Wes and himself. Sighing, he opened the book to the first page, thinking it might be time for him to open his eyes and his heart to the possibility of love again.

  ~ Chapter 2 | Moving On ~

  Closing the lid on the last box and taping it shut, Dean took a moment to look around the house he’d called home for as long as he could remember. He and Maggie bought the house before they were married in a then-small, quiet suburb in Justin, Texas. They’d remodeled and added onto the house over the years, especially as Dusty got older and the original foundation became too small for the three of them.

  “Is that the last of them?” Maggie asked, stepping up beside him, holding out a steaming mug of coffee to him.

  “Oh, thank you,” he said, taking the offered cup and sipping slowly. “Mmmmmm…I think I’ll miss your coffee most, Mags,” he joked and received a hard shove from his soon-to-be ex-wife.

  “Ass.” She pretended to glare at him, unable to hide her smirk. After close to thirty years together, they’d simply fallen out of love. Well, that wasn’t true actually. They still loved and cared for one another, they just weren’t in love with each other any longer.

  “So,” she began, “did you tell your son that we’re getting a divorce yet?”

  Dean shook his head. “Nope. Did you tell your son that you’re knocked up by your boyfriend while we are still technically married? You hussy.” He chuckled, reaching for her swollen belly only to have his hand knocked away. Maggie’s irritation delighted him.

  “Well, do you want to call our son and perhaps tell him everything at once, together?” she asked.

  Dean shook his head again. “My flight leaves tomorrow morning, and I’ve already let him know I’m coming to stay with him for a while. I think I owe it to Dusty to tell him face-to-face, don’t you?”

  Maggie sighed, turning and walking back into the kitchen with Dean behind her. Setting her mug on the kitchen island, she went over to the sink and started washing the breakfast dishes. As was habit, Dean grabbed a towel and started drying them. “I’ll get all the boxes stacked in the garage, off to the side, so they’re out of the way until I figure out what my next move is, Mags.”

  Leaning against the sink she nodded, not speaking or looking at him. Their divorce, while amicable, was still hard on them both. It wasn’t easy to separate two lives that had been woven together for so long. Tossing the damp towel down on the cabinet, Dean turned toward her, wrapping an arm around her and hugging her tightly, mindful of her middle. He kissed her on the cheek before stepping back and heading into the den to move the last few boxes out into the garage. Returning to the kitchen twenty minutes later, backpack slung over his shoulder and suitcase in hand, he set the large manila envelope that contained the signed divorce papers on the kitchen island.

  He was halfway out the door when she called out to him. “Take care, Dean. Be safe, and most of all, be happy.” She sniffled and on instinct, he took one step toward the kitchen before stopping and forcing his feet to walk out the door.

  ***

  Twenty-four hours later, Dean sat at a table in a restaurant, across from his son, who was giving him a murderous glare. “You couldn’t keep your dick in your pants long enough for the divorce papers to dry, Dad?” Dusty growled.

  Dean managed to defuse the situation, pointing out that they were in public, people were staring, and Dusty’s boyfriend, David, looked distressed. On the drive from the airport to the brewery, Dusty shared with his father how they’d met and the abuse David had endured his entire life at the hands of his older brother. Having known each other less than an hour, Dean could still recognize how he and Dusty arguing was affecting the young man.

  As soon as they made it back to the apartment Dusty and David shared, Dusty led his dad into the spare room and closed the door behind him so that they could talk privately.

  “So, Mom has a boyfriend? Fuck me, this is so weird. I’m sitting here talking to my father about my mother’s boyfriend. Shoot me, just shoot me now.” Dusty buried his face in his hands.

  Dean dropped down onto the bed beside him, patting Dusty on the back. “I want you to know that we are still your parents first and foremost, son. We both love you very much and that’s never going to change. We will simply be supporting you from different addresses now, is all.”

  “My mother has a boyfriend,” Dusty muttered. Dean couldn’t stop the chuckle that emanated from him if he tried, drawing an angry sideways glare from his son. “You think this is funny?”

  Dean drew in
a ragged breath, exhaling loudly and shaking his head. “No, Dusty, I do not. But it is what it is and you can either accept it or get angry and start yelling; maybe you could throw something at me. I’m certain your boyfriend is out there right now climbing the fucking walls already. What’s it going to do to him if we get hostile, son?”

  “Fuck,” Dusty barked, standing quickly and pacing the small space between the foot of the bed and the closet. “You don’t miss anything either, do you, Dad? I guess I get that from you.” He laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. After a five-minute game of tread the carpet as quiet as a mouse, Dusty stopped and faced him. “Okay, you and Mom are divorcing and I’ll soon have a stepdad, yay me!” He pumped his fist in the air comically.

  “Or two,” Dean chuckled.

  Dusty’s brow furrowed. “Or two what?” Dean gave him a look, pursing his lips to stop from cracking up when Dusty finally deciphered his comment. “Oh fuck me, my dad’s gay.”

  “Bisexual, son, get it right.”

  “What the fuck ever…you like dick.” Dusty’s eyes went wide. “Oh, my God. I can’t believe I said that.” Dean tossed his head back and laughed out loud. “I fucking hate you right now. Goodnight, Dad.” And with that, Dusty stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

  Dean was tired and a nap sounded like a great idea, but he knew if he lay down, he’d sleep for hours and wake up in the middle of the night. So he unpacked instead, then made a sandwich and sat down in front of the TV to watch the evening news. When his head started bobbing, eyes involuntarily closing, he shut the TV off, tossed his empty plate, and went to bed.

  ***

  Dusty was preoccupied with David the next morning, so they didn’t have much time to talk until Dean suggested they go shopping together and get the stuff to cook dinner. “Together,” he told his son.

  Dusty laughed softly, smiling, obviously remembering how he, Dean, and Maggie would cook dinner together and talk about their day several times a week when he was growing up. He and Maggie both fought hard to give Dusty a good life, a normal life. Maybe that’s why they lost sight of each other and grew apart after Dusty left. He had probably been the glue holding them together.

  “Do you want to talk about anything?” Dean asked Dusty on the drive to the grocery store.

  “No.” Dusty paused briefly. “How long are you planning on staying?”

  Dean snorted. “Trying to get rid of me already, son? That hurts, really.”

  If a person could hear someone’s eyes roll, Dean would swear he could hear Dusty’s right then. “Not what I said, drama queen.”

  “Well, your mom and possible future stepdad probably need some time without me around to get ready for…” Dean barely caught himself before he said too much. Dusty’s brow furrowed, the question forming in his head. “I thought I’d stay here for a while, with you. That is, if it’s okay.”

  “Like, here in the city? Or here with me and David?”

  “Both.”

  Dusty didn’t respond, and they made the rest of the drive to the grocery store in silence. Pulling into a parking spot and killing the engine, he continued to stare out the window. Dean reached for the door to get out of the truck, stopping when Dusty grabbed him by the arm. “Wait. Listen, this is a lot of information to absorb, and I need some time to wrap my brain around all of it, okay?”

  Dean smiled, patting his son’s hand. “Of course.”

  “And you are more than welcome to stay with us, Dad.” Dusty smiled, though Dean could still see a small trace of apprehension in his son’s eyes.

  Changing the subject, Dusty asked what they were shopping for. “Let’s keep it simple for now. Stuff for salad, spaghetti, and garlic bread tonight, and we can grab stuff for sandwiches for the week. Oh!” Dean snapped his fingers. “Let’s get bread, cereal, milk, and eggs as well, just to be safe.”

  They shopped quickly and started cooking not long after they arrived home from the store. Dusty wanted dinner ready when David got home so that the three of them could relax and enjoy the meal. Dean thought perhaps the worst of it was behind them now—aside from Maggie breaking the news to her twenty-something-year-old son that he was going to be a big brother. That was, until the phone rang.

  ~ Chapter 3 | Oh. My. God! ~

  Dean stood just outside the edge of his son’s focus, wanting so very much to do something, anything to make the pain he saw clearly in the young man’s eyes fade away. Dusty walked right past the small kitchen, cabinets, and stove still littered with the remnants of the previous night’s spoiled supper, carrying his injured lover in his arms. Micah shuffled into the kitchen, muttering something in regard to the foul odor emanating from the trash. He’d ridden back to the apartment with Dean and the boys while everyone else went to grab David’s meds and food.

  Dean thought back to the night before when Dusty’s phone rang, his best friend Kory screaming through the speaker, shouting that David was hurt and being taken to the hospital by ambulance. Dean had turned off the stove, grabbed the keys and their coats and ushered his son out the door. He and Dusty had been cooking dinner together and talking. It had been like old times when Dusty was a teenager and the three of them would crowd into their well-worn kitchen back in Texas; they’d play music, sing and drink wine while they cooked and talked. Much like his and Maggie’s marriage, the bubble he and Dusty were ensconced in the evening before burst into a thousand pieces when the phone rang.

  “Son, do you need—” Before Dean could finish the sentence, the bedroom door closed. He sighed, heading into the kitchen where Micah had already started clearing the dirty pots and pans. They were putting away the last of the dishes, Micah pulling the trash out of the can to carry out to the chute, when there was a soft knock at the door. Dean pulled it open, ushering Tristan and Gabe inside, carrying bags with lunch from a local deli into the now-clean kitchen. They’d just sat down to eat when the front door opened and Kory walked in.

  Dean cocked his head to one side, the unspoken question clear in his gaze. “I’ve still got a key, in case of emergencies, and this damn sure counts as an emergency.” Kory jingled the key ring in his hand before stuffing it into his pocket. Plopping down on the couch, he took the sandwich Gabe offered and dug in.

  “Jon still questioning the asshole?” Tristan asked.

  Kory could only nod, his mouth full of food. “I would not want to be that guy right now.” Micah chuckled, grinning.

  “No, but I would love to be a fly on the wall in the interrogation room,” Gabe joked.

  Dean shrugged his shoulders half-heartedly. He knew they were only trying to lighten the mood, but he was having a hard time sitting still. Everything in him wanted to burst into the bedroom and make it all go away, for both his son and young David. Jesus, but the two of them had been through so much already. When would it be enough? Empathy for his son and David quickly bled into anger when Dean thought about how scared, broken, and small the man his son loved looked when they’d first walked into his hospital room the night before. Why were there so many hateful, spiteful, evil people in the world? And why would anyone want to hurt someone as kind and loving as David? He wasn’t his brother, the man that had murdered two men and critically injured Jon. No, David was so innocent and naïve, it made Dean’s blood boil and he could feel the all too familiar rage coiling in his gut.

  Dean jerked back, all but snarling when a hand landed on his shoulder. “Easy. I know you’re pissed; we all are. But those boys need us all to remain calm and level-headed right now.” Tristan spoke softly, his voice calming Dean’s frazzled nerves. Pulling in several deep breaths, Dean nodded, relaxing and leaning back on the couch.

  Tristan scooted closer, speaking quietly. “If you need to talk to someone, Dean, my door is always open. You’re Dusty’s father and Dusty is part of our family, which makes you a part of our family as well.”

  He scrutinized Tristan, searching his face for any signs of deception. Seeing none, he nodded once, and that
seemed to be enough for Tristan. Standing and gathering the empty plates and beer bottles, Dean tossed them into the trash and walked toward his room down the hall when a knock at the door stopped him. “That’s probably Willie,” Gabe said, climbing off Tristan’s lap and bolting for the door before Dean was halfway across the living room.

  William caught Gabe as he launched himself into the larger man’s arms, laughing and walking over to stand in front of Tristan, setting the spry elf back in his lover’s lap. He turned to Dean and held his hand out. “Hey, Dean, good to see you again, though I wish it were under better circumstances. How are they?”