JC's Hitchhiker

 

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CHAPTER 81 

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JUSTIN'S POV: 

"Wow," Nick said, grinning over at me as I sat naked across from him on the other end of the couch. He had stripped out of his clothes, too, and I handed him another drink. I wasn't drinking, not really, not compared to the way I had been, but I figured a little alcohol would just help Nick along. "You must think your ass is made of fucking gold, Timberlake." 

I smiled at him, still pouring on the best of my charm. 

"You'll never know," I said, shrugging, knowing it would make my shoulders bunch and my pecs dance. "Unless, you know, you help me out." 

OK, so it wasn't the most original plan. I'd actually thought it up while I was watching "Cruel Intentions" on cable and trying to figure out what to do, and suddenly, there was my answer. I had to get Lance away from Howie, and the only way that Lance would do that was if I could show him that Howie didn't love him. I couldn't be the one to cheat with Howie, because Lance wouldn't ever trust me again after that, and neither would any of the other guys, but they already had no use for Nick. I didn't really think Nick would have a problem sleeping with someone in his own group, because he didn't really have a problem sleeping with anybody. I just needed to give him some incentive, and since I couldn't offer him money, I was left with the only thing I'd ever really had to offer anybody. I just needed to get Nick to take the bait. 

Nick sighed, looking at me thoughtfully. 

"Justin, why do you want to break up Lance and Howie?" he asked. 

"Does it matter?" I asked, leaning in a little closer, running my hand over his chest, the fingertips just barely brushing the rise of his pec. "I mean, I'm just asking you to sleep with someone. It isn't anything you haven't done before, and, you know, Howie's kind of hot, for a guy that short. Nice muscles, that little patch of chest hair, and, at least based on what you can see through the speedo, he's packing some pipe, Nick. I bet he's a hot fuck. I bet his ass is nice and tight, just like mine. Just the way you like it." 

Nick watched my hand as it brushed over his pink nipple and then slid down his abs to rest on his thigh. His cock, half hard, twitched a little as it lay on his round, blond-furred balls. 

"Justin, I've seen Howie naked," Nick said, smiling at me. "You still haven't answered my question. Why do you want to break them up? I'm just curious. I mean, are you secretly in love with Lance or something? Or is it Howie you want for yourself?" 

"Neither," I answered. I didn't want to give Nick the real reason. I felt like we'd failed Lance, all of us, by letting this happen, and I was afraid that Nick wouldn't think it was serious, or that he wouldn't care. I was afraid that he might say something or do something that would hurt Lance more, or make this worse in some way, and I was doing this to help him. What it came down to, in the end, was that I didn't trust Nick, but I needed him. "Look, Nick, does it really matter? I mean, honestly? I just don't think Lance and Howie should be together. I don't think Howie's good for him, and I want them broken up. If I do it, I'm done, ok? The other guys will toss me out of the group on my ass if I sleep with Lance's boyfriend." 

"But they already don't like me," Nick said, smiling. "Very nice, Justin. But what do you think this is going to do for me? What about my group?" 

I sighed. I had assumed that Nick would be fine with seducing someone, as it was practically his hobby, but I hadn't stopped to think about how the rest of the Backstreet Boys might respond. They knew about Lance and Howie, and they might do the same thing to Nick that our guys would do to me. I wondered if maybe I should tell Nick after all, but he began speaking again, watching my face. 

"Then again, I haven't said no yet," he said, shrugging. My eyebrows jerked up in surprise before I could think to cover them. "I mean, it wouldn't be the end of the world. It's not like I haven't had sex with any of the other Boys." 

"What?" I blurted. We hadn't ever had this conversation, and apparently I'd missed some good stuff. "How many of the other guys have you had sex with?" 

"Two," Nick answered, shrugging. 

"What?" I blurted again. "There are only five of you in the group. Who did you sleep with?" 

Nick sighed, as if debating whether or not to tell me. 

"Hey, you already know who I did in my group," I said, grinning. He knew about Lance, not the whole story, but enough to explain why Howie hated me, and he'd known about Josh for a while, too. 

"Good point," Nick said, shrugging. "Let's see. Well, you know how Brian and I are like, best friends or whatever?" 

"You're not?" I asked. They seemed to like each other. Wasn't Brian straight, though? 

"Not as much as we were, outside of interviews and articles in Tiger Beat," Nick answered quickly, shaking his head. "Anyway, one night when we were still touring in Europe, back when we were first starting out, I was sharing a room with Brian, because we used to do that. I was really homesick, and I'd gotten some wine down at the hotel bar, and I was pretty fucking trashed." 

I smiled, remembering a time when something similar had happened to us. The first time we went on tour Josh got drunk one night, really drunk, because he had never had anything to drink before, and I'd spent an entire night holding his hand while he threw up. I didn't think that was quite where Nick's story was going, though. 

"Anyway, Brian was trying to help me get undressed, and all of a sudden I just leaned forward and kissed him," Nick continued. "I didn't really know what I was doing, and I hadn't figured out yet if I was bi or gay or whatever, but I knew that I felt really close to Brian, so I kissed him. He looked at me for a second, and then I kissed him again, and the next thing you know, we were rolling around on the bed." 

"Did you, you know, did you guys fuck each other?" I asked. 

"No," Nick answered, shaking his head. "He didn't really do much to me, just, you know, a lot of kissing and touching, but I ended up blowing him. It was actually my first blowjob, the first one I gave someone else, and when we fell asleep, we were in the same bed, wrapped around each other, and I thought everything was ok. And then we woke up, and everything went to hell." 

I waited. Nick had actually never opened up before, never told me anything resembling a personal story, and I didn't want to stop him, not now. It might help me understand him better. 

"Brian was crying when I woke up," Nick said, reaching for the pitcher and pouring himself another one. "I asked him what was wrong, and he started going on about how bad what we'd done was, and how wrong it was for him to take advantage of me. I tried to tell him that, you know, I'd wanted it, and that he hadn't done anything, and just like that he turned on me. He started telling me how it was wrong for two guys to sleep together, and how it was a sin, and how he was going to burn in hell for it. He started yelling at me, and he told me that he couldn't believe that I would take advantage of his friendship like that, and that he couldn't believe I could do something so horrible." 

"Nick, I, um, I'm sorry," I said, touching his shoulder. He smiled, shrugging my hand away, as he poured himself another drink. I felt so bad for him, suddenly. 

"Hey, it's not so bad," Nick said. "I thought I loved Brian, but I realized right then that love is a big joke. There's no such thing. It's just a lie people tell themselves to feel better about sex, and I decided not to lie to myself. So now, if something feels good, I don't worry about it. I'm not going to let someone tell me that I have to love somebody, or something's wrong, or that something's a sin. Fuck everyone." 

I saw it all in my mind, saw Nick young, and vulnerable, trying to figure out who he was, waking up next to the man he loved and being so harshly rejected. No wonder he couldn't love anyone. No wonder all he did was drink, do drugs, and sleep around. He was doing the same thing I'd been doing to distract myself from the pain of not having Josh, but he'd been doing it for years. He'd been doing it for so long that he probably didn't remember how to do anything else, and I realized that this was what Josh and Jack, and Chris, and all the others were afraid would happen to me. This was the path I'd been on, and this was where I would end up if I kept doing this. 

And then, as fast as I'd started feeling bad for him, as quickly as I'd started to think that I shouldn't have asked him to do this, that I'd betrayed what passed for our friendship, he turned it all around. 

"And then there was AJ," Nick continued. He hadn't been looking at me, hadn't noticed my change of heart, but he turned and grinned now. 

"You slept with AJ, too?" I asked, wondering if it had turned out any better. 

"Not really," Nick said, shrugging as he took another sip of his drink. "But before he went to rehab I let him blow me for coke a few times." 

"What?" I asked, feeling sick suddenly. 

"You know," Nick said, not looking at me. "Sometimes when we're on tour it's hard to get stuff, and AJ needed some. I was horny, so I figured we could help each other out. I mean, it's just a favor for a favor." 

"Yeah, I guess," I lied. Screaming at Nick that he was a disgusting, horrible person wouldn't make him more likely to help me. How could he do that? How could he take someone who was vulnerable, someone who needed so much help that he had to be put away to deal with it, and trade his need, his addiction, for sexual favors? I swallowed my disgust, even though, more than anything, I just wanted to get off the couch and get the hell away from him. Nick had gone so far down the path he wasn't ever coming back. "So, what do you think, Nick?" 

I wondered if I was going to hell for this, but decided that it was serving the greater good. What I was asking Nick to do wouldn't cause him any damage, that was more than clear. It would hurt Lance a little to break up with someone that he loved, but it would save him from being hurt more, and he'd already been hurt worse than the breakup would. As for Howie, well, he didn't really deserve Lance anyway, not if that was the way he treated him. And me? Well, just this once I'd have to suck it up, maybe literally. I cared enough about Lance to make this sacrifice for him, and besides, it would just be one time. How bad could it be? 

"All I have to do is seduce Howie?" he asked, looking thoughtful. 

"Not just seduce him," I said, shaking my head. "You have to get caught. Once you get Howie to have sex with you, you have to get caught by anyone besides me, because Lance will believe any of the others." 

"And I get you?" Nick asked. "However I want you?" 

"For one night," I clarified. "You can have me, however you want me. I'll do whatever you want, and let you do whatever you want to me. You can touch me anywhere you want, and you can put it anywhere, too." 

I had stolen the last part right from the movie, but he didn't seem to recognize the line. As I said it, I dropped my hand into his lap, and gave his cock a squeeze. 

"So, what do you say, Nicky?" I purred. "How badly do you want to fuck me?" 

Nick swallowed, his eyes on my hand, which was squeezing and caressing the swelling tube of his cock. 

"I don't know," he said quietly, gasping as I palmed the head, rolling my hand across the top, smearing in the precum he was dripping suddenly. 

"That's too bad," I sighed, standing. I walked away from him to the counter, knowing he was watching, and stood with my back to him, mixing myself another drink. "You know, Nick, I might be able to help you make up your mind." 

"Really?" he asked huskily, walking toward me. I didn't move, watching his shadow fall across the counter as he walked closer. "How?" 

"I'm willing to offer a free sample of the goods," I said quietly, spreading my legs a little. "You know, a little taste of the prize. What do you think, Nicky?" 

"A little taste?" he whispered, running his hand over my ass, cupping the cheek. I shifted back a little, pressing it against his palm. 

"Yeah," I sighed. "Show me how much you want me, Nicky. Will you do it?" 

He rubbed my ass with both hands now, and then dropped to his knees behind me. I felt his hands sliding up the backs of my thighs, then they were on my ass, and then felt his hot breath on my cheeks as he pulled them apart. He hadn't answered yet, but as I felt him burying his face between my legs, and felt his hot tongue snaking out around my hole, I knew I had him. I smiled, and then lost myself in the feelings rolling up over me as Nick moaned behind me, putting his mouth to work. 

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JACK'S POV: 

Josh and I were just finished packing our suitcases when Justin knocked on the door. We'd already been up for a while, as I'd screamed myself awake a good hour before the alarm went off, but on the plus side it gave us enough time for Josh to slowly make love to me in the shower, sighing and telling me how much he loved me as he brought us both to the edge, the water pounding down on us as Josh pounded into me, washing everything away. I knew why I kept having nightmares so often lately. My doctor said that stress could trigger them, and the flashbacks and panic attacks, but luckily I hadn't had any of those lately. I thought again about how lucky I was to have someone like Josh to go through this with me, someone to hold me and make me feel safe. 

"Jack?" he asked, leaning over his own suitcase. 

"Huh?" I answered, blinking. He was smiling at me, his eyes sparkling in his perfect face, and I wanted to just throw him down on the bed and make him feel good. I knew we didn't have time for it, but I wanted to claw his shirt off of him and go for his chest, feeling his warm muscle beneath my lips. I wanted to hear the noises he'd make, and know that he was happy. 

"You've been standing over your suitcase for like two minutes," he said, chuckling. "Were you planning to finish packing it?" 

"Yeah," I answered, shaking my head as he walked around the bed toward me. "I was just thinking." 

Josh hugged me, pulling me against him, and I stepped into his arms as he squeezed, crushing me against his body. I could feel his chest pressed to mine, the muffled thump of his heartbeat thudding in time with mine through our shirts. I ran my hands up his back, feeling the broad curves, loving the way all of his muscles shifted and danced under my hands as his head leaned down to mine. His lips brushed against my mouth, soft and smooth, his beard tickling my chin as his nose brushed my cheek. Josh's hands slid up to caress the sides of my face, holding me gently as he kissed me softly, over and over, his tongue darting in every few seconds, but mostly just his lips feathering over mine. 

"What were you thinking about?" Josh whispered, his eyes wide. I found myself falling into them, losing myself in the swirls and streaks of blue. 

"This morning," I answered, kissing him again. "And how much I love you." 

"What a coincidence," Josh whispered. I felt his eyelashes brush over my cheek like butterflies as he kissed me again. "Because I was just thinking about how much I love you." 

I hugged him tightly, sliding my face into the hollow beneath his chin, resting my head on his shoulder, and he wrapped his arms around me tightly, his hands on my back. Sometimes I just needed this, needed to be close to him, and Josh understood because it was something he needed, too. There might be nothing wrong with our sex life, but it was these times, the quiet moments when it was just me and him, and we were just lost in each other, that let me know this was real. Josh and I belonged together, and we both knew it. Our hug was interrupted by a knock at the front door, and I stepped out of Josh's arms, feeling his hands slide reluctantly off of me. 

"I'll get it," I said, leaning forward to plant one final kiss on his lips. When our mouths touched Josh pulled me close again, his hands holding my face. My fingers fluttered along his jawline as our tongues danced back and forth, and we heard Justin knocking again. I pulled back, grinning, noting Josh's happy grin as well. "Ooooops." 

"Go get the door," he said, smacking my ass as I walked away. 

"Sir, yes sir," I answered, pulling the door open. Justin stood on the sidewalk, squinting in the morning sun. "Hey." 

"Hi, good morning," he said. He looked different, but I couldn't put my finger on it. 

"We're just finishing up packing, if you want to come in?" I suggested, holding the door open. 

"Sure, thanks," he answered, smiling at me. "Do you have any juice or anything?" 

"Sure, I think," I said, walking with him to the refrigerator. Josh called a good morning to him from the bedroom, and as I handed Justin a small bottle of orange juice I realized why he looked different. He wasn't hung over. 

"Thanks," Justin said, taking it from me. 

As he twisted the bottle open I walked back to the bedroom, and began carefully putting the rest of my clothes in my suitcase. I looked up to see Justin looking over my charts and piles on the dining room table, scanning the wedding reception blueprint. As I watched, he fingered a post it note, and then moved it to another table, switching it with another. 

"Please don't move those," I said, wondering what he was doing. Josh glanced up, watching us. I think he was still a little upset about what Justin had said the other night. 

"I'm sorry, I should have asked," Justin said quickly, looking sorry. "I just know that Debbie and Liz won't sit at the same table." 

"He's right," Josh said from behind me, zipping his suitcase closed. "I should have caught that when we were putting last names in." 

"Oh, um, thank you, Justin," I said, zipping my bag closed as well. "I didn't mean to snap at you. I've just worked on that thing so many times that I don't even let Josh touch it anymore." 

Justin shrugged. 

"It's ok," he said, sipping his orange juice again. Josh gave me a look, and I realized he felt it, too. Justin was giving off a weird vibe today, but it was hard to say exactly what it was. He wasn't back to his old, cocky self, but he wasn't the surly, depressed boy who had been keeping us company for the past few weeks, either. He seemed quiet, almost distracted, but still friendly. "Like I said, I should have asked you before I moved anything. I, um, I see that you still have some stuff on here that needs to be done. I know you're only gone today and tomorrow, but is there anything on here that I could work on while you're away? Anything I could help with?" 

Josh blinked at me, waiting for my response. His eyebrows were sliding together in that cute way he had when he was confused, with that little frown line between them, and I wanted to kiss him again suddenly, just to let him know everything was ok. I was almost as confused. Was Justin actually trying to turn around, finally? If he was, we had to help him. 

"Justin, you don't have to do anything," I said. "I mean, I'd appreciate it, but you don't have to." 

Justin smiled at me. 

"Well, you know, I am the best man, and I haven't really done anything," he said, shrugging. "If there isn't anything I can work on, or you already have it all under control, that's great, but if there's anything I can do, I really would like to." 

"Well, you, Lance, Joey, and Chris are supposed to be going in for fittings this afternoon," I said, thinking of my list. Howie wasn't in the wedding, a decision I was growing to love more every day as he continued to be rude and abrasive. "If you could get them together, and make sure you guys all get there on time and get that all done, I would really appreciate it." 

"And we have a menu tasting when we get back," Josh said, jumping in. He took my hand, squeezing it, and I understood without being told that Justin's gesture meant a hell of lot to him. "If you want to come help pick out the food, we could do that, too." 

"Thanks," Justin said, smiling. "Are you guys ready? I came a little early because I wanted to take you guys to breakfast, if you want. Unless you already ate." 

"No, we haven't eaten," I said. 

"I think I'd like some breakfast," Josh said, grabbing the suitcases. I picked up both our carryon bags, and we followed Justin toward the door. 

"Good," Justin said. "Because I, um, I really want to talk to you guys, ok?" 

We followed him to the car, glancing at each other, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Justin was sober, helpful, and seemed kind of sorry. Exactly what sort of a game was he playing? Was he even playing one? Justin was quiet the entire ride. I sat up in the front with him, since Josh was still a little unsure, but Justin didn't seem to notice. I got that feeling again that he was distracted, but didn't know if I should ask by what. We finally stopped at a little diner by the airport, and after we ordered Justin carefully folded his hands as he sat across from us in the booth. 

"I wanted to talk to you guys because I, um, I wanted to apologize for not helping out more with the wedding," he began, looking down. Under the table Josh squeezed my hand tightly. "I know that I've been kind of an ass, and I haven't been really polite to you guys lately, especially when you've tried to talk to me about it, and I just want to say that I'm sorry. I've been kind of childish and stupid." 

Wow. What brought that on? 

"Justin, I, well, we appreciate the apology," Josh began, smiling at the waitress as she brought our food over. "But what's wrong? Why have you been acting like this?" 

Justin swallowed, still not looking at us. 

"I'm jealous," he said simply. "I've been acting like this because I'm jealous, and I don't really know how to deal with it." 

Josh reached across the table and took Justin's hand. I wondered how he'd be able to eat, now that he was holding both of ours. 

"Justin, I'm sorry," Josh said quietly. 

"I know," Justin said, still staring at his plate. He raised his head, and I saw that his eyes were wet and glistening. "I know you didn't mean for any of this to happen, but it's just, when I see you guys, and I see how happy you are, I wonder why it's not me. And I know that the reason I don't have you, Josh, is that you're for Jack, and you always have been, but it still hurts." 

"Justin, maybe we shouldn't have asked you to be in the wedding," I began. "It seemed like a great idea at the time, but maybe we should have thought a little more about it." 

"No, you were trying to help, " Justin said, shaking his head. "You were trying to show me that Josh is still my friend, and I thought that I was, you know, man enough to accept it, and that's why I agreed. But it hurts sometimes, and I've been pushing you away so hard because I don't know how to make it not hurt." 

"Justin, what about Nick?" Josh asked, and I winced, waiting for the bomb to drop. 

"Josh, there isn't anything going on with me and Nick," Justin said, and Josh's eyes widened in surprise. I could tell he was about to ask about the bathroom, but so could Justin. "There's something physical there, but there's no feeling at all. Nick is, um, he's not really the person I thought he was, and I don't think there could ever be anything with us, not in a good way. I've just been with him, and all these other people, because it takes my mind off of you." 

I wondered if Josh should be flattered that Justin thought it took so many people just to replace him, but thought now wouldn't really be the right time to bring it up. Josh looked a little pained by Justin's revelation. 

"Justin, have you told Nick?" Josh asked. "Does he know any of this?" 

"Yeah," Justin answered, finally releasing Josh's hand. They both started picking at their breakfast. "Nick knows I don't love him. He knows I love you, and he doesn't love me, either. Josh, I don't want to end up like Nick. Jack tried to talk to me about this when he was still in the hospital, and I didn't want to listen then, but I don't want to go back to the way I was. I don't want to just be the party animal, this walking sex machine, without anything else. I don't want to use people like that anymore, and I know that you guys are afraid of me ending up like that." 

"Justin, how can we help you?" Josh asked. "What can we do for you?" 

"I don't know," Justin answered. "But I haven't been a good friend to you, again. When Jack came back I gave you up, Josh. I didn't fight, or even really say anything, because I wanted you to be happy with him. I just didn't know it would hurt so much, and I didn't know how to deal with it. I don't want to run away from it, though. I don't want to hide what I'm feeling. I love you both. You're the best friend I ever had, Josh, and Jack, you've always tried to do right by me, even when I didn't do the same for you. I want you both to be happy, and I want to be part of it. But I can't be if I keep letting myself get bogged down in being jealous and stupid. I don't know how you can help me not be, but I think I just need time." 

"Justin, you have time, and you have us, too," I said, smiling at him. "Just don't close yourself off so much, ok? If you're hurting, let us know. Don't push us away. We'll all get through this, the same way we get through everything, by leaning on each other." 

Justin smiled at me, and at Josh, completing the really sappy moment, and as his eyes glanced over mine I realized something. Justin really did mean what he said, but he was only saying it for Josh's benefit. Justin and I didn't need these kinds of scenes. We'd both get along without the deep heart to hearts, but Josh needed them. It was just part of who he was, and Justin realized that. I could respect it, though. It just showed me how much Justin really did care about Josh being happy, and I wanted to find some way to repay the favor. I wanted Justin to be happy, too, and I resolved once we got back from our trip to figure out who we could fix Justin up with. Part of me might have selfishly wanted to make sure that Justin had someone so he wouldn't put moves on Josh, but most of me realized Justin wouldn't do that, and just wanted to help him. 

As we were checking in at the airport I noticed again that Justin looked distracted. I had thought that it was just from thinking about what he was going to say to Josh and I, but now I started to think it might be from something else. What else could be bothering him? 

"Justin," I began, as Josh checked our bags in. "Is there something else bothering you?" 

He blinked at me, and I could see that he was thinking about it. 

"Yeah, but I don't want to talk about it," he answered, and caught the face I made. "I know, Jack, I know. We just had a discussion about not shutting you guys out and pushing you away, but I need to think on this one, ok? Maybe when you guys come back." 

"Are you sure?" Josh asked, lacing his arm automatically through mine. 

"Yeah," Justin said, giving Josh a hug, and then giving me one, too. "Thank you, guys. Have a good trip, ok? Give 'em hell, Jack." 

"Thanks, Justin," I said, smiling. I felt worried suddenly. "Justin, be careful, ok? Whatever it is, be careful." 

"OK," he said, walking away. We watched his back for a while. 

"Jack, do you think he's going to be all right?" Josh asked, hugging me against his side. 

"I think he wants to be," I said. "He took a big step by admitting all that to you, Josh. We just have to be here for him." 

"I know," Josh sighed, as they called for our plane. "Hey, that's us." 

We walked away, not looking back as Justin continued walking away in the other direction. Later I would wonder if we should have pushed a little more, if I should have made him tell me everything that was going on. Maybe things would have turned out differently if I had, but we'd never know. 

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CHAPTER 82

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JACK'S POV: 

I started to rethink the entire trip right when the plane started landing. I tensed up, suddenly wondering what the hell I was going to do, and Josh, feeling me stiffen against his side, took my hand. He glanced over at me, probably thinking that I was nervous about the landing, but his eyes widened, and I figured something in my face must be giving me away. 

"Jack?" he asked, holding my hand tightly with one hand while he lifted the other to gently caress the side of my face, his fingers stroking soothingly over my cheeks. "Jack, are you ok? Is it an attack?" 

We both lived in a kind of anxious terror of my panic attacks. They were few and far between, but when they came they scared the hell out of me, and Josh dreaded them because they upset me, and because there wasn't really anything he could do other than just hold me and try to calm me down. I didn't want to have one in an airplane, of all places, and I really hated having them in public. The loss of composure was bad enough, and somewhat embarrassing, but I was also worried in the back of my mind that someone would be there with a camera, and that I'd see some tabloid in the grocery store with pictures of me hyperventilating while Josh held my hand rather helplessly. I didn't want to cause him any embarrassment, either, even though he'd insist that I shouldn't worry about it. 

I didn't think I was about to go into an attack now, or, at least, I hadn't been thinking about it before he brought it up. Sometimes they came out of nowhere, but I usually felt something right before my heart started racing, and I didn't feel that now. I did feel a little lightheaded, though, and began to breath deeply, squeezing Josh's hand. I reached up and caught his other hand, and held them both tightly in my own as he watched me anxiously. 

"I don't think it's an attack," I said carefully, still breathing deep. "Just hold onto me for a second, ok?" 

I hated this, hated being so weak like this, but there was nothing I could do. Josh kept holding my hands, not leaning over to kiss me or moving in his seat at all, because he wasn't sure if it could trigger me or not, and, truthfully, neither was I. I continued to concentrate on keeping my inhales and exhales even, my eyes fixed on his as I watched them urgently search my face. I began to calm down, but I still kept his hands gripped in mine, not wanting to let go until I was sure I was safe. The backs of Josh's hands are dusted with light brown hairs that turn blond as he tans, and his hands are soft, but strong, with long fingers, like mine. They're hands that I know very well, and they're one of the parts of Josh that always makes me feel safe. 

"We'll be down soon," he said, keeping his voice low. "I can take you somewhere private, and we'll get a drink, ok? I'll get you some water or something. I can't ask the attendant for one, because we're landing, but I promise I'll get whatever you need as soon as we touch down, ok? Just tell me what you need, Jack. I love you, and I'm here for you. I'll never let anything happen to you again." 

"I know, Josh, I know," I said, looking down at our entwined fingers. I was almost as tan as he was now, and our silver rings stood out. We were keeping them after the ceremony, adding a second band. I still hadn't had the nick smoothed out of mine, because I hadn't taken it off since Josh gave it back to me. "I think I'm ok. I think. I'm just nervous. Maybe this trip isn't a good idea, Josh. Maybe I should just leave well enough alone." 

Josh smiled at me, keeping his eyes locked onto mine. I saw his concern, and underneath his love for me. 

"If that's what you want, Jack, you know that's what I'll do," he said, squeezing my hands. "If you want to buy another ticket, and get right on the next plane out, just say the word. Is that what you really want?" 

"Josh, I don't know," I sighed. "I know I was all gung ho to get out here and demand answers and stuff, but really, it's not going to change anything, and I don't know if I even want to be here. This place is, well, it does things to people, Josh. I just, I don't like to come back here." 

Josh nodded, and I knew that if I got off of the plane and walked immediately to the ticket counter he would follow without saying a word, but he would be disappointed in me. Josh didn't want to admit that my family wasn't like his, no matter how many times we argued it, and he didn't want me to just give up on them. I also still felt like my family should be at the wedding, almost like they owed it to me to show up, but that anger was now tempered by my reluctance and almost pathological avoidance of my hometown. 

"What do you want to do?" Josh asked, waiting. 

"Let's go find my parents," I sighed, as we taxied down the runway. "Even if they don't come, at least I'll have said my part." 

Josh leaned over and kissed me on the cheek as I began gathering up our bags, tucking our books back in and putting our snacks away. 

"What was that for?" I asked, automatically leaning over to kiss him as well. 

"Because I knew you wouldn't back down," Josh said. He squeezed my hand again. "I know I don't always say it, or I didn't before, but you make me really proud of you sometimes, Jack. You're not afraid. You face the things that bother you, even if it does take you a little while sometimes." 

I smiled at the backhanded compliment, knowing the thought behind it, and we got off the plane. Collecting our bags, we stopped at the car rental counter and picked up our reservation, and then I gave Josh directions as he drove us carefully toward my family. Josh wanted to stop at my house, but I knew that at this time of the day there wouldn't be anyone there. My father would be at work, my brother was off wherever he was living, and my mother, as always, would be at the club. I didn't know if it was still the day for bridge, or if maybe today had become the day for the social planning committee, or the charitable works committee, or something. Whatever the day, there was something at the club every afternoon on weekdays, to make sure that the wives had something to do, something to occupy their time. Two income families were not the fashion among my family's circle. 

We parked in the visitor spaces, as I no longer had a member pass for my car. As we got out, Josh watching me carefully, I noticed for the first time that he was wearing my clothes. He had mirrored my outfit almost completely, rather than wear some of his usual stuff. I didn't want him to smother himself for me, but I also appreciated the fact that we wouldn't be walking through the club, past people I knew, with him in leather pants or something fringed. Taking a deep breath, I looked around the parking lot, not recognizing any of the people walking to and fro, and I realized that I had no idea what my mother was driving now. I took Josh's hand, glad to have him there even as a tiny voice in the back of my head reminded me that boys shouldn't be holding hands in public, and we walked to the front doors. 

Nothing had changed. I could have left yesterday. The lobby was still dominated by the front desk, and still decorated exactly as it had been the last time I was here. Jones, the man who staffed the desk, looked only slightly older, his hair barely graying, even though I realized he had to be well into his sixties at this point. As Josh and I approached the enclosed desk he continued writing, his hand hidden below the frame of the window. We stood in front of the counter, waiting, and when I cleared my throat he slowly raised his head to stare down his nose at us with the same barely disguised contempt he used on everyone. I knew from the summer when I'd worked here that the floor of the room the desk was in was higher than the lobby, so that he could stare down at everyone, and even though I knew he gave everyone that look, I still felt myself getting rankled already. I tried to smother it, knowing it wouldn't be productive. 

"How may I help you, young Mr. Springer?" Jones asked imperiously. Just like that I felt like I was ten years old again, like anything I said was an imposition, and then I felt Josh squeeze my hand, and I found my voice. Mr. Springer was my father, and my brother and I would apparently always be "young Mr. Springer" until he died. 

"I need to sign in my guest, " I said. Jones waited, as if he didn't know who Josh was, and I realized that he actually might not. "Joshua Chasez. Is my mother here?" 

"I believe that Mrs. Springer is currently on the grounds," Jones answered, entering Josh's name in the registry. 

A couple people passing through the lobby glanced at us and did rather amusing double takes. I wasn't sure if they were because of Josh, because of the hand holding, or because it was a surprise to see me here after I'd loudly sworn at my high school graduation party, held just down the hall in one of the banquet rooms, that I'd never set foot on the grounds again. From the way my mom had carried on at home, lecturing me, you'd think it was the height of scandal, on par with Watergate or something. I'd embarrassed the entire family, again. 

"Would you happen to know where?" I asked icily. 

"I believe she is playing bridge in the west lounge," Jones answered. 

"Thanks," I said dismissively, pulling Josh away from the desk with me. 

"You ok?" Josh whispered. I realized that we were walking rather quickly down the hall, and forced myself to slow down. "You seem, I don't know, I just don't think I've ever heard you take that tone with someone before." 

"I'm sorry, Josh," I said. "It's this place. Let's just find my mother, and get out of here, ok?" 

"Sure," Josh said, shrugging. He looked around, as if wondering what could be so awful about the country club. When he looked back at me I paused and raised my eyebrows expectantly. Josh realized what I was waiting for. "Jack, I don't mean to, you know, downplay your experiences or anything, but really this place doesn't look so awful. I mean, it actually seems kind of nice." 

"Josh, I promise, I'm not playing poor little rich boy, ok?" I said. "It looks kind of nice, but that's the problem. Everything here is always about how it looks. It doesn't really matter what happens to you, or how people treat you, as long as everything looks ok." 

"I can't believe you're still saying that, Parkie," a loud, booming voice said from behind us as a hand settled onto my shoulder. I saw Josh tense up, watching me, as I turned. 

"Trevor," I said carefully. "Josh, this is Trevor, one of the people who went to my school. Trevor, please take your hand off of me." 

Trevor hadn't changed a bit, either, as he stood in the hallway in his tennis whites, a little sweaty, still tall and good looking. Walking down the hall behind him I could see the rest of his usual crowd, all in their tennis whites, all watching with detached amusement as they realized who I was. I wondered for a second what they were all doing together still, and realized that they'd probably all married each other or something. Trevor removed his hand from my shoulder, shrugging. 

"I'm sorry," he lied, sneering. "I heard somewhere that you liked that." 

Josh's jaw locked, and I gave him a small shake of my head, squeezing his hand. 

"I do," I said. "I just don't like you. Did you want something?" 

"No, no," Trevor said, shaking his head, stepping back. I saw one of the girls, Missy, whisper something behind her hand to Derek, the guy next to her, as they both stared at me, and they giggled in a ripple of tennis whites. "I was just surprised to see you here. I didn't realize you were still a member, and thought I'd come make sure. You know how it is. We have to make sure that the lower elements stay where they belong." 

He stared at Josh pointedly when he said that, dropping his eyes down to our locked hands before lifting them back up to mine. Josh was getting pissed, I could tell, but he wasn't going to react until I did. The really sad part was that Josh had more money than any of these people ever would, but he wasn't one of us. One of them, I corrected silently. As annoyed as I was to have them sneer at me again, I was pissed that they were upsetting Josh, and I thought about kneeing Trevor in the balls. My, wouldn't that be a loss of decorum for us both? 

"Oh, I understand," I said, nodding. "Fortunately, my lifetime membership appears to still be in order, and I'm well aware of the guest policy. Thank God we have ever-vigilant members like you, to make sure everyone stays where you think they belong. Excuse us." 

"It was nice seeing you again, Parkie," Trevor said as we began to walk away. The group behind him watched, just like they had in high school. "We really miss having you around. You always bring such color to the place. Practically a rainbow." 

"Get used to missing me," I said, not looking back. Josh, on the other hand, continued to glare over his shoulder at them. 

"I'll just be down the hall in the showers, Parkie," Trevor called, and I felt my shoulders tense against my will as the others, and Trevor, all laughed. Josh glanced at me, and I saw his anger dissolving in concern as I fought not to let old hurts bother me. 

"Jack?" Josh asked. "Jack, talk to me." 

I pulled him into an alcove, and realized that I mustn't be holding up as well as I thought, because he wrapped his arms around me, and I was glad to have him there, holding me. I took a deep breath, and then stepped back, looking up into Josh's eyes as he kept his hands on my shoulders. 

"When we were seniors in high school, I had gym class with Trevor," I began, keeping my voice low. "We were in the showers once, and it was just me and him, and he was washing himself, and I forgot to be careful, and I started watching. And then he saw me, and I was, you know, I got hard." 

"Oh, Jack," Josh said, not sure of what to do. I think he was waiting for the rest of the story, but thankfully it wasn't as bad as it could have been. 

"He called me a fag, of course, and left the showers," I said, wondering why this all still bothered me so much. "I didn't think that was so bad, but he told everyone, Josh. It was all I heard for the rest of the year. My brother heard it, and told my parents, but they never talked about it. It just turned into one of the big unmentionables in my house, like my father's mistresses." 

"Jack, I'm sorry," Josh said, hugging me. I pressed against him, seeing how close to tears he was. Really the story wasn't that bad, but any time that I was hurt Josh was upset, and I think he was realizing now why I hated it here so much. 

"Josh, it's ok," I said, pulling us out of the alcove. I didn't let go of his hand. "It's ok. I don't live here anymore, and we're not staying. Let's just go find my mother." 

"OK," Josh said, following. He was still looking around, but I could see the change in his face. Sometimes I was envious of the way Josh grew up, and I knew that Justin was as well. Josh somehow lived in a world where everyone was nice to him, and he never wanted anything. He always seemed kind of surprised to realize that everything wasn't really like that. "Jack, can I ask you a question? You don't have to answer if it's going to upset you." 

"You can always ask me any question, Josh," I said, squeezing his hand. "You know that." 

"Why do they call you Parkie?" he asked, waiting for some horrible story. I could see it on his face. 

"It's part of my middle name, " I said. Josh looked at me blankly. "Parker. It's my mother's maiden name." 

"Oh," Josh said, looking a little confused. "I didn't know that was your middle name." 

"I never use it," I said, shrugging. Josh was still making a face. "What? What's wrong, Josh?" 

"I just, I can't believe I didn't know that," he said, looking at me thoughtfully. "I thought I knew everything about you." 

I gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, not caring who was watching as we finally walked toward the doorway of the west lounge. 

"Josh, you know all the important parts, ok?" I said, squeezing his hand. "I love you, and there's stuff about you that I don't know, too, I'm sure. Now don't worry about it. Look, there's my mother. Let's go get on the schedule for dinner." 

The room was filled with matronly ladies, all sitting in fours around their tables, playing bridge and gossiping as the serving staff filtered quietly among them, bringing them drinks and snacks on tiny plates. There was an unwritten rule among the club about where your bridge table was, who you played with, and what it said about your social status in the city. The closer to the windows you were, the higher up the ladder, and my mother was at a table right against the glass. I heard brief lulls in the gossip as Josh and I stepped inside, Josh looking around as I scanned the windows to spot her. There were tiny bursts of silence as we walked through the room, hand in hand, and then the whispering started. Maybe I should have let go of Josh, but I wasn't letting anyone in this room make me feel ashamed, not even my own mother. Besides, I needed him. Josh was part of who I was, but these people were just part of who I used to be. 

My mother looked up as we approached the table, the shift in gossip and noise in the room signaling us before she actually noticed us. When she did raise her head, I saw her eyes narrow a little, but that was the only crack in her normal poised, icy composure. She smiled, but it was a tight smile that didn't touch her eyes, and the three ladies playing with her all paused, looking at Josh and I with practiced disinterest that I knew would fade to gossiping bitchiness as soon as my mother left the room. While she stayed, they would listen sympathetically to whatever she might say about her disappointing failure of a son, but once she was gone the mudslinging would begin, and she knew it as well as I did. I'd seen her do the same thing. 

"Jackson," she said, her voice neutral. "What a surprise to see you here." 

"Mother," I said, leaning down to dutifully kiss her on the cheek. I nodded to the other ladies. "Mrs. Barnes, Mrs. Satler, Mrs. Cunningham. Mother, could I borrow you for a moment?" 

"Of course," she said, laying down her cards. The other ladies clucked sympathetically as she apologized to them for having to step away. "You know how it is with children, dropping in unannounced and demanding your time. I'll be back shortly." 

Josh and I dutifully followed as she led us out of the room, smiling and nodding at the tables she passed, her heels clicking loudly on the floor. Maybe the sound just seemed to carry more because there was so much less talking to cover it. When we reached the hallway she stepped off into a side room, and I pulled Josh in along with me. I felt myself already getting annoyed at being referred to as a child, as if I weren't twenty six. 

"Mother, this is Joshua, my fiancee," I said, not wanting to use the word "boyfriend" because I wanted her to see that this was serious. 

"Hello," she said, ignoring Josh's outstretched hand. She turned back to me, dismissing him. "Jackson, I wish you had called. We could have arranged a more convenient meeting time. As you can see, I have plans for the afternoon, which you have chosen to disrupt." 

"I didn't think seeing your kid would be such a disruption," I said, watching as she crossed her arms. 

"As I was saying before you interrupted me, I would have liked for you to have called," she continued, as if I hadn't spoken. "Your brother would have called. And your brother would never have made such a scene, either. I see that your manners have yet to improve. I cannot believe that, once again, you would embarrass me like this, but, then again, you've never cared about such things." 

Josh was just staring at her, his mouth hanging open a little. 

"I'm not going to bother arguing with you about this, mother," I said. "It's not my fault if your friends are small minded and shallow. I refuse to be embarrassed about Josh. I love him, and he's about to be your son-in-law. You might want to at least look at him." 

"Jackson, I've told you before that I won't ever understand the choices you've made," she said, her chin lifting a little. "I know you want to go be free, and live your own life, or whatever it is you're carrying on about, but I cannot believe that you would have the gall to just bring him here and throw your lifestyle in everyone's faces like this. I'm very disappointed in you." 

"Stop it!" Josh said suddenly. Both of us looked at him. "How can you talk to him like this?" 

"I don't believe this concerns you," my mother said icily. Josh refused to shrink beneath her glare. "I am not in the habit of discussing my family matters with guests. As for you, Jackson, how long will you be staying on this visit?" 

"Just overnight," I said, impressed that Josh stood up to her, but not surprised that she had dismissed him again. "I was hoping we could stay at the house, and have dinner with you and my father tonight, if you're free." 

She sighed, forever the martyr. 

"You may stay at the house tonight, and I will join you for dinner," she said. "Your father will be unable to attend, as he is in Sweden on business with his personal assistant." 

Great. We only had my mother, the ice queen, because my absentee father was in Sweden with his personal assistant, having an affair. Again. This was another discussion we weren't having here, and I'd already explained it to Josh to keep him from saying something stupid. When I told him on the plane he hadn't really seemed to believe me, the same way he hadn't really believed anything I'd told him about this place. I could tell that it was rapidly sinking in, though. 

"Fine," I said. "We're going to get out of here, then, and let you get back to your game. Josh and I will see you at dinner." 

"I'll ask Carmelita to cook for three, and make up the guest room," my mother said. Hey, that was almost like saying she was looking forward to it. 

"That could have been worse, " Josh said quietly as we walked down the hall, our fingers still locked together. "At least she didn't send us to a hotel, or a restaurant." 

"Josh, how would that look?" I asked, impersonating her tone. "What kind of mother would force her son to stay at a hotel? What would people think?" 

When we got into the car, Josh leaned over and hugged me before starting the engine. 

"Jack, I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I'm sorry I didn't believe you. I just didn't really think anyone could be like this." 

"Josh, it's ok," I said. "This is why I left, Josh. I don't want to be like these people." 

"Jack, do you want to give up?" Josh asked. He'd talked me out of it on the plane, but that was before our magical misery tour through the country club. "I mean, she's not going to come around, Jack. She wouldn't even look at me." 

"Josh, I'm sorry she treated you like that," I said, holding onto him. I hadn't realized how much he'd be hurt by the way she'd treated him, but only because I was used to it. I wanted to get out of the car and go back in there to demand an apology. All of the anger I'd felt when I looked at that response card, with the "unable to attend" box checked, came surging up again when I saw Josh in pain. "We're not giving up. We're going to the house, and we're going to have dinner, and she's going to talk to me, face to face. I don't care how embarrassed she claims to be, or how uncomfortable this makes her. I'm not going to let her treat you like that again." 

Josh blinked at me, seeing that she'd tripped my switch again. I really needed to start controlling my temper better. 

"Jack, this is upsetting you, " he said, caressing the side of my face. I caught his hand, and squeezed it tightly. 

"Josh, I knew it would be like this here," I said. "It always has been. I'm just sorry I brought you, because I don't like to see you hurt." 

"I wanted to come," Josh said. "I didn't want you to go through this alone, and I wanted to see your family, finally. I never really thought that people could treat their own children like this, Jack. And the rest of these people are just as bad." 

"They can't help it," I said, shrugging. "Let's just go to the house." 

My family home was a sprawling Victorian on the better side of town, and the spare key was right where it always had been, hidden beneath a flowerpot on the porch. I lifted the pot, fishing the key out, and then put it back as Josh stood with our bags, waiting. I'd tried knocking, but Carmelita was out, probably at the store. When we finally got inside, I led Josh upstairs, showing him the guest room and setting my bags down in my room. I looked around, seeing how little had changed here, and marveled at how little of me there actually was here. When we were at Josh's house, his room was filled with things fans had sent, and trophies from when he was younger. There were posters on the wall, and childhood toys in the closet, but my room held none of those things. There were some framed pictures of various friends and I on the dresser, but I'd taken everything important to me with me when I went to college, because I'd known I wasn't coming back. 

"Hey," Josh said from the doorway. I looked up from where I was sitting on the bed. 

"Hi," I said. "The guest room's ok?" 

"Yeah," he said. "Can I come in?" 

"Sure," I said. Josh walked in and looked around carefully, taking in the blank walls and the shelves with only random knickknacks on them. He started looking through the pictures on the dresser. 

"These are your friends from high school?" Josh asked. I nodded, smiling, but my smile faded when he held one up. "This guy's in a lot of them. You must have been good friends." 

"You could say that," I said, looking down. Josh carried the frame over and sat next to me. "We were really close." 

"Jack, you don't have to tell me anything," Josh said. "I just want to know more about you, but if this is going to turn out to be something else that hurts you, maybe you should stop. Maybe you shouldn't tell me." 

"Josh, I love you, and I told you that you can ask me anything," I said. I took the picture from his hands and glanced down at it. This picture had been important to me, too, but I couldn't bring it with me. I hadn't looked at it in years, because it hurt too much. "Josh, this is the boy I told you about. Remember when I said that there was a guy I fooled around with in high school? This is Jason. He was my friend, and he was the guy I had sex with." 

"Your first boyfriend?" Josh asked, smiling at me. 

"Not exactly," I said, holding Josh's hand. "We never called each other that, because we weren't ready to. You've seen what it's like here, Josh. We both knew how we were, and what we wanted, and we found each other. Jason was a year older than me, and when I was fourteen, I was staying over at his house one night, and he gave me a handjob." 

Josh was still smiling a little, but I wasn't. I knew how the story ended. 

"It wasn't just about the sex, Josh," I said, trying to articulate what it had been like to be so young, and confused, and even a little scared. "We didn't even have it that often, and we never did anything besides handjobs and a few blow jobs. It was just that I had a friend. I had someone I could talk to, and he knew what I was feeling. He knew what it was like, and we could talk to each other about it. We could lean on each other, and we were there for each other. Jason helped me understand who I was, and accept it." 

"He sounds like a really good friend," Josh said, squeezing my hand. "I'd like to meet him, and thank him." 

"You can't," I said sadly. Josh looked at me, waiting, and I felt my eyes filling up with tears as I continued. "He's dead, Josh. Jason was a year ahead of me, so he graduated a year before me. We didn't really make any plans. I kind of thought I might go away to the same school, since it was the one both our fathers went to, and maybe that we'd be roommates or something. We started out writing a lot of letters, but they kind of dropped off. I still wrote, but he didn't write back as much. And then, at Christmas, Jason came back home for the break. He didn't look good, but he told me everything was ok. He told me that I was the best friend he ever had, and that I was the only person who had ever accepted him for who he was." 

Tears were streaming down my face as I continued, but I couldn't stop, and Josh held my hands tightly. 

"I believed him, Josh, because he was my friend, and he hadn't ever lied to me," I said, sobbing now. Josh held me tightly, hugging me against him now. "And while we were all at the club, at the Christmas Holiday formal, Jason drove back to his house and hung himself. He left a note for his family that he couldn't be something he wasn't, that he couldn't deal with the pressure, and that was all he said." 

"Jack, I'm so sorry," Josh said, holding onto me. We sat like that for a while, as I calmed down and got myself back under control. When my tears had finally leveled off, Josh kissed me, and I could see that he had been crying, too. "Jack, I'm sorry you lost your friend. I'm sorry that every story here ends so badly." 

I laughed, and Josh smiled a little uncertainly. 

"This one doesn't Josh," I said, and now he looked really confused. "Jason saved me. When he died, I realized that I had to be who I was. What he did showed me that I had to be free, and I promised myself that I would be strong enough to do all of the things he hadn't been able to. And after a while I stopped doing it for him, and started doing it for me. If he hadn't done what he did, I wouldn't have left here, wouldn't have broken away from all of this. In a way, if it hadn't been for Jason, I wouldn't have you, and you're the happy ending to my story, Josh." 

Josh hugged me tightly. 

"Jack, I love you so much," Josh said. "I know I don't always have the right words, but I love you." 

"I know, Josh, because that's the way I feel about you, too," I said, hugging him just as tightly, wrapping my arms around him. "Now come on. Let's wash our faces, go play a couple rounds of chess, and wait for dinner." 

Holding Josh's hand, I led him to the bathroom, stopping to put the picture of Jason back on the dresser on our way. 

---

CHAPTER 83

---

JACK'S POV: 

Josh and I played a few games of chess on the little magnetic chessboard that we traveled with before I remembered that we had a real board in one of the closets up here. When I finally found it we kicked off our shoes, set it on the bed between us, and climbed up for another couple of games while we waited for dinner. I switched on the radio on my desk, and found one of the local jazz stations, knowing that Josh would enjoy it. Josh was still convinced that someday he was going to teach me strategy, but I was just too much of a lateral thinker for it. I couldn't ever see more than a move or two in front of me. I made a move that left me completely open without realizing it, and looked up to see Josh grinning at me as we sat, legs folded, with the board between us. 

"I just screwed up, didn't I?" I asked, looking at the board again and realizing what I'd done. 

"Yeah, but that wasn't why I was smiling," Josh said. His eyes sparkled, flashing at me. "Check." 

"Would you care to share?" I asked, feeling a surge of hope. He hadn't said "checkmate," so I might have a chance to prolong this a little more. I looked at the board carefully, studying the pieces. "Josh?" 

He was still staring at me intently, and I blushed a little, looking down to see if there was something on my shirt as I ran a hand over my hair to see if any of it was sticking up. 

"What?" I asked, meeting his eyes as I wondered self-consciously what he was looking at. "Are you trying to distract me? Because you know you don't have to if you want to win." 

"No," Josh said, laughing. "I'm not trying to distract you. I was just remembering that this is the first thing we ever did together. You got on the bus, Chris went to bed, and we played chess." 

"You're right," I said, smiling. "It was right after the bus lurched, and I fell against you, and felt you up for the first time. I remember standing there, with my hands on your chest, and looking into your eyes, and thinking about how beautiful they were." 

"That's funny," Josh said, leaning toward me. "Because I remember thinking the same thing about you." 

Josh and I were leaning closer and closer together, our lips almost touching, and then the mattress shifted under us, causing the chess pieces to fall over. We ignored them as our lips softly brushed against each other. I closed my eyes, and when I opened them, breaking the kiss, Josh's were right there. 

"I love you," he whispered, kissing me again. His lips were firm, and silken, soft like velvet as they brushed mine. 

"I love you, too," I answered. I could smell him, the scent of his cologne, and could see up close how flawless his skin was, how perfect he was. Sometimes when I looked at Josh it took my breath away to see how beautiful he was, and to know he loved me. I glanced down at the chess pieces, scattered on the bed, some of them having rolled off of the board. "Looks like a tie." 

"We could put the pieces back the way they were," Josh said, glancing down. 

"I'd rather savor my half victory," I said, grinning. I started to pick the pieces up and put them in the box. 

"I wouldn't call it a half victory," Josh said, helping me. "I'd say that we both won. And I don't just mean the chess game." 

"I know," I said, kissing his cheek. 

I glanced at the clock, counting down the seconds, knowing that every clock in the house was always set at exactly the same time. They always had been, and as I stood with the chess box in my hands, getting ready to put it back in the linen closet, I watched the second hand tick around toward the top of the face. Josh glanced at the clock, too, and jumped as the stereo started below us, exactly on time. 

"It's electronic," I said. "The clock in the stereo is set to the exact same time as the rest. Come on. Let's go down to dinner." 

Josh and I walked quietly down to dinner, hand in hand, finding my mother already seated at the table. The candles were lit, and the food was already on the plates, steaming and waiting. In my house, you didn't choose your own portions, and you didn't cover the table with serving dishes. Plates came from the kitchen with food already on them, dessert pre-served as well, and then the housekeeper, who was currently apparently named Carmelita, was dismissed, and went to her apartment above the garage. I had wondered several times if we might be slowly gassing our housekeepers to death with carbon monoxide poisoning by forcing them to live up there, but had never asked. I also wondered about the thing with the food and the plates. It wasn't a rule of polite society, because no one I knew did it. It was just some weird personality quirk of my mother's, and I realized that the way I tended to serve food, right out of the pan and onto the table, was probably yet another gesture of unconscious rebellion. 

My mother was poised, posture perfect, shoulders back, watching me as I sat on one side of the table and Josh took the seat across from me. We carefully spread our napkins over our laps, and I picked up my fork, waiting. Josh, unsure of what was going on, watched me, and when I saw my mother lift her own fork to her mouth I began to cut up my chicken, and he followed suit. No one said anything, and my mother and I were focused on our plates. You never ate before the hostess did, and as long as I was here I could try to be accommodating in little ways, if nothing else. The music played on from speakers hidden in the walls, and the only other sounds were the noises of silver on china. 

"Did you pick the music, Mrs. Springer?" Josh asked, breaking the silence. 

"Yes," she answered, not looking up. 

"I listen to Mozart sometimes, too," Josh said, smiling at her. I don't understand how she could see that face and not melt, but she was, after all, my mother. "Sometimes it helps me concentrate, or it inspires my own music." 

"Oh, yes, I had forgotten," my mother said, smiling thinly right before she cut him. I'd seen this enough times to know it was coming. "Some people do classify what you do as music." 

"That's it," I snapped loudly as Josh's face fell. Josh loved his music, and he worked hard on it, regardless of what other people thought. "I let it go this afternoon, because you were surprised and those people you call friends were around, but you're not talking to Josh that way, ok?" 

"Goodness, Jackson," my mother said, pretending to be offended. "Such a sharp tone to take with your own mother. And so rude." 

"You'd be the one to ask about rudeness, wouldn't you?" I snapped again. "However you feel about my relationship, Josh is a guest in your house. I'd think those manners you're always talking about would extend to him." 

"I'm not certain I'm going to stay if you're going to continue to take that tone with me," she began, rising. 

"Sit down!" I snapped, anger bubbling up in me. I really didn't care as much if she hurt me again. I'd been kicked so many times in this house that I had developed quite a callus, but I would not have Josh mistreated. She paused, I think for the first time actually surprised by my tone. "We flew out here because I need to ask you one question, and I'll follow you through every room in this house until you answer it, so you might as well sit back down." 

Josh blinked at me, trying to settle me down with his face, but I wasn't sitting through another farce of a family dinner in this dining room. My mother sank slowly back into her seat, folding her hands in front of her on the table. 

"Given the option of being hounded through my own home like some sort of criminal, I suppose I'll stay to hear whatever it is that you have to say," she sighed, as if we were supposed to have pity for her, the long suffering mother figure. Bullshit. 

"Suppose whatever you want. You will anyway," I said, lowering my tone a little, even though I wanted to scream at her. "Why aren't you coming to my wedding?" 

She sighed again, and Josh's wide blue eyes ticked back and forth between the two of us. I could see that he wanted to be here for me, but he couldn't reach my hand across the table. I could still feel him, though, inside where it mattered. 

"I thought that it was clear that we would be unable to attend, and thought that the gift I sent was more than adequate," she began, and I cut her off. My heart was hammering as I felt myself becoming more and more angry. 

"I didn't ask for a gift," I said harshly. "I asked for you. Why aren't you coming to my wedding?" 

"Jackson, I don't think," she began, staring at her folded hands again. 

"Just answer the question!" I snapped, feeling a little tense suddenly. "Why? Why, God damn it?" 

"Because I will not lower myself to participate in such a farce," she said coldly. Josh gasped, and I felt something twist inside of me, even though I had known this would be the answer. "Can you imagine what people would think? It's not even legal, Jackson, and I will not add my approval to such a charade. I will not pretend there is something natural about this, this thing that you choose to do. I have been more than generous in my acceptance of this lifestyle that you've chosen, but you cannot expect me to choose it as well." 

"You've been accepting?" I demanded. My heartbeat thudded in my ears, and I felt sweat breaking out on my forehead. "Accepting? I'm not asking you to live my life! I'm not asking you to joyfully hug Josh and welcome him into the family! All I want is to see you in those seats! Just once I want to turn around and see my family there! I'm not asking you to participate in anything. Just once, once, I want you to be my mother." 

I realized that my eyes were watering, and I cursed myself for feeling so weak suddenly. The air in the room felt very thick. 

"I'm sorry that it seems to have hurt you to hear any of that, but I wouldn't have said it if you hadn't demanded it," she sighed. Oh yes, of course, this was all my own fault. "There are limits to my acceptance, and to my tolerance of your eccentricities. I will not give this my acceptance, not even the tacit acceptance my presence would imply. Now, if you will excuse me, this discussion has caused me to lose my appetite." 

She stood quickly and walked out of the room without another word, and Josh watched her, his mouth hanging open. I wanted to say something to break the moment, drop a little "Welcome to the family" joke or something, but I couldn't breathe. My heart was pounding in my chest, throwing itself against my ribs, and I felt dizzy, suddenly. 

"Jack?" Josh asked, his voice distant, seeming to roll in from somewhere else, a loud sound on the television in the living room upstairs. Wait, we were on the first floor, not in the basement. 

I reached for my water, my mouth dry. The room seemed to be going darker around the edges, soft focus, and I brought the glass to my lips. It wasn't water, though. The taste of peanut butter, peanut butter sandwiches, flooded my mouth, and I dropped my glass. Choking, I lunged to my feet, the room spinning. Peanut butter sandwiches. The food, the food was drugged. I shoved my plate away, hearing it clatter on the tabletop. I had to get out of here, had to get away. I couldn't breathe, but somehow I found the strength to bolt from the dining room as I heard someone behind me. It was him, Basil, calling my name. He was after me, and I had to get away. I raced up the stairs, the walls spinning, closing in. Why didn't we have more lights on? Why was the hallway so dark? How could I be running down a hallway when I knew I was running up the stairs? 

I pushed open the door to my room, feeling dizzy, lightheaded, trying to get away as I heard feet thudding up the stairs behind me. He was coming. I blinked and the familiar shape of my room vanished, replaced with the stark white walls of the basement and the mattress on the floor again. I blinked, and saw my room. Blink. The basement. My heart fluttered, and black spots danced across my field of vision. The walls seemed to close in, to press themselves around me, and I sank to my knees, my hand sliding down the doorframe as I struggled to stay up. I had to get away, had to get out of here, but I was too dizzy, too weak. I fought to breathe, my lungs screaming, and I felt arms wrap around me from behind. I struggled, but they held me tightly, bearing me down to the floor, pressing me against a firm chest. My head lolled back on my neck, landing on someone else's shoulder, and I wondered if I might be dying. 

"Jack, Jack, it's Josh," I heard. It wasn't. Josh wasn't coming. 

"No," I said, trying to see, struggling to break his grip. He had me. My ceiling with its brass and glass lights was replaced by the white ceiling with its hanging bulb. Blink. My ceiling. Blink. Basement ceiling. "No." 

"Jack, it's Josh," I heard again, and part of my brain marveled that Basil even sounded like Josh somehow. His arms held me, and I was too weak to move them, drugged, dizzy, my heart fluttering. "Jack, you're safe. I'm here, and you're safe." 

"Josh?" I asked. The room seemed so small, the walls pressing in, the ceiling rushing down toward me. "I can't, I, I can't breathe." 

Blackness rolled over me. 

When I came to, I was being rocked, cradled against Josh as his fingers fluttered over my forehead, gently brushing my hair back. He was stroking the side of my face over and over with one hand, holding me against him with the other, as he whispered over and over that I was safe, and that he loved me. I opened my eyes, and saw that we were still on the floor, Josh with his legs thrown out, and me turned sideways as I sat on his lap and he held me against his chest. He kissed me on the forehead as my eyes fluttered open, and I looked up to see him staring down with concern. 

"Josh?" I asked, my voice cracking. I burst into tears, and he held me against him. I hated the panic attacks. They left me feeling so embarrassed, and fragile, and there was nothing I could do to stop them, no way to fight them. They came so fast. "Josh, I'm sorry. I'm sorry." 

"Shhhhh," he whispered, kissing my forehead again as I buried my face in his chest. "No sorry, Jack. Nothing to be sorry for. You're safe now." 

Josh continued to hold me, still rocking back and forth, whispering to me over and over that he loved me, and that I was safe. I slumped against him, feeling drained, as my tears finally stopped. He was trying really hard to be strong for me, to pretend he wasn't upset, but I could feel his heart thudding against my cheek. I had scared him, even if he wasn't showing it. As he held me, caressing my face soothingly, I thought again of how lucky I was to have him, and to have him take care of me. As I clung to him, feeling his warmth against me, his arm hooked under my leg and he stood, carrying me to the bed. He set me down on top of the covers, laying me on my side, and kissed my cheek. 

"Stay here and rest," he whispered. "I'm gonna go get you a drink, ok? I'll come right back, I promise." 

I nodded, hoping he remembered where the kitchen was. Then again, the house wasn't that big, and he'd be able to find it. I again cursed the panic attacks, wishing I was over them. At least my mother had already left the room, and hadn't seen it, even though part of me thought the damn thing was probably triggered by her to begin with. I couldn't believe she could be so cold. I mean, I should have been used to it, but she was just so frosty and self absorbed. And she was in the house somewhere with Josh, who she didn't like, and he was all by himself. It might have been lingering vestiges of the panic attack, and all of the feelings of urgency and danger that had come with it, but I was worried about Josh suddenly, and I climbed out of bed on shaky legs to go find him. 

I heard him shut off the water in the kitchen, and assumed he was running me a glass, and then suddenly I heard my mother. 

"Joshua?" she asked, her voice lacking the icy imperiousness. I paused on the stairs, listening. "Joshua, may I ask you something?" 

"Yes, Mrs. Springer?" Josh asked carefully. I could tell that he didn't want to talk to her, but, being Josh, he was unfailingly polite. 

"Please, call me Evelyn," she said, and I wondered what she was doing. She sounded odd. I'd never heard her use such a tone before, with anyone. 

"If you'll call me Josh," he said. I sat on the stairs, waiting. 

"What happened?" she asked. "What happened to him just now?" 

"He had a panic attack," Josh answered. "It's, um, it's part of what happened to him." 

"I thought he was recovered, " my mother said. "I thought he was released from the hospital because he was recovered." 

"If you'd come to the hospital you might have known that's not quite accurate," Josh said sharply. Oooooh, Josh really was pissed. "We got your flowers, though, so I guess that's almost the same as visiting your son." 

There was a moment of silence, and I waited, surprised by the vehemence of Josh's words. I knew that he was just as protective of me as I was of him, but he must have been really mad to talk to my mother that way. 

"I don't feel as if I have to explain any of my behavior to you," she said, her voice assuming the familiar icicle scrape. 

"Maybe you should explain it to Jack, then," Josh said, still a little harsh. 

"What do you mean when you say he's not recovered?" she asked quietly, ignoring his suggestion. 

"He may not be recovered for years," Josh said, sounding sad now. "He may not be recovered ever. He has nightmares most nights. He wakes up screaming, or in a cold sweat. He has panic attacks, which you saw. We're lucky, because he doesn't have any permanent heart damage, but he still has all the scars inside his head." 

"I didn't realize," she began. 

"I know," Josh said. "I know you didn't realize, but you asked, and I'm trying to tell you. Jack is better, but he's not ok, and maybe he never will be completely." 

"He doesn't seem like there's anything wrong," she said quietly. I moved closer, sitting at the bottom of the stairs. "He still seems like his usual self." 

"He's not, though," Josh said, and I heard chairs scraping. My boyfriend and my mother were sitting down at the kitchen table, having a heart to heart. What the hell? "He's not his usual self, and sometimes there isn't anything I can do to help him. All I can do is hold onto him, and tell him it'll be ok, and that he's safe. He's locked inside himself, and what happened to him, and I can't be there. All I can do is try to bring him back out again, and I just feel so helpless." 

I wanted to run down the stairs and wrap myself around Josh. I couldn't believe he felt like he wasn't doing anything to help me. Just being there, just being Josh helped me, apparently more than he knew. 

"You really love him, don't you?" my mother asked softly. How come she could talk to Josh like this, but not to me? "It's not just sex between you two. You love him." 

"Yeah, I do," Josh answered. "That's why I can't understand why you don't." 

My mother chuckled softly. 

"You think I don't love Jack?" she asked. I could see them in my head, her sitting with her hands folded on the tabletop, Josh with my water forgotten next to him, watching her, and nodding now. "Did he tell you that?" 

"No," Josh answered truthfully. "He told me that you did, and just didn't show it. I just don't see how you can say you love him, and treat him like this." 

"You think I'm a horrible mother, don't you?" she asked. Her voice wasn't icy, but wasn't looking for pity, either. I thought I might actually be hearing my mother be honest, and wondered if I ever had before. 

"Yes, I do," Josh said simply. "I'm sorry if it hurts you to hear that, but I can't understand the kind of mother you are. I can't understand how you could be kinder to a stranger on the street than you could to your own child. Jack is the most amazing, wonderful person I've ever known. There's so much inside him, so much feeling, so much heart, and I feel bad for you, because you don't see it. You're missing out on it, and you don't even realize it. I don't think you could see it, even if you wanted to. I can't understand how you can look at him, and not see what I see." 

"Jack has always been something of a mystery to me," she said quietly. "I've never been able to see him, not like I can see his brother. His brother has always been an open book, a window. I could see right through him, always see where he was going, what he was thinking. Jack was never like that. He was always closed off. There was always something inside of him that I couldn't get to, and he never shared it with anyone." 

Silence filled the house. 

"Jack was a loner, and he probably still is," my mother continued as Josh and I both listened, he in the kitchen with her and me still hidden on the stairs. "He never had many friends, and if you think about it now, I'm sure he still doesn't. It never seemed to matter to him, though. That's what set Jack apart from every other child I know. He always thought his own way, made his own choices, and never seemed to care what people thought. The other kids were outside playing, and Jack would sit outside with a book, or play by himself in a sandbox. Is he still like that?" 

"Yeah, kind of," Josh answered, and I could hear the smile. "But I'm like that, too. And even if Jack doesn't have a lot of friends, he cares a lot about the ones he does have." 

"I don't doubt it," she said. "His teachers always thought it was a problem, though. He was always getting those marks on his report card, that he didn't get along with the other children. Looking at it now, I think he probably just didn't like them, and decided not to associate with them. It was just one of the things, though, that made him such an odd child. He was so hard to relate to. Sometimes it was like having this complete stranger in the house, and the way he looked at you always made you feel like he was judging you, because you couldn't tell what he wanted, or why." 

I had never heard my mother talk about me like this before, and wondered if she had ever been this honest with someone else about me. How long had she thought this? My whole life? 

"He's telling you what he wants now, though," Josh said. "He wants you to come to his wedding. He wants you to be his family." 

"And then what?" she asked. "We'll have this family time, and then what? Start talking to each other? Spend the holidays together? Your family and us, all sitting together under a tree? Is that what you're thinking, Josh?" 

"Would that really be so horrible?" Josh asked. 

"I never said it would be, but that's not the kind of family we are," my mother said, and I could almost see her shaking her head. "We never have been. Jack's brother and I, yes, but Jack? No. We've never been that way." 

"Why?" Josh asked, starting to sound a little upset again. "Why aren't you that way? What's wrong with you?" 

"There isn't anything wrong with me," she said defensively. "Just because I'm not the kind of mother you think I should be doesn't give you the right to judge me." 

"But I don't see how you can even call yourself a mother," Josh said, even more impassioned. No one had raked my mother across the coals like this ever, as far as I knew. "You treat Jack like a burden." 

Again there was a moment of silence. 

"I never wanted children, Josh," my mother said quietly. "I never wanted them, but Mr. Springer needed a son. We got Brett, and then Mr. Springer was worried about Brett being an only child, so there's Jack. He needed an heir, someone to carry on the family, and he needed a child because everyone else has a child. It's what you do here. You get married, and you raise children. I wanted the life, was raised for it, but I never wanted the children, and I never really knew what to do with them." 

"And in all this time you haven't learned?" Josh asked. "You've had thirty years, first with Brett, and then with Jack." 

"I know," she said. "I know I have, and I've done it with Jack's brother. I haven't ever been able to do it with Jack, though. I haven't ever been able to feel that bond with him. He's so aloof, so detached from all of this." 

"You're wrong," Josh said, and I could tell he was shaking his head. "You don't know Jack at all, and you prove it when you say that. He isn't detached from any of this. Coming here has been so hard for him, so upsetting, even if he hasn't shown me. Just being here he's in pain." 

"And yet he came anyway," she marveled. "He came because of you, Josh." 

"No," Josh said. "He came because of you. He came because he wants you to sit in the front row of chairs. He wants you to be his mother, to be there for him, to show everyone else that you're proud of your son. That's all he wants you to do." 

"I can't," my mother said. All of that, and she still wasn't moved. The woman really was made of ice. "I can't do that." 

"Why?" Josh asked, not letting her off. 

"I've told you, I cannot approve of this wedding," she said. "I cannot pretend that what the two of you are doing is acceptable. Even if you love each other, this is unnatural. It's wrong. I'm sorry, because you're such a nice person, Josh. You seem intelligent, and you're very handsome, and I can see what a loving and caring person you are, and I feel so bad for you, because you're so flawed and confused." 

"That's what you really think?" Josh asked. "Do you think that about Jack, too?" 

"That he's flawed and confused?" my mother asked, clarifying. Josh must have nodded. "Yes, that's what I think about Jack, too." 

"How can you think that about him?" Josh asked. "How can you think there's anything wrong with your own son?" 

"Because there so obviously is," she sighed. "The two of you may love each other, but it's wrong. What you're doing is wrong." 

I knew Josh wouldn't take this well. Josh was so close to Karen and Roy, and they were so accepting of him, and of me. Once they had realized that he and I really did care about each other, and that I wasn't just some opportunist, they had accepted me with open arms. They had never made Josh feel like he was doing something wrong, or that there was anything unnatural about the way he was. Instead they had just opened their arms, and their hearts, and Josh just couldn't seem to conceive of a mother who couldn't do that. I had tried to warn him, but again, he hadn't believed me. 

"A mother is supposed to love her children unconditionally," Josh said. 

"I do love them," she said. "I just can't accept what he is. It's good that the two of you love each other, because I will never be able to understand or approve of your relationship, and I won't let him flaunt it here in my face." 

"How is it flaunting to be happy?" Josh asked. "How is it flaunting just to live your life, and be the way you are? This is who Jack is." 

"But it's not who I want him to be," my mother said coldly. 

I heard Josh's chair scrape on the floor as he stood, and I realized that he was giving up, finally. I had to love him for trying, though. 

"I can't believe Jack is your child," Josh said. "I can't believe that the man I love, the most beautiful, caring, special man in the world, came from this house. I don't understand how you can look at the child who grew up here, the child you gave birth to, and not treat him the way he deserves." 

"Josh, I never gave birth to Jack," my mother said quietly. I blinked, unsure of whether I'd heard her correctly, and began walking to the kitchen. 

"What?" Josh asked, confused. 

"I told you, I didn't want children," my mother said, probably staring down at her hands. "Jack and his brother aren't even brothers, not by blood, and neither of them are mine. My children are adopted." 

Both of their heads snapped around to stare at me as I gasped loudly from the doorway. 

---

CHAPTER 84

---

JACK'S POV: 

I think Josh had been so caught up in listening to her, so focused on getting her to talk to him and maybe convincing her to come to the wedding, that he had honestly forgotten that I was awake upstairs, waiting for him to come back. The two of them stared at me in surprise from the table, her sitting, and Josh standing, already stepping toward me, reaching out to me. I glanced from him to my mother, or maybe not my mother, and stepped into the kitchen. 

"Jack?" Josh asked, reaching out to me. I stepped into his arms, but didn't glance at him. My eyes were fixed on Evelyn. "Are you ok?" 

"What did you just say?" I asked, my voice low and even. "What did you just say about me?" 

My mother looked up from her interlaced fingers, and I watched her face slide closed again. Whatever vulnerable moment she had just shared in the kitchen with Josh was over. 

"You heard what I just said, " she replied. "Are you planning to make a scene now?" 

Josh was staring at her now too, his mouth hanging open. His arms were firm around me, and I had my hands on his shoulders, just holding on. I couldn't help but notice the tiny moue of distaste that slipped across my mother's features before she flattened her features back into their smooth planes of stone. 

"Am I going to make a scene?" I asked, stunned that it would be her first concern, but somehow not surprised. "That's the best you can do? That's all you have to say?" 

"Was there something else you wanted to hear?" she asked, staring at me. "Please, give me my lines, tell me what to say, so I'll know how not to fail you again as I seem to have so many times before." 

Was she actually trying to imply that all of the things I'd told Josh about my family had hurt her somehow? Nothing could hurt her, nothing. The woman was made of ice, carved from stone. I wanted to scream at her, wanted to grab her and shake her and demand answers. If nothing else I wanted to scream at her like a bad scene from "Mommy Dearest", moaning, "Why did you adopt me?" while she tried to strangle me or something. How could she just sit there? 

"Why?" I asked. "Why didn't you ever tell me? Did you tell Brett?" 

"No, I never told Brett," she said, shrugging. "It would probably just confuse him. It was always our intention to tell you, both of you, but as you got older your father and I realized there was no point to it." 

"No point to it?" I asked, my voice rising. I felt Josh hug me a little tighter. 

"Jack, please," he whispered. I knew he was afraid that I'd get worked up again and send myself into another attack, or something worse, but I felt very centered, actually. 

"You realized there was no point to it?" I asked again. "You just figured, 'Oh, why bother telling my children I ordered them from the prop department somewhere and their whole life is a lie? There's no point to that.'" 

"Would it have changed anything about your life?" she asked, staring at me, rolling her eyes. Perhaps I'd become such a drama queen in response to the utter lack of emotion in my parental figures. 

"It might have," I answered. "It might have explained why you've always treated us like accessories. It might have explained why you've always acted like you didn't know what to do with us." 

"I told Josh, while you were apparently in the hallway eavesdropping, that I never wanted children," she said impassively. "Fortunately I'm incapable of having them, but that didn't stop your father. He went away on a business trip, and came back with Brett. At least he asked before he brought you home." 

I wasn't even sure what to say to this. I stared at her, wondering why she didn't even have the good sense to look sorry, or ashamed, or upset, or something. What was she thinking about? Was she looking back on our childhoods? Was she planning her day tomorrow? She could have been doing anything. I held up my hands. 

"That's it," I said, not screaming, not even sounding mad. "That's it. I'm done. I don't want to talk about this anymore. I don't really want to talk to you anymore, either." 

"Jack?" Josh asked, as I stepped away from him. 

"Josh, I'm going upstairs," I said. "I'm going to go read, or watch TV, or something. I'm not staying down here, but you can if you want to." 

Josh looked from me to my mother, still seated at the table, and shook his head. 

"No, I don't think I want to stay down here," he said sadly, taking my hand. 

"Mother, Evelyn, Mrs. Springer, whatever the hell I'm supposed to call you," I began, watching her impassively watch me. "We're going upstairs. We'll stay out of your way, and in the morning we'll be out of your house. I'd leave now, and go to the inn, but I know how people talk, and I wouldn't want them saying you don't love your unwanted children." 

My mother didn't say anything as we walked up the stairs, and we left her alone in the kitchen. She was probably happier that way. When we got upstairs, Josh followed me into my room, and I pushed the door closed behind him. He held out his arms, and I stepped into them, feeling the muscles bulge as he folded them around me. I tucked my head under his chin, and we stood like that as he held onto me. 

"Are you ok?" Josh asked, his hands tracing circles over my back. 

"Fucking wonderful," I snapped. He started to let go, and I held him close. "I'm sorry, Josh. I didn't mean to snap at you, and I know you're just trying to help." 

"Jack, I don't know what to say," he admitted. "I don't know what to say, and I don't know what you're thinking." 

"It's ok," I said. "I don't know what I'm thinking either." 

I leaned back and saw Josh looking down at me, his eyes wide. I leaned in and kissed him, closing my eyes, feeling his nose brush my cheek. He kissed me back, softly, not one of his sloppy wet kisses, a little, gentle one, his tongue just dipping in for a second. 

"I'm sorry, babe," he whispered, his beard tickling my cheek as his lips brushed my ear. "I love you." 

"I know," I answered. "I love you, too. Sleep in here with me tonight?" 

"Jack, I don't know," Josh said, stepping back. He glanced at the door. "I mean, your mother said I was supposed to stay in the guest room, and she's really not very comfortable with, you know, us." 

"Josh, I appreciate your concern, but she won't," I said, gesturing at the door. "Josh, I don't want to sleep by myself, ok? I'm not saying I want to make love in my parents' house, because I don't think I've ever felt, you know, less in the mood, but Josh, I just, I want you close to me right now, ok?" 

"Of course," Josh said, hugging me again. 

"I love you so much, Josh," I said, feeling like crying again suddenly. I swallowed back the feeling, but he must have caught the tremor in my voice. 

"I love you, too," he answered, rocking back and forth a little. 

Eventually we got tired of hugging, and settled down for a long night in my room. I pulled out my book, curling up on the bed, and Josh got his out, sliding up next to me on the mattress. We leaned on each other, our shoulders pressing against each other, not needing to talk. After a while, Josh put a pillow on his lap, and turned me so that my head was on it. I lay like that, feeling his strong legs under the pillow, as he stroked my hair with one hand while he continued reading. Every few minutes I would glance up at him, his face deep in thought as he focused on what he was reading, and he would glance down, as if sensing my eyes, and smile at me. After a while I glanced up and saw that his eyes were closed, and I grinned. They fluttered back open as I sat up, but he was busted, and he knew it. 

"Come on, Mr. Sleepy," I said, pulling his book out of his hands, sliding the bookmark into his place. He yawned, smiling, as I took his hands and pulled him up off of the bed. "Let's get ready for bed." 

We fished our toiletries out of our suitcases and went to the bathroom to brush our teeth. I watched us both side by side in the mirror, mouths dripping with foam, and thought again about how lucky I was to have Josh, but I felt something else, too. I felt a little unsettled. Thinking about the house I'd grown up in, and how there were so many secrets here, so many things no one talked about, I realized that I didn't want to keep any secrets from Josh. I didn't ever want there to be anything between us that I didn't tell him, but I worried as well that the things I needed to say to him might drive him away. We walked back to my room and stripped down, me to my boxers, and Josh to his boxer briefs. I switched off the light, and saw his necklace glimmer in the light from the moon. I felt my own, tapping lightly on my chest as I slid under the sheets with him, and remembered what it meant to us both. 

"Are you ok?" Josh whispered, sliding an arm around me as I spooned back against him. "Are you sure you don't want to stay another day, and try to work some of this out with your mother?" 

"No," I answered. "I don't want to work anything out with her. Maybe someday, Josh, but not now. I mean, why didn't she ever tell me?" 

"Jack, she doesn't seem to think it really mattered," Josh said. "You heard what she said. She doesn't really think it would have made any difference." 

"I know," I said. "And maybe it wouldn't have, but Josh, I feel like, I don't know, like I don't even know who I am right now. I mean, Jesus, when did my life start looking so much like a bad VC Andrews book? I mean, my whole life, I felt like my family didn't want me, like I didn't belong here, and now my mother just told us that it's all true." 

"Oh, Jack," Josh whispered, his hand running up and down my arm. "I'm so sorry." 

"It's not just that, Josh," I said, feeling his breath on the back of my neck. "It's like, not only did my family not want me, but now I know that there's some other family out there that didn't want me, either. There's some other mother that didn't want any kids either, and she gave me to these people, who just wanted me to smile for the Christmas cards. Josh, I feel like there isn't anywhere I belong. I don't have any family. I'm nobody." 

Josh grabbed my shoulders, rolling me over so that I was facing him. I felt our legs brushing against each other as we sorted out the tangle, and his hands slid up to the side of my face and held it. I could see him, bluish in the light from the windows, and I could see how wet his eyes were, but he wanted to make sure that he could see mine, too. 

"That isn't true, Jack," Josh said, his eyes locked on mine. His voice was firm, but I could hear underneath his tone that he was worried, and scared. "I never want to hear you say that about yourself again. I didn't know you were listening, but I meant everything I said to your mother. You are the most amazing, wonderful, caring person I've ever met. You're so strong, and so brave, and you don't even know it. Every day I fall more in love with you, Jack. Every night when I go to sleep I thank God that I met you, and that you love me." 

"Josh," I began, feeling a little uncomfortable, caught in the intensity of his feelings for me. I felt the same way about him. 

"No, Jack," he said. "I mean it. You do belong somewhere. You belong with me. I'm your family, and the guys are all your family, too. Maybe we're not the one you were born with, and maybe we're not the one you grew up with, but we're the family that loves you, and that's the only one that matters. That's all that's important, Jack. They love you, and I love you. I believe in you, Jack, and I believe in us, and I never want to hear you say that you're nobody, because you're always going to be someone special to me. I love you, Jack. I love you." 

"I love you, too, Josh," I said, my hands over his as he held my face. I leaned in and kissed him. "But there are things you don't know. You might not think I'm so special after I tell you." 

"Jack, whatever it is won't matter to me," Josh said, shaking his head. "Haven't you learned that by now?" 

"This is different, Josh," I said, taking a deep breath. "Josh, I was going to kill Basil Morgan." 

Josh blinked at me, and I could see that this was coming completely out of left field for him. 

"I know that this isn't what you expected me to say right now, but I have to say it," I continued. "That shrink kept saying I should tell you, and I thought about it, but it never seemed like the right time. I realized tonight that there may never be a right time, Josh, and I can't let you keep thinking I'm perfect, because I'm not. I was going to kill Basil Morgan. After he was down, after he was on the floor and I got away, I still had the pan in my hand, and I was going to kill him, Josh. I was going to kill him." 

"Jack, the police said it was self-defense," Josh said quietly, holding me. 

"No, Josh, it wouldn't have been," I said, shaking my head. "He was already down. I was going to hit him again, and keep hitting him, until he was dead. I thought about it, Josh, and I stood there looking down on him, and I could see it. I could see it in my head, and I was going to do it. I was angry, and I thought about everything he'd done, everything he'd taken from me, and I was sure, completely sure, that it was the right thing to do, and he deserved it." 

Josh swallowed, but never stopped looking at me. 

"Jack, I know you told me what happened to you, but I can't tell you that I understand it," Josh said quietly. "I can't tell you that I know what it was like, because I don't. I wasn't there. I don't know what he did to you, and I don't know what it was like to wake up there, every day, and go through that over and over. I guess what I'm trying to say is that, well, I can't say if what you were going to do was right or not. I was raised to think that it's wrong to fight people, and it's wrong to kill, but Jack, I didn't go through what you did. I've thought about this a lot, too. I've thought about it at night sometimes, when I hear you whimpering in your sleep. I think about it when I'm holding you, when you're scared because you're having a flashback, or a panic attack, and sometimes, when I think about it, I think maybe you should have." 

"You do?" I asked. Josh? My Josh? He couldn't hurt anyone, not Josh. I couldn't even conceive of him wanting to hurt someone, much less wishing someone was dead. 

"I do," Josh answered. "I know it's wrong to think that, but I wasn't there. I can't judge you, because I don't know what it was like for you, and I don't know what I would do in the same situation. Sometimes I wish he was dead, Jack, because of what he did to you." 

"But Josh, I was going to murder him," I said. 

"But you didn't," Josh said. "You were going to, and you didn't." 

"It doesn't bother you to know I thought about it?" I asked. 

"Jack, it would bother me more if you hadn't thought about it," Josh said. "Does it bother me to know that what? You're human? No, Jack, it doesn't. You could have killed him, and you didn't. That you thought about it doesn't matter, because you didn't do it." 

"I might as well have," I said sadly, feeling guilt twist through me again. 

"No," Josh said, shaking his head. "I don't want to hear you say that anymore, either. What happened to him isn't your fault, and the way he is now isn't your fault, either. All you were trying to do was get away. You weren't trying to kill him, or turn him into a vegetable. That wasn't your fault, Jack." 

"Are you sure?" I asked. "I was scared to tell you, Josh, because I didn't want you to think I was a bad person." 

"Jack, you never have to be scared to tell me something," Josh said. He pulled me closer to him, kissing me, and holding me against him. "Besides, I think maybe he got what he deserved. I love you, Jack, and I will always love you." 

"I love you, too, Josh," I said, pressing against him. I felt his warm, smooth chest against mine, and could feel his heart beating in time with my own. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you." 

"But Jack, you just did," Josh said, kissing me. 

We lay like that for a while, Josh holding me in his arms, and then we finally fell asleep. When I woke up, I was in the bed alone. I looked around and saw Josh's suitcase neatly packed by the door of my bedroom. Sliding out of bed, I pulled my undershirt back on, looking around, and saw him across the wall in the guestroom, sitting on the bed and talking on the phone. He was fully dressed, a little less conservatively than yesterday, and his hair was still a little gleaming from the shower, or maybe from the gallons of gel and product that he sometimes drenched it in. He saw me and smiled, his tanned face beaming, and I pointed toward the bathroom, pantomiming a shower. He nodded and gave me a thumbs up, still talking. 

I quickly showered up, and sauntered back down the hall in my towel. I didn't hear Josh, but after I dropped the towel and slid a pair of boxers on he walked up behind me, rubbing my shoulders. I sighed, letting him work on them a little more, feeling his strong hands do one of the many things he did well. His fingers pressed and kneaded, and I felt the tension sliding away. 

"How did you sleep?" he asked, working at my neck now, rolling my head from side to side. 

"Good," I sighed. "You're amazing." 

"So are you," he said, letting his hands slide down off my back. I turned around and he pulled me into a hug. "How do you feel this morning?" 

"Josh, I don't know," I sighed, feeling his hands run up and down over my shoulder blades. "I don't know. I feel a little confused, and I don't know what else. I mean, how am I supposed to feel? What am I supposed to say? I'm looking around the room, and the house, and I don't know what to say. I just don't want to be here anymore, Josh. There's too much, and this time I feel like I don't ever want to come back here." 

"I understand," Josh said, nodding. He handed me my deodorant, fishing it out of the suitcase. "Why don't we get dressed, and just get you home? OK? We'll get back to our friends, and the wedding, and everything else. We can think about this later, and if you want to talk to your mother about this, we can, but right now I think you're right, and we should just go." 

"I think you're right," I said, putting the deodorant on and then taking an undershirt from the suitcase. Josh sat on the bed as I got dressed. 

"How did you sleep?" he asked. 

"Fine, I guess," I answered, wondering why he was watching me like that. "Josh? What?" 

"Nothing," he said. "I'm just worried about you, Jack. I mean, you're taking it all really well." 

"I'm not, though," I admitted, pulling my pants on. "I don't know how I feel, Josh. I just feel kind of numb." 

"It's ok to feel that way, baby," Josh said, hugging me. 

"Who was on the phone?" I asked. I had glanced at mine, but I didn't have any messages. 

"My mom," Josh answered. "I called her this morning because I was worried, and I, um." 

"What?" I asked. He looked guilty suddenly, glancing away from me. "Josh? What's wrong?" 

"I feel bad telling you this, " Josh said suddenly, jumping off of the bed to pace around the room. "I feel like I'm rubbing it in. When I woke up this morning, I was thinking about you and your family, and the way your mom talked to you, the way she treated you last night, and I missed my mom. I was thinking about how my parents accept me, and how much they love me, and how you don't have that, and I called my mom, because I wanted to feel better." 

"Josh, why do you feel bad telling me that?" I asked, walking over to him and putting a hand on his shoulder. 

"Because I feel like I'm rubbing it in," Josh said. He turned toward me, and I saw that his face looked tight, twisted with pain. "Do you remember what Justin said when we were at my family's house? Do you remember how he said that I always had everything, and my parents always loved me and supported everything I did? He's right. They always have, and now I feel like if I call my mom it'll make you feel bad, because you really don't have that. I didn't believe you, really, but now that I've been here, and I've seen, well, Evelyn, I feel bad, like I'm flaunting my parents in front of you." 

I wanted to laugh, but I was also absurdly touched. I pulled Josh over to me and kissed him, smiling, so that he would know I was ok. 

"Josh, I love you, but that's just silly," I said, shaking my head. He looked at me, confused. "Josh, I'm not going to hold it against you that your family loves you. I've been to your house. I know what your family's like, and I don't want you to feel bad because they're not mine." 

"They are yours, Jack," Josh said, kissing me on the cheek. "That's what my mom and I were talking about. You know my parents love you, Jack, and my mom wants me to remind you that, when you marry me, you're going to be their son, too. You have a family, Jack." 

"Thank you, Josh," I said, hugging him again. "But I'm not taking your last name." 

"I'm ok with that," he said. 

I finished getting dressed, and then the two of us quickly packed my suitcase and carried our bags downstairs. The house was quiet, and Josh explained to me that he had heard the housekeeper leaving in a station wagon while I was in the shower. 

"Do you think she left us any breakfast?" I asked, setting our bags down by the front door. "We should check the kitchen." 

"OK," Josh said, taking my hand. "I don't hear your mother anywhere." 

"That could be a good thing, " I said, laughing. 

In the kitchen we found coffee in an urn on the counter, with two cups set out. Going through the cupboards, I located some tea bags, and pulled out the box for Josh, pointing at the microwave as he nodded. In the refrigerator I located some bagels, and handed them to Josh as he waited behind me. I realized he didn't know where anything was, so I went looking for plates and silverware as he pulled out the cream cheese and carried the bagels over to the toaster. 

"Jack?" he asked. His voice sounded odd, so I turned, seeing him standing at the table. "There's a note here." 

I walked over. It wasn't just a note. There was a large brown envelope on the table, obviously old. It was kind of tattered on the edges, and had a large water stain on the front, round, like someone had put a coffee cup or a water glass on top of it. The top flap was neatly closed with a fresh piece of scotch tape. Beneath that, though, there were several older pieces, brown, yellow, and brittle, clinging to the flap. It had obviously been opened and closed again many times. On top of it, written on the same rose scented, flower printed stationery she'd been using as long as I could remember, was a note card from my mother. 

"You think it's an apology?" Josh asked, not touching it. 

"I doubt it," I said. He put a hand on my shoulder as I reached for the card, and I realized my hand was shaking a little. I opened the card, and Josh looked over my shoulder, reading it along with me. 

"Dear Jackson: 

I realize many things this morning as I sit to write this. I realize that I should have been honest with you long ago, because, out of both of my children, you are the one to whom it is most important. You have always been the one who told us to speak our minds, to not beat around the bush, and to be the people that we are instead of the people that we feel that we should be. I realize that I have wounded you in my attempt to protect you, and I would like for you to know that it was never my intent. 

In the envelope beneath this card are all of the documents pertaining to your birth and your adoption. I have looked at them many times over the years, searching them for some clues that might help me understand you, but I think that the person who should have been looking at them was you. There are no names in this file, but there is a date, a time, and a town. If someday you feel as if you would like to know about where you came from, and why, this is what I can offer you to help with your search. I can only hope that such a search, if you choose to undertake it, can bring you enough peace to cover the pain that I know I have caused you both by withholding this and also by the way I chose to tell you. 

I realized last night, after you left the kitchen, that there is something else that needs to be said as well. I have told you many times that I love you, but I realized that I have never told you that I am proud of you. I have never told you that I am proud of the strong man of integrity that you have grown into, or of the life that you have built for yourself without giving a damn what other people might think of it. I have never told you how proud I am to see that you are brave enough to follow your heart to someone you truly love without listening to anyone, even your own mother, who might tell you that it's not right. I have never told you any of that, but I would like to tell you now. 

I'm proud of you, and I may not be your mother, not your real mother, but I love you. 

Evelyn" 

I realized when I got to the end of it that tears were streaming down my face, and when I looked up, Josh was crying, too, but it was a good cry. I held onto him, and he held me, until we cried ourselves out. I put the note card back onto the packet, and carried the whole thing to my bag. 

"You don't want to look at it?" Josh asked. 

"Not yet," I said, zipping it into my carry on. "I don't want to look at it until we get home, when we can sit down and go through it together, ok?" 

"I understand," Josh said. 

"Josh, could you, um, if you wouldn't mind, could you put the cream cheese on my bagel?" I asked. "I'll be right there." 

"Sure," Josh answered, watching me from the kitchen door. 

I walked down the hall to the study, passing my father's desk as I walked over to my mother's smaller, neater desk. There was a box of her paper on the top, where I knew it would be, and I pulled out a sheet and a pen. Carrying them back to the table, I joined Josh at the table. 

"Do you think we should go see her?" Josh asked. "Or call her?" 

"No," I answered gently. "She left a note because she didn't want to make this kind of a scene, so I'm going to write her one, too. It's the best she can do, Josh, and she's trying." 

"I know," Josh said. 

We wrote the note together. 

"Mother, 

What you've given me, and what you've said, means more to me than I can say. I don't really have the words to express it, but I would like to offer you my apology. Last night I was disrespectful to you, because I was thinking more of myself than about how you must feel, and I thought more about my pain than yours. I've thought about Brett, and I will leave the decision of whether or not to tell him in your hands, because it's not my place. For myself, Joshua and I would like to say that the invitation to attend our wedding is still open to you, and to my father, but that we will not hold it against you if you still choose not to attend. We hope you can share this day with us, but even if you cannot, what you have already shared is more precious to me than any gift could be. 

With love from your son, 

Jackson" 

We left the note on the table, where she had placed the package for me, and went to the airport. On the plane we mostly just read, and leaned on each other, although we did drag out the travel chessboard for a while after the snack that claimed to be a meal. I tried to think about what all of this meant, and how I felt about it, but mostly I just felt empty, and drained. My mother's note had been touching, and heartfelt, but all sorts of questions were rising inside me now, questions about my childhood, and my family, the one I grew up with and my other family, the one that gave birth to me. I felt empty, and overwhelmed, washed out and washed away by all of this. 

I just wanted to be with Josh, and not think about any of this. 

---

CHAPTER 85

---

JUSTIN'S POV: 

Nick must have been on fire for a piece of me, because he didn't waste any time starting in on the plan. On the one hand, I guess I should have applauded his commitment, but I couldn't really seem to get excited about it. Not only did every move that brought him closer to success also bring him closer to my ass, but I was already starting to think that this plan was a horrible idea. It hadn't worked in the movie, and even if it did work, it would leave a lot of people hurt. There had to be a better way, but I couldn't think of one, and Lance wasn't going to leave Howie unless something catastrophic happened. I had to prove to Lance that Howie didn't really love him, and I had to do it fast. I couldn't let Howie keep hurting him, not when I'd already let it go on for so long. 

I almost told Jack and Josh the morning I took them to breakfast. It was the morning after I convinced Nick to go along with this, before he had time to get started on it, and I could have headed the entire thing off right then, probably. All I had to do was say something, right then, and everything would have turned out differently. I woke up that morning next to Nick's prone form, feeling a little tired from fucking him three times throughout the night, after he'd eaten my ass. I'd barely slept at all, but he'd just been so turned on by the entire plan, and so hot for me, that he kept getting me hard again every time I thought I was done. If I was tired, I'd be surprised if he could walk. As I stood in the shower, letting the hot water pound down on me and wash away the sweat from my body and the lube dried in my pubic hair, I found out I was wrong. 

Grinning, Nick peeled back the shower curtain and stepped inside. Like me, Nick spent a lot of time in the gym, and he had a fantastic body, although it wasn't as cut as mine. He was stockier than me, though, his muscles built on bulkier lines, and his arms a little thicker. Spending as much time naked together as we did, it was hard not to compare our bodies, and I had already noted a while ago that my dick was longer, although his was thicker. Still, as he pulled the curtain closed again without a word, the scene in the shower began to resemble something from a porno, with two tan, blond, buff guys, both half hard, sharing the tub. Nick grabbed the shower gel off of the shelf and squirted it onto my chest, handing me the bottle as his hands began to slide all over me, lathering me up. 

Nick's hands massaged my chest, sliding over my pecs, as he grinned at me and I did the same to him, watching the contrast of the white suds on his tanned skin. His fingers found my nipples and began to squeeze them as I ran my fingers in circles around his chest. Nick's touch was firm and insistent, while mine was just sort of playful. I was actually trying to wash him, but as Nick's fingers slid down my abs, tracing the lines, running a little circle around my navel, I realized he was trying to get me worked up again. When his hand collided with my throbbing prick, it was obvious that what he was trying was definitely working, and he grinned, wrapping his soapy hand around my dick as I leaned back on the wall of the shower, grinning. 

"Don't you ever get enough?" I asked, the first words we had said to each other this morning. 

"No," Nick answered simply. He was such a whore, but as I felt his expert hands sliding up and down my shaft I realized that at least he was good at it. 

"Nick, I'm kind of, you know, a little tired from last night," I said, not stopping him, but not sure if I'd even be able to cum again. Then again, I was young, and sure I'd be able to squeeze something out. His hands felt too good as he slowly slid them up and down my shaft, tugging at my balls a little, gently caressing and massaging my pink cockhead. 

"I know, but I'm so thirsty, " he said, dropping to his knees. I looked down at Nick, his eyes wide and so blue and his hair matted down to his head by the water dripping down his face, and watched his reddish lips drop open. His tongue flicked out and began to lap at my cockhead, running around the ridge where it met my shaft and sliding up over my slit. "So I thought I'd get started on the plan today while you guys are out getting your tux fittings done." 

"OK," I panted, my hands on Nick's shoulders, squeezing his firm cannonballs. "What are you, unh, that's good, what are you gonna do?" 

"Invite him over to talk," Nick said, letting me slide out of his mouth. "I worked out this whole speech while you were fucking me that second time last night about how we need to get along for JC and Jack's wedding, and how the strain is bad for our group, too. Then we'll just see where things go from there." 

Only Nick would plan his day while his arms were tied to the bedposts and his legs were on someone's shoulders. He sucked my dick back into his throat, working his tongue over it, picking up speed as I urgently gripped his shoulders, staring down at him. Nick was so cocky with everyone else that it always made me even hotter to put him on his knees. 

"That's, that's great," I panted. Nick pulled off again. 

"The blowjob, or the plan?" Nick asked, lapping at the head again like a little kid with a big lollipop. 

"Both," I said, grabbing the back of his head and jerking him forward. "Now get back on it." 

After Nick finished sucking me off, he took special care to wash my ass, trying to stick his finger in before I explained that there wouldn't be any more free samples. He could look, but not touch. Sliding out of the shower, I got dressed while Nick went, naked, to go watch television and call Howie. 

"That couch isn't drip dry," I called playfully, heading out the door. 

"Good thing you are!" Nick yelled back. 

I felt a little of my playful mood fading as I went to go get Josh and Jack. I'd left things with both of them on such strained terms the other night, and I didn't want things to be like that anymore. I didn't want to keep sinking back to the way I'd been, and that meant I needed to come clean with Josh, and tell him everything. I couldn't keep pushing him away. He was my best friend, and I needed him. Not only that, but I couldn't take the way that Josh looked at me anymore. I thought I would be ok with him being hurt, because he'd hurt me. I didn't like to hurt him, but I could deal with that look, could see that in his eyes. I couldn't deal with the way he'd looked at me the other night, though. Hurt was one thing, but when he'd looked at me then, all I'd seen was disappointment. Josh had made me feel so small, like I was nothing, and I couldn't have him look at me like that again. If Josh didn't believe in me, I didn't believe in myself. 

It hurt a little when I went over there and saw them packing together, smiling at each other. It hurt a little when I saw the wedding plans all laid out, too, but I had to deal with that. I couldn't keep throwing Josh's choice back in his face, not if I really wanted him to be happy. Instead, I just had to swallow this, even if it felt like swallowing a mouthful of thumbtacks. By the time breakfast was over, and I'd said everything I needed to, I could tell that things were finally going to be ok between Josh and I again. It wouldn't be easy, but all Josh really did want to do was make sure I was happy, too. I could tell it made Jack feel a lot better, too, even if he didn't say so. Jack and I understood each other, and we shared the common goal of Josh's happiness. I had told Jack when he was in the hospital that I didn't want to be his enemy, but I hadn't really followed through on my promise to be his friend, and I needed to work on that, too. I really had been an asshole since Jack came back, even if no one else wanted to come right out and say it. 

The entire morning I had been thinking about Jack, and the other bond that we shared. Last time Lance had been hurt, only Jack had known, and had to figure it out himself. Now, only I knew, and had the same problem. Jack had come right to me, but I couldn't go right to Howie. Howie wouldn't stop just because I told him to. If anything, it might make him more angry, and he might do something else to Lance, something worse. I'd been thinking back to all those movies I watched when we were on tour and I couldn't sleep, and remembered that sometimes they broke bones, or burned them with cigarettes, or beat them with hangers or something. I didn't want that to happen to Lance. I thought a lot about telling Jack, and asking for his help, because I knew he would be able to keep it discreet, and not drag everyone in where Lance didn't want everyone to go, but then I thought about the shape Jack was in right now, too. He kept pretending that he was back to normal, and everything was fine, but around the edges you could see the strain peeking through. When he asked, I still almost told him, but at the last second I thought about how stressed he was already, with the wedding, and the trip to his parents, and his recovery, and I didn't want to add this in. I decided to wait until they got back, and see how things had gone, before saying anything else. 

Our tuxedo fitting went sort of well, in that nobody directly fought with each other. Lance stayed as far from me as possible, and Joey kind of huddled near him, tossing me dirty looks every once in a while. He was still pissed about the bathroom thing. I realize now that fucking Nick in the bathroom was kind of stupid, a spur of the moment lust sort of thing, but it really pissed me off getting yelled at by everyone at once. Maybe I didn't handle it so maturely, but for starters I had more than a few beers in me, and everyone didn't have to treat me like I was a little kid. Chris didn't seem mad at me, but he didn't really talk to me, either. He just watched while the tailors pinned and marked us, and that Lisann woman asked me questions I didn't know the answers to. 

"When is Carla, the maid of honor, flying in?" Lisann asked me, as I stood before the mirror with my arms out. 

"I'm not really sure," I answered, looking around. Lance ignored me, reading a magazine in the corner as he waited in his tux to be appraised. Chris was in the changing room, getting his on, and Joey raised an eyebrow at me from his chair next to Lance. 

"Justin, I need to schedule her an appointment," Lisann said, shaking her head. She was a nice lady, but so tense. "Jack and Joshua were very clear that you were going to handle these things in their absence. You are, after all, the best man." 

"Not a very good one," Joey muttered, and Lance looked away. 

"Excuse me?" I asked, turning around. Lisann waited patiently, seeming not to notice the trouble brewing. 

"You heard me," Joey said, staring at me. He wasn't quite angry, but it was definitely a scowl. "You haven't done shit for this wedding, unless aggravating the grooms counts." 

"Look, what is your problem, man?" I snapped, pissed. I knew I hadn't done anything, but what right did he have to bring it up. "Josh and Jack left me in charge, and I'm just trying to do the stuff Jack left on his list." 

"I'm surprised they want you to do anything," Joey sneered. "Hey, Lisann, you wanna see the biggest obstacle to the happy marriage? He's right there in front of the mirror." 

"Knock it off," Chris said, stepping out of the changing room before I could say anything. It was just as well. I was pissed, but I also felt my eyes stinging. "Whatever goes on between Jack, JC, and Justin stays between them, because it's personal. All we need to know is that right now Justin is in charge. Lisann, Carla flies in three days before the wedding, in the afternoon." 

"Thank you," Lisann said, writing it down with a gold golf pencil. "When does Tyler fly in?" 

"Same day, roughly the same time," Chris answered. I nodded to him as Joey sat in his chair, fuming but cowed for now. Tyler, Josh's brother, was coming in as a groomsman because we were uneven, and Jack and Josh both were having mini-hissies about the altar looking asymmetrical. Heather, Josh's sister, had already said something graceful to keep them from thinking they needed to put her in, too, because she would just unbalance everything again. 

"Why don't we put them down for the morning after they arrive, then?" Lisann suggested. "There isn't anything else on the schedule for that time." 

"Sure," I answered, remembering that I was supposed to be in charge. 

The tailor motioned for me to get down, and waved Lance over. Lance moved across the room slowly, giving me a wide berth, and I tried to stay as far from him as possible without it being obvious. I think Joey caught some of it, because he looked back and forth between us with a thoughtful scowl on his face. I set mine carefully. If he wanted to know what was going on, he could ask Lance. Chris, picking a string off of his sleeve, missed the entire thing, but I took his arm and led him aside. He carefully removed his arm from my hand. 

"Yes, Justin?" he asked. I had thought that after what Chris just said that he would be nicer to me, but his tone was a little cold, and he was looking at me warily, like you look at a dog that might bite. 

"I just wanted to say thank you, for what you said to Joey," I began quietly. Chris cut me off. 

"I didn't say it for you, Justin," he said, setting his shoulders back. "I happen to agree with Joey on this one. When Jack came back, you told me you wanted JC to be happy, but you haven't been acting like it. I've made excuses for you, Justin, and I've tried to be understanding, but I'm tired of reaching a hand out to you and having it slapped away. What you did the other night was stupid, Justin, and the way you acted afterward was even worse. I thought you changed, and I don't like being proven wrong. JC and Jack left you in charge, so I'll support that, but that's all." 

"I guess, I guess I understand," I said, turning away so he wouldn't see the tears standing in my eyes. I thought Chris was on my side, but I'd even driven him away, and now I couldn't turn to him to help with Lance, either. "I need to go take this off." 

"Don't pull the pins out!" the tailor called as I hurried into the changing room. 

After everyone was measured and pinned we dismissed the rest of the guys, and Lisann and I went over a few minor things that Jack had left for me to do. I kept careful notes of everything I authorized, so that Jack would be able to jump right back into this when the two of them got back. I wanted to call them, just to hear Josh's voice, but I realized that would be intruding on their trip, and they probably needed the time alone away from all of us. Honestly, Lisann could have made all of these decisions without me, she had everything so well under control, but she needed an official word, and that was me. She thanked me, gave me a stack of reply cards, neatly bound with ribbon, for Jack to enter into his records, and confirmed the menu confirmation in the ballroom for the day after tomorrow. We would be doing it in the morning, in place of breakfast, and after we finished that, Lisann thanked me, and headed off, chatting away on her cell phone with the florist. 

When I got back to the bungalow I checked the window, and saw Howie sitting on the couch and Nick sitting across from him in one of the chairs, sprawled in it. Howie was looking kind of casual in shorts and a t-shirt, and Nick had dressed the part for his role in this, wearing only a pair of loose white cotton athletic shorts. I was willing to bet he had nothing on under them, and noticed as well that they were cut high enough that Howie had to have gotten a few peeks at the equipment each time Nick shifted. The waist dipped rather low as well, leaving Nick more or less naked with all of the tanned muscular perfection of his body on display. I hated to say it, because Lance was my friend, but on a purely physical level there was no competition between the two of them. Lance was a pale, fragile picture of shame, and Nick exuded the promise of sex, the kind of sex that you knew would be hot and dirty and really good. I saw them stand, reaching out to shake hands, and cursed Nick for not leaving the window open as I ran to the bushes across from the door, hiding behind a tree like a criminal. The door opened, and Howie stood in the doorframe, Nick right next to him, practically nude, right up in his space. 

"I'm glad we, you know, worked some of this out," Howie said uncertainly, his face just inches from Nick's golden chest. 

"Me, too," Nick purred. He dropped his index finger to Howie's chest, both of them watching it. Nick ran it up and down the crease between Howie's pecs for a second, and then trailed it softly over to draw a lazy circle around his nipple, which stiffened visibly under the fabric. "I so want us to be friends, Howie. Close friends." 

"I, I do, too," Howie said, swallowing, as they both stared at Nick's dancing finger. Howie's mouth hung open, and Nick brought the finger up, lifting the point of Howie's chin with it so that they were looking into each other's eyes. 

"You know," Nick began softly. "Justin has plans tonight, and I'll be here all alone. If you want to keep having this talk, come on over. I'll show you what kind of a friend I can be." 

"I, uh, I," Howie stuttered, staring into Nick's eyes as Nick's tongue slipped out, coyly, to wet his bottom lip. Howie blinked. "I have to go. Lance will be home soon. Good bye, Nick." 

"Bye, Howie," Nick said, lifting his arm to lean on the doorway. With his free hand he idly scratched his stomach, drawing attention to his abs. Howie looked back, once, and hurried down the sidewalk as if running from a fire. I stepped out from behind the tree. "Hey there." 

"Hi," I said, walking quickly into the bungalow, not touching him. I felt vaguely dirty as I went to the refrigerator for a drink of water. "Looks like things went well." 

"That was almost too easy," Nick said, grinning. "I always knew he was fucking hot for me. I caught him looking at me all the time, even before he told us he was gay, and I never stopped him. You know how it is, Justin. If someone wants you, there's no harm in stringing them along. Besides, this is kind of fun. I'll get to fuck Howie blind, and then I'll get you. Everybody wins." 

Yeah, everybody but Lance. 

"Do me a favor?" Nick asked, smirking at me. 

"Yeah?" I asked, wondering what it would be. 

"Have plans tonight," Nick answered. I nodded, and he stepped out of the shorts, standing naked in front of me, half hard. "I'm gonna go get dressed, and then I thought maybe we could lay out by the pool, and then have dinner. Unless you have other plans?" 

"No, that's a great idea," I said, faking enthusiasm and looking away as he ambled into the bedroom, his ass shaking. I knew he wanted, even expected, me to follow him in there and ravage him, but at that moment I didn't want anything to do with him. I felt disgusted with Nick, and with myself. 

Nick and I went down to the pool, lounging around. He ordered a few drinks, and I ordered a couple of diet sodas. So far Nick hadn't commented on my sudden abstention from alcohol, but I was sure he'd noticed. After all, it was the kind of thing that I would notice. We watched the other guests at the resort go by, knowing that when they checked out at the end of this weekend no one would be checking in. Josh and Jack, although really it was just Josh, had rented out every suite, every room, for the wedding guests and the wedding staff. Typically one or both of us would be trolling for company, lining up someone or a few people for later, but tonight I wasn't in the mood and Nick was saving himself for Howie. As it began to get dark, we headed in to the dining room for dinner. 

"So, what are you going to do tonight?" Nick asked, stirring his cocktail while we waited for our dinner to come. 

"I dunno," I answered, shrugging. "I have some mail to go through, some stuff from my agent." 

"Cool," Nick said, grinning. "I know what I'm going to do tonight. Howie." 

I felt a little sick to my stomach hearing him say it like that, using that tone. I knew that Nick wouldn't mind this part of the plan, knew that he'd be completely ok with the trouble it would cause, but I didn't expect him to enjoy it so much. 

"How can you say it like that?" I asked, staring at him. Nick glanced up at me, his eyebrows raised quizzically. "You know that this is going to hurt Lance." 

"So do you," Nick said, shrugging. "And you're the one who put me up to it. I wouldn't be doing this if not for you." 

"Oh, so this is all my fault?" I asked. 

"Don't get defensive," Nick said. "It doesn't suit you. And yes, Justin, this is all your fault. This is your plan." 

He looked so smug sitting across from me, knowing that he was right, and I wanted to slap him suddenly. Even as I thought it, though, I thought of Howie slapping Lance, and I felt sick inside again. Was this what had happened to the two of them? Had they been arguing, and Howie just wanted to slap him? If he did it once, did he find it easier the next time? I vowed that I would never go down that road, that I would never lash out at someone in anger again. I was sorry, suddenly, for that long ago day when we had first met Jack, when he had only been officially with Josh for a few weeks, and I had punched Lance in the nose. I had never apologized for doing that, and no one had ever expected me to, because we all thought, at the time, that Lance deserved it. He hadn't deserved what I did to him after that, but I'd apologized for that over and over. Now, though, I just found myself thinking of that sunny afternoon, and how we'd all forgotten it in light of everything that had come after. Was it possible that everything that had happened since then could be traced back to that one punch, thrown in anger, that I thought was justified? 

"Hey!" Nick said, snapping his fingers in front of my face. "Hey, earth to Justin. What is wrong with you?" 

"I was just thinking," I said, shaking my head. "I know that this is my plan, and my idea, but, Jesus, Nick, do you have to sound so excited about it? Don't you feel bad at all?" 

"No," Nick answered, shaking his head. I saw his mouth twist down in anger, real anger, maybe for the first time I'd ever seen it. "I told you, Justin, I don't feel bad about stuff like that, and I don't let other people make me feel bad about it, either. Besides, it's a two way street. Howie can say no, so whatever he does is his fault, not mine." 

I stared at him. What had I ever seen in Nick, really? Had there ever been anything besides a pretty face and a hot body? 

"Besides," Nick continued, smiling at the waitress as she set our plates down. "I kind of do have to be excited, Justin. I mean, after all, I am trying to get Howie to go for me, and depression just isn't attractive. If it was, you'd have landed JC a while ago." 

I stared at Nick, unable to believe he'd actually said that. He knew how I felt about Josh, and knew how much it hurt me not to have him. Watching him nonchalantly dig into his dinner, cutting up his big, bloody hunk of steak, I convinced myself that Nick wasn't really saying it to be mean. He was just upset, just unsettled about what I had said about feeling bad. That was all. Nick was my friend, and he would never say anything to deliberately hurt me. He might not care about other people, not really, but Nick cared about me. Friends didn't hurt each other. I decided to ignore his comment and go back to my dinner, but the two of us didn't really talk for the rest of the meal. When it was over, Nick walked with me out to the patio by the pool. 

"I'm gonna go back and get ready now, ok?" he said, grinning. "Do you have your phone?" 

"Yeah," I said, shrugging. 

"Good," Nick said, patting my shoulder. "I don't want you spoiling the mood, so I'll call you when it's safe to come back to the bungalow, ok?" 

"Sure," I said, wondering again why I hadn't been able to think of a better plan. Maybe it wasn't too late to go tell the guys. They might not believe me at first, but they'd come around. We could go to Lance together, and all talk to him, and if he would just pull up his shirt he could show the guys the bruises. "You know, Nick, maybe we don't have to do this. Maybe there's another way to break them up." 

Nick smiled at me. 

"Justin, you don't really want me to stop," he said. "And besides, I don't really want to. I want to see just how tight Howie really is." 

Nick walked away, and I sat down and began going through my paperwork, taking it out of my bag and reading it over the by light of the table lamp. Even though I tried to lose myself in it, I was aware of the time passing, and found it more and more difficult to think about this stuff and not to think about what was going on at my cabin. At one point I looked up and saw Chris and Vlada over at the bar. I nodded at them, and Chris looked away, his mouth tight, but Vlada raised her hand in a wave. I waved back, and went back to my letters and contracts, wishing again that I knew how to make up for my behavior with my friends. I thought, once again, that helping Lance was the way to help me, too. If I saved him, everyone would forgive me. Everyone would finally forget what I'd done, and I could start forgetting it, too. 

Giving up, I pushed everything back into my bag, and sadly left the patio. I didn't look back to see if Chris and Vlada were still there, or if they were watching me leave. I had to know if the plan was working. I had to see if Nick really was as good as he said he was, and I found half of me perversely wishing that Howie would reject him. Sure, Nick would be pissed, and I would have to think of something else, but at least we wouldn't be doing this. Hidden in the shadows, I peered into the living room, noticing that Nick had left the blinds open. He'd probably done it on purpose. After all, I'd told him that they needed to get caught, so why bother closing the curtains? 

Howie's chair was facing me, and his arms were flung out, his fingers digging into the sides. His shirt was open, all of the buttons undone and the halves thrown open, and his pants were bunched up down around his ankles. Sweat ran down his chest, darkening the patch of black hair between his well-developed, heaving pecs, and his dark brown nipples were standing up, waiting to be chewed on. Howie's eyes were closed, his head thrown back, and his mouth was hanging open. In front of him, Nick knelt on the floor between Howie's spread legs, one of his hands caressing up and down Howie's strong calf. Nick's head bobbed rapidly in Howie's lap, and I could see Nick's clothes scattered around him on the floor. His other hand was out of sight somewhere below his head, vanishing between Howie's shaking legs, and I realized that I knew what Nick was doing as I watched his upper arm flex. His fingers were working at Howie's ass, and after Howie came, Nick would go right into fucking him. 

I turned away from the window and began to walk, not paying attention to where I was going, just wanting to walk away, and not have to witness any more of what was going on in my bungalow. Hey, at least the plan was working. I sat on the beach, up above the tide line, watching the waves crash in front of me, looking at the stars and the moon. Finally my phone beeped, and I saw a text message from Nick. 

"Lassie Come Home." 

Oh, he was clever. I walked back up to the cottage, and heard the shower running as I stepped inside. The main room had a thick smell of sweat and sex, and I opened the windows before stripping down to my briefs. I ducked into the bathroom as quietly as possible to brush my teeth, and then crawled into bed, curling up and pulling the sheet over me. Nick climbed in soon, and I could tell without looking that he was naked. He touched my shoulder. 

"Hey, Justin, you were right, " Nick whispered. "Howie was fucking tight, just the way I like it. Just the way that you're going to be." 

"Great," I said. "I'm happy for you." 

Nick chuckled, running his fingers up and down my spine. I pulled away from him, and heard him laugh softly again. 

"Don't be like that, Justin, " Nick said. "Lance'll get over it, and if he doesn't, well, maybe the two of us can help him get over Howie. I bet Lance would love being on the bottom, huh? I bet he'd like being in between the two of us, you in one end and me in the other, and then when we finished up we could switch." 

I promised myself that I would never let Nick get anywhere near Lance. 

"Nick, I'm tired," I sighed. "And I have a headache. I'm glad you had a good time with Howie, but please, let's just go to sleep, ok?" 

"OK," Nick said, rolling away from me. "Just remember, Justin, I'm only doing this for you." 

If you didn't know him, you might think Nick meant that he was doing a favor for a friend, that he was doing this to help me, but I knew better. When Nick said he was doing this for me, he meant it literally. Nick was already counting the minutes until he got to fuck me, and as I lay in the bed next to him, listening to him sigh contentedly before he settled in to sleep, I realized that I was completely repulsed by him. Nick was utterly without morals, or guilt, or any of the other things that made us human, and I didn't want him anywhere near me. 

 

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