Bound by Lies (48 page)

It scares Brayden to face his grandmother and Emma Leah, and it makes him feel sad in a profound way that not many people his age get to experience, so he holds Jenner’s hand. And, because when he looks at Jenner, Brayden sees that making love to him has changed their dynamic permanently, he holds Jenner’s hand.

This is what Brayden has. He has Jenner Parrish and he has pride, courage and responsibilities. He has a good man at his side, loving him, and a family that has asked them to dinner. And that’s enough.

Brayden rings the doorbell and, as a figure approaches from within, keeping his own hand fitted inside his partner’s hand is one of the bravest things Brayden has ever done.

The door opens. Ruth smiles at them like she wasn’t entirely sure they would show up. Glancing between them with that same triumphant grin, she seems to let go of a heavy weight that had been pressing her down and says, “Good. Good. Welcome. Both of you.”

She doesn’t say anything about what happened at the Pub. She doesn’t have to. It’s all written on her face and in her eyes, and in Brayden’s eyes too. When his Nana opens her arms to him, Brayden steps forward and gives her a hug.

Hugging him back tightly, she sniffles a little and pats his hair. “Such a good man you’ve become. I’m proud of you.”

Brayden is buoyed by the words and steps back, lighter as well.

“Ms. Clare,” Jenner says in greeting. “Thank you for inviting us.”

“Oh please. We’ve already been through this, haven’t we? It’s Ruth. My goodness.” She beckons to Jenner and draws him in for a hug as well. He’s almost twice the size of her. Brayden smiles to see the sight of Jenner bending almost in half to hug his grandmother. “Come on in. The food’s just getting finished up so you can set the table while Emma helps me get it sorted.”

“Brayden!” Emma squeals happily when she sees him.

“Hey, squirt,” he grins, drawing her in for a one-armed hug as she beams up at him with something akin to relief.

“Nan let me pitch in with making the chicken,” Emma says proudly. “I did the breading and mashed the potatoes.”

“You did a great job, it looks amazing. I’m starving.”

Emma gives Jenner a shy glance.

“Hey, Emma,” he smiles.

“Hi,” she squeaks.

“Go on upstairs to wash up for supper,” Ruth tells her. Emma flies past, running to the stairs. With a chuckle and shake of her head, Ruth directs Brayden to the cupboard with the plates.

They sit down around the kitchen table with the food laid out between them, the aroma of the freshly fried chicken making their mouths water.

“This all looks incredible, Ruth,” Jenner tells her.

“Thank you, Jenner,” she replies. “Top-secret family recipe. I’ll share it with you later.”

Jenner nudges Brayden’s foot under the table. Brayden smiles with sincere, powerful happiness.

“Hey,” Brayden says suddenly. “That’s my scarf!”

Emma pulls the brightly-colored scarf wrapped around her neck up to cover her mouth. Only her big, shining glasses and her mop of golden brown hair stick out the top. “I found it in the laundry room. You can have it back, but only if you give Jenner a kiss,” she giggles.

“Emma Leah,” Ruth gasps in feigned shock.

Jenner puckers up his lips and turns them toward Brayden while keeping his eyes locked on Emma. It makes her giggle even more. After a couple of smooching sounds from Jenner, Brayden gives it up and turns to give Jenner a quick, chaste peck.

“Yay!” Emma squeaks.

“Oh my god. I think it was a bad idea to introduce the two of you,” Brayden groans as Jenner puckers up for another kiss and Emma giggles even more helplessly. She begins to unwind the scarf, since Brayden did what she asked and kissed Jenner. “No, you can keep it,” he tells her. “It looks good on you.”

“Yay,” Emma says with quiet delight from under the ridiculously big scarf wound around and around her tiny neck.

“Yay,” Jenner mimics, making Emma snort with mirth. Brayden smiles.

Once dinner is done and they’re walking back home, Brayden is more genuinely contented than Jenner has ever seen him. That contentment adds a spring to Brayden’s step and lets his cheerful spirit shine out brightly.

The new patterns of his life have been revealed to Brayden. The next morning, he wakes up revived, showers, dresses and cooks breakfast all before Jenner stirs. They go to the gym and burn off pent-up energy. Brayden goes to watch Jenner practice jujitsu with some other men and women, smiling proudly. It goes unspoken but they both realize that today it’s Brayden’s job to be the strong one for Jenner, and be there for him in whatever way that’s needed. That Jenner truly needs him seems to help ground Brayden and give him purpose.

The day flies by. Dinner is scheduled early at the Parrish household. Jenner assures Brayden that he’s fine. Max and Art call to check on them, and Jenner tells them much of the same.

But Brayden seems to detect the jittery undercurrent of panic in Jenner’s every movement and the hard shine of his eyes, as he braces for something truly awful, expecting it. If he expects it, maybe, Jenner thinks, it’ll be easier to survive the pain. Jenner’s strain makes it hard for Brayden to stay positive and maintain his tough exterior. Even though Jenner tries to internalize as much of his trepidation as he can, it’s no use. The two of them are too connected not to sense one another’s unease.

By the time they’re walking up the steps of the front porch at Jenner’s parents’ house, Brayden has become very quiet. There’s an air rich with sadness about him like a dense fog. He seems to shrink in on himself as he smoothes out his white button-down shirt and khakis, and fusses restlessly to keep his hair neatly tied back at the nape of his neck.

It becomes incredibly difficult for Jenner to take those last couple of steps and knock on the door. Maybe it is too much. Maybe it’s not fair to ask this of Brayden so soon.

Jenner hesitates, bringing Brayden to an abrupt halt.

“Come on.” Brayden pulls him by the hand toward the door.

“I don’t know,” Jenner says quietly.

“I do. It’s fine. We’re here aren’t we?”

But it’s not as simple as that. Jenner clenches his jaw and doesn’t move an inch. Glancing up at the house he grew up in, Jenner doubts his ability to risk losing so much after witnessing how much it has hurt Brayden to give up the same thing. Brayden’s parents are gone, and their absence changed him. Their abandonment made every part of his life harder.

Thus far, Jenner has done everything possible to keep his family and friends at safe distances. He’s built walls and kept secrets. When he has let people close after putting them through trials to test their trustworthiness, loyalty and value—like Max and Art—it felt like he was giving them a gift by allowing them the privilege of knowing him, beyond all of the fortifications. The many slaves he’s tried to pair with, and found to be less than satisfactory, failed the tests he laid out for them. It was their loss, in the end. Not Jenner’s.

But witnessing all that Brayden has endured, giving up so much, so freely, and for only the sake of others, has opened Jenner’s eyes. Brayden knows loss. While Jenner has gotten satisfaction out of causing others’ loss, Brayden has had to learn to live through it, to cope with it. He’s been stronger than Jenner ever has, falsely, believed himself to be.

Because, maybe all of this time, Jenner has been the one losing out. In denying others, he has only denied himself possible joy.

Maybe following Brayden’s lead and bravely, openly trusting is the path to true reward.

Laying a hand on Jenner’s chest, over his tattoo, Brayden says, “Hey. I love you. I know it’s hard, but you can do this. Okay?”

Taking a deep breath, Jenner closes his eyes and gives Brayden a soft kiss. Their foreheads touch as he struggles to gather courage, preparing to take steps he never thought he would.

Then, he hears, “You boys coming in sometime tonight or you gonna keep smooching on the porch? Just let me know, so I know whether to wait or go keep the lasagna from burning to a crisp.”

“Oh my god,” Jenner moans with horror. “Ma….”

He stands up straight; stops touching Brayden and backs up a step with a guilty expression like a child caught stealing cookies. With a sideways glance, Brayden grabs Jenner’s hand and purposefully weaves their fingers together.

“If I burn that lasagna, Jenner Parrish, it’s
your
damn fault,” his mother scolds, shaking a finger at him. “In or out. Come on.”

“Bette, it’s good to see you again,” Brayden tries.

“Oh, and you too, Brayden!” she smiles happily. “Do you see what I’ve been dealing with for almost half of my life? Stubborn as a mule, this one. You can pull all you want, but he just ain’t goin’ if he doesn’t want to go.”

Brayden smiles.

“But—” Jenner sputters. “I don’t… I mean, you— You don’t exactly seem
surprised
.”

“You noticed that, huh? Do you think I was born yesterday, child? I am your mother, in case you’ve forgotten. I do know you. My goodness. You still haven’t answered my initial question, you know. I smell that good food going over.”

“Okay, okay. Damn, Ma.”

“It’s about time,” she sighs, holding the door open for them. “Wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to stay out, though. He is a cutie, isn’t he?”

Before Jenner can collect his senses, his mother is kissing Brayden’s cheek, then giving Brayden a squeezing hug before turning to her son and giving him a kiss as well. With that out of the way, Bette turns and jogs back down the hall to the kitchen, leaving them both there, befuddled.

Jenner is utterly speechless and completely confused. For a moment he just stands there, shocked.

When he turns to Brayden to see his reaction, it’s not what Jenner expects. He’s faced with the sight of Brayden, stock-still and heartbroken, and it hurts Jenner deeply. Brayden’s expression is mostly blank but tears slip silently down his cheeks as he tries, somehow, to recover from the sting of bittersweet regret from witnessing Bette Parrish’s love and unquestioning acceptance when Lara Clare isn’t capable of giving her child such comforts.

With a sigh of lament, Jenner gathers Brayden up in his arms. Jenner holds Brayden’s face against his shoulder. The fabric of his shirt gets damp from Brayden’s tears and Jenner feels Brayden’s arms wind around his waist. The grief has him and it’s pulling him under.

“This was a bad idea. I’m sorry, it’s my fault. I should’ve known better,” Jenner apologizes, jolted into action now that he knows Brayden needs him.

“What’s wrong?” Bette asks with shocked concern, reappearing from the kitchen with a dishtowel in her hands. “What happened?!”

“Later, Ma,” Jenner starts.

Embarrassed, Brayden dries his eyes. Bette fetches a box of tissues and brings it over to him.

“Thanks,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry for making a scene.”

“Oh please,” she says, dismissing his concern. “I hope this isn’t because my son hasn’t been treating you as he should.”

“No, Jenner’s been incredible. He’s really done a lot for me.” He looks up at Jenner, and another tear falls. Jenner brushes it away with the pad of his thumb.

“I know what this needs,” Bette says seriously, planting his hands on her hips. “
Wine
. Lots of wine. Excuse me.”

Brayden laughs despite himself and starts to get it together even as Bette’s kind understanding almost makes him fall apart again. One shared look communicates this to Jenner, clearly. Jenner kisses his partner’s forehead and smiles supportively.

“Thought I heard you come in,” Callum Parrish says loudly, strolling into the front hall and popping an appetizer into his mouth.

Jenner tenses instantly, reflexively, after a lifetime of coping with his brother’s every insinuation by putting up walls, not knowing what to say or what to expect after what Callum did for him at the Pub.

“’Bout time you dragged your sorry ass to family dinner,” Callum continues, speaking around his mouthful of food. “Friggin’ slacker. You know, since you told everyone you’re queer, I like you a heck of a lot more. The whole air of pissy defensiveness makes a lot more sense now.”

Jenner can’t even respond. He has no idea what to say. Then, from the next room comes a gruff voice shouting, “It’s unnatural!”

“You shut your mouth, you old fart!” Bette calls angrily from the kitchen.

“Yeah, Pop,” Callum agrees with plenty of volume. “Give it a rest already! Don’t be a jerk. You wanna eat dinner out with the dog or with the adults at the table ’cause you know Ma will kick you out. You’re just sore you won’t get lots of grankiddies.”

Mr. Parrish harrumphs loudly and mutters something about homosexuals taking over the world. Callum flaps a hand in his father’s general direction and shakes his head with pity. “Don’t mind him. It’s Brayden, right? The tan blond?”

While Jenner’s face colors with guilt, Callum, smiling, offers a hand and Brayden shakes it.

“Yeah. It’s Brayden.”

“Cool. I’m Callum. You can call me Cal.”

“Who are you and what have you done with my brother?” Jenner asks.

“Oh, get your head out of your ass. Maybe if you hadn’t been lying to your family for so many years, you wouldn’t be such a miserable bastard all the time, huh? Brayden, come give an opinion on the wine.”