Nothing but Smoke (Fire and Rain) (15 page)

But Nicky refused to do this halfway. He couldn’t come home tonight and see things his mom might still want.

“We can sort through it when we get to the center.”

Michael was curiously silent as he packed, especially considering he always had an opinion about everything.

“What?” Nicky couldn’t keep the anger out of his voice.

“You want me to come with you to drop her off?” Michael’s expression was unreadable, though his eyes had darkened.

“Well, no…” Nicky didn’t know why he’d assumed Michael would come with him. Maybe in his depression he’d reached for the one delusion that might make this day bearable. Hell, if he really thought about it, Nicky had hoped Michael would drive. With how hard his hands were shaking, Nicky wasn’t sure he was safe to be behind the wheel. “I mean, yeah…I can see why you wouldn’t want to.”

He opened his mom’s closet.

Michael came up behind him. “You didn’t ask me.” There was a testiness in Michael’s voice to rival Nicky’s own. “I’m not saying I won’t come. But…I feel like I’m walking on eggshells. What’s the issue?”

The annoyance that had been simmering since Nicky had overheard the phone call boiled over. “I heard what you told your friend.”

“Yeah? I told him what I needed to tell him to get him to take my shift at work.” Michael reached out, touching Nicky’s arm. The way he squeezed and then caressed reminded Nicky so much of his mother and the way she’d always hinted that her love for him was dependent on Nicky towing the line.

He hated that he was thinking bad things about her. Nicky had no right to think ill of his mother. But at that moment, Michael was epitomizing everything wrong in Nicky’s world. Michael was going along with the lies Nicky had told all his life, and maybe it made Nicky a hypocrite, but he hated Michael for it. “You told him I was a friend of yours. Like, just some guy you knew.”

Michael tugged Nicky to get him to turn. “In case you haven’t noticed, we told your mom the same thing last night. And this morning too. I figured that’s the story we’re telling and I may as well be consistent.” Michael lifted his chin.

“That’s different and you know it.” Nicky scowled, aiming every last bit of his anger at Michael whether he deserved it or not. “You’re all out and proud, with your friends and your job where no one cares if you’re…the way you are.”

“Nice.” Michael pursed his lips, his gaze growing more distant by the second. “You can’t even say it out loud.”

“Like hell I can’t.” Nicky pushed Michael in the chest. Fuck him, he’d been crowding Nicky anyway. “I’m gay, you’re gay. We’re clearly together. You slept in my bed last night. And now, what, because I need you, we’re suddenly just friends again?”

He wished his anger would stick around, shielding Nicky from what he’d admitted. Maybe Michael hadn’t felt anything last night, hadn’t felt the shift in the air between them. “Listen, it’s too much. You don’t have to—”

“Jeez. I wanted to help.” Michael tossed his hands in the air. “But God, this is a lot, okay?” There was a crazed look in Michael’s eyes, a manic gleam when he ran his hands through his hair. “And I like you, but…”

Nicky wanted to jump in then, cut Michael off before Michael said something scary that Nicky couldn’t handle hearing.

“If we’re going to be on the down low with some people, I can’t be open about what’s going on with other people.” There was a quick frown on his face, some echo of a thought that Nicky couldn’t have guessed.

“Oh.” Nicky could imagine it would be easier for Michael to tell everyone the same story. Still, Nicky had wished like hell he could have heard Michael say something that made the two of them seem solid. Maybe not a commitment beyond a casual “yeah, we’re seeing each other,” but with everything shifting around Nicky like sand, Nicky would have given a lot to have one thing, one connection, that felt permanent. “Yeah, I get that. I guess.”

Now he felt like an idiot for getting pissed.

“Are you okay?” Michael’s eyes were so blue. Nicky thought the color was called cornflower, though he was pretty sure he’d never actually seen a cornflower in his life. And Michael was helping him even though he didn’t have to. God, Nicky could never repay him.

“Yeah.” Nicky rubbed his face. He was losing his goddamn mind. “I’m… Well, I shouldn’t have gotten pissed. I’m just being…”

Michael landed a hand on Nicky’s shoulder. A manly pat and a grip on his skin, but nothing Nicky could read. “You’re being like a guy going through something really difficult. I get it, okay?”

Nicky nodded, feeling like a complete douche.

“But I dated a guy once—he was in the closet—and it really messed me up.” Michael’s eyes begged him to understand. Even through the swirl of ideas going through Nicky’s head, Nicky tried to see Michael’s point of view. He was risking something too. “Maybe it sounds stupid, but…” Michael shook his head, rubbing a hand along his jaw. “I just need to protect myself.”

“Oh.” Nicky swallowed against the panic building in his muscles. He turned away so Michael wouldn’t see his eyes. “Well, yeah. Okay.”

“Don’t be like that.” Michael touched his arm.

Nicky flinched, throwing him off. “What in the hell do you care?”

“I care because I’m trying to be a friend.” Michael’s voice rose, but he didn’t try to touch Nicky again. In fact, he backed up and started packing. “I think you need one today.”

Maybe Michael was right and Nicky was too messed up to be getting serious about any relationship. But fuck, Nicky didn’t want to be friends. He wanted Michael to be where he was, feeling the same pain. Really being with Nicky through all of this.

Funny, but a few weeks ago Nicky would have loved a friends with benefits just like Michael, but today he was starting to understand why gay guys felt the need to come out. If no one ever saw that you were a couple, maybe you could never feel like you were.

Kind of like why people got married. They proclaimed their love in front of all the people who mattered to them, and that’s what made it real.

“Whatever.” Nicky tossed a few knickknacks Michael’s direction, though he tried to be more selective about which ones went in the boxes.

“C’mon, Nicky…” Michael stood with a statue of St. Peter in one hand and a garbage bag in the other. “Don’t be like that. I really like you. Can’t we just…chill for a while? While you sort everything out?”

“Fine.” Nicky buried his feelings, trying to be grateful that Michael was doing this much—hanging in there to help when he didn’t have to. When the day was over and they’d gotten Nicky’s mom off and settled, then Nicky could figure out if he was annoyed enough to tell Michael to take his well-meaning, do-gooder crap and shove it up his ass.

“How about we put the stuff you don’t want to take over here for the time being?” Michael moved a pile of books that had been stacked in the corner into the closet next to the shoe rack.

“Fine.” Nicky didn’t hide the sigh in his voice. If Nicky weren’t such a mess, he’d have told Michael to stop bossing him around, but as it was he just handed Michael some spare books and pictures his mom had on her bookshelf.

Michael pulled the Christ painting off the wall. “Take or leave?”

Nicky swallowed, surprised that Michael had lifted the thing off the hook without asking permission. To Nicky, that picture seemed like such a permanent fixture. He’d have thought they’d need a crowbar to pry it loose.

“We should ask about that one.” Nicky looked away from the image of Christ’s face before he could think on it too hard. “Not sure it’ll fit, but I bet my mom wants it.”

“You want me to go down?” Michael held it by the wire, backing out of the box-filled room. The hesitance etched between his eyebrows showed he felt as unsettled about things as Nicky was.

“Yeah. That would be great.” Nicky kept his eyes on his work. “Thanks.” Now that a few of the surfaces were clear of stuff, Nicky had an easier time folding and sorting. He shuffled some of the smaller items into the corner so he could get off his mother’s sheets and bedspread.

When he was done, Nicky went to the door, feeling lighter. They were getting there. Finishing the job. Maybe Michael was right and the best thing was for Nicky to power through this and figure out what was between him and Michael later. It had only been a few weeks and a few dates. And Michael liked him. Nicky was overreacting, wanting everything decided between them all at once.

“Hey,” he called downstairs, trying to convey with his casual tone that he hoped Michael wasn’t mad at him. “Can you grab me some boxes when you come back up?”

There was no answer, so Nicky went into the hallway and then jogged down the stairs. Light poured in the window on the front door, making the house seem brighter than it had in a long time. Things didn’t seem so bad. Michael was here, and they were sleeping together. If that wasn’t dating, then Nicky didn’t know what was.

“So.” Nicky rounded into the living room. “What did you decide about the painting?” His eyes had landed on Michael, and Nicky grinned ear to ear to look at the guy. Michael was his friend. With benefits. Nicky was lucky to have that.

“Not sure yet.” Michael frowned, his gaze darting to the side.

Nicky panned across the room, his attention landing on Father MacKenzie, who was sitting in his usual armchair.

“Good morning, Nicolas.” No one had called Nicky that since he was a kid, and then only when he was in trouble.

“Father.” Nicky ducked his head in a quick nod of acknowledgment.

Nicky’s mom smiled at Father MacKenzie, a faraway expression on her face, like she was happy to have so many people taking care of her. Too bad there was a squint of suspicion in Father MacKenzie’s eyes.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your
friend
?” Maybe Nicky imagined the way Father MacKenzie seemed to emphasize the word, but Nicky was pretty sure he heard right.

As grateful as he’d been to the priest for coming around to care for his mother, Nicky wished Father MacKenzie could keep his sly glances to himself.

“This is Michael. Michael Larson.”

“Nice to meet you, Michael. You and Nicky must be quite close for you to be helping out Nicky like this.”

There was no doubt in Nicky’s mind that Michael had caught the innuendo. Michael lifted his chin, sticking his nose in the air high enough that Nicky could practically see right up it.

Michael wasn’t to blame for wearing a shirt that was too tight or pants that fit his ass like a second skin. Those were Nicky’s clothes. But the hand on Michael’s hip, his impeccable grooming, heck the way he smirked at the priest in a way that was a direct challenge and more than a little sexual…Michael’s gayness was written all over him. He might be willing to lie and claim to be Nicky’s
just-a-friend
, but Michael would never, ever lie about being gay. Not to suit Father MacKenzie, not to make Nicky’s life easier.

Nicky envied Michael so much right then, maybe even loved him for that bravery. At the same time, Nicky wished Michael didn’t have to be so selfish.

“Well, Nicky seemed like he needed all the help he could get.” Michael held up the Jesus painting so that Jesus’s brown flowing locks were a contrast to Michael’s reddish-blond scruff. “So…” He turned his attention to Nicky’s mom, his gaze softening instantly. “Do you want us to bring this? Or would you rather keep it here for safekeeping?”

Nicky couldn’t have come up with a better, more beautiful way to ask. His mother blinked at the painting, like maybe she didn’t even remember it. “Oh, that?” It had been hanging behind her bed for years, and she acted like she’d never seen it before. “Yes, my grandfather brought it over with him when he came to this country. Nicky should keep it here.”

Michael lowered the painting, and not sparing a look Father MacKenzie’s direction, disappeared past the stairs and into the kitchen.

Nicky readied to follow him, but Father MacKenzie pushed out of his chair. “Nicolas, may I have a word?”

“Yeah, just…” He wished he could follow Michael, say something to tell him it was okay. Fuck, he wished he could go throw himself at Michael’s feet and beg him not to leave. No matter what their relationship was or wasn’t, he couldn’t stand for Michael to storm off angry. But years of Catholic school kicked in, and all Nicky could say was, “Yes, Father.”

Nicky went into the front hallway and stared at the floor, waiting for whatever telling off he was going to get.

“Nicky, you know I’ve been impressed by how well you’ve been doing here, taking care of your mother like you have.”

“I know.” Nicky just wanted this over with. Whatever was going to be said, he needed it done with so he could get to Michael before he had time to fume.

“And you know your mother loves you.”

Nicky snapped his head up so he could glare at the priest. Whatever Father MacKenzie said about Nicky was fine. He’d cope with it. But if the father said a word, one fucking word, about Nicky’s mom, things might come to blows. “And I love her.”

“I know you do.” The priest must have aimed for a smile, but it came out toothy and wrong. “But just because she’s in a weakened state doesn’t make it okay to start flaunting your lifestyle.”

The words dug in, settled in that place that was raw and open and hurting. His lifestyle. Whatever in the name of God that meant. Nicky was twenty-nine years old and by all reasonable estimations a virgin. He’d never had anyone. Not a girlfriend, not a boyfriend. No one but him and his mom. And now she was leaving him. All he had was this beginning of something with Michael. He was supposed to give it up? Why?