Older and Wilder: A Steamy Gay MM Romance (3 page)

              Rebecca pushed herself out of his chair and took her husband’s hand.  “I don’t know that you’ve got that all right.  I’ll talk to him later.  Right now I need to talk to you.”

              Mike and Rebecca shared a tense glance, then Rebecca led her husband out though the living room and onto the porch.  The inner door creaked shut behind them and the screen door fell with a bang, sealing Jesse and Derek in the quiet of the kitchen. 

              The hum of the refrigerator and the steady breeze from the air conditioning vent filled the room.                They’d used window box air conditioners when he was small, only converting to a whole house unit after his father had sold his first several horses.  The farmhouse was seventy years old, a warren of additions and repurposed rooms that his family had updated as time and money had allowed.  The old wood stove in the corner hadn’t been lit up in years, but they were still using it when he was ten.  Derek had poured water on it and made the droplets dance to entertain him during a winter power outage.

              Derek followed his glance and said, “It’s over 90 outside.  I don’t think we’ll fire that up tonight.”

              “Are we really making dinner?”

              “Gotta eat,” he said.

              “So what are we making?”

              “Normally I’d go check the garden for what’s ready but I think we might want to give your parents a little space right now.”

              Jesse reluctantly slipped out of his arms and crossed the room to the deep, porcelain sink.  This was original to the kitchen, the stains and one long, dark crack a testament to its long years of service.  The water was cool as he splashed it on his face and then dampened a towel to run down his neck. 

              “Why don’t you go take a shower?” Derek suggested. “I’ll cook.”

              “You sure?”

              Derek nodded, his eyes unreadable as he confirmed the offer and forced a smile.  “Your dad will be in a better mood once you’ve gotten the hay out of your hair.”

***

              The shower hadn’t done much to alleviate Jesse's tension, but at least he looked put together after it.  Derek, meanwhile, had been busy.  Jesse was sick to death of every vegetable in the garden, but Derek had made it all look appealing somehow. He’d cut the carrots and onions into thin ovals, bias cut he called it, and made some sort of salad out of them. The sprinkling of diced herbs and dressing mixed with it gave Jesse hope that at least it would taste a little differently than it usually did.

              Derek stopped chopping greens for a moment to stir a pot on the stove.  It smelled like vinegar and had things floating in it.

              “What is it?” he asked.

              “It will be refrigerator pickles,” he answered. “Your mom likes them.”

              “You sure?  I’ve never seen his make them.”

              “She ate them by the jar when she was pregnant with you and your brother.”

              “And you think reminding them that you were around back before I was born is a good idea?”

              Derek's spoon froze in the middle of a circle around the pot while the slices of cucumbers and onions continued to swirl through the liquid without his help.  “They already think I’m a snake.  Maybe this will make them think I’m at least a thoughtful snake.”              

***

              The mood at dinner swung wildly and Jesse sat back and watched it unfold.  As long as he  stayed quiet, melting into the background and allowing his father to forget what he’d seen earlier, Derek and Mike could slip into their old patterns.  It had always been fun to watch them together.  Derek knew the good stories, all the way back to their first day of kindergarten, and he'd been there for Mike and Rebecca's courtship and wedding. He told the tales they wouldn’t about racing farm equipment and spiking the punch at school dances.  Usually he had stories of his own about his adventures on the road, but he skipped those this time, avoiding anything that brought attention to himself or to Jesse and instead kept the conversation focused on Mike and Rebecca’s plans for the future as parents of a newborn once again.

              The pickles didn't taste like anything special to Jesse, but the gesture brought out something in his mother.  She’d seemed calmer when she'd come in for dinner after talking with his husband, and the pickles further soothed her. 

              “Is this my mother’s recipe?” Rebecca asked.

              “Is any other recipe worth knowing?” Derek answered.

              “You’ll have to write it down for me before you go.  My recipe card got wet years ago and I can’t read it anymore.  I didn't know anyone still had it.”

              “She was a good woman.”

              The table was quiet for a moment, but Mike broke the silence with quiet venom.  “You know who else is a good woman.  Kayla.”

              “She was,” Derek agreed. Despite Mike’s attempted blow, Derek was calm at the mention of his ex-wife.  “Still is, I assume.  I haven’t seen her in years.”

              “She’s divorced again,” Jesse offered.

              Mike took a swig of his beer.  “That’s because she has terrible taste in men.”

              Derek took a drink of his own.  “It’s a rare twenty year old who’s a man instead of a boy.”

              “I was,” Mike countered.

              “I wasn’t,” Derek said.  If the acknowledgment hurt him he didn’t let it show.  It was just a plain truth, a quiet validation of every accusation ever thrown at him.  Maybe he had been a hound chasing any thrill that crossed his path when he was younger, but, at least in his eyes, most men were at that age.  Unsaid but implied was that he’d grown up now. 

              Towards the end of the meal, Rebecca asked, “When are you headed to Colorado, Derek?”

              “I close on the ranch on Monday.  I figure I need to give myself two days for the drive.  If you’ll let me I’d like to stay until Friday.”

              “And then you take off and leave him here?” Mike asked with a nod towards Jesse.

              “I don’t know what happens then.  He’s got choices to make.  Might as well let him make them.”

              Jesse’s breath caught.  Friday? Choices?  Derek had offered their cover story, and he was grateful, but he hadn’t said anything about sustaining it.  Jesse had assumed he’d stay long enough for a truce and then leave after dinner.  They’d pretend to keep in touch for a while and then claim they hadn’t been able to sustain a long distance romance.  And what was this about Colorado and a ranch? 

              Rebecca sipped her water and rubbed her belly, patting her growing child while she stared at the grown one.  “Colorado is a long way away.”

              “I haven’t said anything about Colorado, Mom.”

              “Well, you said a lot about New York before you went and it didn’t work out.  I just worry about you, honey.  This is a big change.”

              “I didn’t say I was going.”  He hadn’t even known it was an option until a minute ago.  In reality, it probably wasn’t.

              “Well,” his mother said, “Your father and I talked earlier and we did figure out that that’s why Derek’s here.  If you’re thinking about running off with him then you need to really consider it before you go.”

              “Mom!”

              His mother held up a hand to silence him. “Derek can stay in your room while he’s here.”

              Jesse’s eyes bugged as he turned to his father then looked away quickly.  Perhaps his mother had lost her mind, but there was no way his father would go along with this.

              “I don’t like it, but better you figure out who he really is now than after you’re a thousand miles from home.” 

              Jesse let his their statements sink in for a minute. Derek could stay in his room for the rest of the week?  That was madness.  Derek was supposed to leave after dinner.  Derek had seen him naked. He’d seen him cry.  Derek was supposed to leave the house after dinner and preferably the planet.  Jesse snuck a glance at him and Derek looked as stunned as he felt.

              Derek caught him staring and shrugged in response.  “I didn’t see that one coming.”

              Jesse's father drained his beer.  “Now you know how I’ve felt all damn day.”  Mike and his wife traded a series of head nods and facial ticks that passed for conversation after so long together, then his father said, “Jesse, can you help your mom with the dishes?  Derek and I need to have a word.”

              “Sure.”  Jesse picked up his plate and stacked the others on top of it, making quick work of clearing the table while his mother carried the serving bowls back to the kitchen.

              “Do I need a drink or boxing gloves for this conversation?” Derek asked. 

              “Grab the bottle and meet me on the porch.”

              In the kitchen, Jesse rinsed the plates quickly, sliding them into place in the dishwasher with practiced movements and trembling hands while his mother packaged the leftovers.  Jesse then went to work on the pots, slamming them into the sink and splashing himself in the process while his mother plucked a leftover pickle from the bowl with a long, silver fork.

              “Derek’s always been a good man underneath it all,” Rebecca said.  “You think he’s gotten the rest of it out of his system?”

              “I don’t want to talk about this, Mom.”

              “Until we caught you two in the barn I was happy for him.  He seemed like he was finally settling down and getting stable.”

              “Are you saying I’m unstable?”

              “He’s a grown man and you’re nineteen and living with your parents after dropping out of college.”

              The words hit like a slap.  They’d told him to come home.  They’d said there was no reason to stay in school and spend a lot of money to be miserable when he could do the same for free on the ranch.  He’d come back because of them, and now his own mother thought he was holding back Derek.  Derek, the man who had been thrown off of horses and bulls for a living for twenty years, was being damaged by his dalliance with Jesse.

              “I need some air,” he said.  he  abandoned the pots, half washed, in the sink, wiped his hands on the appliqued beige towel that hung from the oven door handle, and headed out the kitchen door into the back yard.  He let let the door slam behind him and gulped in a harsh breath of night air.  It was hot and dry, like walking into a furnace, and the flash of fireflies, usually so comforting, was jarring, as if a thousand little bugs were spelling out his mistakes in Morse code.

              Once he had a moment to alone to think, his mother’s suggestion that Derek stay in his room made sense.  It was the same as making him smoke the whole pack of cigarettes when the principal had called and let them know he 'd been caught taking a few puffs with some older kids in the parking lot.  They’d force their foolish child to see what he was building up to and he’d get so sick of it, so sick of Derek, that he’d never want to see him again. 

              Maybe they thought Derek’d be the one who’d be done by the end of the week.  Somehow that was worse.  Well, screw them both.  He could put on a show for a few days and then he’d start really working on a plan to get out of here.  Even just moving into town instead of out here on the ranch would be a step in the right direction.  Would it really be any worse to be bagging groceries during the day instead of pulling weeds and grooming horses?  At least he’d be around people.  Some of them had been decent to him back before he'd left for college.