Nesting Habits Read online

  Inside, it didn’t look like a barn at all, more like a greenhouse. The roof was even that not-quite-transparent material Phil had seen in pictures, and the air smelled so wonderful it made him a little hungry. Most of the space consisted of waist-high tables covered in all kinds of plants in pots, buckets, and flats. He had never seen so many shades of green in such a small space, and before he realized what he was doing, his camera was out. A shiver ran up his back when he realized the bag still hung at Lee’s side, but then Becca stood in front of them, so he shifted his attention in her direction.

  “That’s a fancy camera, isn’t it?”

  “It’s okay. Th-there are fancier models that d-do more. I like this one.”

  “Your eyes are pretty, Phil.”

  He looked down fast, to change the settings to low light and to take a minute to breathe. “Thanks. S-so are yours.”

  Becca shook her head. “Mine are just brown. Not blue.”

  “Hold s-still a second.” Phil snapped a picture and then turned the view screen so Becca could see it. “Not j-just brown. See? Green and gold too.”

  “You take nice pictures.” Becca moved between the guys again and looked at Phil’s camera. “Can I watch while you take pictures of Mom’s plants?”

  Phil nodded, and Tina thanked him and said to let her know if he had any questions. She walked away down the center aisle and once she was about ten feet from them, Phil shot a series of her walking away, checking on the plants as she went.

  Lee ran a little interference, but Phil was happy with the shots by the time Tina caught up with them and said they should all go inside for lunch. After they finished, Lee suggested Phil come with him to wash up. Becca’s wolf whistle followed them out of the kitchen.

  “Let’s use the upstairs bathroom.” Lee grinned and sprinted up the stairs.

  Phil followed, but Lee went past the bathroom, and Phil found himself in Lee’s bedroom. Lee sat in an old wooden desk chair on wheels—the kind you’d expect to see a teacher use in an old movie—and spun it around. The only place left to sit was the bed, so Phil sat there. It wasn’t a skinny little single bed, maybe twice that size, and it felt like what Phil imagined a feather bed would feel like. He tried not to let himself picture Lee sleeping right where he sat, but it was just about impossible.

  Lee rolled the chair closer and put his feet up on the corner of his bed, legs crossed at the ankles. His thighs strained the fabric of his jeans, showing the outline of his muscles.

  “So what do you think? Pretty dull out here, isn’t it?”

  “No. It’s nice. Jerry would say it’s m-mellow.”

  “We should get going pretty soon.”

  Phil frowned at his lap.

  “You won’t be able to get any good shots with Becca hanging so close. Maybe we can come back sometime while she’s in school.”

  Phil pointed his frown at Lee. “She’s not bothering me. I already got some great shots, and as soon as the light mellows a little, they’ll be even better.”

  “Whoa. Sorry. I wasn’t criticizing your photography skills.”

  “Becca doesn’t bother me. I….” Phil struggled with how to say what he wanted to say, without telling too much. “When I was a kid, I had a friend with Down’s. H-he was a good friend.”

  Phil relaxed when Lee didn’t ask any questions. He wasn’t ready to tell Lee—who’d grown up in such a normal, wholesome place—that he’d bounced around a dozen or so foster homes between the ages of eight and fourteen. And he didn’t see himself ever wanting to admit that his foster brother Donny had been one of his few real friends, the kind who hadn’t ever made him afraid to go to sleep at night.

  “Okay.” Lee sighed and looked toward his window for a quick moment, then the tips of his ears turned pink, and he excused himself to use the bathroom.

  Phil didn’t think it was right to be in Lee’s bedroom and think about the mechanics of what he was doing, so he looked around instead. The walls were papered with posters of musicians wearing outdated haircuts. Some of them played with full bands under colored lights, and some of them posed alone with a guitar. Phil even recognized a couple, so they had to be a decade old, or more. A dusty acoustic guitar sat on a stand in the corner. An old computer keyboard lay abandoned on the simple wood desk, and every other surface was covered with books.

  Classics stacked in piles ten or twelve-high covered Lee’s desk, shiny trade paperbacks crowded the book shelf and bedside table. Phil couldn’t tell what they were by the titles, so he tilted one out to see the cover and gasped out loud. Slowly he pulled the book from the shelf and took a moment to study the two men on the cover. The two hot, shirtless men on the cover. When Lee returned, Phil sat on the edge of the bed reading the back.

  “That’s a good one.” Lee plopped down beside Phil, close but not touching. “Have you read it?”

  Phil shook his head, and for a moment was afraid he wouldn’t be able to speak at all. “I-is this really what I th-think it is?”

  Lee grinned. “Yep. Take it with you. If you want to.”

  “I didn’t know books like this….” Phil noticed his hand shook and rested the book on his leg. “Th-they don’t die in the end?”

  “No. It’s a romance. Nobody dies.” Lee went to the shelf and came back with a different book. “This is my favorite. Take it instead, you’ll like it better.”

  They traded books, and Phil couldn’t tear his eyes from the cover—one of the men had surfer hair like Lee, and the shot made it seem like he was completely naked. “Y-your mom’s okay with this?”

  Lee chuckled. “She gave me my first one. This company only publishes gay romance, and they’re not the only ones—there’s a ton of books out there. Now I read them on my phone, though. Much lighter, and it spares Uncle Lenny having to look at half-naked dudes on our lunch break.”

  “Thanks.”

  All at once Phil was very aware they were sitting on Lee’s bed, alone, on the second floor of his mom’s house. His hands tightened on the book, and he dared a sidelong glance at Lee. Lee wiped his palms on the thighs of his jeans and seemed to be holding his breath. After a few minutes, Lee took a long slow breath, and Phil felt him turn toward him.

  “When does the light get mellow?”

  Phil’s heart did a flip-flop in his chest and then settled down, almost to normal.

  “A-about three. Maybe. It depends on cloud cover.”

  “It’s three thirty. Maybe we should check it out.”

  Phil looked up from the novel, the two gorgeous men not-quite smiling at him from the cover, and into Lee’s eyes. He was pretty sure Lee was thinking about what happened the last time they were alone together. All Phil could do was nod.

  Lee

  LEE’S LIPS still felt swollen and tingly when he pulled into his parking space at the apartment complex. His heart still raced too—it hadn’t taken one normal beat since the second Phil’s lips seared onto his.

  Damn, he gives the word hot a whole new meaning.

  He turned off the engine, leaned back, and closed his eyes. They’d sat in the car—its ass-end sticking out into the street—kissing for a long time. Phil even ran his hot hands over Lee’s chest and shoulders. Lee wanted to do the same but didn’t want to spoil the mood. There was a reason Phil only kissed him with the console between them. After Phil’s reaction when he reached for him at the park, it didn’t seem like a good idea. He was content to follow Phil’s lead but ached to touch him.

  He still felt that tiny ache in his chest the next day when Uncle Lenny called and tossed his plans to see Phil right into the crapper. Lee met Mom, Uncle Lenny, and Becca at the hospital and was finally able to breathe again because Mom was sitting in a wheelchair ready to go home.

  As Lee walked up to them, he wasn’t sure who to hug first. He chose Mom, since she was the one in the wheelchair with one arm in a sling. She seemed to be on some kind of pain meds, her gaze just a little unfocused.

  “I’m sorry.” Becca’s voice wa
s thick and wet, so he hugged her longer.

  “It’s okay, Beck.” He looked to Uncle Lenny, standing behind Mom with both hands on the wheelchair.

  “She’ll be okay.” Uncle Lenny helped Lee get everyone situated in his rust bucket, and said he’d be by later with some groceries.

  “You comfortable, Mom?”

  She let her head fall back and answered with a soft, “M-hmm.”

  Lee eased away from the curb, and Becca started crying in the backseat.

  “It’s okay, Beck. It’s not your fault.”

  “Yes, it is. The ice trays dripped, and I didn’t clean it up good enough, and she slipped on it. I’m sorry, Momma.”

  Lee realized his mother had fallen asleep, so he reached out to Becca. She grabbed his hand with both of hers and pulled him halfway out of his seat. Before he could say anything, she let go and patted his shoulder.

  “Uncle Lenny says you’re going to stay with us and do Momma’s work.”

  “That’s right.” Lee tried not to sound disappointed. He wouldn’t let them down but wasn’t excited about spending more than a few hours at a time in Willston. Even seven miles out was too close for an extended stay.

  “Then I won’t have to miss you every day while Mom’s getting better.”

  UNCLE LENNY brought a load of groceries, but they only lasted so long. A few days later, Lee drove into town to do some shopping at the little market. He wasn’t happy about it, but figured the odds were in his favor that he’d be able to get in and out without stirring up any trouble. He hadn’t even closed his car door before that assumption was blown out of the water.

  “Doofus! What’re you doing, polluting our air with that old piece of shit car?”

  Lee closed the door and turned toward the all-too-familiar voice, and before he had the chance to finish a thought—fuck, both of them—his back hit the car and pain spread across his face from a hard right to the cheek. He should’ve parked on the street, but the urge to hide the car behind the market had been too strong.

  He had nowhere to go, with his back against the car and two large bodies in front of him, so he considered fighting back. He wasn’t the same scrawny kid he’d been in high school, but either one alone would’ve been a problem since they had a good four to six inches on him.

  Kevin, the older brother, grabbed him by the upper arm and pushed Lee back against the car. His face showed a moment’s surprise and hesitation when he gripped Lee’s biceps, but it quickly disappeared when Shawn came toe-to-toe and started talking the same old shit.

  “Thought we told you to stay out of our town, fag. Your perversion isn’t welcome here. This is a family town.”

  Lee was almost disappointed in them, to hear the same thing over and over, as though they didn’t have one iota of imagination between them. He shook his head.

  “You think that’s funny? I’ll show you funny.” Shawn’s fists connected with Lee’s midsection in shotgun fashion, and with Kevin holding his arm he couldn’t block them all. Not even half, really, and by the time Shawn resumed his trash talking, Lee wanted to curl up in a ball on the pavement. “Fucking queer piece of shit. Your old man had the right idea. You should follow his example and—”

  “Stop that, right now!”

  The familiar voice of the woman who’d been their kindergarten teacher froze all three. She was clear on the other side of the parking lot, so Shawn got in another shot to Lee’s face before they both took off. Lee slid to the ground beside his car, crossed his arms on top of his tented knees, and rested his head there while he tried to catch his breath.

  Miss Katie’s shoes stopped in front of him, and she gave him a moment before asking if he was okay.

  Lee lifted his head and saw blood on his arm, and when he looked up at her, Miss Katie handed him a tissue.

  “Thanks, Miss Katie.”

  She smiled and hunkered down beside him, took the tissue back, and dabbed at his face. It hurt, and his face was already starting to swell—he heard that much in his voice.

  “You’re not in kindergarten anymore, honey. Go ahead and call me Kate.”

  Lee wasn’t sure he’d be able to do that—call Kenny’s mom by her first name—but nodded anyway. She was tall, like his mother, but that’s where the outward similarity ended. Miss Katie—Kate—had the brown skin and dark eyes of her Mohawk ancestors who had lived all the way across the country in New York State.

  He shivered; what was he doing thinking like that, like he hadn’t seen her since kindergarten?

  Relief that the situation had come to such a quick end followed, as much for her as himself. She’d broken up many fights over the years and never seemed to think twice before putting herself in the middle of things. He’d feel horrible if she got hurt because of him. She used the rest of her little pack of tissues to clean up his face while he stared across the parking lot and tried to talk himself into shopping there instead of heading over the hill to the real supermarket. This trip had already taken too much time and he had to get back.

  “How’s your mother doing?”

  “Better. Her back seems fine. Only her shoulder is still sore.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. Tell her I said hello?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” That was much easier than Kate.

  “You’re here to do the grocery shopping?”

  Lee nodded and forced himself to look at her. Good manners weren’t something you could put on a shelf just because your face throbbed and it felt like your guts had been run over by a truck.

  “I have a list.”

  “Why don’t you take a seat on the bench and I’ll fill your momma’s list.”

  The bench sat just outside the back door of the market, but he wasn’t about to give in to the desire to collapse there. He wasn’t that pathetic. Lee pulled himself to his feet and leaned against the car for a moment.

  “Thanks, but I can do it.”

  She looked him over carefully, and he pushed off from the car. He wasn’t quite surprised he could stand, but he sure was glad. Kate stuffed the bloody tissues back into the plastic package they’d come from and linked her arm through his.

  “I have some shopping to do too. We can catch up.”

  She ended up doing most of the talking, which was fine with him. Kenny was one of his best friends growing up, and it was nice to hear some stories about his time in college, even if he wouldn’t be coming back from California. Kenny was straight but had a gay uncle or cousin or something and hadn’t cared one way or the other about anyone’s orientation.

  To be fair, most of Willston hadn’t much cared and treated him with the same level of careful avoidance they always had, the kind reserved for folks with crazy relatives and cancer patients. Because nobody wanted to get infected.

  HE’D BEEN ashamed to have the “fight” broken up by his kindergarten teacher, but ashamed didn’t even touch how Lee felt when they left the market and saw his car. “Someone” had spray painted in bright pink glittery paint along both doors on the drivers’ side—faget.

  Why can’t I get angry like a normal person? No, doofus just wants to crawl into a hole.

  Kate wanted him to call the police and file a report, but he just wanted to run home and stash the car in the garage until he could figure out how to get the paint off. Maybe he’d just set the whole mess on fire. Probably not, but it sure sounded good.

  He got some looks while he drove out of town, and he concentrated on those so he wouldn’t have to think about Kate following to make sure he got home safely. Once he cleared town proper, he concentrated on the poor spelling—which only served to make him more embarrassed, as though it were somehow a reflection on him.

  He parked behind the house to unload the groceries. When he opened the garage and found it too full for his car, he sat down on the concrete steps outside the kitchen and curled into a ball. He’d just decided to go ahead and cry a little, since nobody could see anyway, when Becca came and stood in the doorway.

  “What’s th
at on your car, Lee?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Are you okay? You sound sick.”

  “I’m okay.”

  Her foot landed on the step in front of his face, and he pulled back to give her room to come out and not trip over him. Trying to send her back inside wouldn’t do any good.

  “Lee, come inside. Come on.”

  She rested a hand on his shoulder and coaxed him off the step like she would a scared kitten, and she didn’t let up until he sat at the kitchen table. She ran the water in the kitchen sink and then came back with a wet washcloth and dry towel.

  “Do I need to clean up your hands?”

  “No.”

  “You should’ve hit him back.” Becca cupped his chin and turned his face up. Her expression flickered between sad and angry as she gently wiped the blood away. “He’s an asshole and a bad speller.”

  She rinsed everything out and brought a clean towel wrapped around a bag of frozen peas. He winced when she put it against his nose and cheek.

  “Thanks, Becca.”

  “It was Shawn, wasn’t it?”

  “It’s okay, don’t—”

  “You’re a grown-up now, Lee. He doesn’t get to just hit you anytime he wants. The police will tell him.”

  “I’m going to go lie down. Will you help me in the greenhouse later?”

  “Of course I will. I love you, Lee. I’m sorry that asshole is mean to you because of me.”

  She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and squeezed gently. Lee slowly leaned against her. He wanted to tell her—just like he always had—that it didn’t have anything to do with her. But, since sometimes it did, she spotted the lie. And once she’d spotted it, nobody could convince her that sometimes it really wasn’t about her. He hugged her tight, and only realized he was crying when she started petting his hair. She waited the few minutes until he stopped before saying anything else. In truth, he was almost asleep sitting up in the kitchen chair.