Dwight’s scowl only increased when Nathaniel came into the room, placing himself between them. Already his chest heaved with adrenaline. Dwight’s bloodshot eyes searched his, breath full of fumes when he spoke. “What are you doing here?”
“Mom said I could have the place for the weekend. And that nobody would be here.”
“I’m here,” Dwight said helpfully.
“I thought you were living with some girl.”
“I dumped her, you little fuck.” Dwight’s tone was bitter. “Mind your own business.”
Nathaniel eyed him. He hadn’t seen his brother since learning they weren’t related. Before he had felt handcuffed to a person who terrified him, unable to escape the bonds of family. Now that illusion had been lifted, and Nathaniel found himself apathetic. Almost. That wasn’t quite accurate because he still wanted to get away from Dwight, but now that felt like a viable option. “Fine,” he said. “We’ll keep to ourselves. Just make sure to sweep up the glass.”
Dwight didn’t budge. “I told you what would happen if you returned.”
Nathaniel sighed. “What’s the point? You hate me. Fine. Before too long, I’ll move away to college and you’ll never see me again. You made my life hell while we were growing up, and last time we saw each other, I got back at you. What’s the point in starting all of this again?”
Dwight strode forward, broken glass crunching beneath his shoes. Then he cocked back his arm and popped Nathaniel in the face. He was drunk enough that his aim was clumsy. His fist hit Nathaniel’s cheek before sliding off. The blow still hurt, but lacked the force to make his head whip back. Nathaniel winced. Then he repeated his words. “What’s the point?”
Dwight lunged again. Nathaniel wasn’t looking for a fight, but he wasn’t going to take a beating. He dodged to one side, Dwight stumbling past him like an inebriated bull. Then he turned around, because of course Dwight was coming back for more, swinging at the air, his teeth bared. Nathaniel walked backward at an angle, avoiding where the glass was, until he felt himself bump up against the kitchen counter. No choice remained. He’d either have to fight or—
Caesar leapt onto Dwight’s back, wrapping one arm around his neck and both legs around his torso. Dwight was built, but he wasn’t particularly tall. Or sober. The added weight had him teetering, arms jerking in a hopeless attempt to elbow Caesar off. Then he lost his balance completely and fell on his back, Caesar taking the impact. Nathaniel winced in sympathy, but his boyfriend rallied quickly. In fact, he seemed more in his element than ever, rolling them both onto their sides and using his free arm to add pressure to the chokehold around Dwight’s neck. Caesar kept squeezing with his legs, effectively trapping his prey. This was wrestling! The real deal! Or more like one pro and one amateur, because at the moment Dwight was nothing more than a spitting, frothing victim. Then he stopped moving completely, his body going limp.
Caesar released him, catching his breath before smiling.
“Thanks,” Nathaniel said. “Uh… Is he dead?”
“He’s fine,” Caesar said, rolling Dwight onto his back. Then he tapped him a few times, as if to rouse him. Dwight didn’t move. Caesar froze, a hand pressed against Dwight’s chest. Then he relaxed. “He’s breathing. I guess he’s not waking up because he’s drunk.”
Nathaniel stared in fascination, not used to seeing Dwight so vulnerable. They could do anything they wanted to him, make sure he was never again a threat, but those thoughts were too dark to entertain seriously. Nathaniel shook his head to clear it. “If he’s going to be all right, we should go.”
Caesar stood. “What about tomorrow?”
Nathaniel nodded to the ground. “What about him?”
“He can find somewhere else to stay,” Caesar said, approaching with a seductive expression. “I’m looking forward to—”
Whatever else he planned to say was lost in a gasp. Caesar’s eyes went wide, as did his mouth. Then he started hopping. The broken glass!
“Shit!” Nathaniel moved to help him. Then he forced himself to be cautious. Most of the mess was off to one side, but he knew how a dropped glass could scatter shards everywhere. He chose his steps carefully. When he reached Caesar, he offered support, moving them toward the kitchen door, away from the glass. And Dwight.
“Help me onto the floor,” Caesar said. Once he was sitting, he grabbed his ankle and pulled his foot close so he could examine it.
Nathaniel did the same, leaning over so he could see. Blood oozed from around something hard and transparent. “That looks bad.”
“Yeah,” Caesar agreed. “Got a first-aid kit?”
Nathaniel hurried to the master bathroom, opening the cabinet beneath the sink and shoving aside cleaning chemicals and rolls of toilet paper to find a small white box. It was nowhere near as fancy as Caesar’s, but he hoped it would be enough. He returned to the kitchen, eying Dwight to make sure he hadn’t moved before handing the kit to Caesar. “Do your stuff.”
He remained on edge, watching Caesar use a pair of plastic tweezers to remove a fat glass shard from his foot, wincing with him in sympathy. Caesar examined the wound, murmuring words that sounded unhappy. Then he wrapped his foot with gauze, the cotton turning red.
“I’m pretty sure I need stitches.”
A trip to the hospital. He knew where that would lead. “You can’t just hold it shut while I put a Band-Aid on it?”
Caesar’s expression was incredulous. “No!”
“Okay,” Nathaniel said. “Do we have time to put on clothes?”
Caesar laughed. “Yeah. I’m not showing up at the emergency room in my underwear.”
The emergency room. Fuck. Nathaniel got dressed, then brought clothes to Caesar and helped him do the same. All the while he grappled with a decision. On the drive to the hospital, he navigated wet roads distractedly and reached the only reasonable conclusion: This wasn’t a secret to be shoved to the far corner of his mind and forgotten. Flipping the switch wouldn’t help. As soon as Caesar was seated and puzzling over clipboard paperwork, Nathaniel pulled out his phone.
“What are you doing?” Caesar asked.
“Calling your dad.”
“Wait! Why?”
“It’ll show up on the insurance. Besides, he has a right to—”
The phone clicked. Then Nathaniel took a deep breath and told Mr. Hubbard where they were and what had happened. Sort of. He explained that Caesar had stepped on glass, but not the circumstances leading up to it. Mr. Hubbard didn’t stay on the phone to ask for details. Instead he said he was on his way and hung up, eager to join them.
“Cover story?” Caesar asked when the phone call had ended.
“People can step on glass just about anywhere,” Nathaniel said.
“I left my tent to take a piss in the middle of the night. That’s why I was barefoot. While looking for somewhere private… The rest is obvious, right? Give a hoot—don’t pollute.”
Nathaniel nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”
He felt guilty about lying to the Hubbards. Doubly so for failing to keep Caesar safe. Both Mr. and Mrs. Hubbard arrived just as Caesar was being called to an examination room. The nurse had put him in a wheelchair so he wouldn’t have to walk. This only made the scene more dramatic. Mrs. Hubbard was distraught as she accompanied her son. Mr. Hubbard stayed behind. As did Nathaniel.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“It was out of your control,” Mr. Hubbard said, settling into one of the plastic seats. Nathaniel sat at his left, but soon wished he had chosen the other side, because Mr. Hubbard was looking at him. Carefully. “You weren’t camping when this happened.”
Nathaniel raised a hand to his face, feeling tender skin where Dwight’s fist had grazed him. He could tell by touch alone that there was swelling.
“I understand,” Mr. Hubbard said.
“You do?” Nathaniel responded.
“Yes. Once it started raining, camping lost its appeal. That tent leaks. I meant to replace it after our last trip. I’m surprised y
ou decided to stay at your parents’ house though.”
“They’re out of town,” Nathaniel admitted.
Mr. Hubbard exhaled. “And returning to our place would have felt like marching home after a humiliating defeat. I can’t blame you for wanting to prolong the adventure.”
Nathaniel swallowed, the taste unpleasant. Mr. Hubbard put far too much faith in him, none of it deserved. “I’m sorry.”
“I feel sorry for you. One night back in your own home and this happens? Your brother, I presume?”
“Yeah.”
“Care to share the details with me?”
“Do I have to?”
Mr. Hubbard frowned. “I’ve tried to respect your privacy, but now it involves my son. I won’t turn a blind eye this time.”
Nathaniel told him the truth, leaving out that they had been sleeping in the same bed. The rest was innocent enough, for such a damning situation.
“I’d like to talk with your parents,” Mr. Hubbard said, his face flushed and features tense. “Not just your mother this time. Your father too.”
“He’s not my father,” Nathaniel murmured.
“I agree with you,” Mr. Hubbard said. “And not just because of what you told me. That you’re not his biological child doesn’t matter. He failed to provide you with a safe environment, he set a bad example, and he is oblivious or willfully ignorant to what happens in his household. That’s no way to raise a child!”
“I wish you were my father.” The words came quickly, Nathaniel feeling their meaning so strongly that he had to rein back on his emotions.
“That’s not impossible,” Mr. Hubbard said, his voice calmer now. “You’re practically a grown man, but everyone should have a safe haven, a family who will love and protect them. Right now we’re both agitated, but if things don’t improve for you… Well, we can talk about it.”
Nathaniel didn’t know how to respond. Mr. Hubbard didn’t seem to need words. He patted Nathaniel on the back. Then they waited together in silence. Conversation would have been preferable, because when left to think, Nathaniel soon lost that warm feeling. Adoption wasn’t a viable solution. Nathaniel still loved his mother, and as much as he wished Mr. Hubbard was his father, that wouldn’t work for one very good reason: Caesar. He couldn’t be his brother, and any love the Hubbards felt for him would dissipate if they were caught. Wouldn’t it? He looked at the man seated next to him, who had been amazingly generous so far, and wondered if his kindness could survive learning the truth.
* * * * *
The lawnmower rumbled, the vibrations coursing along Nathaniel’s arms. He freed one to wipe the sweat from his brow, glancing up at a perfectly blue sky and wishing for one small cloud to block the sun so he could cool off. After crossing the yard back and forth a few more times he stopped, let the engine sputter into silence, and stripped off his shirt.
“Now we’re talking!”
Nathaniel spun around to see Caesar approaching from the house. He reached out a finger, like someone wanting to swipe frosting from a beater to taste it. Or sweat from a bare chest. Nathaniel knocked his hand away, shooting a glance toward the house.
Caesar rolled his eyes. “Nobody’s home. They’re still out shopping. Let’s go.”
“Go where?” Nathaniel asked.
“Anywhere you want!” Caesar said with a lewd grin. “Pick a room.”
“We talked about this,” Nathaniel said with a shake of his head. “No more risks.”
“Awww, come on! It’s been weeks!”
Nathaniel raised an eyebrow. “More like four days. I woke up in the middle of the night to find you sucking my—”
“That doesn’t count.”
“Sure felt like it counted to me! And it went against the rules.”
“Oh, the rules!” Caesar said, waving his hands sarcastically. “Scary! I meant it’s been weeks since… You know.”
Since their pseudo-honeymoon. Nathaniel looked at the house again, feeling a longing before he steeled his resolve. He tossed his sweaty shirt at Caesar, then yanked the ripcord to start the mower again, steadfastly ignoring his boyfriend. Even when he stood in the way, Nathaniel plowed on, forcing Caesar to leap aside. When the grass was thoroughly tamed and the air free from the engine’s growl, Caesar wasted no time in continuing his plea.
“Just think how good it’ll feel. How good it felt the first time.”
Nathaniel worked on removing the canvas bag full of clippings. “Why don’t you go think about it in the bathroom. By yourself.”
Caesar sighed. “I’ve done plenty of that lately, believe me. Besides, I wanted to return the favor.”
Nathaniel glanced up sharply. “Uh. No.”
“Uh. Yes. It’s only fair.”
“That’s not how this works. There are roles.”
Caesar shook his head. “No there aren’t.”
Nathaniel furrowed his brow in confusion. “I thought you liked it.”
“I did, but that’s like visiting London, loving it there, and never going anywhere else. I want to try new things. Visit new places. Paris. Moscow. Vienna.” Caesar grinned. “Bangkok.”
Nathaniel considered him carefully. “You need more from me. Something fresh.”
Caesar shrugged. “Yeah. Exactly.”
“Fine.” Nathaniel thrust his hand into the bag of grass, grabbed a fist full, and pulled it out again.
“Not that kind of fresh!” Caesar said, taking a step back.
Before he could escape, Nathaniel flung the clippings at him, picturing the grass swirling around his head like confetti. Instead the clump hit him square in the face with a wet smack, spreading across his nose before falling to the ground. “Sorry!” Nathaniel said hurriedly. “I thought—”
“You’re sorry?” Caesar said incredulously. “Like that was an accident?”
He came closer, so Nathaniel grabbed another fistful of grass in self-defense. Caesar, with nothing to lose, lunged for the canvas bag to arm himself. Nathaniel pelted him with another clump, this time hitting his shoulder, but Caesar wouldn’t be dissuaded. He thrust both hands into the grass clippings, pulling out two huge bundles.
“Oh, come on!” Nathaniel pleaded. “That’s too much!”
“An eye for an eye,” Caesar said.
“But I’m all sweaty and—”
Nathaniel didn’t need to continue. Grass splattered against his chest and stuck there. He tried wiping it off, but that only spread it around. He looked up, ready to complain, when the next batch hit him in the face. For a moment, all he could see was green. Once he wiped his eyes clean, all he could see was red. He grabbed the entire bag of grass, hoisting it into the air. Then he moved forward.
“No!” Caesar said, hands raised to ward him off. “We’re done!”
“We’re not done,” Nathaniel snarled. “Not by far. After I dump this over your head, I’m going next door and mowing the neighbor’s lawn for more.”
Caesar took off running, Nathaniel giving chase. They zigzagged across the yard, much of the grass spilling out on the way, but Nathaniel still had enough to get revenge. Caesar stumbled and fell, rolling onto his back, eyes wide with terror when he found Nathaniel standing over him. “I’ll do anything!”
Nathaniel’s grin was vicious. “Anything?”
“I swear!”
“So the next time we’re alone. Really alone. Who’s going to be on top?”
“You,” Caesar said instantly.
Nathaniel tilted the bag slightly, a few blades spilling out. “I have your word?”
“Yes!”
Satisfied, he tossed aside the bag and offered his hand. Caesar allowed himself to be pulled to his feet.
“You’ll be on top,” Caesar said. Then with a wicked gleam he added, “Bouncing up and down on my cock.”
Nathaniel shook his head. “You’re hopeless.”
“I know.” Caesar came close, reducing the space between them.
“I’m disgusting,” Nathaniel said, pulling back. r />
“I don’t care. I love you.”
Nathaniel kept his eyes locked with Caesar’s as they wrapped their arms around each other. “Say it again.”
“I love you.” Caesar said this with his head held high, proud of the fact.
Nathaniel swallowed. “If you ever want to get me in the mood, that’s all you’ve got to do. Just keep saying those words.”
“I love you, I love you, I love you.”
“I don’t mean now!” Nathaniel said with a laugh.
Caesar’s eyes were pleading. “Then when? Give me something to look forward to.”
Nathaniel leaned forward and kissed him. “Soon. I promise.”
Caesar squeezed him tight. Then he hopped up and wrapped his legs around Nathaniel’s waist. Nathaniel stumbled forward, but regained his balance. He spun around a few times, then lurched around the yard like a drunk. After one more kiss he fell to his knees and bent forward, lowering Caesar to the ground.
“Let’s go get clean.”
Caesar nodded. “Okay.”
“Let me finish up here. I’ll meet you inside.”
Nathaniel took the bag and patrolled the yard, scooping up some of the bigger piles of grass. Then he put away the mower in the garage. A car was parked there. Nathaniel flinched from it, as if confronted by a bear, but it was only Mrs. Hubbard’s minivan. How long had she been home? His stomach felt queasy as he put on his shirt, closed the garage door, then went to investigate.
The garage led directly to the kitchen. The groceries had been brought in, the counters covered in loaded bags. The kids had already disappeared upstairs, leaving Mrs. Hubbard unpacking food in the kitchen. Caesar was helping. Had they been seen?
Caesar, as if hearing this unspoken question, made sure he wasn’t being watched before shooting Nathaniel an uncertain expression. Mrs. Hubbard continued to place cans and jars in the pantry. Was she a little too focused? Nathaniel rinsed his hands in the sink, and despite feeling too grubby to do so, pitched in.
“That’s great,” Mrs. Hubbard said, noticing him. “Caesar, why don’t you go upstairs and get freshened up?”
Caesar hovered a moment before doing what he was told. Once they were alone, Nathaniel braced himself for confrontation. Or at least a probing question.