Owning It (Metropolis #3)(60)

I can see his expression shifting to concern.

"Don't worry. For the most part, we've been able to afford it with what he saved for retirement, with just a little help from me. He's lucky … well, with that, at least."

"I know what that's like," Jackson says. "Having to be responsible for other people. Feeling that weight. The pressure that comes with it."

I know he's talking about Steph and Zane.

"You can say that again. The money definitely isn't the hardest part. It's like I'm always walking on eggshells around him. I've read so many books and articles about this-talked to so many counselors-so I can make his life easier. There are all these rules. Never argue … never reason … never shame. … Never, never, never. I'm just amazed none of them say never lose your own goddamn mind. Because sometimes it just feels like it's too much."

God, I'm going to start crying again.

"You're doing a good thing being here with him. Not everyone would step up to the plate. He's lucky to have you."

"Someone has to take care of him, and his friend Jen and I are pretty much the only ones left in his life. It's just tricky watching him fade away more and more every day, knowing that one day, it's all going to be over. It's funny; some days he's lucid and clear-minded. Some days, rare days, he remembers Tim is gone. So fucking crazy how the mind works. The doctors say certain random things can trigger the memories, bring them back, if only for a brief period of time. I had this idea in my head that it would be this steady loss of memories until there was nothing, but sometimes it seems like what he remembers is so random. And I mean, I know it's random, but it's just … it's so fucking strange to know some of those memories are still in his head, and he doesn't have access to them. And I know one day I'll be one of those memories."

I turn away from him again because I can feel my eyes watering.

"Hey, hey," he says, grabbing my chin and pulling me back toward him, forcing me to look him in the eyes.

"Sorry. I don't mean to make today the shittiest date ever."

"It's actually a pretty great date, Derek. And it was wonderful getting to meet Randy."

And he doesn't know-can't know-how much him saying that means to me.





25




Jackson


I run my fingers up and down Derek's spine as he sleeps on top of me. Sometimes when I breathe, his hair tickles my face, but every time I try to move, he burrows closer to me. Damn stubborn man. Even in his sleep, he likes to get his way.



       
         
       
        

Not as though I'm any different. Still, I find that in the past month, he's been the one coming out ahead in the getting what you want department … and I like giving it to him.

It's been about four weeks since we made our trip to Cypress Grove to see Randy. There's been a shift in our relationship that neither of us verbalizes, but I'm pretty sure we both feel. I know I do, and I'm not sure how to handle it. He likely doesn't either, which is why we never mention the fact that things have gone farther than fucking, friendship, and our once-a-week dance lessons. We never mention how we sleep in the same bed more nights than we don't, or why we curl up watching old movies together more than we maybe should, and why I randomly picked up food for Charlie-boy the other day because I knew he was almost out.

We've fallen into exactly what neither of us wanted and, from the outside, what most people probably don't really understand. We're so different-Jesus, we're fucking different-but we have things in common that we hide from the world: the way we want to take care of those we love, dealing with sick loved ones, and putting others' needs above our own. People see that with me, even though it's not something I advertise, but I don't think they see it with Derek. It hides behind his quips, sarcasm, confidence, and sex talk.

Those similarities, his kindness, and the way he makes me laugh are the pieces of him that burrow deeper and deeper under my skin to places I never expected anyone to reach, the same way he buries his face in my neck right now.

We are so incredibly fucked because as much as we have in common, there's a shitload stacked against us too. He's a runner. There's no doubt in my mind about that, and I also have a teenage son who's been weighing more and more heavily on my mind lately.

What would he think if he knew his dad was with a man? What would he think if he knew Derek was closer to his age than mine?

I push those thoughts from my head, letting my hands travel down his back and to his ass. I tease the crease with my finger, find his rim and brush against it.