Owning It (Metropolis #3)(8)

"You have that daddy thing going on. It was leather night. I thought it was a sure deal."

"You didn't tell me it was leather night before I went." If he did, I likely wouldn't have gone. Not that I can't see myself in a pair of leathers, but my first time in a gay bar … I figure I should gradually work myself in.

"You wouldn't have gone if I had. I still don't understand how you didn't get laid at Cockfight on leather night when you look like you do." 

"Drive," I say, and Frankie starts the bus up and does just that. I almost call him on the listening to me thing but I don't. "It was awkward." I felt old. … But Christ, there had been a lot of pretty boys there that night.

"I guess I started you out a little too hard-core."

"Fuck you. Don't act like I couldn't handle it."

Frankie grabs his beanie from the dash and slides it on, covering his dark hair. "That's not what I'm saying, Grumpy Bear."

"I hate it when you call me that."

"Which is why I do. You need someone or something to shake your life up. You have for years. Back to fucking. We both know you're into twinks."

Which is a word I hadn't even known until Frankie.

"I sure as shit know twinks will be into you. You just gotta fucking do it, man. You've been in a relationship all your life. You're free now. Do your thing. Explore. Stick your dick in lots of holes."

It had been an accident that Frankie discovered I was bi. We've been partners for a few years now. He's gay and out and has no problems talking about his adventures. He'd mentioned Grindr one time, so I knew about it. I looked into the app after Zane found out about the divorce and Steph and I started to publicly live like roommates instead of doing it privately, the way we had for years.

I downloaded it but didn't start a profile. Frankie saw and assumed just like Derek did that I was in the closet, or just realizing I was attracted to men, which isn't the case. Like I said, I've always known. Steph knows too. Grudgingly, I told him the truth, and here we are.

"Do you want me to go out with you?" Frankie asks, and I groan.

"No, I do not want you to go out with me. I'm a big boy. I don't need you to hold my hand. This was three weeks ago. Why are we talking about it?"

"Because you still aren't going out? And wow … I didn't see that coming. Grumpy Bear doesn't want to talk."

"Because I have other shit on my mind? And wow … I didn't see that coming. Chatty can't shut up."

"Grumpy and Chatty?" Frankie asks. "Aren't we fucking cute?" He laughs. He's always liked to give me a hard time. Thinks I need to loosen up.

Frankie doesn't give me any more shit for the rest of the day. When my shift ends, I get changed at the fire station before heading over to see Mom, which I do two or three times a week. It's hectic as hell sometimes to fit everything in, but I'm all she has. Zane comes with me sometimes and Steph will come too, but that's more for me than anything else. Things between Mom and Steph were always a little rough.

My gut twists the second I pull up in front of the Cypress Grove Nursing and Rehabilitation Center.

This isn't somewhere I'd ever wanted to see Mom, but after the stroke, we hadn't had much choice. It's a great home. She wouldn't be here if it wasn't, but there's a part of me who feels like I let her down because I can't care for her myself.

You spent your whole life taking care of her, Jackson. Even when she should have been the one taking care of you. Steph's words rattle around in my head, and I know she's right.

With a sigh, I get out of the Jeep and make my way inside.

"How you doing, Mr. Gibbs?" one of the nurses asks.

"Good. How's Mom?"

"She didn't have the best day. She's sleeping now, though."

The fist squeezing my insides gets worse. I let her give me an update and once I realize it's nothing major, I make my way into Mom's room.



       
         
       
        

She's sleeping just as the nurse said she was. I don't want to wake her, so I take a seat in the chair and wait. One of my favorite things about it here is that every room is private. It's more like a home environment than some of the places out there.

I hang around for an hour but she doesn't wake up, so I walk over to her-take in the droop on the left side of her face. Her hair has gone gray and she's thin-so fucking thin. She's not the wild, grab-life-by-the-balls woman I grew up with. The one who could never settle down for anything, even me.

"I gotta go. Love you, Ma." I lean over and kiss her forehead before heading out of the room. I have to make a payment because her insurance doesn't cover everything. If I'd put her in a less expensive home, it would have been less of a financial strain, but her comfort had been more important.