Weight of Silence(17)

“Yep. I’ve also never seen A Christmas Story or It’s a Wonderful Life. Have I been deprived?”

“Definitely. I guess we’ll have to change that, won’t we?”

“Helping me with new experiences now, are we?”

Jace’s eyes went wide, and for a terrible moment Gavin thought he’d said the wrong thing. Then an intense heat replaced the surprise, and Gavin’s cock took an unexpected interest in the conversation.

Home never seemed so far away before.

He and Mama shared the lot rent for a two-bedroom trailer on the outskirts of town, in a wooded area that provided an illusion of privacy from closely situated neighbors. The small dirt drive was barely big enough for his Jeep and his mother’s hatchback—which was not there, because she was working until ten p.m., and he’d never been so glad of that before.

He’d also long ago lost any embarrassment over being twenty-three and still living with his mother. Both could afford to live alone, but Gavin preferred to stay close. The last thing his asshole father said to Mama before he left was, “Try to divorce me and I’ll kill you. Cheat on me, and I’ll kill your kid.”

For ten years they’d lived in peace, but he knew Mama was lonely. Only she didn’t dare date another man or file for divorce. Even from an unknown distance, Kai Hale could still hurt his family.

The trailer wasn’t much, but it was home. Mama kept a beautiful flowerbed in the warm months, but winter left the front yard looking barren and ugly. Gavin had repainted the old siding last summer and replaced the patio awning, and why he was pondering his latest home repairs was a mystery. He’d never cared what his friends thought of his home. Why did Jace’s opinion matter so much?

As he unlocked the front door, Gavin tried to see the trailer as Jace might. The dented, slightly rusty screen door. The clean, but worn brown carpet in the living room. The outdated cabinets in the small kitchen and water stains on the ceiling from a bad leak three years ago. Second-hand furniture tastefully decorated as best as Mama could manage. A twenty-year-old beast of a television attached to their Wii. Everything neat and in its place.

Jace observed the room as he unzipped his coat. Gavin hung both of their jackets on the wooden coat tree behind the door.

“Bienvenido a mi casa,” Gavin said.

“Gracias,” Jace replied with a grin. “Do you speak Spanish at home?”

From someone else, the question might have sounded rude. “Nah. Mama’s parents are still in Mexico, but she immigrated years before I was born. She just wants me to know the language.”

“It’s handy to have in your back pocket. I took four years of Spanish in high school, and I’m still struggling with it.”

“I could tutor you, if you need help. They never put the best dirty words in the textbooks.”

Jace laughed. “I may take you up on that.”

“Good.”

He gazed around the room and his attention landed on the framed picture above the sofa. Gavin’s heart kicked a little when Jace moved closer to study it. The dark frame encased a pencil drawing Gavin had completed his senior year of high school for Mr. Rhodes’s class. They’d been asked to do a portrait of an emotion. Gavin had sketched his mother smiling into the distance and called it Hope. He’d gotten an A. Mama had it framed.

“Who drew this?” Jace asked.

“I did.”

Jace’s eyebrows arched. “Really? It’s incredible.”

“Thanks.” The praise from Jace made his insides a little wobbly.

“I didn’t know you could draw so well.”

“Not many people do. I don’t draw much anymore.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t really concentrate on one subject long enough. It has to interest me in order for me to bother.” So true. He had several sketchbooks hidden under his bed, the pages full of half-started images that he’d lost focus on before he could complete them. Gavin’s mind jumped back to social graces. “So you want something to drink? Eat? We have a platter of cookies from one of the neighbors, and there are these butterscotch oatmeal things that are amazing.”

“No, water’s fine. I had a pretty big lunch a little while ago.”

“Cool.”

Gavin went into the kitchen and pulled two glasses from the cabinet. The tap water was pretty clean, but he’d bought Mama a faucet filter for Christmas last year and she loved it. Said she liked not having to offer guests something straight from the pipe.

He grabbed an empty cereal bar wrapper off the counter and tossed it into the garbage can. That wasn’t like Mama to leave trash around. She prided herself on a tidy house more than he did. He swept a few crumbs into the sink too.