Danny was a very interesting guy, but everything he did made me hyper aware these days. Mainly because I didn’t want him to inadvertently hurt himself worse than he already was. I liked helping him and didn’t see it as a chore. The other part? I was thankful he’d survived, and I didn’t want to miss anything.
I’d mourned our lost years when he’d gone off to college then later, when he decided to live in Chicago after earning his master’s degree. If I could do everything over, I’d have followed him to school. I wasn’t sure if there were many bullies in college, but I could have been of use in the form of providing fun and entertainment between study sessions. We could have gotten our own place together in Chicago. I would have helped with the bills, and it would have been like the old days, just two guys having fun in between him doing his smarty pants stuff. If I’d followed him wherever he’d gone, he wouldn’t be in the condition he was in now. I would have been there to protect him.
My ex-girlfriends had described me as a golden retriever wanting to please everyone around me, and not being able to do so made my entire world unravel. I hadn’t understood what they’d meant until now. As I watched Danny slide the last morsel of his pancakes into his mouth with a quaking hand, I made a silent promise he’d never be alone again. No matter what happened or where he went, I would be there to ensure no one fucked with him, no asshole boyfriends would rob him, no homophobes would bash him.
Golden retrievers were sweet, but they were still dogs with fangs and could rip throats open as well as a pit bull. When you had something to fight for, you didn’t stop fighting until you were dead and when you adopted a puppy, it was for life. Danny had adopted me, hadn’t he? From that day in fifth grade when he’d invited me to sit at his table during lunch period, he’d claimed me as his. I was no longer a lonely little boy with a neglectful father, and he’d gained a guardian for life. He was mine, but I didn’t know how to tell him. I wasn’t sure I understood the possessive urge completely myself.
Danny hummed a sound of supreme pleasure. “Thanks, Ronnie. This hit the spot.”
“Of course.” She winked at me. “And you’re right. The sausage links taste better. How does spaghetti sound for our movie night? Jere, do you have any food preferences?”
“He likes mushrooms in his sauce,” Danny said.
She cocked a manicured brow at him. “Do you always answer his questions?”
His cheeks mottled and he pressed his sticky lips together. I wondered if his lips would taste as sweet as the syrup. “Sorry, old habit.”
“I like mushrooms in my sauce,” I confirmed.
“Mushrooms, check,” she said. “I’ll also make garlic bread and pick up a pie or something for dessert.”
“Sounds good,” Danny muttered. “The next time you go shopping, would you pick me up some ramen? I’ve forgotten what it’s like to live on a college student's wage. My job spoiled me with catered lunches and extravagant dinners.”
Ronnie squeezed his shoulder. “It’s going to be okay, honey. You know you have a soft place to land.”
“I talked to your friend, Sean about getting me a job at the club he works for,” I cut in, figuring this was a good time to approach the financial subject. “I can help with your bills.”
He cocked a dubious brow at me. “Do you realize The Adonis is a gay club?”
“Why should that matter?”
Ronnie cleared her throat and collected our plates. “I like that idea, honestly. We could use a big, beefy man like him to protect us. Sean is great, but he can’t be there twenty-four-seven.”
“He practically is there twenty-four-seven. He lives above the club,” he grumbled, clearly not happy about the idea of me working there.
“Really? I didn’t know that,” Ronnie said with a frown. “In any case, Jere would be a nice addition of eye candy The Adonis could use.”
“There will be salami and meatballs thrown around as opposed to the diet of fish like you’re normally used to,” Danny said to me, looking at his glass of milk as if he were thirsty, but afraid of reaching for it for fear of knocking it over.
“I like salami and meatballs. Never had 'em together, but I’m sure it's delicious.”
Ronnie offered Danny a dubious glance and she covered her laughter.
“Did I miss something?” I asked.
“Never use the words salami and meatballs when talking about anything gay,” she said.
I frowned at her, the joke going over my head, but that happened often.
“He’s always been like this,” he said to her. “It’s kind of cute.”
“Apparently, I can be a bit dense.”
She came around to hug me. “You’re sweet even if you are dense.”
“That was a joke, right?” I teased. I was okay making fun of my dimwittedness.
The two shared a laugh and Danny winced.
