“Gabe has known since he was old enough to understand that he was adopted. It seemed like there was a part of him that felt he needed to work harder to earn or keep our love. He adored his older brother so he wasn’t really competing with Dylan, but there was definitely a force pushing him to be perfect. It got worse when Dylan was killed. Someone actually had the gall to say that we had lost our only son, as if Gabe didn’t count because he wasn’t ours biologically. Al and I never felt that way so we don’t know where the idiot got the notion, but it didn’t matter because Gabe heard what the fool said and took it to heart. It seemed like it validated feelings and fears he’d harbored for years.”
“Wow, some people don’t know when to shut the hell up,” I told Martina. It broke my heart to think of Gabe feeling unloved and unwanted.
Martina chuckled then said, “They sure don’t. Losing Dylan was a terrible heartbreak and I was so far gone in my own grief that I didn’t see how close I came to losing Gabe too.” She brought her hand up and rubbed her throat as she blinked away tears. “He became unruly and stopped caring about life. I don’t know what would’ve happened to him had his football coach not stepped in and helped us. Gabe channeled his emotions into the sport he loved so much and I swear to you it saved his life.”
I decided I’d never complain about watching games with him again. I knew he loved the sport, but I never realized the emotional importance it had in his life.
“Anyway,” Martina waved her hand as if she was pushing the sad memories aside, “his refusal to tell me he doesn’t like mushrooms is an example of Gabe being worried more about pleasing me than himself. I’m glad you told me.” She stood on her tiptoes and kissed me on the cheek.
It wasn’t long before Gabe and Al returned from the garage chatting about cars. Martina and I finished getting brunch put together then we gathered around the table to enjoy the feast. I bit my lip to keep from laughing when Gabe took his fork and tried to secretly poke through his scrambled eggs looking for the offensive mushrooms. Even more funny was the look on Martina’s face as she watched her son.
“Gabriel Allen Wyatt,” Martina said loud enough to make us all jump. “I cannot believe you’ve been picking out the mushrooms all these years. Where the hell did you put them?”
“You told her?” Gabe asked me accusingly, like I told her that he liked to eat ass.
“Don’t you even think about blaming this on Josh,” she said, pointing her fork at him. “Where did you put the mushrooms all these years? They were never on the plate when you were finished.”
“He fed them to the dog when he thought we weren’t looking or hid them in his napkin,” Al said. “What?” he asked when his wife stared at him in shock.
“You knew?” Martina asked Al, who just shrugged.
While his parents exchanged looks, I received one of my own from Gabe. In the grand scheme of things, Gabe not liking mushrooms wasn’t a big deal. His willingness to keep it from his mom for thirty-six years because he wanted to please herwasa big deal. I couldn’t allow Gabe to sacrifice his own happiness just to please me. There would always be a mutually pleasing compromise, such as getting mushrooms on only half of a pizza or getting separate pizzas like we often did. We could use the same logic for whatever difference we had. It wasn’t my way or his way; it was our way. I just needed to make sure he knew it too.
OTHER THAN THE MUSHROOMconfession from Josh, our visit with my parents went even better than I expected. While Josh was giving away my secrets, I spent time with my dad in his garage. He showed me the car he was hoping to buy and the plans he had to restore it if everything fell into place.
“Josh is really different than the other guys you brought home,” Dad said once we finished with the car talk. Two things happened: I felt myself getting defensive over Josh and I regretted that I had ever brought anyone else home to meet them. Josh wasn’t just another guy; he wasthe guy. Dad must’ve sensed that what he said upset me because he was quick to set me straight. “I meant that in a very good way, son.”
My ire turned to curiosity in a flash. “Why?”
“Well, he’s mature in a way the others weren’t, even though I’m guessing he’s younger than you,” Dad said.
“By six-and-a-half years,” I told him.
“He’s one of those who are wise beyond their years, an old soul. I don’t know if it’s his personality or a side effect of life, but it’s there nonetheless.”
“I think it’s a little bit of both,” I told him honestly.
Heart-to-heart talks weren’t something we normally did, but I knew my dad was always there for me if I needed him. I was surprised when my dad said, “He’s comfortable in his own skin and his place in your life. I like that about him the most.”
“Me too,” I agreed. When I first saw Josh, I got the same impression about him being comfortable in his own skin. I realized later, that while it was mostly true, he used that as a shield to hide his deepest, darkest vulnerabilities. I wasn’t arrogant enough to believe that my love for him was enough to excise those hurts completely, but I did see him blossom and grow more confident in other ways once he realized that I wanted him just the way he was.
Josh’s confidence could never be confused with arrogance. He had no idea how much he lit a room up when he entered it, the insane way people were drawn to him, or the tight hold he had on my heart. I wanted him to know that I was his, and his alone. I needed him to know that his happiness enhanced my own. I wanted him to know that I pinned my hopes and dreams on a smart-mouthed, sexy salon owner. I just needed to wait for the right moment to present itself.
“I sense that you’re holding something back,” Dad said. “You and I both know that we don’t always get another chance to tell people the way we feel about them. Sometimes,” my dad’s voice broke, “they walk out that door to get their dad a carton of his favorite ice cream because his throat was hurting and they don’t come back. Gabe, if you love that man half as much as I think you do then you tell him.”
My dad’s words brought back all the grief we felt when Dylan was killed and reminded me that someone made threats against Josh, maybe not so much with words, but the pictures said a lot. I knew that my dad was right and that I had to create the moment and not wait for it to happen on its own because I may never get the chance. I had already planned a nice dinner at the steak and seafood restaurant in the hotel where we were staying so I mentally added a romantic stroll on the beach. What was more perfect than that?
Things were going according to plan too. We got to our hotel room, put up our clothes, and went down to the restaurant where I’d made a reservation. Josh chose the wine, I chose the appetizer, and the evening was off to a great start. Then I looked over Josh’s shoulder and locked eyes with a man I had never hoped to see again.
Jimmy De Soto had been my partner when I made detective. Jimmy D, as he was called, accepted me instantly without a care that I was gay. He took me under his wing and showed me how to be a good detective. Jimmy was someone I had deeply respected and admired during the two years that I worked with him. I had noticed slight changes in his personality after he and his wife of fifteen years divorced, but I thought they were temporary and wouldn’t impact his job. Turned out I was dead wrong.
Jimmy and I worked vice, which I’d never tell Josh or he’d never shut the hell up with the jokes, and the last case we worked together ended in the worst possible way. We arrested a guy during a drug bust who we thought we could flip. Ace was a young, brash, and proud gang member who refused to cooperate. The decision was made to hold him for the forty-eight hours permitted by law in hopes that he’d give us some names for a lighter sentence. Ace was busted with a large cache of drugs on him plus a wad of cash, so he was facing some hard time for dealing. Jimmy was convinced that he could get names if he sweated him out long enough.
Midway through that fateful day, my dad called to let me know that my grandfather suffered a massive heart attack and it didn’t look good for him. Jimmy encouraged me to leave to be with my family and promised that he and another detective from vice would take over the interrogation. Granddad lingered for a few days before he passed away. My mom, dad, and I took turns staying with him around the clock so he wouldn’t be alone.
When I returned to work after the funeral, Jimmy wasn’t the same guy who had patted me on the back and told me he’d be praying for my family. I learned that he and another detective from vice got angry when they couldn’t get the kid to flip so they took him and dropped Ace, who had just turned eighteen years old, off in the middle of a rival gang’s territory. Ace was killed and a gang war ensued.
The two detectives involved said that they didn’t do anything wrong and they dropped Ace off where he told them to, but there were two things wrong with that story. One, they had no business dropping him off anywhere. We didn’t operate a transportation service out of MPD. Second, I heard Jimmy callously say, “He would’ve died anyway.” I hated that kind of ignorance and I was honest when interviewed by IA afterwards. Jimmy was put on paid administrative leave while the case was investigated.
