“Okay.” His mom seemed nervous. Mac felt bad that they’d spent two long days packing up the whole house, while also attending the funeral. They must’ve been exhausted.
They all walked upstairs. Mac’s dad gave a nod of acknowledgement from up in the attic.
“You were at the funeral yesterday, right?” Mac’s mom asked Gideon.
“Yeah. Is this the room?” He pointed to Mac’s door.
“Wait,” his mom called out, but Gideon did no such thing.
He opened the door. Mac’s room was packed-up. Nothing hung on the walls. Nothing sat on his desk. It was so bare, like a hospital room.
“We didn’t know when you were coming back, so we went ahead and did your room,” his mom said. “But you can look through. How long are you staying before you go back to school?”
Mac was upset, but understood. He knew time was precious, and he appreciated the help. It seemed like his mom was trying extra hard to be nice, like maybe she felt bad about two days ago with the keychain.
“You had no right to do this,” Gideon said before Mac could open his mouth. He was in full Pitbull mode. “Mac told you he would be back.”
Mac’s dad stepped in. He wasn’t as tall as Gideon, which diminished his intimidation strategy. “We didn’t know when that would be, and we can only be in this house until the end of the month.”
“He said he would be back, and here we are. You should’vebelievedhim. But I know that’s not really your forte.”
“I don’t follow,” his dad said.
“You seem to have this tradition of not believing your son, taking the word of a douchebag preacher over him, and basically leaving him out to dry.”
“I don’t think you know what you’re talking about,” his dad practically growled.
It was like watching a car accident in slow motion. Mac wanted to yell at somebody to hit the brakes, but his voice was out of commission. All he could do was watch.
“You couldn’t wait to clean out her house and go through her stuff the second she died. Are you planning to sell those assets? Some of them are Mac’s, which he purchased with his own money.”
Mac’s parents traded confused glances. It was weird, but even though he was angry with them, he felt like they were being disrespected, and it stung someplace deep within him.
“You really should stay out of this. It’s a family matter.”
“Don’t you talk to me about family matters, Mr. Daly,” Gideon shot back. His ears were tinged red with fury. “Family is just people you can kick to the curb whenever you want, right? Your son gets the shit beat out of him, and you don’t do a goddamned thing to stand up for him. You just cozy up to the pastor. What? To save face, and your store? To avoid the whispers at church? Then you send him away. You don’t try to get any type of justice against his attackers. Is that what family is to you? Not like it matters now.” Gideon held Mac’s hand in a blatant sign of defiance.
Mac hated what he saw. His mother looked down, and his father could barely hold on to his stoic expression. Gideon landed direct hits, but why didn’t it make Mac feel better?
“And yeah, I’m his boyfriend, or something like that. I mean, we haven’t really DTR’d yet, but at least somebody in this house cares about what happens to your son.” Gideon’s glare could slice through stone.
Mac’s parents stared at him speechless. His dad barreled down the stairs, and seconds later, Mac jumped when the front door slammed.
“Mac, is that what you think?” His mom asked him. “That we don’t care?”
He couldn’t answer. His body had completely shut down.
The front door clicked shut quietly for her exit, but hurt just as much. Gideon seemed a little shaken by the drama, but he held Mac’s hands and kissed him.
“I’m sorry I didn’t get to see your childhood bedroom all put together.”
Mac nodded, his voice still paralyzed. He stayed quiet for the rest of the afternoon while they packed up odds and ends in his room and checked to see if anything in the boxes could be brought back to Browerton. He couldn’t even appreciate that Gideon had just called him his boyfriend.
CHAPTER twenty-four
Gideon
On the bus ride home the next day, Gideon’s hands were all over Mac, in a loving way. Massaging his shoulder, rubbing his leg. He didn’t care how they looked. He was emboldened with a need to help the man he cared about.
