They all watched as Jacks opened the bag and pulled out a set of colored pencils, a sketchpad, and several coloring books. His eyes grew huge, and a smile broke across his face. The hopeful smile on Reed’s face made Carter want to hug him. How thoughtful of Reed to remember him mentioning that Jacks loved drawing; he might have noticed all the drawings on the walls from the other day as well. He squeezed Reed’s arm.
“When I was your age I drew a lot. Especially after my mom left. My dad got me into art therapy, and somewhere I still have those pictures. They weren’t happy, but I could express everything I couldn’t say out loud sometimes.”
Something stirred deep within Carter, rolling through him with such strength he almost felt dizzy. This right here, these people were now his world—the family he’d always craved yet never imagined possible. A shiver rippled through him, and Carter blinked against the stinging wetness in his eyes.
“I like to draw too.” Jacks traced the edge of the box of pencils with a finger. Carter strained to hear his soft voice. “I go to art therapy in school, and my teacher says my pictures are really good.”
“I bet they are. And it helps.” Reed leaned against the wall, his concentration solely on Jacks. “Sometimes you can’t say what you think, but you can draw it, right?”
Carter held his breath, and he felt Helen move closer and hold his arm.
He might not be looking at Reed, yet Carter knew Jacks spoke directly to him. “Yeah. My mom left me ’cause she said she couldn’t deal with me and my problems.” Jacks slanted a look up at Reed, and the hurt and confusion in his eyes almost broke Carter’s heart. “She’d call me stupid and told me to shut up so I did. I guess because I stopped speaking she thought I stopped listening when she complained about me. But I heard everything she said to her boyfriends. It made me feel bad.”
“I get it. My mom was the same, except she said it to my face. When she left, even though I loved her, I thought I hated her too. I was glad she was gone and it was just me and my dad.” Reed pointed to the coloring books. “I used to draw mean pictures until I stopped being angry.”
“Reed’s wonderful with him,” Helen whispered in his ear. “Why was he so worried?”
Carter had no answer but knew it had to do with Reed’s anxiety. The way Reed explained it, the more he tried to reason with himself that he had no cause to be anxious, the more anxious he became. Watching the two of them interact, seeing Reed draw out confessions from Jacks even he hadn’t heard, Carter knew everything would be all right, not only between himself and Reed but with Jacks and Reed as well.
Without another word, Jacks took the pencils and coloring books, walked into the kitchen, and put them on the big island, then returned to them. Carter couldn’t take his eyes off of his little brother, the love for him so deep and strong it was impossible to imagine life without him now.
“Can we go? I want to go paint.”
“Sure, buddy. Let’s go. We’ll walk Helen home too.”
They all put their jackets on, and Carter locked the door behind when they left. Walking in the early spring evening air, Reed stayed behind with Jacks while Carter accompanied Helen to her door.
“I got the chills watching Reed with Jacks. He’s a special man, and you better hold on tight to him.”
He gave her a kiss on the cheek.
“Not a problem. Holding Reed happens to be one of my favorite things to do.”
Impulsively, Helen kissed him back. “I never thought I’d see you this happy. I can’t tell you how thrilled I am. You deserve it, so very much.”
Unable to wipe the smile from his face, Carter waited until Helen went inside, turned on the lights, and locked the door behind her.
Upon rejoining Reed and Jacks, they continued to walk to the painting studio, and Carter listened to their conversation, which had returned to their discussion of their respective mothers. Carter allowed the two of them to walk ahead of him, and he wondered if Reed even understood how monumental it was for Jacks to be opening up so freely to him. Kindred spirits recognized each other, and Jacks naturally gravitated toward Reed, whose confession about his mother’s abandonment sounded uncannily close to Jacks’s own.
“It took me years before I could understand why my mom left. I don’t hate her anymore; you know why?”
“Uh-uh.” Jacks stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Why?”
“I feel sorry for her instead ’cause I know I’m a nice person. And smart. So she missed out on having me as a kid. It was her loss, not mine. Same for you.”
“Me?”
“Yeah. Definitely. Your mom lost out on having both you and Carter. I think you’re both pretty special, and I’m guessing she doesn’t have anyone who could ever replace you guys.”
Carter refused to cry, so it must be those damn allergies that made him sniffle and rub at his eyes. He couldn’t have been a complete shit if someone like Reed said he loved him.
They reached the studio and entered. Long wooden tables with benches took up the rear of the space, and Carter spotted groups of paint pots and brushes at each one. The front of the studio had unpainted pots and figurines, and Carter watched as Jacks allowed Reed to take his coat; then he joined the other kids in picking out what he wanted to paint. Glowing, Reed joined him at the opposite side of the studio.
“I think he’s warming up to me.”
Giving Reed a smirk, Carter skimmed his hand over Reed’s jaw, rubbing the pad of his thumb over Reed’s lips. “I’m always hot for you. I promise to show you later just how much.”
“Idiot.” But Reed smiled as he said it.
