“No.” Thekid. It felt strange hearing the small word that had come to mean so much coming from Colton’s lips.
“You sleepin’ okay, old man?” Colton furrowed his brow, taking Hank in with concern.Old man. Yeah, these days he sure felt them. All fifty-nine of them.
“Sure. Why?” He tried to keep the annoyance out of his voice, but Tilly had already put him through the third degree earlier today over lunch, so he was barely hanging on, eager to shut the door behind him to his cabin. To wallow in self-pity, which seemed to have become his favorite pastime these days. That and playing random conversations with Finn repeatedly in his head or burying his face in the pillow Finn had rested his head on at night—the fabric no longer smelling like him but still holding memories of their nights spent together.
“You don’t look so good,” Colton hummed, taking him in, real worry painted across his face. He was probably noticing the puffiness beneath Hank’s eyes from lack of sleep, or the unkept beard that made him look like a yeti. Or perhaps Colton was noticing he’d lost a little weight, food no longer tasting like it used to when he’d cooked for Finn, and they’d teased each other while sitting across from one another in Hank’s small kitchen.
“Whatcha mean?” Hank spoke over his shoulder on his way to get the broom, the guardedness in his voice not escaping him, so he gathered Colton must notice it too.
“You look kinda… I don’t know, man,” Colton exhaled, brushing a hand through his thick hair. “Rough,” he settled on.
“Look, if you’ve got somethin’ to say, then say it. I’m too old for playin’ games, son.”
“Fine,” Colton nodded, a challenging glimmer in his hazel eyes that were the mirror image of Hank’s own, only his had looked dull and red-rimmed this morning when he’d checked his reflection in the bathroom mirror. “You wanna know how you look? I’ll tell ya. You look heartbroken.” Hank stopped in his tracks on the way to get the broom in the corner next to the office door. That wasn’t exactly what he’d expected Colton to say, his nephew not known for talking about things like that.
“I don’t look heartbroken,” he countered. “I just didn’t sleep very well. My back’s acting up again.” As if to stress his lie—because his back was the least of his concerns and not the origin of the ache that inhabited his body 24/7—he rubbed at the bottom of his spine.
“Mmhmm…” Colton raised a brow in disbelief.Don’t bullshit a bullshitter.The same words he’d told Colton in his kitchen when he was at his lowest four years ago were painted across his nephew’s face.
“What?” he spat, reaching for the broom.
“Nothin’. Just…”
“Whatjust?” Hank sighed, pinching his brows, a headache building.
“It’s just… the way you’ve been carrying on today, busting your ass before the holidays… Don’t look like no back problems to me, ol’ man.”
“Well, it is.” Hank tried to keep his voice as neutral as possible, not wanting to start a fight with Colton. He just wanted him to round up this interrogation, or whatever it was, and get home.
“It’s okay to miss him, you know,” Colton hummed, a tenderness in his voice that only ever surfaced when he spoke to or about Henry, or occasionally his dead comrade, Will. Yeah, if anyone knew about loss, it was Colton.
“What’s your point?” Hank sighed, turning around, his gaze connecting with his nephew’s.
“You know it’s okay if you feel somethin’ for someone other than Eugene?”Eugene.He realized with a mix of sadness and acceptance that Eugene had been the last thing on his mind since Finn had left. So far removed from any conscious thought, Eugene had, however, haunted him in his dreams, allowing him little rest. During the day, his mind continued to torture him, all thoughts centering around those persistent, accusing questions: Why on earth hadn’t he told Finn how he felt before he left? And why the hell hadn’t he asked Finn to come back when he was ready? Come back tohim.
“I don’t. Not like that. I just miss him as a friend, s’all.” Funny how the lies tumbled from his lips so effortlessly while his heart screamed at him.Liar. You’re a damn liar, Hank Dietrich.
“Right.” Colton shrugged; the unspoken words speaking volumes.
“What?”
“It’s just…” Colton shook his head like he’d just encountered the greatest conundrum known to man. “How in the ever-loving shit did ya ever think you could let that man into your bed, and he wouldn’t find a way to crawl into your heart, too?”
“I’m not gonna have this conversation with ya, son. It’s none of your goddamn business,” Hank spat.
“Right,” Colton nodded. “Just like it wasn’t any of your goddamn business when I was breakin’ four years ago. Is that really who we are to each other, Uncle?” Colton raised a brow at him. It wasn’t often that Colton called him that, the title a little strange since there were only sixteen years between the two of them. “Is that really the kind of men we are?” There was not a trace of accusation in Colton’s voice, but more of a deep-seated sadness.
“People do it all the time, don’t they?” Hank mumbled, his gaze focusing on a faded oil stain on the concrete floor. “Havecasual sex.” A loud slam tore through the quiet, Colton’s fist connecting with the hood of the Hyundai.
“There was nothin’ casual about the two of you! For Christ’s sake, Hank, you were in a relationship! He was every bit as much a part of your life as Henry is of mine.” Colton’s bottom lip trembled, his shoulders tense. “Besides, you ain’t other people, Hank. You’reyou,” he added, his voice lower.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hank swallowed. He hadn’t expected this…interventionof some sort when he’d walked into the shop this morning. Just a quiet day in companionable silence before the dreaded holidays.
“You know what it means. You’re like Henry. You’re all heart. You’re a caretaker. You need someone to take care of.”
“Yeah, well, he went home, didn’t he?” Hank shrugged, kicking at some invisible dirt on the floor.
“Yeah, so? Why don’t you just go get ‘im then?”
