“I’m sure I will,” Ez says. “But that’s still TBD, because you’re making me hide my eyes like when my stepmom used to watch R-rated movies, just to get pissed off when the ladies took their shirts off. She used to yell at me really bad, like it was my fault the scenes called for nudity.”
“I hate to say it, but the more you talk about your stepmomma, the more she seems like a piece of shit,” I say. “You want me to have someone beat her up? I don’t mind, Ez, honest.”
He pulls away from my neck, staring at me like he’s the heart-eye emoji. “You would have my mother killed, just because I asked you to?”
My eyes bulge, and I shake my head side to side. “I said I’d have someone beat her up. I didn’t say shit about no murder.”
Ez pouts. “That’s just about the meanest thing anyone’s ever done to me. Do you honestly find it acceptable to threaten my stepmother’s life, only to take it back when the going gets tough? It’s hateful, Johnny. It’s like you’re setting me up just to knock me down emotionally. I should fuck your brother just to get back at you.” He shakes his head. “Better yet, I should rail you with my donkey dick again. Make you cry real hard. It’s gonna split you open, stem to sternum.” He licks his pretty, pink lips. “I’ll make you cum so fucking good, Johnny, you don’t even know.”
“You’re never fucking my brother. Ever. As for yourmonster cock, it’s a whopping four fuckin’ inches. And I never offered to kill your fuckin’ stepmomma,” I argue, my voice a little louder than it ought to be. Then it happens. There’s a twinkle in his eye. It’s faint, but it’s there. His lip curls up. “Are you fuckin’ with me right now?”
“Maybe,” he says, kissing my cheek, then holds his arms out for Bubba. Bubba takes him off my back and places him on his hip. “Maybe not. Fuck me later and find out.” He kisses the corner of my mouth, then whispers into my ear, “If you ever demean my monster cock again, I’ll fuck your brother just to prove a point.” He mean-mugs me like I just fucked his best friend or something, but the look doesn’t last long, quickly morphing into a shit-eating grin. “Just kidding. You and Bubba are it for me.” He kisses my cheek. “It seems I’m rather smitten.”
“I don’t know what that word means,” I tell him. “But It sounds like a good thing.”
“It is,” he assures me. “It definitely is.”
My cock twitches, and Bubba’s dick is rising just as steadily. I can’t let Momma wake up and find us this way, so I nod toward the door. “Bubba, take our boy upstairs and get dressed.”
“What about you?” Bubba asks.
“I’m going to grab my coveralls. They’re still in my truck from work.” I normally strip out of them the second we leave the shop, because it’s hot as fuck in there, and our coveralls are like insulation, trapping the warmth inside.
They head inside, and Ezra’s eyes are locked on me as Bubba carries him inside. Jesus. The look he’s giving me is everything. If I could bottle it, I would. If we could mass-produce the level of fondness he’s giving me right now, the world would enter a golden age where nothing bad ever happens, and love is all we know. I know I can’t do that, and part of me is happy, because for as long as he’ll have us, that look—the one that looks an awful lot like love—belongs only to us. The three of us. I wouldn’t want to share it with anyone, and maybe that’s a little bit selfish, but I don’t really give a fuck. What we shared in our bedroom earlier was the best moment of my life. Now I get to experience that every single night. I don’t know if I’ve ever been happier, or if I’ve wanted anything more.
Once they’re inside, I walk to my pickup truck and grab my coveralls. I step into them and pull the zipper halfway up before making my way to Pete’s truck, a few feet away.
Time has been kind to Momma. Her red hair is holding strong, not a single strand of gray in sight. There’s not a stitch of makeup on her face, but she still looks more beautiful than half the ladies on television. Maybe I’m biased, but she’s just as beautiful now as she’s ever been.
I knock my knuckles against the window, and she blinks her eyes slowly a few times until she spots me. “Hey, Momma.”
She presses her hand against the window, and I place mine on the other side. My fingers are a little longer than hers, but other than that, we’re a perfect match.
“Hey, sugar,” she says. I open the door and help her out, and once she’s standing, I pull her in for a bear hug, just the way she likes. Her hold on me remains strong, like she’s scared if one of us lets go, the other will disappear. I’m tired of us constantly disappearing from each other’s lives. Year after year, I lose precious time with them, but by staying away, I get to be with my best friend. My boyfriend, I guess. It’s still weird to think of Bubba as my boyfriend, because he’s the same old Bubba he’s always been. Nothing has changed between us, but somehow, everything has. My life has been flipped upside down, like Will Smith when he went to live with his aunt and uncle on that show. Bubba used to watch it all the time, and my eyes would constantly gravitate toward the guy’s ass. I didn’t understand it then, but I understand it now, the way I can understand so many things now. Hindsight is a son of a bitch.
“Momma. There’s something I need to tell you.”
Her arms fall from around me, so I follow suit, and when she takes a step back, she cocks her head to the side and stares at me the same way she used to when I would lie to her about why my showers lasted so long.
“I’m listening.”
“You remember Bubba, don’t you?”
She stares at me like I’m stupid. “Sugar, you bring him with you every time you come to visit. Of course, I know him. He’s just about the best dang yodeler I’ve ever heard. He can work miracles with that throat of his.”
I swallow. “Yeah. His throat is pretty great.” I don’t tell her the way I know his throat is great, but she doesn’t ask, neither, so I think we’re in the clear. “The thing is—”
She holds a hand up. “Honey, as much as I’d love to hear whatever it is you’re trying to tell me, we’ve been in the truck for hours, and your brother kept giving me these little canned drinks. He called them monsters, but they tasted like battery acid.”
My eyes widen. “How many did you drink?”
She pauses, mentally counting, probably. “Seven.”
“Son of a—Why did you keep drinking them if you thought they taste like battery acid?”
“I didn’t say I didn’t like it, I said that’s what the flavor was. Goodness. It’s like all common sense left you when you left Dunsberry.” She leans in and kisses my forehead. “Gosh, I missed you. Not as much as I miss having an empty bladder, though.” She arches an eyebrow.
I snicker. “We’ve got a bathroom upstairs. I’d say you could use the one downstairs, but that’s the one Dallas uses, and he’s dirty as hell.” I take her hand and walk her toward the cabin, but she stops just shy of the porch. I turn to look back, and she’s got this look of wonder in her eyes.
