Skyler sighs and takes another sip of his drink. “I had the necessities.”
I scoff. “Barely.”
“Jackson.”Skyler hits me with an exasperated look, not appreciating my commentary.
I sigh and slide my hand over his, giving it a squeeze. “Sorry, I’ll zip it.”
“Look, I’m not trying to defend my parents—they were assholes who got accidentally pregnant, decided not to have an abortion, and then made no effort to hide just how much they regretted that particular decision while I was growing up. They preferred to pretend I didn’t exist, and when they were forced to deal with me for whatever reason they didn’t hesitate to remind me what a pain in the ass I was. In legal terms it would be called emotional neglect.” He pauses for a moment to take another sip of his drink before continuing, “But that was the extent of it. I mean, yeah, food was…unpredictable, but it wasn’t as though they were hoarding it all for themselves and making me go without, it was because there just wasn’t money for groceries that week.”
“What about…you know, food stamps and stuff?” Deacon asks.
Skyler’s head tilts in my direction, his mouth tugging up at the corners as wry nostalgia flickers in his eyes. “Steph was the expert on SNAP. They have these classes about making the most of your food budget and Steph went to all of them—multiple times. Then she used the food stamps for things like growing vegetables, baking her own bread, and making jams. I swear, she could write a book full of all her tips and tricks—it’d probably be pretty popular these days as well,” he adds thoughtfully.
I nod in agreement. “She does love when she can use the words “budget” and “stretch” in the same sentence.”
Deacon lets out a soft huff of amusement before turning a more serious expression on Skyler. “But I’m guessing your folks weren’t quite so…innovative?”
Skyler nods regretfully. “You would be right.” He draws in a breath and lets it out in a loud puff. “Look, the thing you need to get is that they don’t make it easy for people to get assistance—of any kind. Whether it’s food assistance or healthcare or disability…whatever it might be, you’re going to have to go through hoop after hoop, and it can take months—or sometimesyears—before you see any of the benefit. And when you’re struggling just to keep a roof over your head and pay final notice bills and shit like that, taking the time to fill out a bunch of forms and get all your documents together and go for government interviews just really doesn’t seem worth it.”
Deacon’s brow furrows. “You sound like you’re…I don’t know…letting them off the hook?”
I send Deacon a sharp look because I don’t like the hint of judgement in that question. But Skyler just scoffs. “Deacon, what I just said then was completely generic and could apply to thousands of people—probably more. Do you know how many people I met during my internship at Legal Aid in those exact circumstances? Although a lot of them actually had it worse, because there was often spousal abuse involved.”
Deacon’s brows shoot up. “Isn’t…um…that stuff you told me earlier considered spousal abuse?”
Skyler’s forehead creases. “You mean the angry sex?” He shrugs, grimacing slightly in obvious discomfort. “Well, it definitely wasn’t healthy, and it sure as hell didn’t foster a safe, positive environment for a child to grow up in. But no, I wouldn’t call it abuse. I certainly never interpreted it that way.” He huffs out a sigh and takes another drink. “I unfortunately bore witness tofartoo many examples of this behavior growing up, and as far as I could tell it was all consensual and there was no obvious power imbalance. They were just assholes who got off at screaming at each other.”
“Have you seen them—”
“Fuck, no,” Skyler declares before Deacon even has the full sentence out. “I haven’t seen or spoken to either of them since I left that shithole the day after high school graduation.”
“So…when we first met in freshman year and you told me you’d just spent the whole summer working at a Mexican restaurant…was that true?”
Skyler chuckles. “Hell, yeah. Three months of bussing tables—”
“—and singing happy birthday,” I add with a grin.
“Only because I was the only staff member who could pull of a glittery pink sombrero,” he says with a carefree wave.
“Please tell me you have pictures,” Deacon says with a grin.
I let out a soft laugh. “I think I might have a video somewhere. Or Drew might. He had his birthday about four times that summer.”
Skyler’s eyes light up. “Ooh, forget about the video of me, get some of Drew! That was back in his college swimming days when he was all super-ripped and didn’t have any tattoos or piercings.” Skyler’s expression turns wistful. “It’s a shame he didn’t know he was gay back then, we could have had some fun.”
“Ah-hem.”
At my pointed cough, Skyler flashes me a teasing grin. “You’re adorable when you’re pretending to be jealous.”
I quirk a brow at him. “I’m pretending?”
Lifting a hand to run gently over my scalp, he leans in to murmur in my ear, “Uh huh. I know you’re not actually jealous because you know I wasn’t remotely serious.” He presses a soft kiss to my ear and adds, “We both know I’m yours forever, babe.”
A slow smile spreads over my face as a familiar warm glow fills me from the inside out. Okay, maybe I was posturing a little for Deacon’s benefit. But Skyler’s right; it’s not necessary—even with some kinks still left to figure out, we both know where we stand in this.
I check the timer on my phone and glance up at Deacon, who’s watching us with a fond smile. “Fifteen minutes left. Anything else you want to know?”
Deacon’s expression morphs into a hesitant frown as he nods. “Yeah, just one more. You said that Steph was like your real parent?” he asks Skyler, who nods. “But I don’t get…” he sighs, shaking his head. “Look, I get you’re point that it wasn’t as bad as what some kids go through, but you were still seriously neglected. So why didn’t Steph ever contact CPS?”
