“No, it’s fine,” he said, his voice barely audible. “His mom passed away almost two years ago. Now, it’s just me and him.”
Fuck. “Man, I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine what that must feel like.”
Michael shrugged. “Not your fault. But yeah, it’s rough. I wish he’d known her, but I know that as he gets older his memories of her are going to fade. He was only three when she died, and I can already see him struggling to recall memories when he looks at pictures of them together.”
“Well, then maybe you need to take some time to make sure he doesn’t forget,” I told him, as if it were that simple. “I mean, not like every day, but make sure he understands that he can still talk to you about her.”
“I try, but it’s hard,” he admitted. This was not how I expected the night to go. Yes, I was still attracted to him, but seeing the raw pain on his face, it was easy to push away the thoughts I had no place having anyway. Maybe it was for the best because listening to him talk about his own painful past kept me from wishing he was gay.
“Yeah, I expect it would be,” I responded. God, this was so over my head. I’d never been good at anything dealing with real emotions. That was a big part of my problem before the accident. My mom never taught me how to cope with life, so I didn’t. Not that that excused any of the shit I did, but it was definitely a contributing factor. “But being a parent sometimes means doing shit you don’t want to do. You’re all he’s got left, so you’re going to have to work doubly hard to prove to him that you’re not going anywhere.”
“Yeah, my mom says the same thing,” he grumbled. “Damn, I asked you to stick around, and here I am dumping all of this on you.”
“I did tell you I was here if you needed a friendly ear,” I reminded him. This time I did swing my leg off the couch so I could slide closer to him. “I meant it, too. We may not know one another, but sometimes I think it’s easier to talk to people who don’t have their own opinions about your life. It’s why people talk to bartenders. It’s safe.”
“Man, you’re not from a small town, are you?” Michael laughed, and it was a hearty, rich sound. “A word of advice, don’t say anything around here that you don’t want being public knowledge within a few hours. Especially to the bartenders. There’s not much to do around here other than gossip, so people do it well.”
“I’ll have to remember to not tell you any of my deepest, darkest secrets then,” I teased. Michael’s eyes grew wide and he looked at me as if I’d slapped him. “I’m kidding. Maybe I’m an idiot, but I trust you. So don’t go fucking that up.”
The warning came out as more of a plea than I’d meant. I wanted to trust him. I wanted him to trust me. Even if we’d never be anything more than friends, I wanted at least that much from him.
I wanted to stay on his comfortable couch and get to know him better, but that was a dangerous idea. Every facet of himself that he revealed drew me to him, even though I knew it’d get me nowhere.
“Look, it’s been fun, but I really should be going,” I told him as I pushed myself up off the couch. My hip caught and I had to turn away so he wouldn’t see the pain evident through my tightly drawn face. “It’s been a long day and I need to get some more work done on the house tomorrow.”
“Yeah, I should probably get to bed,” Michael agreed as he followed me to the door. “Thanks for helping me today. I promise, the next time you see us Jagger won’t be in imminent danger.”
“He’s five, you can’t guarantee that,” I joked. I eased my way down the porch stairs and turned back to Michael. “Thanks for dinner. It was nice to not sit at home alone with dinner out of a can.”
“Anytime.”
