“Yeah. Thanks.” It’s stupid, but it’s all I know to say. I tell myself I don’t know what else he’s trying to imply, and the pressure behind my eyes is exhaustion from being out all day for the first time.
Nothing else.
Chapter Thirteen
Micah
He’s laughing. My brother, who had a gun in his hand barely a week ago, is laughing. At a gay fucking movie.
I knew it was a risk putting onThe Birdcage, but he’s been on this super intense kick of doing “normal” things for the past few days. So, I’ve been trying to accommodate him. We cook food and watch TV—he’s never even heard ofLove Island—and go for walks in the evening to stop him getting an embolism from sitting around all day. Also because his jittery energy was really starting to grate my nerves.
It’s all lulled me into a false sense of normalcy, and I decided to push the boat out by making him watch the godfather of all gay movies. Maybe as a test to see how much of his father’s homophobia has seeped into him over the years and how much of it is just surface-deep.
And he’slaughing.
Tadhg is leaning back on the couch, one foot up on the coffee table and a bowl of popcorn in his lap, giggling like a dumbass atthe constant barrage of slapstick slip-and-fall drag jokes on the TV. If it weren’t for all the muscles and the super violent tattoos, you’d never think he’s killed people.
I mean, I don’t actually know that he’s killed people. But I would assume. Not only is it common sense, given his line of work, but the amount of raw anguish he seems to contain goes way past just our childhood trauma.
You’d also never think any of the drama we’ve had for the past couple of weeks had happened, but I’m okay with that.
I’m not naive enough to think it’s going to stay this way. Issues like Tadhg’s don’t just go away, even if he’s doing much better. And Patrick will eventually show up to drag him back to work. We can only drag out the excuse of his “recovery” for so long.
When I saw how proud he was after he got that job the other day… I’d do anything to protect that. He acted like it was no big deal. And it is a shitty job, but still. I like that bar, and I think that crowd will be a good influence on him. I could tell he was pleased with himself, even if he was trying not to show it.
I have no idea how I’m going to pull him out of Patrick’s clutches for good so he can continue to laugh and eat sandwiches and whatever other normal shit he wants to do, but I’m here for it. I’m here for all of it.
I catch Tadhg looking at me out of the corner of my eye. His attention stays on me instead of the screen for a beat too long, then he reaches out to poke me with the foot he has kicked up nonchalantly on the couch beside me.
“Yes?” I have to control my face so I don’t fucking beam at him when I turn to look. He’s just so relaxed. It’s filling my cold, dead little nightshift-worker heart with warmth.
“Do you ever do that?”
“What?” He’s still looking at me, his expression more serious than I was expecting.
“That,” he says, tossing his head in the direction of the TV, where Nathan Lane is in full, glorious drag. Ah.
I give him a smile that I try very hard not to make patronizing.
“No, it’s not really my thing. Besides, I’m absolutely horrendous at makeup. I must have skipped that class at orientation. I nailed the dick-sucking final though, and that’s the important one.”
Tadhg looks at me for a minute, his eyes slightly wide, and I can practically see him trying to work through my answer. I’m a little worried I’ve gone too far but also pissed at myself for worrying about it when I told myself I wasn’t going to make myself smaller or straighter for anyone’s comfort.
But then it doesn’t matter, because a smile breaks out on his face again and he lets out a deep, throaty chuckle.
“Sure, Bambi. You do you, I guess.”
He’s smiling at me like I’m the ridiculous one in this conversation, but I’ll take him thinking I’m kinda silly over him being homophobic any day.
In fact, the whole conversation is so unexpectedly chill, it gives me the confidence to broach a topic I’ve been sitting on for a couple days. I have a friend from nursing school who does travel nursing, so I hardly ever get to see him. But we’ve been on and off fuckbuddies since school, and we normally hook up whenever he’s in town, unless one of us—him, let’s be realistic—is in a relationship.
He’s here now, and I’ve been blowing him off because I was worried about Tadhg. But I would really like to see him if I could manage it without causing problems. Not only is he my friend, but all this drama and stress has me pent up as fuck, and I can think of nothing better than taking it out on Scott.
It’s a shame we’re incompatible romantically because he’s everything I like in bed. Right now that’s all I need though. Justsomething to take the edge off. I’ve had too many life and death experiences in the past two weeks and no fucking orgasms. I’ve even been too stressed to jerk off in the shower, and I think it’s starting to get to me.
“Speaking of sucking dick,” I say, instantly regretting it when Tadhg cuts his gaze back to me with a wary expression. “I’m gonna go on a date tonight. If that’s cool.”
I swear I can see the color drain from Tadhg’s face. I know sometimes it’s a lot different to be accepting of gayness when it’s a concept versus actually in your face, but it’s not like he’s being asked to participate, for fuck’s sake. Or even watch. I’m just stepping out for the evening.
