Shadows and Ash: Pulp Friction 2014 Finale Page 15

  “I…I called Josephine and invited her and her two kids for Christmas dinner with the three of us.” Damon tried to smile, but he knew his face was frozen in a scowl of fear, apology, and…anticipation.

  The three of them sat there, Amos and Charlie frozen. Then Charlie turned sideways on the sofa and grabbed Damon’s arm. “What. In. The. Hell? What were you thinking, Damie? That is Amos’s call to make. Of all the—”

  “It’s okay,” Amos broke in, his voice calm and his face…oh god, Damon thought, he looked peaceful and was that…hope? His voice grew stronger. “Charlie, leave the boy alone. He was…Damon, thank you.” Suddenly he was wrapped in strong arms, and he could hear Amos’s rough breath against his neck and something suspiciously wet. Without thinking, he hugged back, then he felt Charlie embrace them both, and he was sandwiched in between his brothers, and the tears he’d hung onto all night were falling, and he felt like maybe he wasn’t such a fuck up after all.

  “You don’t hate me? Aren’t mad at me?” Damon’s voice quavered, no matter how much he tried to hang onto his cool.

  A warm breath huffed against his neck, and Amos sucked in a lungful of air. “No, my young friend. I am not mad. I am…relieved. I’ve been putting this off, and I cannot think of a better Christmas present. Well, other than your brother and you, young Damon. I…I love you and I thank you.”

  “I owe you.” His voice was a whisper, and he didn’t want Charlie to hear him. “You saved my life, and I owe you. I want you to have the best of everything, and Josie, she sounds like…like Charlie. She wants to meet you so bad, and let you meet Jerome and Candace. They want to meet their Uncle Amos, only they call you Tim.”

  “I want to meet her too. She is…you are my brother, young Damon, and now I will have a sister, and a niece and a nephew. How did I get so lucky?”

  “Merry Christmas, Amos. I love you.” Damon didn’t know if he would ever stop crying.

  “Merry Christmas, little brother. I love you too.”

  “And I love you both. Now, let’s let Damon go run to the bathroom so he can wash his face. He hates it when anyone knows he’s been crying, and I see Siggy hovering, so we need to let him know it’s all okay too.” Charlie squeezed hard, then let Amos and Damon go. True to what Charlie said, Damon was embarrassed by the show of emotion, and took the opportunity to jump up and duck his head and run toward the bathroom.

  But not before veering to the right and throwing himself into Siggy’s arms. “He’s okay with it. I was so scared, Siggy, but Amos…he said he loved me and was okay with it.”

  Sig held him tight. “Of course he was, little brother. You did something from your heart. How could he not be okay with it?” They stood there a minute, Damon wondering how he had landed on his feet after the events of the past year, with people who actually cared about him and weren’t pissed off and shouting or wanting him gone. He’d almost been killed, but his brother—and now his adopted brothers and sister, Jilly—thought he was a good person.

  Fucking Christmas miracle was what it was.

  He felt Siggy kiss the top of his head, and Damon really did break for the bathroom for a moment alone and to get his wild emotions under control. As he closed the door and turned on the faucet and splashed cold water against his face, Damon felt his backbone straighten and the beginnings of a smile break out on his face.

  He was loved. He had family. He had a girlfriend. And his brother loved him.

  What more could he ask for?

  Chapter Eighteen

  Scott collapsed on the couch next to Rob and dropped a hand on his lover’s knee. “That was pretty cool,” he said quietly. “I wasn’t sure Damon would pull out of it for a while there. When you add that prick Chip on top of his mother’s attitude…shit, it’s tough enough being a teenager.”

  Robby shifted slightly to face him. “It is. I don’t know if he’s out of the woods yet. Rape is about power. Even adults have a hard time separating experiences of rape with the normal acts of sex. I hope they keep seeing the counselor.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  Rob raised an eyebrow, his dark eyes dancing.

  Scott laughed. “Yeah, I know. Pot meet kettle. Honestly, I promised I’d keep going to the group counseling, and I will. It was…I don’t even know how to describe it.” He turned serious as he tried to explain the gnawing guilt that plagued him every time he thought about telling a group of strangers about his nightmares. These were things he’d never spoken of before—not even to Robby. Finally he sighed. “I feel disloyal—like I’m betraying you if I tell others things I’ve never shared with you… Aren’t we supposed to be partners?”

  Robby looked down and reached for Scott’s hand. Threading their fingers together, he stroked his thumb over the back of Scott’s hand for a minute before he answered.

  “I get that. There’s a totally unreasonable part of me that wants to know why you could share something so personal with a stranger, when you won’t tell me what’s bothering you.” He raised his face to meet Scott’s gaze and a small line formed between his dark brows.

  “Scott, everybody has feelings like that from time to time. The logical part of the brain says it’s probably easier to tell a stranger. There’s no judgment—at least none that matters, because in the long run, your problems don’t affect them, and besides, you won’t have to see them again. But yeah, I admit I wish it could be me that you told.”

  Scott’s stomach plummeted. This was what he’d been afraid of. He’d probably just ruined their first Christmas together.

  Rob bit his lower lip, then looked through his eyelashes at Scott. “You think you fucked this up, right?”

  Blowing out a breath, Scott nodded his head. “Yeah…”

  “Come on, let’s walk outside, I want to tell you a story,” Rob said. “Hey, we’ll be right back,” he called out to the room in general.

  In silence, they stepped into boots and pulled on their parkas, hats, and heavy gloves before venturing outside. “It’s snowing,” Scott said, surprised.

  “The kids will love having a fresh white Christmas. Come on,” Rob said. He led the way across the open area in front of the house, leaving deep footprints in the new fallen snow. Flakes swirled and blew, the wind whistled through the trees, the scent of pine and snow heavy on the frigid air.

  For a minute, Scott wondered just how far they were going, but then Rob turned and headed to the picnic area. He brushed the snow from the surface of the table then climbed up and patted the spot next to him.

  “I never really told you about Karen,” Rob said, his voice barely loud enough to be heard over the wind.

  “Your wife,” Scott said and hoped he kept most of the resentment hidden.

  “We worked together at Golden Gate, but didn’t really know each other.”

  Scott nodded. The GOGA National Recreation Area was huge. Over three hundred employees once you added in the Park Police, and it covered eighty thousand acres.

  “Not too long after I started, there was a weapons incident in the visitor’s center—quickly contained, but since it involved a fellow employee, it required a formal debriefing. That’s where I first met Karen. The debriefing was particularly emotional for her and afterward I took her for coffee. We decided to continue into the free stress counselling that was offered and eventually wound up in group therapy. I was really struggling with depression, Scotty.”

  “You’d been fighting it for years,” Scott remembered.

  “Yeah…I didn’t want to fall back on medication for the rest of my life, so I thought I’d try something different. Looking back, I realize now Karen was in far worse shape than I was, but the experience was addictive for us, I think. That was an area in our lives where we really connected. Outside of work and group, we started to date, and it quickly became serious.

  “The meetings were intense, every person there seemed to have a story to tell, inner demons chasing him, pasts that couldn’t be left where they belonged. It was heady stuff for a wh
ile. We were all involved in protection—law enforcement officers, rangers, an EMT, a couple of firefighters. After your experiences, I realize now that many suffered from PTSD. Karen and I would leave the weekly sessions and talk for hours over coffee, analyzing each person’s story, applying bad pop psychology.

  “I don’t want to do a full post mortem on our relationship, honey. Just know it wasn’t what I have with you. We were younger than we should have been, co-dependent in an unhealthy way, but we loved each other as much as we were capable at the time. I still think most of our dates centered around meetings—Karen wanted to join other group counselling sessions, and we fought when I said no. It had all started to sound the same to me—I was tired of other people’s problems. Not long after, Karen surprised me with news of her pregnancy, despite being on the pill. We married right away.”

  “Did you wonder…” Scott wanted to bite his tongue for the question he’d almost asked. It was small and petty, but some small twisted part of him wanted to hear Robby say he’d been tricked into marriage.

  “Of course I did—hello—trained investigator here. In the long run, it didn’t matter. I thought we loved each other well enough. My upbringing didn’t offer any other choice, as I saw it. Besides…and this is where I wanted to go with my story. There is an insidious little gene I think most men are born with. We want to be somebody’s hero. If we married, I could ease her anxieties, give her that security she craved. I would be the guy she could tell everything to, and together we would fight our way through.

  “We had Sam, and she had a serious bout of postpartum depression. It took a long time to pull her back from that edge—thank god for Betty—Karen’s mom. She took us in, helped to watch the baby, kept me mostly sane. Eventually routine set in, I was back to work, Sam was growing up, and Karen and I mostly co-existed. I was furious when she got pregnant with Kat—we’d agreed to keep using birth control because the risk of postpartum depression was just too high. Throughout her pregnancy and after, Karen attended counselling. I went along a couple of times to the open sessions, and she seemed as if she was flourishing in the meetings. The same old Karen I first met. We went out afterward and analyzed everyone. She seemed good.

  Robby pressed his lips together and stared down at his hands. “Two weeks after the last session I attended with her, Karen jumped from the Golden Gate Bridge. Later I discovered she’d threatened to do just that in group. Goddamn, I wished I could have been the one she’d told. But Scott…even if I was, it wouldn’t have made a difference. She did what she was always going to do.”

  “Oh shit, Robby!” Scott had known she killed herself, but— “Jesus.”

  Robby looked up at him and smiled. There was a hint of sadness in his eyes. “I told this badly. I wanted it all out there between us, but, honey…the point is, as much as I want to be that guy for you—the one you can tell everything to—I can’t be your hero. I can’t fix this PTSD. Despite what happened to Karen, I believe the counseling will do exactly what it’s intended to—help you deal with your nightmares and move forward with your life. The situations are different…and you’re completely different people. So no guilt, no feeling like you should be telling me instead of them. I’ll always be here for you—whatever you need. The group sessions? They take nothing away from our relationship. They’re a fix for a short-term issue—nothing more.”

  Rob stood and pulled Scott to his feet, planted a kiss on the tip of his very frozen nose and gave his hand a tug, dragging him back through the snow at a fast pace. “Come on, honey. I think we’ve left our guests alone with our kids long enough.”

  Relief washed through Scott at Rob’s words. It was exactly what he’d needed to hear. Not just about the counseling, but about Karen. The stories he’d built up in his mind about being a poor substitute because Rob’s true ever-lasting love had been tragically cut short by his wife’s death—it simply wasn’t true. The relief Scott felt was akin to what they’d talked about after his visit to Danny in September.

  “It’s that old what-if game, isn’t it?” he said aloud. “What if I hadn’t been trying to help Danny…what if I hadn’t been burned so badly I nearly died…what if nineteen…”

  Robby jerked him to a stop in front of the lodge. “What if Karen hadn’t killed herself? Yeah, we’re neither one of us ever going to be happy with the tragedies—but we’re not going to feel guilty about it for the rest of our lives, either. We won’t forget our pasts, but we’re here now, and we’ll find comfort in whatever cosmic forces brought us together.”

  Rob leaned forward, as if to kiss him, but jerked to a stop when a snowball exploded against his back. A giggle broke somewhere near their left. Sam.

  Another snowball sailed past to land harmlessly in the drift of snow near the covered walkway. Before either of them had a chance to build their own arsenal, they were surrounded, pelted on all sides by a hail of snowballs. Damon’s head peeked out from behind a holly, followed by three quick—and accurate—missiles. Maddie and Kat shrieked and giggled, their snowballs landing far short of their target didn’t seem to lessen their enjoyment. Teddie, their ninety-pound black Newfoundland started circling them, her snout in the snow, tail wagging. Her bigger brother Bear bounced in place, his front legs stiff, head in the air, barking madly.

  Rob ducked, grabbing fistfuls of snow and fired back, first at Damon, then Sam.

  “Muahahaha…you’re mine…all mine,” he shouted, tossing a soft lob in the direction of the girls.

  Light spilled out from the front of the lodge as others peered out the door, then people pushed outside and the snow really started to fly. He wasn’t sure when things got completely out of hand, but at one point, he could have sworn he saw Rowen with a fistful of snow.

  Surrounded, caught in a snowy version of monkey-in-the-middle with no way out, Scott did the only thing he could think of: he tackled Robby. They landed together in a deep drift, laughing and breathing hard. A snow-encrusted Robby smiled up at him, his dark eyes flashing, smile wide, radiating happiness from every pore. All the breath seemed to leave Scott’s lungs on a whoosh. “I love you, Robby. Always have—always will.”

  After kissing Rob until they were both nearly senseless, Scott helped him to his feet, then whistled sharply, halting the hail of flying snowballs. “Okay everyone, Papa Scott says it’s time to head back inside.”

  “Papa Scott?” Rob asked as they herded the kids toward the door and they all trooped to the front entrance.

  Scott nodded. “I have kids now, you know…”

  “Yes, you do. After you, Papa Scott.” He gestured toward the door, and Scott grinned all the way in.

  “Well, that was fun,” Mick said as he shook the snow from his parka.

  Scott nodded and watched as Damon, in the role of the Pied Piper, led the children from the room for the promised round of video games. He turned to find Rob right next to him, his gaze fixed on the backs of the retreating children, a soft smile hovering on his sculpted lips. Scott snaked an arm around Rob’s waist and pulled him close. This was how Christmas…and families should always be.

  ***

  “Look.”

  Finn stopped stirring the mulled cider he’d brought over in a Crock-pot and turned to see Cannon standing at the wide front window of the lounge. He paused a moment to appreciate the slender figure, the relaxed pose.

  Through the window, snow flew through the air, exploding into puffs of soft white glitter. Smiling, Finn replaced the lid on the Crock-pot and crossed the room to his lover’s side. He nudged Cannon with his elbow, a gentle bump, and the man instantly slipped his arm around Finn’s waist, leaning into him.

  “They look so happy,” Cannon murmured.

  “Shouldn’t they be?” Finn glanced down at his lover’s dark head.

  “Two dead bodies? Just a few hours apart?” Cannon shuddered. “I’d think there’d be some angst, you know?”

  Sighing, Finn tugged Cannon even closer. “A decade ago there was a book…”


  “I might have known there was. There’s always a book at the heart of your morality, isn’t there?”

  “Not that kind of book.” Finn scowled in mock anger. “It was one of those self-help books. Bad Things Happen to Good People or something.”

  “Oh right. I think the psychologist at the hospital used to recommend that to grieving family members.”

  “Well, I know I don’t have to tell you this, but sometimes, bad things happen to bad people. And good people don’t have to let it ruin their holidays.”

  “That’s not… What do you think happened?”

  “I think justice happened. Or Karma…or whatever. I think that Carl, and Watson, got exactly what they deserved. I wish they hadn’t chosen to involve Mountain Shadows, but I can’t be sorry that it’s all over and our home is secure again.” He pressed his lips together to prevent any more from coming out.

  “I’m not going to mourn two people I never actually met.” Cannon pointed outside. “That right there makes me glad for karmic justice. Smiles look good on those kids.”

  Silence fell between them, comfortable and cushioning.

  “Did you call the boys?” Finn finally asked, turning in time to catch a glimpse of naked longing on Cannon’s face. He’d enjoyed meeting Craig at Thanksgiving. The young man had proven to be very literate, with all his father’s geeky charm, and none of his suave sophistication. All the inbred superiority that Cannon had been raised with had somehow skipped a generation, and his son was a lively, bespectacled menace on a Scrabble board. The three of them had stayed up late playing every night of the Thanksgiving visit, and to Finn’s surprise, Craig had emailed him a link to a social media site and an invitation to keep playing once he’d returned to college.

  The expression vanished, replaced by an exuberant grin that made his blue eyes sparkle. “I didn’t have to. Craig called me last night to thank me for the Christmas gift I sent, and Seth called this morning. Drunk, but not belligerent. I’ll take it.”