Page 115 of Beneath the Stain

Or maybe Trav in shiny armor.

“Not so much when I’m not there,” Trav sighed. “Maybe, maybe if we’re going to do this, you need to come with me on some of these.”

Mackey smiled a little. “Maybe that’s a good idea,” he said, thinking about the wonder of that. Just going with Trav because they didn’t like being apart. Did people do that? Well, they were on the phone together—people must.

“But not for Christmas.”

“Trav, do you really want them meeting me now? I mean… I’m a fucking mess. I’m… I don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up, you get me? It’s bad enough you’re hoping for me, and I don’t want to let you down. And Mom thinks it’s all better. I went to rehab, so it’s obviously just going to all be okay. But… but you know it’s not always. You know it’s one frickin’ day at a time. But you and Blake—you’re like the only ones who get it.” He remembered Blake’s clammy hand in his. “Blake’s coming with us to Tyson, by the way. And Shelia too. ’Cause I know you like making our travel arrangements too.” Mackey hadn’t actuallyaskedBlake to go to Tyson with them, but he just now had decided it had to happen. He’d tell Blake when he let Trav go back to bed.

“Okay, Mackey. I got it. And I get that you’re a little afraid of my parents—”

“That’s not what I said!” Mackey shot back, feeling surly.

“It’s the truth,” Trav said shortly.

Mackey’s turn to sigh. Of course it was. That was why he was being surly. “See?” he said, feeling weak and sad. “That’s why I’m a mess. You can’t take me home to Mom and Dad right now, and your sister the teacher and that saintly brother/doctor/husband/kid thing. God. His wife probably glows and talks to angels. And in the middle of that you’re gonna bringme? I can’t even guarantee I won’t act out just so I don’t have to live up to that shit, you feel me?”

He was babbling, almost tearful, but suddenly the thought of meeting Trav’s parents made him feel small. He’d had to practically rip off his skin to stay sober today—he was nobody to take home to Mommy.

“Sh… I get it, Mackey,” Trav soothed. “I get it. Don’t worry. I’m not taking it personally.” Of course he was, but Mackey was too ragged to interrupt. “And I get that you need me. I swear, I may not have gotten it before—I made the arrangements, booked the ticket, and didn’t even ask you. It didn’t occur to me until you drove away that I probably just ripped apart your world, you know?”

Mackey leaned against the smooth painted wall of the hallway. He saw a flaw in the paint, a tiny one, and started to pick at it with a thumbnail.

“This conversation hurts,” he acknowledged. “Maybe we should keep bantering on text from now on.”

Trav grunted. “Tempting. You have no idea. But maybe we have the painful conversations until they don’t hurt anymore.” He sounded tired.

“Go back to sleep, Trav. You did your good deed. You called me for real, heard my voice. I’m hurting a little, but I’m okay. I love you.” It got easier to say.

“I love you too. Text me before you go to bed.”

“’Kay. I’ll say something dirty.” Mackey laughed softly, thinking about sexting in the middle of the night with his fist on his cock. “Real dirty. Dirty enough to—”

“I’ll use my imagination,” Trav interrupted dryly.

“You do that.” It was probably better that way. Mackey was actually not great at dirty talk. When he and Trav were alone and naked, they didn’t need words and their bodies made the music. “I’ll just think of you.”

“Night.”

“Night.”

Mackey hung up and, for a minute, thought about going up the darkened hallway to his room. But he wasn’t tired, and he didn’t want to be alone.

He wandered back into the living room instead. The twins and Shelia were on the floor-pillows, Kell was taking up the whole love seat, and Blake was in Mackey’s spot on the couch. Mackey—careful of the tattoo Blake had on the upper quadrant of his chest—sat down on him, chuckling a little at his startled “oolf” as he set his feet up on the coffee table.

“Dammit, Mackey!” Blake struggled to sit up, and Mackey let himself be rolled to the other end of the couch, laughing in relief. He could play. God, when was the last time he played?

“Serves you right,” he said smugly. “Next time don’t take my spot.” He sat down on the far end of the couch this time and waved Blake to the opposite end. “Here. You and me can share.”

Blake grunted and laughed too, sitting down like Mackey indicated. They were watchingSleepy Hollow, one of Mackey’s favorite shows—thank God not into reruns yet.

“Blake, you’re coming upstate with us during Christmas, right?” Mackey said it casually, not even looking at him. Blake liked to follow. If Mackey didn’t make a big deal out of it, Blake just might follow them there.

“Yeah, uhm, I guess.”

“Good. Trav’ll make the arrangements. I sorta like us all together—we don’t need to be scattering to the four winds just yet.”

“Hey!”