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Chapter Thirty-Four

LAIKEN

It’s not easy getting brand-new furniture or furniture specific to a space on an island.

It typically takes weeks to months for an order to get in, depending on where you purchase it from.

Kala is between Hawaii and the South Pacific as our two closest bodies of land, which means our furniture comes primarily from Mexico.

Being an island chain itself, Hawaii has the same challenges we do.

There are some local options, but not enough to go around. If I were handier, I could probably whip up some basic furniture, however by the time I fuck around and ruin a whole bunch of wood, it’d cost me about the same just to purchase it from overseas.

Weeks ago, once I emptied my spare room for painting, I knew I wanted to do something different, so I sold everything. Which hadn’t been much. The room had always been sparse. I think I only kept the bed because Lie would spend the night as a kid. And then later, he and Cash would spend the night.

I close my eyes, remembering the last time they did.

I can still hear their laughter echoing off the walls as I peeked in to find them sitting cross-legged on the bed with their heads huddled together.

A smile touches my lips. That was in high school.

Right before graduation. The last time anyone ever used this room.

Opening my eyes again, the room is now surrounded by boxes. Very large boxes of furniture. I’m still not entirely sure I know what I want this room to be in the long run, but I no longer want it as a spare bedroom.

I’m not a huge reader, despite loving to write.

I think it’s because the stories I want to read aren’t the ones I can find.

I’m fascinated by King Arthur, his knights, chivalry, and that era in time.

But I don’t want a retelling of the same stories.

I don’t want a modern retelling or modern embodiment of their spirits.

I want King Arthur and his knights, but I want them gay.

The world is stupidly na?ve if it thought that our greatest heroes, the greatest civilizations, every moment in time, weren’t filled with homosexuality and bisexuality.

Even in nature, every damn animal species readily practices homosexuality.

But it’s not gay people who write histories, and as the memes go, history will say that they were best friends and roommates.

Granted, I’m sure that not all of King Arthur’s knights were gay. But you best bet your chainmail that they crossed some swords off the battlefield. I don’t need history to report it. I don’t need evidence that historians are going to label them as ‘ just good friends .’

However, if I want stories of those periods in time as a reflection of human nature, then I’m going to need to write them myself. And since there are plenty of writers who reimagine King Arthur with all the big-busted ladies, I’m going to reimagine him with lots of big-balled knights.

Someday, maybe I’ll consider publishing some of my gay fairy tales and shit. If that day comes, I’m going to need bookshelves for my books, and this is how I came to the conclusion that I’m going to build a library out of my spare room.

I also commissioned a hand-carved desk worthy of such a library, hoping it’ll inspire me to use an actual office space to write instead of sitting on my couch or at my kitchen counter. I don’t have any actual faith in that idea, but if I have the space, I might at least try it.

Once.

Now that I’m standing here looking at all these boxes, I’m feeling very overwhelmed. Who knew a dozen bookshelves would come in two dozen really big boxes? Where do I even begin?

My gaze catches on Lie’s dick chair that I bought him for his birthday.

Smiling, I push it into the closet to keep it safe.

Hmm. I didn’t make him cover it in cum. We got distracted.

That means we still need to break in this chair.

In the shape of a dick, it just screams needing to be covered in jizz.

Now that my immature entertainment is gone, I spend the next several minutes arranging my boxes so that they lean against the wall where they’ll be.

There’s some open space around the windows that I hope to fill in with maybe a window seat under one and the other, which will be behind the desk, a counter with storage underneath.

It works out in my head to look pretty cool, but we’ll see what happens when it’s all said and done.

I make it through a total of three bookshelves before I need a break. For the next several days! Even with pre-cut pieces that are specifically designed to fit together, this is maddeningly time-consuming.

It’s going to take me a month to get through this.

On a positive note, I’m really happy with how they look all put together.

I opted for a rich, dark cherry color, and it’s stunning.

My thought was to hire Timothy Vaney, the local woodworker, to put some ornamental details over the seams of the bookshelves and along the top.

In the end, this room is going to look totally out of place in my seventies-era, two-bedroom island house.

Like I took something out of a rich Victorian mansion and plopped it in a rundown neighborhood.

It’s going to be beautiful. A perfect place to house my gay romance books.

For now, I need a break. Something to eat. Maybe a nap.

I shut the bedroom door and head into the kitchen. There are leftovers in the fridge that I heat up and eat, leaning against my countertop. Just as I finish, there’s a shout from outside that makes me pause. Probably just a kid.

Even though there’s always drama somewhere on the islands, it’s usually something ridiculous, like who holds custody of newborn kittens. Who has a crush on whom? Did you hear what Sally told Ricky? That kind of thing.

Most drama generally takes place in private and is repeated later in a game of telephone. It’s rare that something actually happens publicly.

So when I hear shouting outside, I’m instantly curious. However, when I recognize the voices shouting, that curiosity changes to a pit of unease in my stomach. I, like many others at this point, rush outside to see what’s going on.

Lie is running down the road toward the docks while Nason yells after him, and Miranda stands in the door looking horrified. The things that are coming out of his mouth make my blood boil.

“What is wrong with you?” I yell, causing Nason to spin around and face me. His face is almost purple with anger. “Do you even hear yourself right now? Not only are you yelling at your son in the fucking streets, but the vomit you’re spewing is disgusting.”

“Go to hell,” Nason says.

“Believe it or not, I’m already living it.”

“I can’t believe I let you around my child. My young, innocent child. Look what you did. This has been your plan all along, hasn’t it?”

I know that engaging with him isn’t going to accomplish anything at all. But with every word he speaks, nails dig into my back, carving down my spine. Making me bleed. Fury bubbles to the surface.

“The only one hurting that young, innocent child right now is you . His father.”

“I’ve never laid a hand on him,” Nason spits. He’s still shouting. Still yelling everything as if he wants an audience to hear him. “How dare you suggest as much!”

“Doesn’t feel good when the tables are turned, does it?” I snap.

“I didn’t seduce your child!”

“No. You’re verbally abusing yours!”

“How fucking dare you!” Nason stomps over to me, and I snap. I lose my fucking shit.

As soon as he’s within range, I haul back and punch him as hard as I can. It’s hard enough that he’s sprawled on his back on the grass. Miranda is screaming.

Nason looks at me in shock. His anger is almost forgotten and gives way to total surprise.

I take several steps away from him before I continue to hit him until he’s feeling the same amount of pain he’s causing Lie.

Miranda crouches beside him, tears running down her face.

There are people in the streets now. Every neighbor within a six-house radius is watching.

“Stay out of our lives, Nason,” I say. “You’ve hurt him enough. It ends now.”

“You can’t—that’s my son!”

“No. Whoever you are, you sure as fuck are not Lie’s father.”

He doesn’t answer. Somehow, maybe I’ve finally gotten through to him. He stares at me, still in surprise, and not moving. I look away, stare down the road in the direction Lie went, before turning back to my house.

As soon as I’m inside, I call Lie’s phone. It rings and rings and goes to voicemail. I try two more times over the next ten minutes. When I continue to get voicemail, I call Cash instead.

“Hey, old man,” Cash greets.

His tone tells me that Lie isn’t there. I ask anyway. “Lie there?”

“No. Why?”

“I’m not sure whether I should be impressed or surprised that it hasn’t reached you yet.”

“Tell me. What happened? Is he okay?” Cash demands.

“He got into a screaming match in the front yard with his father and ran off.”

“You didn’t go after him?” he asks shrilly.

“In hindsight, that should have been my course of action. Instead, I punched Nason in the face.”

Cash is silent. “If I weren’t scared because my best friend is out there somewhere, upset, I’d be screaming in celebration. You called him?”

“Three times. It goes to voicemail.”

“Should I go out and look for him?”

“No, I think we should stay where we are. Chances are good he’ll come here or there, and I want us to be there.”

“Then what do I do?”

I close my eyes. “I think we need to wait.”

“No. I… I’m going to have Onyx look for him.”

My shoulders relax. “That’s a good idea. Thanks.”

“Call me if he gets there. I’ll call you.”

“Thank you, Cash. He’ll be all right. I promise.”

“I know,” he says. “You’re really good for him. I just… I hate that he’s all alone right now when he needs someone to be there.”

I nod. “Me too.”

Over the next hour, I’m in and out of the freezer, grabbing a bag of frozen corn to keep the swelling down in my hand and continue to call Lie. Maybe he doesn’t have his phone on him. Does that mean it’s stuck inside his parents’ house? I think I’d rather buy him a new phone than retrieve it.

Just as I’m getting ready to dial again, my front door opens. I slam the freezer closed and round the corner. “Thank fuck.” Dropping my phone on the counter on my way by, I take Lie into my arms. His face is red, blotchy, and tear-stained. He’s shaking, but he’s unhurt.

There aren’t any words I can say to help him through this right now. So I just hold him to me as tightly as I can.

“Can I stay here?” he whispers.

“Forever,” I answer.

His smile against my skin isn’t entirely happy, but he nods.

“I need you to call Cash and tell him you’re all right.”

Lie winces. “He heard about it, huh?”

“Well, yes,” I say and gently pull his face back to look at him. He blinks at me with eyelashes clumped together with tears. I wipe his cheek with my thumb. “You weren’t answering your phone, and I thought you might have gone there, so I maybe inadvertently sent out an alarm.”

He bows his head. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I was worried. That’s all. You’re allowed to run whenever you need to.”

Lie closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “You saw?”

“No. I came outside in time to see you running down the road and Nason yelling after you like a little bitch.”

He gives me a weak half smile.

“So I punched him.”

Lie’s eyes shoot wide. “You what?” I hold up my hand, and Lie gasps. “Oh my god, Laiken. Did you break it?”

“Unlikely, but possible. I don’t regret it in the least. Especially since it resulted in stopping him from yelling his nasty shit.”

He closes his eyes and leans his head against mine. “How did this get so messed up?” he whispers.

“I think we were both na?ve to think this was ever going to go any other way than this, even if this is far worse than we could have ever predicted,” I tell him, burying my hand in his hair.

My hand stings. My bones ache. There’s a chance I might have, at the very least, fractured a bone or two.

He has a hard-as-fuck head. “There are moments I think we could have done better.”

“Like not doing this at all,” he whispers.

I nod. “Yes. I think that would have been the best idea.” His body sags.

“But that’s not the choice we made. Look at me, Lie.

” His dark, watery eyes open. “I don’t regret a minute with you.

If I had to live that moment over and over again, I’d still choose you every single time, even knowing with every fiber of my being that Nason was not going to approve of this. ”

Tears fill his eyes, making his lip tremble.

“I love you,” I murmur, feeling the way his breaths shake. “I’m sorry we’re constantly being tested by your father. I admit I’ve kind of been waiting for you to decide that you miss your dad enough that you want to stop seeing me, but I’m really glad you’re here.”

Lie swallows. “It never crossed my mind,” he murmurs.

“I think when he caught us kissing on the beach and accused you of seducing me and then refused to listen to us… I think that’s when I realized he was already not the same father he was when I left the house that morning.

Everything about him was different. I no longer recognized him. ”

“I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head. “Me too. You don’t have to pretend like you’re not hurting, too, Laiken. You’ve had him in your life longer than I have. I’m sure this is hard on you.”

I’ve ignored my own pain in favor of comforting Lie for so long that once he acknowledges it, I can’t catch my breath. I close my eyes, feeling the well of sorrow overflow. My chest shakes with an internal sob that I refuse to let out.

Lie hugs me, and just for a moment, we share the grief of losing Nason. His father. My best friend. A gaping hole in both of our hearts that will never be filled again.