Page 9 of Let Leaves Lay Where They Fall

Mabel reaches the top step of the three stories, snorting and heaving for air but smiling ear to ear with tongue wagging. He wraps his arms around her and hugs her tightly. “Let’s go eat.” Her head tilts and she burst through the door before it’s fully open, trotting straight for her bowl.

Nathan fills it and peels off the hoodie. Damp black waves clinging to his chest. He tosses it onto the messy bed, passing on trek to the bathroom. His shorts hit the floor just before the door.

The tiny bathroom has everything it needs. A toilet and sink, one tall shelving tower and a shower basin with lemon yellow tiles climbing the walls on two sides. A white curtain wraps around to keep the water inside, mostly.

The shower takes a minute to warm up. Nathan brushes his teeth in the mirror and inspects his torso. He’s proud of the thickness he’s developed. Pizza, burgers, and some moderate weight training here and there. He doesn’t aspire to be muscular; his body is naturally solid and cardio is definitely not his thing. He loves having a round belly and tree trunk legs. It makes him feel strong, like the sort of person who’d protect the skinny kid he was all those years being teased as “crack baby” in school. A boy he thought was a friend had branded him the title after confiding his life’s tale during an intimate moment in a tree house the boy didn't want anyone to find out about.

Stepping from the shower, a cloud of steam vapor whirls out around him. Mabel is sitting in the doorway waiting for him to finish.

He wraps a towel around his waist and bends down to kiss her forehead. Those big brown eyes gazing up at him melt his heart. She’s his world and he is hers.

They don’t need men in their lives while they have each other. Nathan isn’t interested in building up a relationship knowing they will eventually crumble down around him. He doesn’t stay in one place long enough to make the investment worth it. Men are fun in the heat of a moment but too heavy on the heart in the end.

Chapter 6

Truffle

Jamie can’t sleep. Tossing and turning. This Dave guy has cast some sort of spell.

Why the block? If it was so “fucking hot”? What happened? Maybe Dave was a closet case just getting his rocks off? But the way they kissed when parting ways? It was “so fucking hot.” Those were his words. Why are men so fucking confusing?

He sits up in his bed. The room is barely lit by dawn. The golden glow bounces off bright white walls, illuminating the space.

Andrew is already stirring in the hall, shutting himself into the bathroom. The shower fires up.

Jamie slips into a pair of gray sweatpants and an oversized tee. He ruffles his hair, then arranges it in his reflection from the mirror across the room. He heads out to the kitchen and starts the coffee brewing. Arms crossed over his chest and staring out the window while it drips.

It’s been 4 years since the last boyfriend. Evan, the nightmare. They had met 2 years prior, at a backyard barbecue. Evan was charming and flirty. Targeting Jamie, the minute he entered the gate. Exchanging coy glances across the yard before strolling over to introduce himself and clinging at his side the rest of the evening.

Glossy brown hair cropped around the sides and back but long enough on top to sweep over his forehead. The sprayed down flap, waving in the wind, exposing deep recessions it meant to hide. Chunky rim glasses and massive ears that nearly stood straight off his head. He wore a pink polo, still creased from factory package folds and snug taupe chinos. He was too fit for Jamie to believe he was interested in his doughy self. Surely any man showing interest was deeply flawed.

Evan fought past emotional security walls by feeding Jamie cocktails and compliments until he got him to agree to a first date.

He expected it to end after that initial stroll through Deering Oaks Park. Four weeks later they were moving in together. Like a pair of lesbians.

Turns out, Evan’s roommates had wanted him out and paid him to go. That was the only time he contributed to the rent. He suffered from bipolar disorder and refused treatment because of anti-pharma documentaries he’d seen and claims that the pills just made him feel numb. The unchecked emotional roller coaster caused chaos on a near daily basis.

He was toxic and abusive, but once Jamie lets a man in, he’s in it for the long haul. He couldn’t give up, knowing it was a cruel twist of nature and mixed-up wiring that caused the turmoil. He thought he could fix him if he loved him enough.

The first year, he missed all the signs Evan was cheating. He’d been too busy trying to keep the peace and appease hurricane mood swings. Bringing home greasy junk food from the restaurant always worked like a drug. Until Evan started to gain weight and blame Jamie for it.

Thirteen months in, Jamie saw the sext messages on his phone. The phone Jamie was paying for. Charming Evan smoothed things over by swearing it was just online chat. “He wasn’t actually doing anything with them.” Liar.

Jamie moved from feeling responsible for Evan, to feeling stuck with him. The following 11 months were just days of dissociating and trying to devise a way out. It took catching Evan in the act with some twink he probably wouldn’t recognize today.

The poor boy bolted when Jamie’s pent up rage finally boiled over. Throwing Evan out the front door. His belongings followed behind in a storm of unbridled fury.

The prick ended up back in the Midwest, living with a sister. That was the last Jamie had heard of him. It was the last time he cared to be involved with anyone.

“Good morning.” Andrew managed to slip into the kitchen behind Jamie, pouring coffee into a bright yellow mug.

“Morning Andrew.”

“Everything okay?” Dumping cream into the steaming cauldron without watching, focused on Jamie. Perfect pour, down packed.

“Absolutely.” Half smiling and reaching for his own mug.

“Okay.” Andrew takes his perch at the island with a queried expression. “Working today?”

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