Page 37 of Thrown

“No, but you do have a large, loud, unconventional, weird family all around you who cares about you and wants to see you succeed,” Rhys said. “And there’s no shame in enjoying a comfortable role as part of that.”

Robbie’s gut exploded with emotion at those simple words, but he kept his face straight. He loved his family. He never felt more whole than when he was with them. But so many outside factors shouted at him that he should want more. Keith had always told him he should want more, that he should be more ambitious.

He was about to make a curt reply to Rhys when the memory of Toby’s humble family house, and the sweet, smiling face of his niece, Gracie, sideswiped him, leaving him speechless. The house was tiny and it had been a mess. Toby’s mother and sisterwere the sort of people Keith would have turned his nose up at, but they’d radiated good will and contentment. Toby probably made enough money that he could rent a flat in the heart of London and live a jet-setting lifestyle, if not now, then in the near future. But he’d chosen family first.

“Rhys, I love you, but I’m still hungover from a night at the pub last night, I’ve been driving all day, and I haven’t eaten a proper meal in over twenty-four hours,” Robbie said, setting his tea down and grabbing his brother’s arm to march him across the flat to the door. “I mean this with all the familial love in my heart, but fuck off and leave me alone.”

Rhys laughed, shaking gently out of Robbie’s arm and stepping ahead to open the door himself. “Alright,” he said. “I’ll leave you alone to stew. But you know I’m right.”

He winked at Robbie as he stepped into the hall.

Robbie gave him the finger, then slammed the door behind him. He could hear Rhys’s laughter echo from the hallways.

As soon as he was alone, the hollow feelings of having screwed up somehow swept back in as Robbie headed back to the kitchen to finish his tea. He should be doing so much more with his life, but for the first time, the slightest whisper of the word “Why?” slipped in along with those self-deprecating thoughts. Why should he want more? If Toby was content just as he was, maybe he should be, too.

TWELVE

“Something bothering you, love,”Toby’s mum asked him with her best cheery-yet-concerned smile when Toby came down for breakfast the day after he’d arrived home from Staffordshire.

“No, nothing at all,” Toby lied through his teeth as he accepted the cup of tea his mum had made for him.

His mum eyed him sideways as Toby bypassed the kitchen table, where Gerry was feeding Gracie and Tommy, and grabbed a piece of toast from the plate his mum was carrying to the table.

“Now, Toby,” his mum said, setting the plate on the table, then walking back to him, “you know you can’t lie to me. I’ve been seeing through you for twenty-five years now.”

“Honestly, Mum,” Toby said with a laugh that came out sounding desperate and fake.

He took an extra large bite of his toast then immediately followed it with half his mug of tea so he wouldn’t have to say anything else.

“He’s been cagey since he got home from his business trip with that thirst trap pottery guy,” Gerry pointed out with a sly grin from the table.

Toby regretted stuffing his mouth so he couldn’t speak, since it prevented him from defending himself.

“He was rather nice, wasn’t he,” his mum said.

Between her supposedly knowing look and Gerry’s teasing grin, Toby didn’t stand a chance.

“Nothing happened,” he told the two of them once he’d swallowed his toast. “It was a business trip, that’s all.”

“So you say,” Gerry said, giving her attention to Tommy along with the bottle she was feeding him. “It’s a shame none of us were here when he dropped you home yesterday.”

“A shame indeed,” his mum echoed.

Again, Toby used the excuse of eating to not say anything. He’d been relieved when he’d returned home to find both his mum and Gerry out with the kids. It meant he could sneak in, go straight to his room, and toss and turn all evening as he debated whether he’d done a good thing or a very, very bad one by ditching Robbie in Staffordshire.

He’d agonized over his decision to leave even before he’d made it. As soon as he’d slept off enough of the alcohol to function, he’d come to the conclusion that Robbie felt bad enough about, well, everything, already, and that an awkward awakening, followed by another painful cross-country car trip would have been cruel.

It had been easy enough to pack up and head out without Robbie waking, and simple to find his way to the nearest bus station. Buses were cheaper than trains, and he could just about manage the fare without dipping into the money he’d mentally set aside for his family. He could afford the train. He could have afforded to fly. At least on paper. But growing up poor had left him with a constant sense that he couldn’t afford shit.

Those thoughts were a distraction from what really bothered him as he helped himself to another two pieces of toast and piled a load of bacon between them. Had it been more mercifulto leave Robbie in the hotel room, believing he was sparing the man’s dignity, or was that just an excuse for running away from what really bothered him?

He liked Robbie Hawthorne. He liked him in the disgusting, kids in the school hallway giggling about who had a crush on who way of liking someone. If Robbie hadn’t had so much to drink and hadn’t puked it up again, Toby had no doubt that the two of them would have fucked like bunnies until dawn.

Whether that would have solved problems or created so many more remained to be seen. He might have dodged a massive bullet.

Then again, he still had to deal with the almost fucking. Oh, and the fact that he would do it again with both of them sober in a heartbeat.

“I’m off,” he said with pretend enthusiasm once he finished his bacon sandwich and tea.

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