Page 60 of Resist Me Not
Because if in this fucked up world a kid like Noah can die for no reason, when everything was done to try to save him, shouldn’t someone tip the scales when a person who does deserve to die gets to go on living?
I make it back to my apartment and just sort of fall against the outside of my door. The thud must alert Trey, because he opens it a few moments later and basically has to catch me from tipping forward.
“What happened?” he asks, as soothing and as sweet as always. I think he notices the plushies and justgets itsomehow, because before I can answer, he says, “I am so sorry, Walker.”
That just makes me cry all over again, as Trey ushes me inside and sits me on the sofa. I’m still hugging the plushies. I kind of don’t want to let them go. “I wish I could be anywhere but herethis weekend. My fellowship starts on Monday,Monday, and I can’t postpone it, I can’t—”
“What if we went away this weekend?”
“What?” I blink up at him, up because I’m leaning against him while hugging a couple stuffed animals like a kid. “Seriously? Where would we go?”
“How about to my mother’s?”
I choke out a laugh. “Wait, seriously?” I ask again, because Trey’s face has remained impassive. “You want to take me home to your mother?”
“Why not? She already knows about you, already offered a standing invitation since she has never gotten to meet any of my partners before and is very curious, and she hated that I was only able to stay for a day last visit. We could leave tonight, stay through Saturday, come back early enough on Sunday that you will have plenty of time to decompress at home before your fellowship starts. It’s a small town, with friendly neighbors, and I believe the local concert in the park is this Friday and Saturday night. You can hear the music from my mother’s front yard. The neighbors tend to congregate together, grill, share beer. Very American gothic, but if that is too rustic for you—”
“That actually sounds amazing. You sure it would be okay so last minute?”
“My mother will be over the moon.”
“And, um… would it be okay and not too weirdly pathetic if I pack a couple plushies into my suitcase?” I hug them in my arms a little tighter as I snuggle against Trey. I may not let them watch us get down and dirty, or any self-love, but I am otherwise never wanting them out of my sight again. I might even keep them in my locker at work.
“Perfectly okay,” he rumbles and kisses the side of my hair. Then my scar. “And not weird or pathetic at all. Anything for mygood boy.”
I much prefer hearing Trey say that to Doctor Aldrin. “Thanks, Daddy.”
He takes out his phone to start booking flights but never stops holding me.
If I hadn’t met Trey, I still wouldn’t be with Curtis, and Noah still would have died today. But I’d be here now dealing with this alone, instead of feeling like I might be okay after some R&R with someone I really,reallylike and know I can rely on.
With someone I really like and his mother. But that’s not too weird.
Right?
What was I thinking agreeing to meet my still very new boyfriend’s mother after only three and a half weeks?
My very newserial killerboyfriend’s mother.
It made sense in my head, especially with Trey having so many frequent flier miles to throw around from his work that I didn’t feel weird about him covering my ticket. It felt right about up until we got into the rideshare to head to his mother’s house. She apparently offered to pick us up—which she always does for him alone—but he refused, saying especially in this case, he didn’t want me meeting her for the first time through rearview mirror glances. Which was a relief.
Only now I have the entire drive from the airport to agonize over being here.
Trey’s arm around my shoulders helps, as does the knowledge that Zappy and Doctor Hoot are in my carryon.
“Hello, Mother.” Trey greets her with a warm hug when she meets us at the door.
She is lovely, and I can definitely see the resemblance, but while she fixes me with an intense stare, there is a warmth to her that Trey… lacks? Something I don’t think I would have noticed if similar features weren’t displaying similar emotions so differently.
She hugs me too.
“It is so good to meet you, Walker.”
“You too, Ms. Fisher.”
“Lois, please. And what a handsome young man you are.” She holds me out in front of her after releasing me with a pleased appraisal. “Not that I’m surprised. My Trey has elegant taste.”
“I wouldn’t call myself elegant.” I’m wearing my usual casualwear of a T-shirt and jeans, but my nicest, newest jeans, and a T-shirt with a stylish design on it, not one with a silly saying like my “I like people (under general anesthesia)” shirt.
