Page 38 of Kane's Awakening
My aversion to relationships might’ve played a role in that change. After Devon broke me, I never wanted to settle down again. Not with guys and not even in life.
Change meant I was safe from ever becoming too comfortable. And I became way too comfortable around Ryker. He was a heartbreak just waiting to happen. It still hadn’t made being away from him any easier, though.
Five days had passed since the last time I’d seen him—since he’d told me about his kids and I’d told him to leave. No calls or texts. Nothing.
I kept telling myself it was for the best, but the damn ache in my chest every time I thought of him refused to leave.
In what type of fucked-up world did that even happen? I’d carefully protected my heart and forced myself to just see Ryker as a hookup, but yet, it had still gotten involved. Somehow.
As I drove down the long dirt road to my parents’ house for Sunday dinner, I hit the steering wheel in frustration at the direction of my thoughts. I’d brought Molly with me, and when I hit the wheel, she snapped her head around and perked her ears up.
“I’m okay, sweet girl.”
Fuck. I was a mess. I needed to forget about Ryker. For my sanity.
When I arrived, I parked my truck and walked around to the front of the house. Molly took off running in the yard, chasing nothing, and I smiled. She loved it there, all the free space to run around and stretch her legs.
My mom and dad were still married and lived in the same home from my childhood. It was a two-story white house with a dark gray roof. A black fence enclosed the backyard, and the field with the cattle and horses was beyond that. A few trees were scattered around the yard, but for the most part, all the trees were near the entrance to the woods about a football field length off to one side.
Mom cooked dinner every Sunday, but I wasn’t always able to make it because of work. Some weekends I was off, and sometimes my schedule changed. That was just the life of a cop.
Even when I was off, I was still on-call just in case of emergencies.
“There’s my baby boy,” Mom greeted as she opened the door and pulled me into a hug. She smelled like banana bread, one of my favorite desserts. In the fall and winter, she always made it for me. “I’m so glad you could make it today.”
“Me too, Ma.” I kissed her cheek and looked up to see a gruff looking man in a plain white shirt and blue jeans. “Hey, Dad.”
“Don’t‘hey, Dad’me, boy. Give me a proper greetin’ and give me a damn hug.”
I smiled and did as he said. The scent of tobacco hit my nose when I leaned in to hug him.
He’d chewed it ever since I was a little kid, so it was one of those familiar scents that helped me feel at home. As strange as that might be. One time, I’d accidentally grabbed his spit cup instead of my soda and took a drink before he could stop me, and I’d puked all over the hardwood floor. And it splashed, and the smell just made me vomit more.
Yeah, good times.
“Well, come on in,” Mom said, and I did.
The inside looked just as it always had. Hardwood floor in the entry way that led into the kitchen, high ceilings and arched walkways between rooms, cream-colored walls in some areas and navy blue in others, and beige carpet in the living room. Rustic styled end tables and furniture.
Mom loved John Wayne and there was a 16x20 picture of him in his cowboy getup hanging in the living room above the fireplace. A place of honor reserved for her favorite cowboy... a movie one anyway. At least my photo was in the center, and it hung beside him.
I studied it for a second.
Wearing my blue cap and gown in the photo, I smiled, but I could see it didn’t quite reach my eyes. So much shit had happened to me that year. So much hurt. There was a smile on my face, but there were bruises hidden beneath my clothes and cracks inside my chest.
“You look so handsome there.” Mom stood beside me and looked at the picture, too. “My baby boy.” She turned to me and her brown eyes were filled with nothing but love and warmth. “It still kills me that Devon did that to you. You were best friends.”
She only knew half the truth. I’d told her and Dad that Devon and I’d had a falling out, but I left out the sexual relationship. I couldn’t even say that he’d been my boyfriend, because that wasn’t quite true either. My parents knew I was gay—they’d known ever since I was in tenth grade—so that wasn’t the reason I hadn’t told them the full truth.
It was just something I hated thinking about, let alone talking about. Maybe shame played a part in it, too—that I’d allowed it to happen to me and I’d been too weak to stop it.
“Supper’s gettin’ cold,” Dad said from the dining room.
I turned to head that way, but Mom stopped me. “You okay? I don’t like that look in your eyes.”
I shrugged her off and smiled—one I was sure was fake. “I’m fine, Ma.”
She nodded, even though I suspected she thought I was full of shit, and we went into the dining room. A pot roast with carrots, celery, and potatoes sat in a large bowl in the center of the table, and a plate of homemade bread rolls was beside it, along with a stick of butter in its own little holder.
