Page 113 of Point of Contact

Trevor shook his head at the memory, hoping he hadn’t taken too much crap from his friends and wondering what he’d told them.

A muffled crash sounded from inside the house, and Trevor tensed, his grief and anxiety rushing back in a nauseating wave. Before it could overwhelm him, Carl opened the patio door and stuck his head out.

“Sorry,” he called. “It was just that fucking plant stand again, the one I always knock over.”

He slammed the door, his pique and disgruntled tone for some reason causing Trevor to chuckle, and then laugh out loud. His mirth maybe had a faint tinge of hysteria to it, but Trevor didn’t care, knowing laughter was walking a fine line right next to crying, and right now he much preferred the former.

“I’m so tired of crying, Riles,” he rasped. “So tired. You understand, don’t you?”

As always, there was no answer, but the pool suddenly seemed to shimmer a little more brightly under the warm July sun.

Cowabunga, bitch!

Trevor wiped his eyes. It was fitting, he thought, a full circle sort of thing, that he was finally packing up Riley’s room in the same month as the party where Riley’d spent the last night he’d ever spend at home. Bookends to a precious life, one a beginning and the other an ending, a necessary one but one that still threatened to tear Trevor’s heart out by the roots.

He bit back a sob. Maybe he should have asked Jesse to do it. Maybe he should have waited until he was home from his camping trip, because the thought of going through this first night alone...no. He’d made his decision after careful, agonizing thought and it did no good to second-guess it now.

Trevor stared blankly at the pool, unaware of how much time had passed, when suddenly the door opened again behind him. He looked over at Carl as he slumped into the chair opposite Trevor and dropped his forehead into his hands.

“Finished?” Trevor was proud of how even his voice sounded, and Carl nodded, glancing up at him. Trevor was surprised to notice he was a little pale, his eyes slightly rimmed in red. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Carl cleared his throat. “It’s just—well, it was harder than I thought it’d be—” He trailed off apologetically, and Trevor leaned forward to take his hand, touched by his obvious sorrow.

“I know,” was all he said. He squeezed Carl’s fingers, and Carl squeezed back.

“You want to see?”

No, Trevor didn’t, but he gathered all his composure around him anyway and stood, not letting go of Carl’s hand as they walked into the house and down the hall. When they reached the doorway to Riley’s room, Carl released him and moved back, but not so far that Trevor couldn’t feel his warmth at his shoulder.

Trevor closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them again. In the room the blinds were open, the sunlight painting cheerful stripes across the floor and walls. The furniture was still there—a dresser, queen-size bed and nightstand—but everything else was gone, even the Army stuff Jesse’d moved in here for him so many months ago.

“I stored all the boxes in that built-in cabinet in the garage. That’s what you wanted, right?”

Trevor nodded jerkily, not trusting his voice yet.

“The boxes are all numbered, and I packed them by location and category, like ‘Keepsakes and Trophies on Shelf’ or ‘Books,’ that sort of thing. The inventory lists everything out under the individual box number, and I collated them in order and put them in this.” Carl moved around him to the dresser and picked up a manila envelope Trevor hadn’t noticed was there.

“Th-thank you,” Trevor forced out, wanting to say more but not sure what.

“What’re you going to do with the furniture?”

Trevor twisted his fingers together. “I’m having Goodwill come out tomorrow morning and take it apart, haul it away for donation.”

Carl nodded, and Trevor cast one last glance around the room before backing out, knowing he’d reached his limit for this moment. He left the door open, though, as he turned and headed back to the kitchen, Carl on his heels.

The clock on the stove showed it was after four p.m., and Trevor cleared his throat, saying huskily, “Fix you a late lunch? Early dinner?”

“I’m supposed to meet Greyson at the Broadmoor for dinner, but Trev, if you need me here with you, I’ll call him. He told me to stay if it was necessary, so he’ll absolutely understand.”

Moved beyond words at the unknown Greyson’s show of compassion for a man he’d never met and had every right to resent, Trevor felt tears spring to his eyes. “I’ll be okay, Carl. I just didn’t want to send you away hungry.” His lips trembled, and with a muffled exclamation Carl reached out to pull him into a fierce hug.

“I’m sorry, Trevor,” he whispered into his hair. “God, I’m so sorry.”

Trevor clutched him, miraculously hanging on to his composure, unwilling to put Carl through any more than he already had. “Thank you,” he croaked. “Thank you for being here, for being such a good friend.” He stepped back, reaching up to cup Carl’s face in his hands. “And thank Greyson for me. Give him this, would you?” Rising up on tiptoe, he brushed his lips across Carl’s. “He sounds like a keeper.”

“He is.” With one last squeeze, Carl let go of him and swiped up his keys and phone from the counter. “You know we’re only a phone call away, Trev.”

“I know.” Trevor walked him to his car and waited until he drove off before making his way back inside. He stood at the end of the hallway, unmoving, until the sunlight streaming into Riley’s room spilled out through the doorway. Finally Trevor took one step, then another and another, until he found himself next to Riley’s bed, stripped bare of its linens.