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“Watch your mouth in my kitchen, Trent,” Mama told him giving him that eye.
“I apologize.” Trent settled back onto the stool. “Without what?”
“Without money,” Mama said sadly. “It’s not right. I know and I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you, but you came here wanting answers, and I think you’re old enough that you deserve them. Your mother wanted ten thousand dollars, Trent. And Miles had scraped together every penny he could. We even held a fundraiser here at the club to help him raise money for his lawyer fees. We all pitched in. But it just hadn’t been enough.”
“How… so she…” Trent’s hands began to shake, and he suddenly felt light-headed as if the ground was shifting under his feet. “My mom tried to…”
Mama was in his face. “Easy now.”
Trent shook his aching head, his gravy and butter rolls feeling as if they were about to make a violent reappearance. “My own mom tried to sell me?” Trent felt his legs give out just as Mama’s panicked shout reached his ears. But before his ass hit the floor, strong arms gripped him from behind.
“I got you, son,” Mike said, holding him tightly while Trent fell apart. “You may not have got the father you wanted, but you got me, Trent. Always.”
Chapter Fifty
Wood
Wood had been standing in front of the living room window ever since Mike called a hour ago to say he’d found Trent and they were on their way home. He inhaled sharply when he saw a large black truck turn onto their street. He was surprised that Mike had ended up driving Trent home. Was he drunk? If he was, it was Wood’s fault.
Trent trudged up the driveway as if this was the last place he wanted to be. Wood left the door unlocked, and the second Trent’s foot crossed the threshold, he yanked him into his chest and slammed the door close behind him.
Trent dug his fingers into the muscles in his back, a wounded sound escaping his throat. “I did it again.”
Wood held Trent in his arms, feeling too much at once now that he was home safe.
“I never turned my ringer back on when we got out of church.” Trent gazed up at him through red-rimmed eyes. “You called seventeen times… and again I didn’t answer.”
“Baby.” Wood swallowed thickly, hugging him close. “We had a fight. It happens. And it’ll most likely happen again. We didn’t exactly go into this relationship conventionally, Trent. We’re gonna hit some bumps along the way the more we get to know each other.”
Trent nodded slowly.
“I’m not mad because you didn’t answer the phone. I’m upset that you left in the first place.” Wood held Trent tightly behind his neck. “That you thought I was walking out on you, as if what we have means nothing to me.”
Trent’s spirit appeared beaten, broken, and Wood forgot about the strong words he’d planned to have when Trent got home. Now none of those words seemed important, not anymore. He knew the confession he’d made to Mike was the truth because all he wanted to do at that moment was put his partner’s mind at ease.
“Look at me,” Wood said, his throat feeling dry and achy. He could only imagine how he sounded. “Adam is in my past. I paid my debt to society, I apologized to him, now I owe him nothing. You are my future.”
Trent choked as if he was struggling to breathe, and Wood gently touched the side of his heated cheek. “It’s been all about you from the moment I got here. And it’ll stay that way. You’re mine, Trent, understand that. So that there’s no more freakin’ misunderstandings,” Wood stressed. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against Trent’s.
“I shouldn’t’ve run,” Trent said sternly. “I should’ve fought for you.”
“That’s why I hate misunderstandings.” Wood kissed the deep wrinkles between Trent’s brow. “You don’t have to fight anyone. You’ve already won.”
Trent nodded.
“No more, all right? Because if I ever have to call Mike again, I might not survive it.” Wood breathed against Trent’s temple, satisfied that he was finally home and in his arms. Those sixteen hours had been excruciating. “Damnit, Trent. Loving you is gonna get me killed.”
Trent’s watery eyes met his, a narrow, hopeful smile slowly curving his full lips.
“And I’ll die a happy man.”
Wood waited for Trent in his bed while he finished his shower. He had so many things running through his mind that he knew sleep was nowhere in sight. Things like his multiple sets of portfolios Adam had brought him that were stacked in his bedroom, or the storage that was full of the rest of his possessions. Items he thought were long lost, forgotten, destroyed, or stolen. Now he could stop stalling El and get his art to him so he could apply to start tattooing again and leave the custodial business.
