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Josiah circled the house and sat in his car, so mixed-up he didn’t know what else to do besides wait. A tiny part of him wanted to call 911 and report a break-in at the house just to see what Seamus would do, but the rest of him was terrified of accidentally getting himself arrested. He’d spent the night in jail twice as a teen, and it was not an experience he ever wanted to repeat, thank you very much. That same fear kept him from testing any of the windows and simply breaking in to get his stuff. He also mentally flogged himself for not seeing this coming. For not seeing this coming as Seamus became crueler and more distant with him. For letting himself become one small mistake from homelessness again.
But I have a place to go. Michael will help.
Josiah loathed being dependent on others for his own security. Loathed it. But he’d fallen into the same trap again, and now all he really had to his name was a hardcover novel, his cell phone, and his car. He did have his car, the title in his name. If nothing else, Josiah had a roof and four walls to call home.
The sun went down and no lights came on in the house. Since Josiah couldn’t imagine Seamus hiding out in the dark simply to avoid a confrontation with him, Seamus had to be out somewhere. But where and with who? His stomach rumbled with hunger, and he tried not to think about the pot roast either overcooking in the kitchen, or possibly being eaten elsewhere with someone not him. Both possibilities infuriated him, but that anger never rose completely above his fear.
Josiah ate a granola bar from his bag of snacks, and half regretted doing so when he realized he had nothing to drink to wash the sweetness down.
Around eight thirty an SUV pulled in behind his car. The engine didn’t shut off. Heart galloping, Josiah watched in his rearview mirror as Seamus got out of the passenger side and walked right past his car. Straight to the front porch. Without thinking, Josiah leaped out of his car and made it to the porch before Seamus had the door unlocked.
“Why did you lock me out?” Josiah asked, fully aware he’d practically shouted the words when he rarely ever raised his voice to anyone.
“Because you don’t live here anymore,” Seamus replied, his voice as bland as if delivering ingredients in a cake recipe. “I don’t want you in my house.”
“You don’t...your house...” For as much as Josiah had suspected this as the truth, it still punched him right in the stomach, and he gasped for breath. “You’re...kicking me out? What did I do?”
“You met your expiration date, kid.”
Lights flashed and the SUV was gone, leaving Josiah completely alone on a dusty, dark street with a man he hadn’t trusted in a long time. Angry, bitter tears burned hot behind Josiah’s eyes. “Can I at least get my things?”
“Nah. I’ll just haul it all to the dump next week. I mean, some random squatter abandoned it in my house. I can do what I want with it.”
Josiah gaped at him, completely at a loss for words. Almost everything he owned was in that house, including the very few sentimental items he’d managed to keep from his old lives. Pictures of his parents. A napkin from the first place Andy took him out to dinner that wasn’t fast food. His laptop and clothes and toothbrush and his nursing diploma.
His entire life was nothing but garbage to Seamus.
“Please,” Josiah said. “Five minutes. For the important stuff. Then I’ll leave you alone.”
Seamus leaned against his front door, arms crossed, so smug Josiah wanted to slap him. No neighbors were in earshot or eyesight of the house, and the isolation only amped up Josiah’s anxiety. “You can have two minutes for a blow job. Five minutes for one last fuck.”
His already aching ribs gave a scream, and Josiah took two steps backward, his hip hitting the porch rail. “No. I have unequivocally revoked your access to my body. From now until the end of time, Seamus McBride. No more.”
“Then I guess your shit’s going to the dump next week. Don’t come back, Jo-jo. Not unless you’re willing to trade that sweet ass for your crap.”
Unwilling to cry any more tears in front of the man, Josiah turned and stalked back to his car. Flung himself into the driver’s seat and gunned the engine. Maybe all his earthly possessions would be on fire an hour from now, but Josiah didn’t care. Not in this moment, because he was free. Finally free of the hell Seamus had lured him into. Free of insults and fists and sex he didn’t want. Free of everything that had tormented him for the last two years of his life—except his own memories.
He’d always carry his memories with him, using the best to bolster him when his present life felt untenable. Mental reminders of how good things could be at times.
It looked like the physical reminders of those memories were going to end up in the trash pile.
Josiah wiped a few stray tears off his cheeks as he drove, not even sure where he was going until he parked in Elmer’s yard behind the familiar vintage pickup. Lights shone downstairs, a comforting glow against the dark sky, and Josiah didn’t even think as he rang the doorbell, over and over.
The door swung open and Michael’s perturbed expression shifted directly into alarm. “Fuck, Josiah, what’s wrong?”
“He kicked me out.” Josiah’s entire body wobbled, and he flinched when Michael reached for him. “He kicked me out with nothing and I didn’t know where else to go. I’m sorry.”
“Who what? The sheriff kicked you out? Of your place?”
“Yes.” Shame heated his face, and Josiah resisted the urge to run back to his car and hide. “He wouldn’t let me get anything. He said... I don’t have anything. My clothes, my fucking toothbrush. I never wanted to be here again. Fuck.”
“Okay, we’ll figure this out. Come on inside. You’re safe here, I promise.”
“That Josiah?” Elmer called from inside. “What’s goin’ on, boys?”
The genuine concern in Elmer’s voice helped Josiah go inside the house, into a familiar living room, with two familiar faces that expressed identical levels of curiosity and apprehension. “I’m so sorry to disturb you this late,” Josiah said to Elmer.
“S’okay, son. Come on in. Whatever’s goin’ on, we’ll fix it.”
