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My dad always told me that a grown man who won't cry isn't a man. There's not a damn thing wrong with emotions, son, he always said. They're what make us human.
Standing in the foyer of the house I share with some of the strongest men I know, my dad and I cry.
When we eventually separate, it's only far enough for me to turn toward the others in the room, my arm still around my dad's waist, his arm still around mine. Except only one person is still here, standing off to the side at a respectful distance. He smiles when our eyes meet, looking more relaxed and happy than I think I've ever seen him. Who knew that the little wrinkle between his eyebrows wasn't permanent? That thing is so stubborn, it lingers when he sleeps.
"Dad, this is Jake, my boyfriend." I beam at Jake, feeling like I'm going to vibrate out of my skin. "Jake, this is my dad."
"I'm honored to meet you, Mr. St. James," Jake says, striding over and offering my dad a hand. My dad snorts and grabs Jake by the shoulder, yanking him into a clumsy hug that ends up with me sort of smooshed between them.
"Honored, my ass," my dad grumbles affectionately. "You saved my boy. Thank you. Thank you, Jake."
“He saved me too, sir.” Jake's arm winds around me, pulling into his chest even as my back remains pressed to my dad. He ducks his head to rest in the dip of my shoulder and inhales shakily. "Thank you for raising a boy like him."
I start crying all over again.
Jake tells us about the deal he made with the head, including the house to the left of us on the dirt road now belonging to my dad. He lets my dad stay the night this one time, gently excusing himself after a few minutes to let us catch up before placing a kiss to the crown of my head.
“That’s a good man you’ve found yourself,” dad tells me once Jake has disappeared.
I beam at him. “You have no idea, dad.”
He beams right back, grabbing my hand and holding it tight. “Tell me, then.”
And I do.
I leave out the worst parts and a whole lot of details, and there are a lot of pauses for crying and holding each other close, but I tell him all of it. The fear. The holding cell. His advice that kept me and so many others holding on. Elliot. Carter. The auction. DuGray. The mysterious Irish man who told me to wait a little longer. The American man who saved me. Who reminded me that I’m a person. Who kept his promises. Who loved me even when I couldn’t love myself.
I tell him about my new family, bragging about how strong my friends are and how far they’ve come, rolling my eyes when I explain the obnoxiousness of Travis and Carter’s love, warning him that he better brace himself because Nolan’s cooking is even better than that old Italian restaurant we used to save up to go eat at.
I tell him I’m sorry and he hushes me, holding me close. “None of that nonsense, you hear me? You don’t have a goddamn thing to be sorry for.”
“I killed him, dad,” I whisper, the one thing I was terrified to tell him. “I killed DuGray.”
He laughs softly. “Good. Did you make it hurt?”
“Yeah.” I laugh in relief, closing my eyes and sinking into yet another hug. “Yeah, dad, I did.”
The sun is starting to rise by the time I climb into bed. Jake gives me a sleepy smile, making me think he’s been awake this whole time. Such a good daddy.
“Hey, little one,” he murmurs, pulling me into his arms the second he’s able. I hook a leg over his hip so we can get as close as possible. Something nudges my side. I wiggle just enough, already knowing what it is before David is tucked beneath my arm. I think if I hadn’t cried myself dry already, I’d probably have tears in my eyes again.
“Hi, daddy.”
“What do you need from me, baby boy?”
I laugh, feeling almost delirious. “There is literally nothing more you could do. You’ve done it. All of it. You – god, Jake.” I move in his arms until I can see him, half of his face illuminated with the muted sunlight filtering through the window. “You just keep saving me.”
“Well, yeah.” He kisses the tip of my nose, his smile dopey with love. “I promised I would, didn’t I?”
“You did.” I grab his mouth in a kiss that somehow makes my heart crack open and fill up all over again. I thought I was finished crying, but more tears gather in my eyes. When they spill lover, I can taste them in our kiss. He makes a soft, distressed sound and pulls me into his lap, hands coming up to my cheeks to swipe the tears away. He kisses me deeper, his tongue slow and soothing as it swipes against mine. He kisses me until I’m breathless, until I’m tearless, until my heart is settled, and my lips are tingly, and my exhaustion is a living, breathing thing ready to drag me away.
I’m half-asleep, slumped onto his chest when I remember I wanted to say one more thing. The words come out slurred and slow, but I don’t think he minds. “And you always keep your promises.”
“Yeah, baby boy,” he murmurs, holding me close and bringing the blanket up around us. “I always keep my promises.”
