Vann paced his room at Halfway House for the millionth time. Sometimes, not having anything to do granted him far too much time to let his mind wander. And when his mind decided to take a stroll, it often bypassed Pleasant Avenue and went straight down Misery Road. He ran his fingers through his hair and glanced at the clock on the nightstand. Five thirty. He had far too much time on his hands tonight. Maybe Drayton would call him again today, or maybe his call earlier was all he’d get for the day. After all, the man had a business to run and meetings to attend.

Vann had to be downstairs in thirty minutes to have dinner at the designated time. But how the hell could he keep anything down not knowing for sure where things stood with Drayton? Maybe he’d get back tonight from the trip or maybe it was some international destination and he’d be gone for a week or something. Maybe there was some international hottie waiting for him with ripped abs and a foreign accent to whisper a ton of special words in his ear. And even if he did get back in time to make a call, knowing Dray, he’d probably be going through things, post-meeting, with a fine-tooth comb. He knew how quickly Drayton would get distracted when his nose was buried in a book or in some task.

Then again, that was how Dray was when they were younger.

Vann ran his fingers through his hair. Fuck. He hated this shit. This doubt. It was something he’d never felt with Dray. Ever. Being with him was the one true, solid thing he’d had in his life that never brought an ounce of doubt to his mind. He questioned his right to be at Drayton’s side, but never Drayton’s commitment or the strength of their relationship. It was the one thing he was able to do, effortlessly, without fucking up. But now, he wasn’t sure they could pick up where they’d left off or if things had changed so much between them to create a chasm too large to cross.

He stormed out of his room and stalked downstairs. He looked to the left and immediately spotted his three fellow housemates.

Ben was the quiet one. He sat in the corner with his arms crossed and an intense expression as he watched the other two argue, standing between him and the television. Ryan was the tall one with the inked sleeves and blond hair, trying to use his height to intimidate Frankie, the stocky one with the strip of dark hair at the top of his otherwise shaved head.

“I have dibs on the fucking TV, not you, asshole. I was here first,” Frankie said, pushing his chest against Ryan.

“I was here first, you son of a bitch.”

Ben rolled his eyes and quickly gestured with his hands, then crossed his arms again with a silent huff. Ah, that’s why he’s the quiet one.

Frankie and Ryan continued to argue, and Ben shook his head, craning his neck around the two guys to watch the program.

Vann walked to the edge of the couch, ignoring his two housemates and waved to get Ben’s attention.

Ben turned toward him and lowered his brow, probably wondering if yet another guy from the house was going to irritate the hell out of him.

Vann bit the edge of his lip, trying to remember what he had learned years ago. “Who was here first?” he signed, hoping he had communicated the right ASL hand gestures.

Ben’s features relaxed and a lopsided grin made an appearance. He pointed to his own chest.

Vann thought back to the signs, hoping he wasn’t too rusty. “Who has the remote?”

Ben held up the remote in his hand.

Vann smiled at Ben then cleared his throat, catching the attention of the two bickering guys. “You know, there’s an easy way to settle this.”

Frankie rolled his eyes. “What’s that, newbie? Flip for it? ’Cause that’s bullshit. I was here first. So I pick the show.”

“How do we settle it?” Ryan asked, stepping away from Frankie.

“Whoever has the remote has the power. First one at the TV usually grabs it. Unless you’re one of those weird peeps who actually stands up and presses the button to turn it on.”

They both looked around and cursed when Ben triumphantly held the remote in the air.

“What the fuck do you want it for? You can’t even hear it?” Frankie said, raising his hands in the air.

Closed captioning, asshole.

Ben jerked his hand forward with a raised middle finger. No way would either one of them misunderstand the universal sign for fuck you.

“I’m guessing he just read your lips. Just because he can’t hear you or the TV doesn’t mean he can’t understand or follow a conversation.”

Frankie slowly turned to face Vann with a deathly expression. “What the hell would you know? You’re the dumb fuck who got stuck cleaning the floors at that shitty diner.”

Vann tapped his closed hand to the side of his temple with the thumb pointed outward.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It means asshole,” Julian said, interrupting the conversation. He crossed his arms and leaned against the kitchen entryway with obvious irritation in his expression. “I’m writing you up. Get your ass upstairs. You’ll come down for dinner then go back upstairs right after.”

“What the hell for? You can’t write me up! I’m out of here in three days. He’s the one who called me an asshole!” Frankie yelled.

Julian pushed off the wall and walked into the living room, leaning forward to grip the back of the couch. “House rules and you’re supposed to follow them until release day. You don’t use the word ‘dumb,’ ‘stupid,’ ‘idiot,’ or ‘moron’ when addressing anyone in this house. Upstairs. Now.”

Frankie grumbled a few additional choice words and headed upstairs, deliberately bumping Vann’s shoulder as he passed him by.

Vann sighed, trying not to let the sting of Frankie’s words settle in. Ben tapped Ryan’s arm and gave him a half smile, handing him the remote control. Ryan said a thanks then plopped himself on the couch next to him, settling in to watch the existing show.

“Shaw, come to the kitchen, please,” Julian said, leading the way.

He followed and took a deep breath, enjoying the mix of scents in the kitchen. He’d never get over how good food smelled outside of prison. He peeked past the wall and saw Matt stirring a few things within different size pots.

“Ignore Frankie,” Julian said, pulling his attention.

Vann crossed his arms, holding himself tighter than usual. “Trying to.” He’d heard it all from his father growing up and had a relatively high tolerance for name-calling, but he definitely wasn’t immune to the power some words had of digging into his soul.

“You were very diplomatic in there. Well, until you signed ‘asshole’ to him,” Julian said with a chuckle and a headshake. “I was hoping they could resolve this on their own, but…well, Frankie prefers the path of most resistance. You worked on solving the problem without attacking anyone. And that’s a great skill. You forgot to mention that talent this morning.”

Vann nodded once in acknowledgment, trying not to make too much of the small smile on Julian’s face. He wasn’t used to positive comments and didn’t really know what he was expected to say in response.

“Ben’s not used to people stepping up like that for him. So I’m guessing you’ll have a new best friend in this house. But a word of caution?”

“I’m listening.”

“He’s young and he’s curious. He stares a lot. Don’t let it creep you out, especially when Drayton stops by for a visit. He stares at Matt and me all the time. It’s something he does and probably doesn’t know he’s doing it.”

“Got it.” As long as Ben wasn’t giving him the evil eye and sneering, he could totally deal with a pervy stare.

“Where did you learn ASL?” Matt asked, walking over to the cabinet and pulling out a large serving dish before returning to the stove.

“There was a guy inside, he kept to himself. I…got in a fight with someone and spent a couple of days in the infirmary. He was there and that’s when I figured out why he was such a loner. He taught me some sign language and I read books on it during my library time. I didn’t really talk to people inside. But it was easy talking to Iggy.” He finally looked up at Julian. “His name was Ignacio. His family called him Iggy.” He looked away and frowned, fighting the memory that threatened to come barreling in. He remembered that day, and how Iggy’s broken, bloodied body looked when they’d hauled him out of the yard. He couldn’t help comparing that memory to that other hateful night that always surfaced of Drayton’s body in his arms.

“Did something happen to him?”

Vann’s focus snapped back to Julian. How the hell does he do that? “They jumped him in the yard one day. He was a skinny kid. Didn’t really stand much of a chance against the guys in there. I…don’t really want to talk about it. When did you learn ASL?”

“I started when I heard Ben was coming here. He practices with me sometimes to make sure I know more than just the bad words,” Julian said with a lopsided grin. “Is Drayton stopping by tonight?”

Relief poured into Vann’s body at the subject change but the doubt slowly found a way to creep inside again. Fuck. “He’s traveling. Dealing with contract stuff or something,” he said, trying to shrug off the other lingering thoughts racing through his mind. On a fucking jet.

“I’m sure the trip is unavoidable,” Matt said, wiping his hands on a towel and slinging it over his shoulder. “We’ve gotten to know him during these last few months. And he’s very…” He looked over to Julian. “What’s the word? Would you say ‘meticulous’ about things?”

“More like a pain in the ass.”

“He’s very precise and thorough,” Vann said, remembering how particular Drayton had always been about everything he did. “And I’m guessing there wasn’t a single erase or cross out on anything he filled out by hand on any of your forms. He always thinks through everything a million times and analyzes everything with a fine-tooth comb. He makes it a point of knowing the tiniest of details about something.” His smile faltered. “Um, at least that’s how he used to be about things.”

“Seems he’s still that way,” Matt said with a soft smile. “I’m certain he would prefer being with you rather than racing off to some meeting.”

His stomach tightened. Maybe Dray hadn’t changed much over the years. He tried to battle the hope that bloomed in his chest. They were still polar opposites in so many ways and those differences were now punctuated even more by his criminal record and Drayton’s shining success. A. Fucking. Jet.

“Shaw?” Matt said, breaking through Vann’s thoughts. “There was never a question in our minds or anyone else’s who worked with him to get you here that he would do anything for you. I don’t think the time created any distance between you two.”

Vann raked his hand through his short hair. “It’s the time and…a bunch of other things. It’s not just Dray. It’s everything. I don’t see…how I fit. Not just with him, but…I don’t know,” he quietly finished. Shaking his head at the realization he’d actually voiced that worry to two people who were practically strangers to him.

“Sometimes, you just need one person to make you feel like you fit in this world.”

He glanced at Julian, letting his words sink in. He had hit the proverbial nail on the head. Drayton always made him feel as if he fit. When he was with Drayton, nothing else mattered and any differences between them always faded. Now, unsure of how strong their link remained after all this time, that somehow seemed to weaken the ground under his feet.

“It’s your turn tonight to set the table,” Julian said, pulling him from his thoughts. “Silverware’s in the drawer over there and plates are in the cabinet above.”

Vann nodded and focused on his task rather than the melancholy thoughts or insecurities that seemed to rear their ugly heads so much lately.

 

 

 

Vann crossed his arms and stared at the bed. He had to admit, the fluffy bed looked tempting as hell to ease the exhaustion straining his body. He pressed his hand into the soft pillow and groaned. It wouldn’t take much convincing. He’d love to roll around in the comfy bed buck-ass naked.

He ran his hand along the soft sheets and sighed. He knew better than to leave himself vulnerable in a house full of strangers. Yeah, they were nice, except for Frankie, but he always had to be ready to jump and run. Sure as hell couldn’t do that swinging his junk in the air while making a quick getaway. Later on, when he changed out of his clothes…maybe he could try the bed. Even if only to sit on it for a little while. That couldn’t hurt.

Maybe.

He smiled when the vibrating phone buzzed against his ass, knowing it could only be one person. “Hey,” he said, flipping open the phone.

“Hey yourself.”

Vann closed his eyes, letting the smooth baritone of Drayton’s voice soothe the tension in his tired body.

“How was your day?” Drayton asked.

“Long and tiring.” He pressed his hand into the pillow again, watching the way the fluffy cushion folded over his hand. “Which is weird as hell considering I didn’t even start work yet.” His prison time had consisted of endless hours in his cell, one hour in the yard, and three thirty-minute meals in the dining hall. It was why he had looked forward to any type of work they’d assign him, regardless of what he had to do, since it gave him a chance to stay busy. But standing around all day, doing nothing but having one hell of an endless marathon of mental battles was enough to exhaust him.

“What are you doing now?”

“Staring at the bed.”

“Is it staring back at you?”

Vann sighed, at the brink of caving. “Yes.”

“Are you dressed?”

“Am I supposed to ask you what you’re wearing?”

Drayton chuckled. “You can if you want to.”

Vann ran his hand through his short hair. Was Drayton flirting? Hell if he knew for sure anymore what went through Drayton’s mind. And he sure as shit wasn’t going to attempt any sort of dirty talk with all these guys in the house.

“What are you wearing?” Drayton asked.

“Sorry to disappoint. I’m in my jeans and T-shirt.”

Drayton chuckled. “That’s what I thought. If you don’t change into your sleep clothes, you’ll find all kinds of excuses to never get in the bed.”

“How…” Vann frowned. “How did you know that?”

“Because I know you. And I know you’d prefer to sleep without anything on to enjoy the bed, but I also know there’s no way in hell you’d do that with a house full of people you don’t know.”

Vann scoffed.

“Am I wrong?”

“No.”

“I didn’t think so. Now go put on whatever you’re going to wear to sleep. I’ll wait on the phone.”

“When the hell did you get so damn bossy,” Vann mumbled, setting the phone down. He quickly changed out of his clothes and into a pair of loose-fitting shorts, then picked up the phone again. “I’m back.”

“Now get your ass in bed.”

“I’m not going to sleep yet. I want to talk to you for a while.” Vann leaned against the dresser and stared at the bed.

“Vann?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s okay to enjoy the bed. You’re not going back inside.”

Vann inhaled a shaky breath, his grip on the phone tightening.

“Don’t think about it. Just get in bed.”

His cheeks puffed out as he exhaled a heavy breath. He waited for a moment, preparing a mental checklist of arguments to debate, but finally caved, stalking over to the bed and slipping under the sheets. He rested his head back into the soft pillow and let out a slow moan.

“Don’t…do that,” Drayton whispered.

“Fuck, this feels good.” He pushed his head farther into the pillow and moved his head from side to side, burrowing deeper into the soft material rubbing against his head. This felt good. Too good. Shit. He jerked up in a sitting position, ready to launch off the soft mattress.

“Vann, don’t let your mind go there. Tell me about your day.”

“I swear…I’m going to rip this room apart and find that fucking nanny cam you’ve got in here.” He closed his eyes and tried to cool the rising negative arguments attempting to steer his actions. It was just a bed. A damn soft one. A ridiculously comfortable one—but just a bed. He had survived a decade in hell. He could make it through this.

Even if it did plant a seed of hope in his mind that could easily be stomped.

“I know you, so don’t sound so surprised. Lie back down on the bed and tell me about your day?”

If he was going to adjust to being out of prison, he needed to find a way to silence this negativity in his head that kept raising doubts with every step he took. He knew Dray just as well as Dray knew him. And Drayton was doing everything in his power to distract Vann and head off one hell of a monster internal argument. Vann had an iron will, but even he couldn’t do this alone. And he didn’t have the best of luck when it came to life playing fair. After being reminded of what freedom had to offer, there was no way he would survive going back.

“Dray…”

“It’s a lot to take in. But it’s going to be okay. Just lie back on the bed and start talking.”

Vann rested his head on the pillow. He covered his face with his forearm and closed his eyes, hoping to block everything out but the sound of Drayton’s voice. “You know what the fucked-up part of this is?”

“What’s that?”

“I made it through ten years. Ten years, Dray. It was tough, but I had that gig down. Nothing surprised me. I dealt with things as they came, and the guys kept their distance from me. Every now and then, some new asshole would come along, trying to build up his rep inside and think it was a good move to fuck with me. I’d nip that shit in the bud quick. It was easy after a while. All the guys looked like my pops, so I let out some pent-up anger. But this…these people here are nice. The people at the diner…I like them. And this room is big and I have my own bathroom. An actual bathroom, not just a damn toilet next to the bed. And a bed. I have an actual room with a bed.” He blew out a heavy breath. Growing up in a one-bedroom home, his father had taken the bed and relegated Vann to the worn out couch in the barely-there living room until he’d kicked him out. When he got off the streets a few weeks later, he ended up trading roadie duties with a band for a place to crash. Sleeping on the floor in a studio apartment with six other people wasn’t the ideal setting, but it sure as hell beat lying in the streets or under their tree by the lake. The only time he had ever slept in a bed were those middle-of-the-night rendezvous at Drayton’s parents’ house.

“Those are all good things,” Drayton said in a soothing tone.

“That’s the problem.” He rolled to his side and tucked his hands under the pillow, resting his ear on the phone. He remembered the way everyone smiled at the diner, the sound of their laughter when they joked with each other. He couldn’t help wondering if that laughter and joking around would include him when he officially started. “It’s too much.” And I’m not going to make it if it’s all taken away again.

“How did you handle it when you first went to prison?”

Vann bit his lip, thinking back to a time he preferred to wipe from his mind. “I took it one day at a time. I shut everyone out and locked away everything personal. I minded my own business and kept everyone at a distance. I focused on whatever job they had me doing. I ate alone, I worked out for my hour in the yard, and I didn’t talk to anyone. It was easy. I only had one friend in there. And after I got through the day, I did it again. The only time I’d let myself feel anything was when I’d get one of your letters.”

“That’s similar to the way you told me you were before we became friends.” Drayton sounded as if he had said that more to himself, understanding Vann’s train of thought as he always had when they were young. “And now, everyone, including me, is expecting you to open up.”

“Yeah, with a big welcome mat and a comfy bed. I just don’t see how I can.”

“It took you a while to open up to me when we were friends, but you did. You adapt easily, you always have, but don’t expect it to happen overnight.”

Vann let out an exasperated sigh. Drayton was right, and he wanted to believe it, but his head wasn’t cooperating.

“You mentioned having a friend inside. Tell me about him.”

“They cornered him and killed him. I don’t want to talk about it.” He closed his eyes and tried to block out the flood of memories trying to push him over the edge. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. Why don’t you do the talking?” Nothing could soothe him and quiet these demons in his head more than the sound of Drayton’s voice. “Please.”

“What do you want to talk about?”

“Tell me something that happened after I went in. Tell me about the motor and car company.”

He enjoyed the rise and fall of Drayton’s voice, absorbing every bit of information. Drayton had left his position at the engineering firm and found his calling in the automotive world but still retained his interest in the energy industry. That combination sparked a few ideas and led him to develop his motor, which he then used to start his own company. Drayton’s excitement filtered through the line as he spoke about the invention, his stubbornness to persevere even though he kept running into resistance, and how he had learned about the car industry and exotic market by streamlining distribution for other car manufacturers who were now peers and competitors.

A surge of pride welled in Vann’s chest. Drayton had found a way to compartmentalize his social anxieties and put his determination in the driver’s seat, pushing through obstacles to build a legacy of his own, without the ties to his family heritage or their links in the political and business worlds. Drayton had made his mark in the world. He had tirelessly worked to make his name synonymous with success.

Just like Vann knew he would.

But for some reason, Vann always had this twisted dream that he’d somehow be with him when that time came. He screwed his eyes shut, struggling to keep the roaring doubt and negative words in his mind at bay.

No one needs you. You’re useless.

Go back to where you came from.

All you do is cause problems. You hold people back.

The world would be a better place without you.

“Vann?”

His eyes shot open as he gasped for air. He needed to get himself under control. He needed to lock away these emotions again. He glanced over at the clock on the nightstand. “It’s getting late. I need to hang up.”

“It’s not one o’clock yet. We still have a little more time.”

He fought to speak through the emotions gripping him in a stranglehold. “I’ve got work tomorrow and you’ve got to prep for your meeting.”

“Don’t shut me out,” Drayton whispered, the pain in his tone making its way through the phone line and straight to Vann’s heart. “Please.”

He could ignore the entire world and survive all kinds of pain life had thrown his way, but Drayton had a full-access pass to his soul. And somehow always managed to force Vann to drop his defenses. “Dray, please don’t push me on this.”

“I understand why you had to isolate yourself when you were inside. But you’re not locked up anymore. Don’t create your own prison by pushing me and everyone else away.”

“I’m trying but it’s…not easy.” Vann curled his body into himself and tried to fight the storm of chaos brewing in his spirit and the words cycling in his mind. He could hear his father’s voice, the voice of those from school and prison, chanting the same phrases over and over again.

“You’ve always been there with me…in my heart, shoving me forward when all I wanted to do was withdraw into the shadows and bury myself in work. You’re not alone. Do you hear me?”

Vann tightened his grip on the phone, pressing it closer to his ear and hoping the sound of Drayton’s voice would drown out the other voices battling to take center stage. Drayton had that power. He had always had that power with his quiet strength and his special words.

“I already told you, you have a place in this world. And that’s right by my side. We’ll do this together. You know I’m here for you.”

The kiss he had shared with Drayton, the spark that seemed to still exist between them when their lips touched… Maybe he had imagined it. Maybe their conversation about “wanting it all” had been in his head.

Shit.

He pressed the palm of his hand against his eyes. No, he hadn’t imagined that. And he hadn’t imagined the last three hours with Drayton on the phone. “I know,” he said in an almost whisper. “But my head’s not cooperating.”

“Life didn’t stop when you went inside. You just need to find the right spot to jump back on again.”

“And hope I don’t fall off the damn ride in the process.”

“And if you do, I’ll be right there with you. You and me. We’re a team. I’m not walking away regardless of how tough it gets or how hard you try to push me away.”

Vann plugged the phone into the charger after saying their goodbyes and ending the call. He burrowed into the bed again, pulling the sheets up under his chin and pushing his head into the pillow. He had to find a way to ease back into things, to jump back on the ride of life and grab hold of the bar and not let all these negative thoughts loosen his grip. He could do this.

He had to do this.

Vann snuggled into the pillow, blowing out a tired breath as sleep started pulling him into the darkness.

He was going to sleep in the bed.

He was going to stay in the bed until morning, regardless of the arguments waging war in his mind.

For tonight, he was going to win this battle. Tomorrow was another day.

That was progress.