Barry the plumber turned and gave a little wave and a tired smile when Mitch walked through the door.

Mitch had hoped that giving Barry and his crew the key to his house would mean the job would get finished quickly, but judging from the disaster area that used to be his living room, dining room, and kitchen, those hopes were fading fast.

“Hey, Mitch,” Barry said. “We’ve still got quite a mess on our hands, as I’m sure you can see.”

Mitch nodded. Understatement of the year. “Yeah, I see that. Do you have an estimate on how much longer it might be to put everything back together?”

“Hard to say, really. A couple more days, maybe? Three or four at the most, I’d guess.” Barry shrugged and took off the ball cap he was wearing to wipe his brow before continuing. “Your dad was just here asking the same question, in fact. Said he’d probably be looking to rent the place once you move out.”

“Once I move out?” Mitch blinked. What the fuck? He could only shake his head and snort out a harsh laugh. That was so typical of his dad. He’d probably burn the damn house down if he thought it would bring Mitch around to his way of thinking. “What else did he say, Barry?”

Barry took his time putting his cap back on, looking more than a little uncomfortable from Mitch’s reaction. “Not much, I guess. We talked about the damage, how the used water heater you bought just sort of gave out… it’s a shame they don’t make those things like they used to. But anyway, he was just asking me about the damage and I told him how lucky you guys were that it really didn’t get up into the drywall too badly. I’ll have to get someone out here to replace some in a couple of places, and a little insulation, too, but it could have been a whole lot worse.”

Mitch knew he should be happy—or at least relieved—at the news, but he still couldn’t get over the fact that his dad had made it seem like Mitch was just some tenant that was getting ready to be out of his hair. And that he’d apparently made it sound like it was Mitch’s idea to get some second-rate used water heater.

Seriously?

But whatever.

It would only make Barry more uncomfortable if Mitch tried to set the record straight. And anyway, none of it was Barry’s fault. Mitch’s real problem was with one person, and one person only. As usual.

Franklin Davis.

What a piece of work.

“Thanks, Barry,” Mitch said, finally. “I’m just gonna grab some fresh clothes and I’ll be out of your way again. Don’t hesitate to call if there’s anything I can do to help speed the process along.”

“Will do.” Barry waved again. “I’ll be in touch.”

Mitch left the living room and moved through the house to his bedroom, pulling out his phone and firing off a text to his dad as he walked.

The response was nearly instantaneous. Franklin had no doubt been expecting something along those lines.

Mitch could barely see through his anger to type out a reply. His hands were shaking. If his dad had been there to say those words face to face, Mitch wasn’t sure he could have stopped himself from doing something he would have probably ended up regretting.

Well, something he might have regretted.

Maybe.

Eventually.

He stopped himself before he could send the text, though. Like it or not, his dad held all the cards, and Mitch had gone through a big chunk of the money he’d put away just to make the down payment on this damn house.

If Franklin kicked him out now—and Mitch had no doubts that he would—he really wouldn’t have anywhere to go. He absolutely wouldn’t ask Pop or Jonah for help with something like that, not knowing when he’d be able to get back on his feet.

No. The best thing to do was to ignore all of his dad’s belligerent bullshit. If Mitch didn’t rock the boat too much, he could at least maintain the status quo for long enough to figure out what the hell to do next.

But he refused to let his dad call the shots while Jonah was still in town. They only had four more days together, and Mitch intended to spend every single one of them with Jonah.

To hell with any rumors that might start.

Mitch might not be able to come out of the closet completely yet, but he wasn’t going to live in fear, either.

Not from strangers spreading gossip. Not from his small-minded father.

He moved around the room quickly, grabbing clothes from his dresser and closet and throwing them into a bag. He wasn’t a child anymore, to be bullied and brow-beaten into submission by shitty threats.

Mitch knew then that he would have to deal with his father sometime.

Probably sometime soon.

But not this week.

I told you to stay away from that family…

Fuck.

That.

Mitch would have Jonah back in his arms tonight.

It was almost easy to forget how shitty life could be outside the walls of Pop’s house. Sitting on the back porch with Jonah after Pop went to bed, Mitch could close his eyes and pretend that it never had to be any different than it was right that second.

“What are you thinking about?” Jonah asked, reaching over from the chair next to Mitch to take his hand. “You had a cute smile on your face just now.”

“Only that it is so good to be here with you,” Mitch said.

It was the simplest version of the truth he could give. It was what everything else boiled down to.

Mitch just liked spending time with Jonah.

He always had.

They didn’t have to be doing anything in particular—they’d barely even said much in the past hour since Pop went inside to bed.

But just being outside with the evening sounds and the light breeze, the calm security of knowing that Jonah was right there by his side was more than enough to make Mitch happy.

In fact, it was Mitch’s idea of paradise.

Perfect.

“It’s too bad that your house is going to take a little longer than you thought,” Jonah said, giving Mitch’s hand a gentle squeeze. “But I have to admit that I’m glad it means you’ll be staying here with me for the rest of the weekend. Does that make me selfish?”

“Not even a little bit selfish,” Mitch said, meaning it. He brought Jonah’s hand up and let his lips brush across his knuckles. “I can say in all honesty that there is nowhere else in the world I’d rather be. And nobody else I’d rather be with.”

“Why does life have to be complicated sometimes?” Jonah asked quietly. “Why can’t we both just have everything we want?”

Mitch sighed. It was a question he’d asked himself over and over these past ten years—even longer than that, really. But no matter how many times he’d wondered, the answer hadn’t ever changed.

“I don’t know, babe.” Mitch looked into Jonah’s eyes and gave a wry smile. “In a perfect world, the choices would be simple and the timing would always be right.”

Mitch didn’t tell Jonah about the conversation with his dad earlier in the day. He didn’t say how close he’d come to actually making one of the choices easier by throwing caution to the wind and coming out to everyone and anyone who would listen.

Because even though that might make one of Mitch’s choices easier, it would only put more pressure on Jonah.

And even then, the timing was fucked up.

“I wish we lived in a perfect world,” Jonah said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Me, too. I wish for that more and more every day.”

What didn’t need to be said was that wishing wasn’t going to solve any of the problems that stood in their way.

Mitch closed his eyes again.

The nighttime sounds had gone quiet and the easy summer breeze had gone still. And even though he still had Jonah right there by his side, right where he always wanted him to be, there was no denying that the mood had shifted.

The shitty outside world had crept into their backyard paradise, and all either one of them could do was wish it would go away.