After the weekend we’d had, doing something normal like mowing the lawn felt good. I still couldn’t really get my head around everything, and Noah said it would probably take some time.

I didn’t doubt that. Not one bit.

I wondered if I would ever get used to the fact Pops knew I was gay, let alone hanging out with him and my boyfriend like we’d done yesterday. If this is my new normal, I wouldn’t complain, but it was going to take some getting used to.

I wasn’t looking forward to facing my father tomorrow. He’d probably just go back to how things used to be. No apologies, no acknowledgement, and just expect me to do the same.

I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to go back to walking on eggs shells, wondering how bad his next outburst would be. I didn’t want to live like that anymore. I didn’t want him to hurt Pops anymore.

As I mowed neat lines into Noah’s front lawn, I made a decision: if he wanted us back under his roof, things would need to be different. There would be rules, manners, and he could pay me back for the mower he stole. And if he told me tomorrow that we ain’t welcome back, then Pops and I would figure something else out. We would find somewhere else; we’d get by. We always did.

When I was almost finished, Noah’s car pulled into the driveway. I cut the engine, wondering what on earth he was doing home so early, wondering what he forgot to take with him, when a cop car pulled up behind him. And then I saw Noah’s face and I knew something was really wrong.

I stared at him, trying to calm my heart, trying not to run. “Noah, what is it?”

By now, two cops stood beside him. “CJ, we should go inside,” Noah said.

I nodded numbly⁠—I knew this had to be bad⁠—but somehow my feet wouldn’t move. Noah walked over to me with one hand out, like I was a frightened horse, like he could tell I was about to turn and run. He put his hand on my arm. “Come inside with me.” He led me inside. “Pops?” he called out.

When Pops saw me and Noah come into the kitchen and the two cops behind us, he slowly got to his feet. I’d imagine the look on his face mirrored mine.

“We have some bad news for you,” one cop said. “You might want to sit down.”

We sat woodenly, mechanically, and stared up at the two cops in front of us. Noah sat beside me and held my hand.

“There was a fire,” the cop said. “It was called in by a neighbouring property, but by the time the fire brigade arrived, it was too late. The house couldn’t be saved. They found a body. Dental records confirm the deceased was your father.”

I blinked.

Everything went hot and cold and Noah’s hand in mine was the only thing that kept me from losing the plot.

“Where were you on Saturday night?” the other cop asked.

I looked at Noah. He squeezed my hand. “It’s okay. Tell them the truth. I’ve already told them what I know.”

I swallowed hard. “I was here in the afternoon. With Noah. Then Pops called me, saying my dad was out of control. Noah drove me home.”

One cop wrote in his notepad, the other asked, “What time?”

I shrugged. “Dunno. It was getting dark. Maybe five or six.”

“What happened when you arrived at the house?”

“I fought with him, my father,” I said weakly. I waved my hand to my black eye. “He did this. We fought for a while. He got a few good shots on me, and I was a bit dazed.” I looked at Pops. “He held Pops against the wall by his neck and I ran at him and knocked him on his arse. I punched him and we fought some more. I kneed him in the balls. I didn’t mean to, but it was the only thing that stopped him.” My mouth was so dry, I couldn’t even swallow. “He told us to get out of his house, so we did. Pops grabbed his medication and we walked out. With nothing else. We walked to my work, where my motorbike was, then rode here to Noah’s.”

“Where is your work?”

“Mr Barese’s mechanic shop, in Ten Mile Creek.” I shot Noah a look. “Oh God, Mr Barese. He must be worried sick.”

The cop looked at me like something didn’t make sense. “What time did you arrive here, at Mr Huxley’s?”

I shrugged. “Not sure. After midnight, maybe one o’clock.”

“How long did it take you to walk?” the cop pressed. “That’s a lot of time in between.”

“Took a while,” Pops answered defensively. “It was raining, pitch black, and I can’t walk too fast.”

“Pops don’t breathe too good when he’s cold. I wanted to take him to hospital but he wouldn’t let me.” I took a second to try and make sense of what they were saying. “Is the house really gone?”

“I’m afraid so. I don’t think anything will be salvageable.”

I did some deep breathing, trying not to freak out, and Noah kept squeezing my hand. I looked up at the cops. “Do you think I had something to do with it?”

“You don’t seem too upset at the news of your father,” the first cop said.

“I hate him,” I replied. “Wished every day he’d go back to jail, but I never wished him dead.”

“If he did this to you,” the cop with the notepad said, indicating to my face, “why didn’t you report him? He would’ve been picked up and put away.”

“And what?” I asked rhetorically. “Make him so mad that the next time he sees me, he belts the ever-loving shit outta me? Or kills me? You’ve never lived with a violent alcoholic, have you?”

The cop didn’t answer. I didn’t expect him to.

I glared at him. “Don’t blame the victim for just tryin’ to survive.” My eyes burned, and as much as I didn’t want to cry, I didn’t seem able to stop it. I turned to Pops. “We’ll be okay, won’t we?”

His chin wobbled and his teary eyes met mine. “Course we will. You and me, we’ve always been okay.”

His breathing was rougher than normal. “Need your medication?”

He shook his head, but Noah was already on his feet. “I’ll get it.” He came back a second later with his pills and a glass of water while the cops just stood and watched.

I looked up at them. “Can we go to the house?”

“It’ll be cordoned off as a crime scene until cause of death is determined.” The cop put his notepad away. “You can go look from the road, but you won’t be allowed to touch anything.”

“Mr Barese’ll be so worried. I should call him.”

“We spoke to Mr Barese earlier. He was concerned when we said we weren’t able to contact you. He spoke very highly of you, Clinton,” the cop said. “But he didn’t have much time for your father.”

I almost snorted. “Because my father wasn’t a nice person.”

The first cop nodded slowly. “Will you be willing to come to the police station to make an official statement?”

“Yeah, of course.”

He turned to Pops. “You as well, Mr Davis?”

“Yes. Anything you need.”

Then it was Noah’s turn. “Mr Huxley?”

“Yes, no problem. We’ll follow you directly, yes?”

They nodded and left, and the three of us sat there and stared at each other, not knowing what to say. Noah eventually took out his phone and handed it to me. “Call Mr Barese. He’ll want to hear from you.”

I nodded and robotically dialled the number. “Hello?”

“Mr Barese⁠⁠⁠—⁠”

“CJ? Oh my God, son, where are you? Are you okay? And Pops? We’ve been so worried!”

“I’m okay.”

His voice turned soft. “Have you heard the news?”

“Yeah, I heard.” I swallowed hard. “Not sure I’ll be in tomorrow, but I’ll come see you sometime soon, okay? Just wanted to let you know me and Pops are okay.”

“Yes, yes. You take as much time as you need. Thank you for calling me. Mrs Barese will be so relieved.”

It made my heart ache even more. “Thank you.”

* * *

Numb. Shock. Disbelief.

Words that hadn’t meant much to me until that moment. I had no idea, no idea at all, at the weight they would carry.

I was also sorry. Sorry my father was dead. I never wished death on anyone, and I was sorry the last time I’d seen him had been a fight. I was sorry things would be forever unresolved.

I was sorry that part of me, deep down, unbidden and without mercy, was glad that he was gone.

We each had to go into separate rooms, and each of us was questioned. Noah had told me to tell the truth, so I did.

They asked me what my relationship to Noah was, and I knew that he was in trouble at work. But I wouldn’t lie; he’d told me not to. “He’s my boyfriend.”

“How long have you been together?”

So I told the truth. “Officially, since midnight Saturday. When I weren’t on parole no more. It was his stupid rule.”

The cop nodded and wrote something down, then kept asking more questions about timelines and what happened, and I told them that my father and I fought many times since he got out of jail. Mostly over him smoking in the house and selling my things for cash to buy alcohol with, and how I was done taking shit from him. I’d taken it my whole life, and I refused to take one more hit.

When he was done, he asked me to sign the bottom of the statement I’d just given. I looked at the pages of words and put the pen down. Now, before Noah, I’d never known to do this, I’d never had the courage to ask. I would have just signed it blindly. “I can’t read too good, so could you please have someone else read it to me?”

The cop nodded, disappeared, and came back with a woman who read it, word for word, back to me. I thanked her, she gave me a smile, and I signed the bottom of each page. I was told, basically, not to leave town and was shown back to the waiting room.

Pops and Noah were already there, and Noah stood when he saw me. “How’d you go?” he asked me sadly.

I nodded. “Okay. You?”

“Yeah, okay.” He rubbed my arm. “I asked them if you wanted to see the house, if they could take us. They said we can follow them up, but only if you want.”

I nodded. “Yeah. I want to see it.”

So, that’s what we did. Noah drove, following the cop car up to Ten Mile Creek. No one spoke, but Noah held my hand over the centre console. Pops was quiet in the backseat. It was as though it wasn’t real. Like everything the police had said was a joke and we’d drive down Davis Road and the house’d still be there, and my father’d have his arse planted in Pops’ recliner and yelling about getting his dinner ready.

Only when we did turn down Davis Road, it became very real.

There was a fire truck and a white police van and police ‘do not cross’ tape across the front fence. And blackened, smouldering remains of what used to be our house.

“Crime Scene Investigation,” Noah said, nodding to the writing on the van.

I assumed the two people in white overalls belonged with that. There were also two firemen with clipboards standing near the shed, talking and pointing to the fire-damaged wall closest to the house. I was surprised it was still standing, but maybe from the way they were looking and pointing at it, making angle gestures with their hands, it wouldn’t be there for long.

“Someone should tell ’em the shed’s leaned like that forever,” I said quietly.

Noah gave me a sad smile but turned to look back at what was left of the house. “Jesus Christ.”

Pops opened his door and climbed out, so I joined him. We watched the uniform cops walk over to their colleagues in the white overalls. One of them spared us a look and I shook my head. “Can you believe they think I did this?” I asked. “Guilty before proven innocent.”

Noah was now beside me. “We have nothing to hide. You had nothing to do with this.”

“Yeah well, to them I’m just a Davis. From this house, down this fucking road. Davis Row. Don’t think we don’t know what the cops call it. It’s been Davis Row since before I was born, and I’m just another piece of shit on their shoe.”

Pops frowned at me. “We had some good times in this house, didn’t we? You and me? It wasn’t all bad was it?”

Oh God, he thought I was insulting him. The look on his face was devastated, and I couldn’t bear it. I put my arms around him. “Of course we did. You and me did real good. Had the best times here. You did a real good job looking after me. I wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for you, Pops. And that’s the truth.”

“We’ve got nothing,” he said, waving his hand at the cordoned-off, burned-down house. “We left with nothing.”

“We’ll be okay, Pops. You and me, we’ve always been okay. We’ll find a way.”

Pops sniffled, his breathing a little laboured. “And Noah.”

I looked at Noah then, who was watching us. He shrugged one shoulder. “If you’ll have me.”

If I’ll have him? “If I’ll have you? I already said I can’t do this without you. Noah . . .”

He walked over and put his arm around me, pulling me in for a side-on hug. “You have a home with me for as long as you want it. My house’s kinda small, but it’s yours. And we’ll work out getting some clothes and personal belongings. You’ll both be okay. I promise.”

The three of us stood there, staring at the charcoal remains of the house for I don’t know how long. It was so hard to get my head around. “My father died in there,” I whispered.

Noah rubbed my back. “It’s hard to believe, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

Pops frowned. “Death ain’t ever easy. I’m sorry he went that way.”

I nodded because I understood exactly. Sorry he went this way, but not all too sorry he was gone. “I am too.”

Noah was patient and never asked if we were done or ready to leave; he never hurried us along. He just waited and offered a kind smile every time I looked at him. There was something in his eyes, though, something that told me he understood.

Another car came down the road and my heart squeezed when I saw that it was Mr Barese’s car. He pulled up, got out, and walked straight over. He never even paused, not even for a second. He just opened his arms and hugged me. “Oh, my boy, I’m so sorry.” His voice was gruff and warm. “The police came to see me. I didn’t know where you were. Maria and I have been so worried. I saw you drive past, so I locked the shop up to come see you.”

I pulled back and wiped my face, careful of my eye. “Sorry. We’ve been staying with Noah.”

Mr Barese turned to him, then hugged him too. “Thank you for looking out for him.”

Noah just smiled and watched on fondly as Mr Barese then hugged Pops. Only after he made sure we were okay⁠—he fussed over my beat-up face a bit⁠—did he then stare at the charred remains of the house in disbelief. He invited us for dinner any time we wanted, and he told me to take as much time as I needed. Funnily enough, I’d reckon keeping busy at work was probably what I needed more than not. He put his big hand on my shoulder like he knew exactly what I’d say.

Eventually, Mr Barese left us to it, and we made the quiet trip back to Noah’s. Home, I guess. For now or for how long, I didn’t know. When Pops was settled on the sofa in front of the heater and TV with a cup of tea, Noah followed me into the kitchen and took me in a crushing embrace.

Fierce, strong, safe, and everything⁠—everything⁠—I needed. I melted against him and could literally feel him mending the broken pieces of my heart, putting me back together again.

I didn’t ever want to let him go.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

“I don’t know how to feel,” I admitted quietly.

“You don’t have to. It’ll change. From every hour to every day, how you feel will be different. Anger, disappointment, betrayal, loss, relief. There’s no right or wrong way to grieve, Clinton.”

My God, he got it. Described it better than I ever could. I nodded against his neck. “He was such a mean bastard, but he was my dad, ya know?”

He kissed the side of my head. “Yeah, I know.”

I still wasn’t ready to let him go. “This feels so good,” I murmured into his shirt. “Thank you.”

He held me just that little bit tighter. “Anytime.”

“Do you think the police will know I didn’t do it?”

“They’ll have to. Their forensic people will work out when and how he died, and you’ll be cleared.”

“You believe that?”

“I have to. I can’t imagine anything else.” He sighed. “I just found you. I can’t lose you. And you’re a good man, CJ. They’ll see that. Everyone who knows you says it.” He pulled back so he could look me in the face. “They’ll see that the whole Davis Row stereotype is wrong. They’ll see they were wrong.”

“And if they don’t?” I couldn’t shake the feeling. “I’ve put up with it all my life.”

He cupped his hand to my cheek. “I’ll make them see.” He kissed me softly. “I’m sorry about your dad.”

I sighed, and my heart felt too heavy for my chest. “You get it, don’t you? You know what this feels like?”

He nodded once and his face fell. “Yeah, I do. It won’t be easy, CJ. But we’ll get through this.”

He just included himself right along with me, no questions asked, like a buoy in my turbulent sea.

With his hands still to my face, he kissed my forehead. “Six months after we buried my parents, I buried my sister. So I get it, Clinton. I get what you’re feeling. You can tell me anything. There’ll be days where you’ll want to punch something and days you’ll want to cry, I get that. And some days you’ll need to be around people and days when you’ll need some space, and I’ll understand that too.” He put his hands to my jaw, cupping my face. “But you’re not alone.”

Tears burned my eyes and one escaped. “Thank you.”

He kissed me sweetly, then hugged me like he knew it was what I needed. “Anytime.”

We stayed like that, just standing in his kitchen with the hideous lino, with our arms around each other, until Pops started to snore from the living room. I felt Noah’s quiet chuckle through his chest, and even then I didn’t want to pull away. “He’s had a tiring day,” I murmured, giving him a squeeze.

Noah rubbed my back. “So have you.”

“You missed work today,” I said.

“I told them I was taking a day’s leave. I’ll need to go in tomorrow.”

“Will you get into trouble?” I asked. “You know, because of me. Because of us.”

He took a second to answer. I almost pulled out of his arms but he held me close. “I don’t think so. I might have to explain, but you’re no longer one of my cases and we weren’t technically official before then.”

“Well, we kinda were. I told the cops we weren’t together until midnight when your rules ran out. Dunno if they believed me.”

He kissed my forehead with smiling lips. “I said the same. Look, Clinton,” he said, pulling back this time and looking me right in the eyes. “If they have a problem with it, I’ll find something else.”

I blinked. “You’d do that?”

“For you, yes, I would.” He kissed me again and Pops snored so loud he woke himself up with a snort and a cough.

I almost smiled. It had been such a long, exhausting day, I’d lost track of time. “Want some dinner, Pops?” I called out.

“Mm. Hmph.” He coughed again. “Yeah, I’m awake.”

Noah chuckled. “How about toasted cheese sandwiches and tomato soup?”

I was reluctant to let him go, but I did. “Sounds perfect.”

“You’re on toastie duty. I’m on soup.” Then he added, quietly, just for me, “And we can have an early night, yeah?”

I nodded. “Yes, please.”

He kissed my forehead and busied himself with making tomato soup so I started on the toasted sandwiches, and a minute later, Pops came into the kitchen. He would quite often sit in the kitchen and chat with me while I made dinner, and I was glad today was no different.

The normalcy, especially now it included Noah, felt really good.

Things were so different now. Everything was different now.

It still didn’t feel real.

I had so much to think about, so much to get in order. So much I had no clue about.

“You okay, CJ?” Pops asked. We’d finished dinner and I must have got lost in my head.

“Yeah, just thinking.” I pushed my plate away. “What do you reckon’ll happen? To me, to the house, to Dad . . . I mean, his body?”

Pops frowned, and it was Noah who answered. “The coroner will give their findings to the police and we can probably expect to hear from them in a day or two. They might contact you tomorrow, just to check in on you both. Or they might not. They can’t do anything to you without evidence, so you’ll have a day or two, at least, before they’ll process all that.” His gaze intensified. “CJ, you did nothing wrong.”

I sighed. “We fought beforehand, and I told the cops I hated him. Doesn’t look good for me.” I scrubbed my hand over my face and my shiner smarted. “Shit.”

“Clinton,” Noah said gently. “You did nothing wrong. You have witnesses to him hitting you before, so the fight is explainable. It’s a tragedy that your father died. A horrible, tragic accident. You’re not to blame.”

Pops nodded. “Listen to him, CJ. He’s a smart one.”

I looked at Pops then. “Did he have a will?”

Pops shook his head. “I don’t know. I doubt it.”

I sighed. “Figured as much. Just means more legal fees, don’t it? I can’t afford legal fees. Don’t even know how we’ll pay for the funeral. Oh God, the funeral . . .”

Noah reached over and took my hand. “Don’t worry about any of that yet. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

My eyes met his. “We’ll?”

“Yes, we will.” He nodded and squeezed my hand, then without another word, he collected the plates off the table.

God, yesterday my biggest concern was showing affection in front of Pops, and now, after the day we’d had, that seemed irrelevant.

Pops stood up and put his hand on my shoulder. “Thank you, both, for dinner. And for being so good today. It hasn’t been easy.” Noah stood in the doorway wiping his hands on a tea towel. “And Noah, thank you for being so good to my boy.”

“Oh.” Noah blushed. “You’re welcome.”

Pops squeezed my shoulder. “But I have to turn in, if that’s okay. I’m beat. I promise I’ll be on dish duty after breakfast.”

I gave him a smile. “Night, Pops.”

“Sleep well, CJ,” Pops said. “We’ll deal with tomorrow when it comes, okay?”

I watched him walk slowly to his room, and when his door latched closed, Noah walked over and tilted my head back so he could kiss me. “Did you want to watch a movie? Or did you want to just go to bed?”

I hummed. That was a no contest. “Bed.”

He smiled. “I’ll wash up. You get ready for bed.”

“You sure?”

He leaned down and kissed me. “Absolutely.”

It was remarkable to me how he knew when to push and when to pull back. Like he somehow knew when I would freak out or when I needed to lean on him. Right now, I was in a headspace where I needed time to think but I wanted those goddamn hugs and hands that healed me from the inside out.

I needed both and he knew it.

I took my time in the bathroom and I crawled into Noah’s bed, breathing in the smell of him, of us. It was comforting and made my heart swell in a way that was new and wonderful. Noah wasn’t far behind me. He shut the door, turned the light off, stripped right there, and slid in beside me. Without hesitating, he wrapped me up in his arms and I snuggled right in. I buried my face in his neck and settled flush against him.

He stroked my hair and kissed the top of my head. “Tell me what you need,” he murmured.

“This. You.” He could obviously feel my body’s reaction; I was getting hard. “I don’t know.”

He rubbed my back. “Whatever you want.”

“What you did the other night,” I mumbled, embarrassed, but desperate for it all the same. “I’ve never felt that before and I need to feel it again, but I’m not sure if my heart can take it today.”

“Oh, Clinton.” Noah rolled me over so I was on my back and he was lying on top of me. I spread my legs for him, he settled between my thighs, and he crushed his mouth to mine.

Later, after he got me ready for him and he was inside me, he held me, he rocked me, stared into my eyes, kissing me, adoring me . . . loving me.

I couldn’t doubt it. My heart felt like it would burst. After a day of loss and drifting, he anchored me. With my body strung tight, he drew my orgasm from me with every thrust, every kiss, begging for me to come until I gave him what he wanted. As my cock spilt between us, he stilled inside me, crying out as he came. He held me so damn tight and murmured in my ear, “I want to make love to you forever.”

And my emotional dam burst, my heart couldn’t take anymore, and I cried.

Noah rolled us onto our sides and held me. He never questioned me; he never told me I was being stupid. He just pulled the blankets up over us, rubbed my back, and kissed my forehead, and never, not once, let me go.

When I’d cried myself out, I took a few shuddering breaths, trying to get some control. “Sorry. Don’t know what came over me,” I whispered, wiping my nose on the back of my hand. “I ain’t ever cried like that before. Not that I remember, anyhow.”

“Oh, Clinton,” he murmured, kissing the top of my head. “Don’t ever apologise. You’ve been through a lot.”

“You get it though, don’t you?”

He nodded. “Yeah.” Then after a stretch of silence, he said, “Can I tell you something?”

“Yeah.”

“I wasn’t going to. I wasn’t sure if it was the right time, you’ve probably had enough dumped on you for one day. But maybe it’s the perfect time. If I’d had someone in my life when my family died, I would have done anything in the world to hear it . . .”

I pulled back so I could see his face. “What is it?”

“I love you.” He said it so softly, I’d wondered if I’d heard him right. He put his hand to the side of my face and stared into my eyes. “I love you, Clinton Davis. I know it’s only been a few weeks, but it’s true. What I feel for you is”⁠—he smiled⁠⁠⁠—⁠”amazing and I want you to know that you’re loved. You should know that, today of all days. You’re an incredible guy, and I’m so lucky to have met you.”

My heart stopped beating. Then it thundered, roared, and took flight. My eyes burned with tears, and I didn’t even try to stop them. I nodded because it was all I could do. He was right. I needed to hear that, I needed to know that, and my God, I needed to feel it. He smiled again and pulled me back into his neck and held me, just fucking held me.

It was a minute or two before I could speak. “I ain’t ever loved anyone before, so I don’t know if that’s what this is.” I swallowed so I could finish. “But I think I’m in love with you too.”

He put his hands to my face and kissed me, and I swear I could taste emotion on his tongue. Then he kissed my cheek, my closed, swollen eyelid, my sore cheek, my forehead, before he tucked me into his neck. And that’s right where I stayed until morning.