32
Frankie
Mom and I sit in my car, parked in her driveway. We’ve hardly said a word the whole drive, thoughts of the sperm donor—my father…I don’t know how I really think of him—and Evan still a powerful hurricane in my brain that I don’t know how to deal with. “He wrote me,” I tell her. “Dad…he wrote me, and I ignored it. I ripped it up and now all I can think about is the fact that he likely told me he was sick, that he was dying. And I don’t want to care. I hate him. I don’t know how not to hate him…but there’s a part of me that cares too and that feels guilty for not reading the letter. Then I feel even more guilty for thinking that way, because he hurt the person I love most in this world. I don’t know how to make sense of all these conflicting emotions.”
“Oh, mijo.” Mom unclicks her seat belt, reaches over, and pulls me into a hug. “You don’t have to make sense of it. What in the world ever made you believe emotions made a damn bit of sense? They don’t. Most feelings aren’t logical, and that’s okay. You have nothing to feel guilty about.”
Then why doesn’t it feel that way? “You would have read it,” I say when we part.
“Yes, I would have…but so? That doesn’t make me right and you wrong. People spend too much time trying to make their beliefs someone else’s or believing what they do is always right. How one person reacts to a situation doesn’t mean that’s how everyone should or would react to it. There are no rule books to being human.”
She’s right. I know she’s right but… “I just never want to let you down. I never want to hurt you. I don’t ever want to be him.”
And that’s the crux of it all, isn’t it? That fear is always there, the fear that in some way I’ll turn out to be him. That I’ll hurt people I love the way he did. That I’ll put myself over people I love the way he did.
Evan.
His panicked, confused eyes through the hood of his mask flash behind my eyelids. The way I snapped at him echoes through my ears. The way I walked out without explaining to him that I’m not mad plays on repeat in my head. I should have taken a moment to explain. I should have told him it was okay. I should have made sure he knew I wasn’t mad.
But…but there was a part of me that was mad. Mad that Mom knew about our play, that this part of us was out there in the open. Or maybe not mad, but embarrassed. I’ve spent months telling Evan there was nothing to be embarrassed about, that there was nothing wrong with what we do, but the second Mom walked through that door, I’d been flooded with it and I let that flood drown him out. It’s likely the same embarrassment that kept me from talking to Jackson about it the other day too.
“You’re not him. You never will be. You carry too much of a burden. You don’t have to be perfect all the time, and it’s not your job to protect everyone you love.”
“But I want to protect them.” And I failed in that with Evan, and in some ways with my mom too.
“That’s admirable, it is, but it’s not possible all the time. And if you’re spending your time protecting everyone else, who is protecting you?”
My eyes drift closed as I lean forward, forehead against the steering wheel, and that’s when I see it. Evan’s hazel eyes. The kindness in them. The infectious joy of his smile. The addicting sound of his laughter. The passion of his voice when he sings. The way he looks at me like there’s not any fucking thing in this goddamn world I can’t do. The way he talks to me when I need it and senses something’s wrong with me the same as I do with him. The fact that I talk to him in ways I don’t with others and I let him carry some of the weight I usually try to bear on my own.
The way he comes undone when I touch him. And the fulfillment I get out of training him, playing with him, petting and loving him. It gives me something I need, something I never knew I needed. Where’s the embarrassment in that? In fitting with someone, understanding them, and mutually fulfilling roles for one another? Where’s the shame in loving your own way and being happy your own way?
“You do, Ma, you protect me…and Randall does too. And Evan.” His name makes a small earthquake go off inside of me, just saying it, hearing it makes my pulse thump and my chest expand.
“I know you love him and—”
“Yes,” I cut her off. “Yes, it’s something we do together. You asked earlier if it was, and I didn’t answer. Yes. And it’s not about anything weird. It’s not even really about sex, though there’s no shame in kinky sex either. It sets him free in a way he desires, and it gives me a sort of control, a way of caring for someone I love that I need too. Maybe it doesn’t make sense but—”
“It doesn’t have to. Not to me. And I’m not saying it doesn’t but it’s between you and Evan, so it doesn’t have to make sense to anyone else. Someone else’s life rules don’t apply to another.”
“How’d you get so smart?” I tease her with a grin.
“My son taught me.” She smiles before reaching over to grab my hand. “Whatever I saw today isn’t my business. I was in shock, yes, but it doesn’t change how I see you or how I see Evan. Please make sure he knows that. I’ll text him later myself.”
“You have his phone number?” How did I not know that?
“Yep. You love him, so I love him. He’s part of this family.”
And I do. Christ, I fucking love him so much. “I need to go, Ma. I need to talk to him. Dad’s here. You’ll be okay.”
“I will, mijo. We’ll talk soon.” We give each other a hug. I wait until she’s safe in the house before I grab my phone and call Evan. His voice mail clicks on, so I hang up and try again.
Voice mail.
What must have happened for him to be in pup mode without me? Yes, he’d dressed in his gear before, but it was when he was surprising me. When we’d walked in he’d been on the couch, with his toys, lost inside that space he feels so damn comfortable in. “Ev…it’s me. I’m sorry. I’m not mad, okay, just…just know I’m not mad. You were a good boy. It was my fault.”
I hang up and drive away. It feels like it takes forever to get back to Metropolis. I practically run to our unit. “Ev?” I call when I step inside. I go to his room first, then mine, but it’s obvious he’s not here. My heart goes crazy as worry floods my veins. What the fuck was I thinking? He’s already nervous enough about the pup play, it already makes him feel weird, and when my fucking mom sees him, I yell at him and then walk out without an explanation.
I fumble my phone before managing to call Derek. “Hey, hottie,” he answers.
“Is Ev with you?” I ask. “If he is, I won’t interrupt. I just want him to know I’m not mad at him.”
“Um. No, he’s not with me, and what the hell did you do?”
“I fucked up.” My hand tightens on the phone as I pace the room. “Shit.” The last thing I want is to make him feel like Peter did, like his parents did, that any part of him is weird or wrong. It’s not. Pup Runt isn’t either.
“What the fuck? You’re not supposed to hurt him!” Derek says.
“You think I don’t know that? Just…just tell him to call me if you see him. I gotta go.” I hang up before he can say anything else. I try Hayden next, then Gary, and neither of them has seen Evan. Gary says he and Travis will help look.
I head straight for the door, not sure where I’m going to look but know I have to look somewhere. There’s a part of me that knows he’s fine. He’s grown. He knows how to take care of himself, but I also know him. He would have seen how I acted earlier as a rejection, that I was embarrassed and rejecting him for who he was, this part of him that he’s chosen to share with me.
Fire burns through my gut, making me feel no better than Peter or his parents.
It’s nearly impossible to stay still as I ride the elevator down. Where the fuck are you, Ev?
The elevator doors open and there he is, my pup, on the other side looking at me, worry and fear, but also strength in his eyes.
“Come here,” I tell him, opening my arms. He comes to me, steps right into my grasp, letting me wrap my arms around him. The doors close, and I manage to hit the button for our floor before I rub up and down his back.
“I’m sorry, Frankie. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know she would come back with you and when I saw her, I just froze. I’d had a bad day and—”
“Shh.” I pull away and put my finger to his lips. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for. You didn’t do anything wrong, okay? I need to make sure you understand that before I say anything else.”
He looks up at me and nods.
“I’m the one who’s sorry.” The elevator doors slide open. I take his hand and say, “Come on.”
When we’re back in our unit, I tell him, “I need to text the guys and let them know I found you.” Which I do, quickly, before tossing my phone aside.
“You told them?” he asks.
“Not everything. I just told them I fucked up and needed to find you. They were going to help.”
He gets a shy grin on his face and I know that even after all this time, it still amazes him that he has so many people who care about him. “We all love you, Ev. Of course, we’re going to worry about you. When are you going to see how fucking incredible you are? How fucking loved you are?” I cup his cheek, brushing my thumb across his smooth skin. “I love you.”
He sucks in a short, sharp gasp. “I—”
“Shh,” I tell him again. “That’s not how I wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t help it, and you’re so damn cute when you’re shocked. I’ll tell you again in a few minutes and if you feel the same, you can say it back, then. We’ll pretend it’s the first time.”
He chuckles. “I don’t think I can forget it, and I love you too.”
My heart nearly jumps out of my chest. “Cheater.”
“If we can pretend it’s the first time you say it, we can pretend it’s the first time I say it too.”
“Yeah.” I brush my thumb across his cheek again. “We can.” Christ, those words, hearing them from him do something to my heart. Make me feel like I’m fucking floating and I’m not even embarrassed about that shit. “Come here.” Grabbing his hand again, I tug him over to the couch, and sit down. Evan tries to sit next to me, but I pull him to my lap, let him straddle me because I love the feel of him on top of me.
“Want you close,” I tell him. “Actually, I need you close.” Because Evan gives me as much as I give him. Because Evan protects me as much as I want to protect him. Because I’m hurting, and I need him.
“I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I was in shock, hurting and embarrassed. I’m not proud of that last one but it’s true, and I want to be completely open with you. I’ve spent months telling you there’s nothing to be embarrassed about and I believe that, but the moment I had to show it, I freaked and I’m sorry.”
“It was your mom, Frankie. That’s understandable. God, I can’t believe she saw Pup Runt. I’m so embarrassed. She must think I’m a freak.”
“No.” I shake my head. “We had a talk. I didn’t give her all the details, but I told her it’s something I need, something we need.”
“You really need it too?” he asks.
“I do. I knew I did, I’d said I did, but it didn’t truly sink in until tonight. I need it, Ev, and I need you. So fucking much. I don’t even know who I am without Evan or Pup Runt anymore. You’re my boyfriend and my pup, and I love you so fucking much.”
“I love you too,” he tells me. “It’s because of you that I’m even strong enough to be Pup Runt. I need you too, Frankie, and I’m sorry I left, but I was hurt and I was scared.”
Because he thought I was walking away from him. He’d shown me that innermost part of him and the second someone else saw it, I reacted the wrong way. His parents had done that when they found out he was gay, and Peter had rejected him too. Of course, that’s where his thoughts would go.
“I wasn’t walking away. I know it looked like that, and I understand why. I just needed to deal with my mom. I should have explained it better and I promise I will if anything happens like that again. We have to be able to trust each other and ourselves. We’ll work on it together.”
“Together,” he confirms.
“This, what we do, there’s no shame in it. It’s ours and we both might have to work a little to remember to be okay with that. I just know I don’t want to lose it, or you.”
“I don’t want to lose it or you either.”
Reaching up, I rub him behind the ear. His eyes flutter and he whimpers, making my dick go hard. “Okay, we have to slow down for a minute, otherwise, we’ll end up with my dick in your ass instead of talking.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad to me.” He grins.
“Be good, Pup.” Keeping my hand at his nape, I say, “Mom loves you. She said she’ll text you. You’re part of our family. You’re not getting rid of us that easily.”
His eyes flood with tears, which he tries to blink away. “She doesn’t hate me?”
“No, Ev. She doesn’t. And she won’t. I also need to make sure you know nothing that happened tonight is your fault. I was serious when I said not to let anyone treat you with less respect than you deserve, and that includes me.”
“I know, Frankie. I felt like I was at fault at first, but once I calmed down, I realized I wasn’t. It was a thing that happened, nothing more, nothing less. We can both be sorry it did, though.”
“True, but I think you take fault for a lot of things—I let you do that today, and the stuff with your parents too.”
He looks down and closes his eyes, as if he’s readying himself, before looking at me again. “It’s hard sometimes, but I’m working on it. Their choices are theirs. They have nothing to do with me.”
“No.” I shake my head. “They have nothing to do with you, and you deserve better.”
He leans in and wraps his arms around me. I tighten my grip on the back of his neck, covering his mouth with mine. It’s a slow, claiming kiss. He tastes sweet, like Reese’s Pieces, moaning into my mouth. Our tongues tangle as we taste and savor. My dick starts to ache and when he rolls his hips, riding my lap, I know I have to pull away. “We’re not done talking yet, you horny pup.”
“I can’t help it with you,” he says before rubbing his cheek against my scruff. “What happened today? It didn’t click at first. I went to Otterly and was feeling really bad about myself. I talked to Z and it helped. Then, I just walked around for a while and it clicked. I saw the look in your eyes when you came in, Frankie, and I know you. You were hurting. What happened?”
And that’s why we work. He is my best friend, and I’m his. I know him better than anyone in this world, and he knows me the same way. So, I tell him about my dad, about my guilt and Mom’s sadness, and the confusion of my conflicting feelings where my dad is concerned. Evan holds me, kisses me, tells me it’s okay, that it’s normal and natural.
And for the first time since I was in that closet, I cry because of my father. For what he took from Mom, what he took from me. What he took from our family. I cry for Mom’s pain and my loss of a parent. I cry because I hate him and because a small part of me loves him. I cry because he’s gone, and I don’t know how I should feel about it.
Evan’s there the whole time, holding me, protecting me, loving me.