Chapter 15

Tate

 

Two months later

 

Tate swept clumps of hair into a pile in the middle of his shop floor. It was a quiet afternoon and most of the staff was finishing up with their last clients. Tate had finished his last client early, so he got a head start on cleaning and let his mind wander.

It had been about two months since LJ had gone to live with her mom during the week and Tate was worried about her and Reece. Reece was noticeably more withdrawn during the weekdays. Tate would catch him staring at one of LJ’s drawings on the fridge, or standing in the doorway of her room, looking around as though he expected her to be there but just couldn’t find her. Reece put on a brave face, but he desperately missed their little ladybug. So much, in fact, that they’d been spending more and more time at Tate’s apartment, because Reece had admitted he hated the silence at his place when LJ wasn’t there.

Tate swept the hair into a long-handled dustpan then headed toward the trash to dump the clippings. For her part, LJ did her best to seem fine, but Tate knew better. Both he and Reece felt she was safe. LJ had promised she’d tell them, her Nana Darlene, or Uncle Kameron if her mother started to act strange again—Reece had given her a basic cell phone with their numbers saved in it in case of emergencies.

Tate walked over closer to the styling chairs across from his to sweep up more hair. Even though LJ seemed physically safe, Tate could tell she was a depressed and missing her dad. She wasn’t nearly as chatty and her appetite had waned. And Sundays were the absolute worst. Both Reece and LJ would become more anxious and quiet, clinging to each other, so that by the time Jenna or her parents showed up to collect LJ, the tension was thick. Then, after LJ left, Reece would be silent for the rest of the night…

Tate clenched his jaw, feeling helpless as he swept up the debris. He didn’t know what to do. He sighed, silently cursing Jenna, as he’d done several times as of late, for hurting two of the people he loved most in the world. 

“Uh, Tate? There’s someone here for you…” Dani’s voice interrupted his musings. He looked up to see his father standing just inside the salon area. Tate’s stomach dropped.

“Dad?” he asked lamely as though the man wasn’t standing there in the flesh. He was going to kill the new receptionist he’d hired. How the hell had Tate Sr. managed to get past the front desk?

The man’s imposing figure looked out of place in the bright and sleek shop. Tate hadn’t seen his family since the Sunday he’d walked a few months ago. He knew everyone was fine. He’d spoken to his mom on the phone regularly and as recently as yesterday, but he’d refused every invitation to dinner with the other Robinsons since he’d walked out. His father didn’t want Tate at his home, so Tate had stayed away. Now, the older man was here in Tate’s space, uninvited. What the actual fuck?

Tate slapped a hand on his hip, the other still gripping the dustpan. His father looked him up and down, and Tate lifted his chin in challenge. He was in a white romper with small red anchors on them, silver hoop earrings, red lipstick, and yellow wedge sandals. Tate’s insides twisted. This was the first time his father had ever seen him in full makeup and heels.

For a moment, panic overwhelmed him, and he felt sick, wondering what his father must be thinking…what he might say. Part of Tate wanted to run and hide, didn’t want his father to see the real him. But Tate’s pride overrode his fear. Tate’s shop had been the one place he felt completely free to be himself; now his father had shown up and brought his judgment and bigotry with him.

But then Tate looked around the room. All his stylists had stopped what they were doing when he’d verbally acknowledged his father—didn’t matter if they were in the middle of washing hair, curling, or cutting it. They were all staring down Tate’s father as though daring him to step out of line. In the past, he’d openly shared a few details about his challenging relationship with his father when he had been stressed about going to Sunday dinner. He got the sense that his girls wanted to pick a war of words with his father and that eased the cramping in his belly and gave him the courage he needed to speak.

Tate lifted an eyebrow. “If you’re here to chew me out again about how selfish I am for not showing up to Sunday dinner—”  

“I miss you, TJ.” His voice was low and gruff.

Tate’s jaw dropped and he released the dustpan. “What?” 

Tate’s father took one then another step toward him. The man was holding his body so tightly it seemed to vibrate with tension, but when he got about a foot away from Tate, he crumpled a bit. Tate studied his father’s slouched figure, taken aback and a little afraid.

His father had always drilled into them how important it was to carry yourself with respect and dignity, popping them over the head if they slouched or wore their pants too low. Seeing Tate Sr. wilt worried him. Seeing his father in his shop looking almost apologetic terrified him.

Panic rose up Tate’s throat. “Are you sick, Dad? Are you, like, dying?” Tate asked, real fear taking hold of his body.

Tate Sr.'s eyes widened before his face fell and he shook his head. “No, son, I’m not sick or dying. I’m just sorry that you think I’d have to be for me to come see you.”

The older man went silent, looking around as Tate’s body relaxed at his father’s assurance he wasn’t ill. No matter how much Tate Sr. had hurt him, he was still Tate’s dad and Tate still loved him. He’d be devastated if something happened to his father, especially given how shitty their relationship was.

“Wow, son,” Tate senior said, taking in the shop.

Tate’s hackles rose again, ready to defend his pride and joy. He waited for his father to mock the décor for being too soft or too feminine with the rose golds and turquoise.

“The place looks good. I like the polished concrete floors. And the color is really you… It’s beautiful, son.”

Tate worked his jaw up and down, but his mouth couldn’t form any words. Stunned.

Dani walked over and grabbed the dustpan and put a hand on Tate’s shoulder. “Maybe you want speak with your father in the breakroom? I can finish up out here.”

Tate looked at her and then at the faces of his other stylists who looked less hostile toward his father than they had been a few minutes ago but still skeptical. Dani was right. Whatever conversation his father was insisting on having with him, he didn’t want it to be out in the open.

“Yeah, Dani, that’s a good idea.” Tate motioned for his father to follow him.

Once Tate had closed them into the breakroom, he leaned against the door, waiting for his father to speak as the man leaned against the counter. The polite thing to do would have been to offer him a seat and drink, but Tate didn’t want to make his father too comfortable in his space. In fact, a petty, resentful part of him took pleasure in knowing that his father felt a little of the discomfort and anxiety Tate felt each time he went home for Sunday dinner. Tate could see his father becoming increasingly restless as Tate waited in silence for him to speak. Squirming. Good.

“You manage all those people on the floor?” Tate’s father asked.

Tate nodded.   

“I’m sorry, son,” his father repeated again in a small voice, looking at his feet. “I’m sorry that I hurt and embarrassed you. Made you feel less than. I just didn’t know how to talk to you after you told me you were gay. And then you started dressing like…wearing…” Tate Sr. waved a hand toward Tate’s outfit with a grimace. “Well, I just didn’t understand or know how to talk to you.”

Hot fury blew through Tate’s limbs as, throwing his arms wide, he shouted, “You should have talked to me like you did before, because I was the same damn kid as always!” Tate caught himself.

He’d never yelled at his father, and it didn’t sit right with him, no matter how mad he was at the man. He crossed his arms over his chest and sighed.

“I didn’t change, Dad,” he said, his voice calm. He caught his father’s gaze. “I didn’t change, but you did. I’ve always been this way. I just didn’t have the words to explain it. And then when I did, I didn’t have the courage.”

Tate Sr.’s face fell, and he suddenly looked much older and smaller than he had in Tate’s mind most of the time. “I know you’re right. And it’s no excuse, but one day you were my TJ. You loved watching basketball with me and going fishing with me. Then you were a hormonal teenager, saying you liked other boys, wearing eyeliner, and sneaking girls’ clothing to school.”

Tate’s eyes widened. “You knew about that?”

Sr.’s brows furrowed. “’Course I did. I knew about your older brothers’ stash of pot and your younger brother skipping class too. I’m your father. It’s my job to know these things.” Tate Sr. went quiet, studying his hands before he continued. “That’s what bothered me so much when you came out. How could I have not known? You felt like a stranger.”

His father’s words pierced Tate, and he sucked in a shallow breath. Because his father had treated him like a stranger, and to hear Tate Sr. admit it, gutted Tate.

Tears threatened to spill as Tate spoke. “But I’m not a stranger. I’m still your son. I never stopped loving basketball, and I still enjoy fishing, though I’m too busy to do it. I just also happen date who I want and wear what I damn well please.”

Tate Sr. nodded with a little smirk on his face. “Yes, that you do, son. And I respect you for it. You’ve faced hardship from other people… From me. But you didn’t let it get in the way of living the life you want and building something wonderful. This is a beautiful tribute to your grandmother, son. My mother, your grandmother, would be proud of you, and I’m proud of you, TJ.” Then, his father, the consummate man’s man, the guy who’d drilled into him that real men didn’t cry or show weakness, sniffed and let his tears flow.

Tate had managed to hold back his own, but seeing his father be vulnerable to him cracked the wall that was holding back a wave of emotion, and Tate gave in, letting the moisture roll down his cheeks.

Tate and his father looked at each other then laughed a bit. Tate reached for a box of tissues and helped himself to a few before he handed it over to his father. They didn’t hug or anything like that, but they didn’t need to. Tate Sr. allowing his son to see him cry was more comforting and healing than any embrace; being vulnerable to Tate in that way, in a way that the elder Tate would normally criticize, showed he cared. Showed he was capable of some progress and change. It gave Tate hope for their relationship in the future.

Once they had dried their faces, Tate Sr. cleared his throat. “I uh, don’t know if you’re still on the outs with your young man, and I hate that you felt like you couldn’t bring him around because of me. But if there’s still a chance for the two of you, your mother and I would be pleased if you’d bring him to Sunday dinner sometime.”

Tate’s mouth opened in shock before he quickly closed it. “We’ll consider it,” he said, moving toward the breakroom door, his father following.

As he showed his father out, Tate couldn’t contain the joy at receiving his father’s approval of his shop from flowing through him and filling some empty place in his chest he hadn’t even realized had been there. But a single ten-minute conversation couldn’t erase years of rejection and pain. He was afraid to be hopeful but glad to have a starting place—family dinner with his boyfriend.

Reece hadn’t asked Tate about meeting his family since they’d gotten back together, but Tate knew it still niggled at Reece by the way his jaw had tightened when, a month ago, Darlene had asked Reece in casual conversation what Tate’s family thought of him and then again last week when she’d observed that Tate no longer went to Sunday dinner at his parents’ house.

Reece had firmly ended the conversation before Darlene could ask any more questions, and the man had been too preoccupied trying to cope with losing custody of LJ to mention it. Tate hoped that this olive branch from his father would cheer Reece up, but it would take a long time before Reece was truly happy again.

***

“Hey, babe. I’m home,” Tate called out as he entered his apartment. He kicked off his shoes before he even closed the front door, sighing in relief. The straps from the wedges had been digging into his skin. As he walked into his living room, he found Reece on a step ladder hanging a painting Tate had bought recently during the Second Saturday Art Walk in Midtown.

“Hey, gimme just a second,” Reece responded, his back to Tate. He used a level on top of the frame to make sure the picture on the wall was straight. Since Reece had been spending more time at Tate’s place, Tate had put some effort into decorating the space and finishing unpacking. He was just about done now. Tate grinned at how particular his boyfriend was but then looked around his living room, observing Reece’s handiwork and even some of his touches in the décor.

The warm colors of the knickknacks, the shelving that Reece had hung himself, the clock they’d chosen together at the local flea market. Tate glanced over at the dining area to his left, took in the colorful and fragrant spread of grilled steak, cucumber salad, and cold pesto pasta. His apartment had become a home. Reece’s presence in this space was integral to this space being a home.

“How does it look?” Reece’s voice interrupted Tate’s thoughts. He’d climbed down from the ladder and now stood beside Tate, the skin right above his nose creased in concentration, his arms crossed over his chest as he stared at his latest handiwork. Tate grinned at the sight of Reece still in his workpants and white undershirt which strained against his bulging chest and arms.

“Beautiful.”

Reece turned to look at Tate, cocking his head. “But, baby, you haven’t even looked at it. You’ve just been staring at m—”

Tate closed the gap between them, grabbed the back of Reece’s neck, and pulled the man into a wet, hot kiss. Seconds later, Reece was all in, pressing his tongue into Tate’s mouth. Hands searching each other’s bodies, they moved toward the bedroom, stumbling and knocking into things as they went along, laughing when one or the other almost ate it.

When they finally made it into Tate’s bedroom, he pulled away to finish unbuttoning his romper which was open down to his belly button. He made quick work of freeing the remaining buttons and stepped out of the material, leaving him in tight black briefs.

“Damn, baby. Fuck dinner. I want you for my main course,” Reece said, looking him up and down. Tate chuckled.

“You’re hella cheesy. Less talking, more doing.” He stepped up to Reece and shoved his Dickies down his thick, hairy thighs, taking his gray boxer briefs with them. Reece stepped out of them as he yanked off his T-shirt, tossing it to the floor, exposing his alluring rippling muscular chest. Tate pressed his body against Reece’s, their erections coming into contact.

Reece hissed, sucking air through his teeth before spitting in his hand and grabbing Tate’s length.

“Mmm, baby, yes.” Tate moaned, wrapping one arm around Reece’s waist as his other hand skated down to cup Reece’s balls then circle Reece’s penis in his tight grip.

“Let’s move this to the bed,” Reece said, shuddering against Tate. Tate nodded and they briefly broke apart so that he could grab a bottle of lube and a strip of condoms from his top nightstand drawer.

He joined Reece on the bed. The other man lay on his back, propped up on his elbows, legs bent and knees spread. Tate crept between Reece’s legs, dropping the condom next to him on the bed before covering Reece’s exposed rosette in lubricant and discarding the bottle. 

“Ahhh,” Reece cried out, his head falling back as Tate sank a finger into his tight hole. Tate began to stretch Reece, and five minutes later, he was replacing his fingers with his cock as he slid into Reece.

Tate set a rapid pace, sitting up on his knees as Reece held his own legs up and back, almost bent in half. Tate’s thrusts were punctuated by loud breathy moans from Reece, the man’s cock bouncing against his stomach each time Tate’s balls slapped against his ass. After Tate came, filling the thin rubber he’d sheathed his cock in, he pulled out and a still hard Reece flipped Tate onto his back quickly stretching Tate. Once Tate was writhing on three fingers, Reece rolled on a condom from the rest of the strip on the bed and sank into Tate’s warm tightness.

It only took Reece about ten strokes before he was shaking with the force of his orgasm. Reece pulled out then partially collapsed onto Tate, resting his head on Tate’s chest and pressing soft kisses along his pecs.

Tate grazed Reece’s back with the pads of his fingers, goose bumps dotting his arms at the soft feel of Reece’s lips against his skin. Tate loved this—the minutes right after they made love.

The sex was incredible. He never felt closer to his lover than he did in the moments directly after they climaxed. With dinner on the table, his home finally full of creature comforts, and a sated Reece dozing on his chest, Tate thought his life, in this moment, was perfect.

Then he remembered the empty kid’s room in the apartment upstairs and his chest ached. Well, almost perfect.

***

Reece

Reece almost dropped the keys, his hands were shaking so hard as he unlocked Tate’s front door. He and his boyfriend had exchanged apartment keys about a month ago, and Reece was glad to have the keys now because he wasn’t sure he would have been patient enough for Tate to answer his knocking.

Tate had called Reece in the middle of the workday that Monday saying that Jenna and LJ had unexpectedly shown up to his apartment on his day off. Reece hadn’t waited to hear any more of an explanation and had informed his boss he was leaving immediately to deal with a family emergency.

Reece sped home from his job in West Sacramento, his heart racing as he imagined a million different terrible scenarios that would prompt Jenna to show up to Tate’s at noon on a Monday. But a little of the tension he’d carried in his shoulders eased when he walked in and LJ was sitting on the couch next to her mom…her roller suitcase next to her.

What the hell is going on?

“Dad!” LJ exclaimed and jumped up, running around the back of the couch toward Reece. He crouched down to catch her in his arms, thrilled to see her but still nervous about why she was there.

“Hey, ladybug,” Reece said, holding her close while looking over her shoulder at Tate who sat in a side chair to the left of the couch where a teary-eyed Jenna perched while wringing her hands.

When LJ finally pulled away, Reece had to bite his bottom lip to keep himself from demanding Jenna explain what the hell was going on. Tate must have noticed his struggle, because he spoke.

“LJ, sweetie, I have a new TV in my room. Why don’t you, uh, go in there and see if you can find something to watch.”

His little girl opened her mouth as though she might argue, but then she glanced around and nodded before heading down the hall. Reece listened to make sure the door closed and the TV turned on. Once the TV had been on for about a minute, he went over and sat on the far side of the couch, close to Tate but facing LJ’s mom.

“Jenna, what did you do?” Reece’s voice was quiet and shaky. Tate’s hand covered his own which was fisted on his leg. He opened his palm, weaving their fingers together as he waited for Jenna’s response. He dropped his head, taking in a deep shaky breath.

He heard the woman take in a wobbly breath of her own before she said, “I want to be the weekend parent, Reece.” Reece’s head snapped up and he looked at Jenna. He couldn’t have possibly heard her right. He gazed at her like she was an alien life-form, but she looked strong and certain as she spoke again.

“I want LJ to stay with you…and Tate. Full time. I want you to have primary custody of our daughter.”

Reece’s heart soared with hope at each word Jenna spoke. Jenna waited for him to respond, but after several seconds of silence on his part, the woman reached into the big shoulder bag at her feet, pulled out a manila envelope, and handed it to Reece.

He removed the papers and looked them over, his eyes misting and his nose starting to run as the well of sadness inside him dried up. The paperwork stipulated that LJ would stay with him during the week and with Jenna on the weekends and that they would share and alternate holidays.

“I signed both copies, I just need your signature on both as well,” Jenna said before handing him a pen.

Reece took the pen, but hesitated, setting it and the forms down on the couch next to him. “Why are you doing this?” he asked, part of him incredulous that after taking him to court and putting their child through all this unnecessary pain and suffering over the last two months that Jenna would suddenly have a change of heart.

She ran a hand over her face, sighing, then stood and moved to sit on the coffee table in front of Reece and Tate. She leaned slightly forward to rest a hand on one of Reece’s knees, staring at him. “I’m doing this because you’re a good dad, Reece, and our daughter misses being with you every day, so much, and I couldn’t keep her from you because of my own insecurities and shit.” Her eyes skittered over toward Tate then back to Reece.

“And I also”—she licked her lips, looking down, then back at Reece—“I broke my sobriety, and I need to get clean again.”

Reece opened his mouth to rip her apart. How dare Jenna put their child at risk again, but she held up a hand. “It was a few weekends ago while she was with you. I didn’t go on a bender, but…I wanted to. I need to go back into rehab, Reece. So I asked my attorney to draw these up. It took him a while to get the paperwork together and I just picked it up today.”

Jenna ran a hand through her hair, looking to the side then back at Reece, her jaw tight.

“I’m not ready, Reece, and I don’t want my parents raising LJ in the repressive household I grew up in. I always tried to do what they wanted, and it was never good enough, and this time, when I tried to make them happy, I just hurt LJ…and you.”

“What are you going to do, Jenna?” Tate asked, genuinely concerned. Reece gritted his teeth and held in a breath, waiting to see Jenna’s response. Sure, she was in Tate’s house and seemed to be getting along with him, but Reece was still leery of her change of heart.

She looked over at Tate and smiled. “I’m gonna start again. Go back to rehab and then a transition program after so I don’t have to stay with my parents.” She paused then took a deep breath before speaking again. “I know per my agreement I’m supposed to have her on the weekends, but I was hoping you’d be willing to keep her until I’m out of rehab and back on my feet.” She looked down then back up again, her eyes unsure.

Reece nodded. “Of course. I’ll honor the agreement when you’re ready. Till then I can keep her on the weekends.”

Next to Reece, Tate chimed in. “Look, I know you and I got off to a rough start, but whatever we can do to help, we’re here for you.”

Jenna didn’t speak for a moment but then reached out another hand to Tate and squeezed it. “Thank you. That’s incredibly gracious considering what a bitch I’ve been. It’s just that LJ was always going on about you, and it was hard for me to see my kid and ex being a family with someone else, but I feel so blessed that you’re in LJ’s life… That she has another adult to look up to. Just, help take care of my baby girl.”

Reece’s heart stuttered as Tate wiped a tear that had escaped his eye. “I’m the one who’s blessed to have these two in my life. And it would be an honor and pleasure to help look after LJ. I love her, you know?”

Jenna gave a jerky nod, whispering, “I know you do.”

Reece shook his head a little, as though the movement might wake him up. But this wasn’t a dream. It was real.

She looked back at Reece. “It may be a while before it’s safe for me to take LJ alone on the weekends, but when I have my shit together, I have every intention of doing so.” She rolled her lips and her eyes shone with tears. Reece’s heart stuttered again. They had been at odds for a while now, but Jenna had given him the best gift he’d ever received—his daughter. And for LJ’s sake, he wanted Jenna to kick her addiction and have a happy and healthy life.

Reece reached for Jenna, hugging her with a squeeze then pulling back to hold her at arm’s length.

“Whenever you’re ready and well, you can have your weekends with LJ. Thanks for trusting me.”

Jenna nodded, then Reece picked up the forms and pen he’d placed beside him and signed. He felt lightheaded with giddiness after Jenna slipped the signed documents back into her shoulder bag to get them to her attorney who she said would file them immediately. Before Jenna left, Reece called LJ back into the living room.

Jenna crouched down and hugged LJ, then cupped the little girl’s cheeks. “Do you remember what we talked about before we came to Tate’s house?”

LJ nodded, then hugged her mom again. “I love you, Mom.”

Jenna sniffed, rubbing LJ’s back. “I love you too.”

Reece and Tate hung back, wanting to give Jenna and LJ some space, and while Reece wondered what conversation Jenna was referring, it didn’t matter. LJ was with him again, he and Tate were back together, and Reece felt whole.

Jenna stood and turned to Reece, clutching at the bag on her shoulder. “I’m meeting with my attorney now and everything will be finalized. And you don’t have to worry about my parents. They won’t interfere.”

Reece nodded, hoping Jenna was right in her assertion about her parents backing off. Then the woman was gone. Tate and LJ turned to Reece with bright expectant smiles, LJ’s arm around Tate’s waist and Tate’s arm around the little girl’s thin shoulders. The sight warmed Reece from the inside out.

“Well, I think this is cause for celebration. What do you say?” Reece asked.

“I say pizza!” LJ grinned, rubbing her hands together.

Tate smiled, stretching an arm out to Reece. “Pizza sounds perfect to me.”

He walked into Tate’s embrace, wrapping his other arm around LJ, pulling her close. “Yes, perfect.”