His mom started in on a story about one of the flight attendants, or someone they’d had to sit next to, and Greg nodded and smiled in all the right parts, grateful for the chance to concentrate on driving. And on other things. His phone was sitting in the cup holder, and it was dumb, but every now and then he chanced a peek at it, checking if the light was blinking. It never was. And that was fine, it wasn’t like he was expecting to hear from anyone. As promised, Ronnie had taken his shift manning the registration table at the symposium, and the help desk had been able to find people to cover for him. Jason was handling his teaching responsibilities through the middle of next week. Really, no one should be bothering him, and he knew damn well that Marsh was in classes or doing off-season training with his team at the gym all day. But it seemed too weird not to have anyone breathing down his neck, asking him for something.
It still seemed impossible that Marsh had done so much for him and then not said a thing.
Stupid. He was being stupid. He’d see Marsh tonight. He’d take his parents to dinner and drop them off at the motel, and then he’d go home and… Well, he didn’t know what then. But something.
“Greg? Are you even listening?”
Starting, Greg flashed back over the conversation he’d only half been paying attention to for the past few minutes. “Yeah. Of course. The guy next to you needed a…seat belt extender?”
“Right. Anyway, so.” His mom launched into her story again, and his dad cleared his throat. He rolled his eyes the way he often did when Mom was feeling particularly loquacious, and Greg let one corner of his mouth tilt up.
Yeah, this was all familiar, all right. It was kind of perfect.
She was still rambling by the time Greg pulled into the parking lot of the diner he’d picked out, and she only paused for breath as they headed in and followed the hostess to a booth. Side-eyeing his dad, Greg picked up his menu, wondering not for the first time what marvel of combinatory genetics had managed to suppress all of his mother’s social chromosomes in the process of creating him.
She made it all the way through placing their orders before his dad cleared his throat. She squinted at him for a second, then shook her head and tapped her fingers to her forehead, turning to Greg. “Look at me, babbling like that. We’re here to see you, honey!”
“You’re not babbling,” Greg lied.
“Yes, she is.”
His mother threw a napkin at his father without taking her eyes off Greg.
“How are you? How’s everything going?”
Where to even start? “I’m…okay.” He was, actually. Sort of. Confused and tired but okay.
“You’re as bad as your father,” she admonished. She waved her hands. “Fine, fine. Tell us some more about tomorrow.”
“Well.” He frowned. He was a little fuzzier on the details than he probably should be. “There are talks all day. There were a few today, too.”
“Anything interesting?” his father asked.
Greg tilted his head side to side. “I only sat in on one session, but what I heard was pretty good. Not sure if it was
interesting
, but if you’re curious about high-temperature nickel alloys or implications of tungsten inclusions in manufacturing…” At the blank look on both their faces, he trailed off and twisted his napkin between his fingers. “It was okay.”
“Sounds…fascinating,” his mother said, her left eye only twitching a little as she smiled at him. She’d always been really nice about that kind of thing, humoring him when he started going on about science stuff. “Why just the one session, though? That slave driver of an advisor locking you away in your lab again?”
“He’s not a slave driver.” Greg paused. “Well, not much of one. But, um, kind of? I’d gotten behind on some experiments, and he reminded me last night that I needed to keep up with them.” He gave a little one-shouldered shrug. “It’s okay, though. I think I made some progress today.”
Amazing what a day without distractions could do for his ability to focus. Well, without too many distractions, in any case. He’d been watching his phone more carefully than usual, keeping half an eye out for a message from Marsh, or from anyone else who needed Greg to do something for them. The silence of the thing had been unsettling after so many people knocking down his door of late.
Since he was thinking of it, he snuck his phone out of his pocket and glanced at it under the table. Nothing. Which was fine. He slid it back away and smiled at his parents.
“I may even have his results for him by the end of next week if I can keep focused,” he continued smoothly. And that would be another relief. Another burden off his shoulders.
“Well, don’t be too focused,” his mother said. “We’re only here a couple of days.”
“Don’t worry. I know.”
“Good. And everything else? Your teaching? Your job?” Her eye twitched again when she mentioned the job, and his dad ran his thumb over the corner of his knuckles.
“Both fine.” He gave them quick rundowns on how things were going with both. “And they’re fine. Really. I’ve got things under control.”
Thanks to Marsh.
He still didn’t know how to feel about that.
“Well, if you’re sure. If the job ever gets to be too much…”
“It…” And should he tell the truth here? They hated that he’d had to pick up something outside of his school and his research and his obligations at the university. He’d hated it, too, but he’d been done with acting as a drain on them and the resources they didn’t have. “It’s tricky,” he confessed. “Chu actually talked to me about it yesterday. I may have to give it up.”
“If you need some help while you’re still in school—” his father started.
“It’s grad school.”
“But it’s still school.” His mother reached out to put her hand over his. “And we are so proud of you. You’ve gone so far.”
Dad chimed in, “And I’m still dying to tell your grandma we have a doctor in the family.”
“Not that kind of doctor,” Greg said.
His mom squeezed his hand. “Still a doctor.”
Turning his palm over, he wrapped his fingers around hers. “I’m trying to make it work.”
“But if it doesn’t, you’ll tell us.” His mother fixed him with a gaze that brooked no argument. “There’s no shame in asking for help.”
That made something stick in his windpipe, and he took a sip of his water in a fruitless attempt to clear it. He should have asked for help a long time ago, back before things had gotten so bad. He’d been too damn proud to, though. Somehow, help had come to him anyway. Swallowing around the constriction, he nodded. “I know.”
“Promise? You’ll call us if you need anything?”
“I promise.”
He was saved from actually having to make a blood oath by the arrival of their food. He’d made time for lunch for once, but the burger and the pile of greasy fries in front of him still had him salivating, suddenly reminding him that he was starving. After a liberal dousing with ketchup, he picked up the burger and took a big bite out of it.
His mom chuckled as she speared a piece of lettuce from her salad, one eyebrow raised. Greg glanced to the side, and, right, his dad was eating like a civilized person, too. “Sorry,” he mumbled, grabbing a napkin and wiping at his mouth.
“No, please,” Mom said. “Good to see you have an appetite. You’re skin and bones.”
“Hardly.” He popped a fry into his mouth and chewed and swallowed. Besides, he’d been eating way better than he usually did when he was stressed out. “Marsh has been making me eat.”
A single beat of silence passed before he realized what he’d said.
“Marsh?” his mom asked, head tipped to the side. “Your housemate, Marsh?”
“Um…yeah?” Crap, he looked guilty. He could feel it.
“Just your housemate?”
Taking a bite to buy himself a second, he thought back on all their phone calls of late, and damn. He’d been casually mentioning Marsh a lot more than he would normally talk about someone who was just a friend. He hadn’t said anything really compromising, but his mom had an instinct for this kind of thing. “It’s complicated?” he tried, wincing around a smile.
“Uh-huh,” his dad said.
His mom had that look on her face like she could smell the blood in the water, but she was too nice to go in for the kill. Instead, she just smirked and elbowed his father. Greg really hoped they didn’t have too big of a wager riding on this thing. That happened sometimes, when his mom had a hunch about his personal life. His dad had had to do the dishes for a month after Greg had come out.
“Well.” She directed a sly smile at her salad. “I hope we get to meet him?”
Greg hid his choking cough behind a gulp of water. That shouldn’t have surprised him—his parents always wanted to meet everyone. His housemates, his friends, his professors. Marsh was a housemate and a friend, and so much more, and yet Greg hadn’t so much as thought about introducing him to his folks. He should have, though.
As he shook his head and cleared his throat, his heart twisted. They needed to talk, him and Marsh. Soon. Talk about what they were and what they wanted, and God, he barely even dared to hope they were on the same page with that.
Marsh had been there for him through a lot—through a lot more than Greg’d had the guts to ask him to help with. Every migraine and every near-panic attack about how much work he had to do, every time he got so busy he nearly forgot to eat. Every time he was lonely and itching for human contact, longing to be touched. Longing for
Marsh
…
Marsh had been there.
Greg set his napkin aside and looked down at his plate. Maybe Marsh would want to be there a little longer. Maybe, somehow, Greg could begin to pay him back.
“I hope so,” Greg said. He hoped he could introduce Marsh to his parents as his housemate and his friend.
He hoped he could introduce him to them as his so much more.
A few hours later, Greg stood by the door to his parents’ motel room, casting one more regretful glance around at the décor. “Sorry again about you guys having to stay here.”
His mom waved a hand dismissively. “Please. As tempting as the idea of staying in a house full of bachelors is…” She cocked one eyebrow as she gave him a lopsided smile. “I think we’ll be just fine here.”
“Okay,” he conceded. She was right, too. He cringed thinking about the state of the place right now. “My session tomorrow starts at one.”
“And we’ll be there in plenty of time.”
“You sure you don’t want me to come pick you up? I could probably—”
“No way, mister. You’re going to have enough going on as it is getting ready.”
His father nodded in agreement, putting a hand on his mom’s shoulder. “Cab’s all set to come and pick us up at noon.”
Yet another thing he felt bad about not being able to do for them. He was really, really lucky they were so understanding. “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
“Can’t wait.” His mom stepped away from his dad, moving to stand right in front of Greg and reaching up to put her hands to his cheeks. “You’re going to be amazing. We’re so proud of you.”
His face went warm, and his insides did, too, embarrassment and happiness intertwining the way they always did when she said that kind of thing. “
Mom
,” he said in a sing-song-y whine. Only that kind of deflection hadn’t worked when he was five, and it sure wasn’t going to now he was twenty-five.
“Oh, hush.” She pulled him in for a hug and kissed his cheek, and he let it linger the way he had at the airport, soaking it in.
His father cleared his throat, and Greg let go, reaching around his mother to accept a quick, two-pump handshake from his father before edging toward the door.
“Knock ’em dead tomorrow,” his dad said.
“Will do.” Greg took one last glance at them over his shoulder, then nodded to himself and stepped outside.
The door closed behind him, and he stood there in the darkness, staring up at the vast night sky. Even with the neon lights of the motel and the streetlamps blazing, the stars and the moon shone down at him. He breathed out long and slow. It was time to go home, and his nerves were coiled into knots inside of him. One last check of his phone to find it silent and dark.
He was tired—exhausted, really, still a little wrung out from the migraine and the medication from the night before, but he was thinking clearly. He’d had a day to think, and to work, and a night with the two people in the world who had always believed in him, no matter what. The two people who had always given him whatever he needed.
Marsh had given Greg what he needed, too.
Dropping his gaze, Greg made his way toward his car.
The drive home passed in a blur, and before he knew it, he was pushing through the door of the house he shared with a friend, a co-worker and a lover, and his blood was thrumming in his veins, a faint buzz drowning out his thoughts. His pulse sped as he passed through the entryway and strode down the hall.
The door to Marsh’s room was closed, but light was spilling out from underneath. Greg closed his eyes for just a second. When he opened them again, all he could see was how he wanted this to go.
He raised his hand and knocked.