The Way Things Are (25 page)

“I held my own this time,” Jay said, his voice hoarse. He staggered toward his bedroom. When the door clicked shut, Patrick looked at Ken, who was trying not to laugh.

Patrick got up and quietly closed and locked the front door.

“You know, I can cook,” Ken said, shifting back toward the middle of the couch.

“You brought me lunch,” Patrick reminded him. “Let me pay for dinner.”

“Don’t you get sick of pizza?”

Patrick tilted his head to the side. “How can you get sick of pizza? I mean, there are different kinds of pizza.”

“Let me cook for you two Thursday night? To celebrate him officially not being my problem anymore?”

“Uh….” Patrick didn’t want to admit just how poorly equipped his kitchen was. He and Jay had everything they needed for cereal, sandwiches, and takeout, but they had nothing like the stacks of small appliances, gadgets, and utensils Denise had once insisted every kitchen needed. “I don’t have cooking stuff.”

“You’ve got an oven, right?”

“Yeah, that I’ve got. Only because it came with the apartment, though. I don’t know if it actually works.”

“Maybe I’ll just cook at my place and bring something over on Thursday.”

Patrick ordered pizza from his cell phone and looked longingly at his spot beside Ken on the couch. The port was open again, and each crew of longshoremen was being not-so-subtly encouraged to work their asses off playing catch-up after three days of being shut down. “I’ve got to get ready for work,” he said miserably.

Ken glanced at his watch and looked shocked by the time. “Already?”

“I’ve just got to get ready. I don’t have to go yet. Besides, the kid’s home and you’re still limping from the gym yesterday,” Patrick pointed out, sitting down beside him for a few more minutes.

Ken dropped his gaze, smiling a little. “I’m not that sore.”

“Yeah, I’m not buying it,” Patrick whispered. “Do you have a knee brace?” Patrick asked, rubbing the tight muscle of Ken’s thigh.

“I’ll have to dig it out. Believe it or not, though, getting into better shape is the best thing I can do for it. If the muscles around the ligament are stronger, it doesn’t hurt nearly as much. But I get busy, and I get distracted, and maybe I get a little lazy.”

“What was it you said about reward systems working best to modify behavior? Would you like me to bribe you into working out?”

Ken covered Patrick’s hand with his own, locking their fingers together.

“Just getting to see you move counts as a bribe,” Ken said. “You’re so fluid, so…. I don’t know what you are. Sparring with you is almost like dancing, if I ever had the courage to dance. It’s amazing.”

Patrick smirked at him. “You wouldn’t say that if you’d ever seen me dance. I am such a shitty dancer I was occasionally asked to leave night clubs when I was younger.”

Ken barked out a loud laugh. “Maybe we should go out to Corbin’s together on Sunday. Trust me, when you see me dance, you’ll feel less self-conscious about it.”

“Well, so long as we both suck at it, I’m willing.”

“Y
OU
SHOULD
make, like, frozen lasagna,” Jay said, clearing plates away from the table, “and sell it in grocery stores.”

Ken took a sip of his beer and shook his head. “Oh no. Way too much work.”

“Well, you should sell the recipe or something. People would totally pay for that.”

“I’m glad you liked it.”

“It was so good. Like, the best pizza ever, with noodles.”

Patrick took the plate from Jay’s hands and headed toward the sink. “Quit stalling.”

“But Pop, it’s not like it’s a big deal. There’ll always be another algebra test. Besides, next week is Thanksgiving break! No one can focus during the week before a break.”

“It’s not the week before the break until Monday,” Patrick reminded him. “After your test. And there won’t always be another algebra test. After high school, no one can ever force you take an algebra test against your will again. Until then, you’re stuck.”

“I know, I know.”

“Don’t sweat it, Jay,” Ken said. “Next year’s geometry; you’ll like that.”

“I doubt it.”

“You know it already,” Ken insisted. “It’s all shapes, proportions, and angles. I’ve seen you actually do the math when you draw, you just erase it after to make room for whatever it is you’re drawing.”

“Geometry?”

“Yeah.”

“For a whole year?”

Ken nodded. “But only if you pass algebra. Otherwise you’ve got to take it again.”

“Fine,” Jay huffed. “I’ll study. Thanks for dinner, Ken, it was awesome.”

Patrick caught himself grinning like an idiot as he watched Jay hurry off to his room with his backpack. He probably wouldn’t get much actual studying done, but he wasn’t arguing about it for once. He cracked open a Pepsi and set it at the table. He circled his arms around Ken’s chest and kissed the back of his neck. “Thank you for dinner. It was really good.”

“Did you have enough to eat? There’s more garlic bread.”

“I’m stuffed. I’m ready to pass out on the couch for the night.”

Ken leaned over his shoulder and kissed Patrick softly. “This is your last night this week, right?”

“Unless Ethan can get me another shift over the weekend.”

“Do you have to take it if he offers?”

“I need the money. I’ve managed to build my savings back up a bit, but the move took every cent I had. Plus, holidays are always expensive.”

“You know, if you need help, you can ask me.”

“Ken,” Patrick cut him off, “we’re not there yet. I felt weird enough accepting rides from you all over the place earlier this week.”

“If I hadn’t played chauffeur, this would have been a dull week.”

“I’m definitely not complaining about how that worked out,” Patrick added. “But this is different. Holidays are my job. Besides, big dinners are expensive.”

“I was actually offering to cook, not buy everything,” Ken persisted. “I’ve got a feeling a fully equipped kitchen doesn’t magically show up in your apartment just for holidays.”

“Nope. That reminds me, I need to order dinner,” Patrick mumbled. “I usually get stuff from the grocery store. Everything comes prepackaged and it’s all got heating instructions on it. But if you want to come over and join us, we could do that.”

“So Thanksgiving’s not just a family thing?”

Patrick felt something in his chest tighten at the way Ken automatically excluded himself from “family things.” They hadn’t been together long, but sharing dinners together and watching Ken coax Jay into doing his math homework had filled Patrick’s head with more domestic fantasies than he’d ever entertained before. It was so strange, balancing how much he wanted Ken with how much he wanted Ken to be a part of the rest of his life. With Ken hanging around, Jay might actually stay out of trouble too.

“Nope. Half the time we just try to find an open restaurant.”

“I’ll be here, then. I’m better at reheating things than I am at cooking. Do you think it would make Jay uncomfortable?”

“No. I’m telling you he knows. And if he were uncomfortable, it’d already be obvious.”

“Oh?”

“He’d be sneaking out and painting at night. He’s probably still sneaking out and painting at night, but he’s being more careful about it. Hey, when is your birthday?”

Ken groaned and leaned his head back against Patrick’s stomach.

Patrick kissed Ken’s neck again. “I’m just asking. I won’t do anything embarrassing.”

“September twelfth. You?”

Patrick scratched the back of his head for a moment, wondering if he could get away with discretely digging through his kitchen junk drawer for a pen.

“Oh, come on.” Ken tugged him back down for another quick kiss. “I told you mine.”

“April fourth. I don’t usually celebrate it, though.”

“Why not?”

“How could I? Going out and having fun gets tricky with a kid. I know Jay’s old enough to stay home alone now, but until last year, I still hired a babysitter to stay with him when I worked nights. If I were to do anything here, Corbin would make a big deal out of it, so I was planning on just quietly forgetting about it.”

Ken smirked at him. “You make a big deal about Jay’s birthday eight weeks before Christmas, but you don’t like people to make a big deal about yours?”

Patrick caressed Ken’s shoulders, then reached over him and stole a sip of his beer. “Nope. But if you want to cook me dinner on my birthday, I won’t say no.” He leaned over and scooped a chunk of tomato sauce and cheese out of the baking dish. He sucked it off his finger, savoring the sweet basil and the spicy bits of sausage. “I wouldn’t say no to you cooking me dinner any other night either.”

“I’m just going to disappoint you. This is one of three things I know how to actually cook. Otherwise I usually just boil pasta and crack open a jar of alfredo sauce.”

“Are you kidding?” Patrick chuckled. “That’s what I mean when I call dinner ‘homemade.’”

Chapter 11

K
EN
LEFT
the two steaming cups of coffee in his car’s cup holders and climbed out. He’d never hated not having regular weekends so much in his life. Thursday night was the last night of the week Patrick had to work, and as Ken understood it, he usually tried to stay awake straight through to Friday night so he could be conscious on his days off. Patrick’s shift ended at seven and Ken’s didn’t start until nine, so he’d grabbed coffee for both of them and gone to the docks just as the morning sun had started to set the water aglow.

As men and a few women parked around him and began getting ready to start their day, the night shift dragged their feet to a time clock next to a bathroom and a row of vending machines. Patrick walked with the older man Ken had seen the night Patrick had slipped him up into the crane cabin, but he waved and jogged toward Ken when he saw him.

Patrick beamed. His smile was bright and warmed Ken to his core despite the cold weather. “I figured you’d be worn out, so I brought you coffee. You up for breakfast?”

Patrick’s smile solidified. “I’d kill for a cup of coffee right now. I’m wiped out.” He shrugged and glanced back at the crowd of his coworkers. “Of course, some parts of me automatically wake up whenever I see you,” he said quietly. “When do you have to work?”

“Nine.”

Patrick cocked his head to the side. “But earlier this week you went in at seven.”

“Mary Anne gives me a lot of room to shift my schedule around so I can meet with parents, teachers, and counselors whenever they need. If I’ve got a client going to court on a new charge, I try to meet with them before the court session starts. The session starts at seven.”

“So you get to pick your own hours?”

“Pretty much.”

“And she doesn’t worry about you slacking off?”

“Nope. Until last weekend I was always the first one in the office every day and the last one out each night. This week I’m still on track for about six hours of overtime even when I leave earlier than normal to have dinner with you.”

“So you leave the office early just to have dinner with me and Jay?”

“Yeah. But you don’t have to rush off to work tonight, so I figured I’d buy you coffee this morning.”

Patrick stared at him, and then his smile cracked into a soft laugh.

“What?”

“You do something like this. You make me feel….” He shook his head, but he was still smiling.

“Too much?” Ken asked seriously.

Patrick scratched the back of his head. “I don’t think so. I’m not even sure how to react. You make me feel all gooey.”

“Gooey?” Ken smirked and clicked his tongue. “I’d love to make you feel all gooey, but we’ve got an audience.” He nodded behind Patrick, where his boss was staring at them both. There was no friendly smile on the older man’s face this time. “I’m guessing he’s assumed you’re straight?”

“Probably,” Patrick admitted. “I always figured it was nobody’s business but my own.”

Ken opened the car and leaned inside to grab the cup of coffee he’d bought for Patrick. “You’re right, it’s not. Salted caramel mocha,” he announced, handing Patrick the cup.

Patrick smiled at him and took a sip. “Sounds perfect. Thank you. Want to have breakfast at my place? I’ve got to get Jay off to school, but after that I’ve got nothing on my agenda.”

“That sounds perfect too.”

Patrick nodded eagerly and took a longer sip of coffee. “I’ve got to go clock out first.” He pointed with his thumb back toward the time clock. The crowd around the clock was dwindling.

“Meet you there in half an hour?”

Patrick nodded and hurried back toward the time clock. He said something to his boss as he passed the other man. Patrick’s boss kept glaring at Ken, so Ken flashed him a bright smile. Was bringing Patrick coffee too intimate? Ken didn’t think it was a dead giveaway, but he could never tell what some people would pick up on.

Patrick snapped his fingers and turned back. “I’ve got to make sure Jay gets on the bus in half an hour. Forty-five minutes okay?”

“I’ll see you then!”

Ken smiled at Patrick’s boss again, even though it did nothing to soften the man’s expression, and got back into his car. He blasted the heater to ward off the early morning chill and headed toward Patrick’s apartment.