The Way Things Are (26 page)

A
FTER
AN
insane Friday at work, tracking down all the kids who had either neglected to make it to their weekly check-ins or whose parents hadn’t bothered to bring them to do their community service, Ken was exhausted. He’d traded text messages with Patrick for most of the afternoon. Two hours after he had hoped to leave for the night, he’d sent Patrick one last text, apologizing for having to cancel.

When he finally stumbled out of the office at just after ten o’clock, every kid on his caseload was accounted for, chastised, and scheduled to work four hours at the animal shelter the next morning. It had taken a lot longer than it should have. He dug his keys out of his pocket and walked to his car, wondering if he should get a cup of coffee before trying to drive home.

“Cutting back on the overtime caught up with you?”

Ken jumped at the voice behind him. Strong, familiar hands closed over his shoulders, and he felt Patrick’s breath against his cheek. “Easy there. I didn’t mean to scare you. You sounded tired.”

Ken sank back into him. “Did we talk?”

“No, I mean your text message sounded tired. Normally you use complete sentences. Which is totally weird, but it’s your thumb. Tonight you went from complete sentences to single words, then letters, and then the wrong letters.”

“I’m tired, but you should be worse off than me. You’ve been awake since….” Ken was too tired to try to figure out the logistics of Patrick’s graveyard shifts.

“I took a nap.”

“Lucky. I’m glad you’re here, but I’m tired. I skipped my lunch break today thinking I could get all the last-minute stuff for tomorrow done.” Ken shook his head. “I’m tired.”

“Did you get it done?”

“Yeah. I’ve got to. Otherwise twenty-two kids are going to think I’m inconsistent and that they can get away with slacking off. Their parents will think I’m unreliable. I can’t screw up because I’ll never get that trust back if I do.”

Patrick tilted his head to the side. “Trust?”

“Yeah. They trust that I’ll catch them if they do something wrong, that I’ll enforce consequences if they don’t check in, that I’ll remand them to the detention center if they flake out on their community service. If
I
flake out, they’ll never trust me to follow through, so they won’t bother.”

“You’ve spoiled me all week long,” Patrick whispered, wrapping his arms around Ken and pressing against his back. “The least I can do is return the favor when you have a long day.”

“What about Jay? Dinner?”

“It’s almost ten thirty. We managed dinner hours ago. Jay’s at Michael’s house getting his ass kicked playing video games with Michael and his brothers. He said he’d go to the gym with Michael tomorrow, then come home from there.”

“Oh.”

“You okay to drive?” Patrick asked, kissing his neck.

“I’d better be. I’ve got to set up shifts at the animal shelter at nine tomorrow morning. So unless you’re up for a sleepover….”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

Ken felt some parts of him begin to wake up at the prospect of having Patrick to himself for an entire night. Maybe an entire weekend, if Michael’s parents didn’t start to get sick of Jay hanging around.

“I’m sure as hell not going to complain about that.” Ken groaned and leaned into him and dropped his head to the side, giving Patrick access to his neck and collarbone. Patrick nipped at the tender skin of his neck and steered him toward the large white pickup Patrick had finally gotten back from the police. “Although I’m not sure I’m going to be up for much more besides hopping in the shower and crawling into bed.”

Patrick squeezed him. “Both of those are more fun with company. I’ll drive you home and bring you back in the morning.”

P
ATRICK
WAS
amazed so much could change in a just over week. Last Saturday he’d stood there watching Ken herd teenagers from one side of the park to the other, feeling like he was going insane. As he watched Ken help around the animal shelter this weekend, the bitter lust that had seemed so unfair last week just made a tendril of fire jump from his groin up through his chest. This time around he got to watch Ken without fear of how he might interpret Patrick’s lingering gaze, and Patrick relished that freedom.

“Think we should go see if Jay’s home? Maybe drag him out to get some lunch before his boxing class?” Ken asked when he’d finally wrapped everything up.

It was incredibly selfish, but Patrick had enjoyed having more than an hour of time for just him and Ken last night. He knew he had to get home, to be there when Jay finally wandered in, to make dinner, supervise homework, and do all the things he always did. But he didn’t want to share the rest of their day with anyone else either. “He has some cash. He said he’d get lunch with Michael before class.”

“Oh, that’s right. He’s supposed to be home after the gym,” Ken said, grinning at him suggestively. “So your place is child-free?”

“It’s possible. We could go hang out, maybe order takeout.”

Ken ran a single finger up the center of Patrick’s chest, making him hiss. “I’ll follow you. That way we won’t have to figure out rides again tonight.”

Patrick’s smile fell. It would be so much easier if Ken would just stay over. A quick, fun shower had led to a restful night’s sleep for both of them. Even though they hadn’t managed to fool around this morning as Ken rushed to get ready to go, the simple act of sharing coffee and toast with him had left Patrick feeling comfortable and warm all morning. If Ken were there waiting for him in bed each morning when he got home from work, if he could come home to share dinner with Ken each night, juggling time, responsibilities, and transportation would be a hell of a lot easier.

“What?” Ken poked him in the ribs.

“Just thinking it’d be crazy to ask you to move in with me.”

“Maybe a little bit,” Ken agreed. “If you decide you’d like me to stay tonight, I’d be up for that. If you think it wouldn’t freak Jay out.”

Patrick felt dizzy when Ken smiled at him. He wanted Ken to stay tonight, tomorrow night, and every night after. “Stay tonight, then? Jay’s got to know something is going on, and he’s not a little kid anymore.”

“You going to tell him?”

If it meant one less thing keeping Ken from agreeing to stay in his bed forever, Patrick was willing to brave damn near anything—even talking to his son about his personal life. “Yeah, sure.”

When they got back to his building, Patrick wanted to curse when he saw the door was wide open again.

“Well, that figures,” Ken muttered. “As soon as there’s no threat hanging over his head, he ditches boxing.”

“He might not have to answer to you anymore, but he still has to answer to me,” Patrick said, brushing his hand over Ken’s back once more before going back into parenting mode and striding for the door.

But instead of Jay’s shoes and jacket, his floor was covered with ripped pieces of paper, torn fabric, shreds of foam from the tattered remains of his couch. His coffee table was broken, his television thrown to the floor and shattered.

And his son was nowhere to be found.

Patrick stepped inside, spinning around quickly. “Jay!” he shouted. He sprinted into the short hallway and hit Jay’s closed bedroom door hard. “Jay!”

The bedroom was empty too. The large stacks of sketchbooks Jay would never willingly part with were toppled over. Some of them were ripped to shreds. Long tears were cut in the sheets on Jay’s futon. Patrick searched the rest of the apartment as fast as he could, but there was no sign of his son.

Frantic, he pulled his cell phone out and called Jay. He listened to five quiet rings before a computer’s voice invited him to leave a message. He hung up and called again. The call went to voice mail again.

“Pat!” Ken shouted, from the front of the apartment. “Patrick!”

Patrick hurried back to the living room, pulling scraps of paper out of his coat pockets as he went. He didn’t know what had happened to the piece of notebook paper he’d had Jay’s friend Michael write his address and phone number on.

“Jay’s not answering his phone,” Patrick muttered. He began pulling at a pile of dirty clothes that had been dumped out of the hamper in the bathroom and were now scattered around the hallway, hoping he’d left the note in the jeans he’d worn home from the gym Saturday afternoon.

All at once, Ken’s eyes filled his vision. “I called the police. We should wait outside.”

Patrick shook his head frantically. “I need to find his friend’s phone number!”

“Think for a moment, okay? Is he always home on time?”

“You know he’s not!” Patrick snapped.

“And so do you. You know him, remember,” Ken said calmly. “You have to tell him to be back two hours before you actually want him home. We’ll find him. We’ll make sure he’s safe, okay? But since he’s not in here, the best thing we can do is wait for the police.”

As he realized what Ken was saying, he felt his racing heart begin to slow down. “But he’s not answering his phone.”

“Does he always answer his phone?” Ken asked. “The kid who gets so distracted by drawing he forgets to eat….”

Patrick nodded, suddenly feeling like he could breathe again. “You’re right.”

Ken’s fingers closed around his hands. “You’re shaking.”

“I’ve got to find him,” Patrick whispered again.

“We’ll find him.”

Somehow Patrick found himself in the hallway, sitting on the floor and leaning against the wall, trying to force his body to stay still. He listened to Jay’s cell phone go to voice mail three more times and then sent a pathetic text to Corbin, begging him for help.

Two police officers arrived, and then two more. Ken talked to them, gesturing frantically. Patrick knew he should have been dealing with them—he should have been doing something—but all he could do was keep staring at his phone hoping Jay called him back. A familiar-looking police officer in a blue uniform bent down and held out a folded scrap of notebook paper. Patrick unfolded it with shaking fingers and dialed the number Jay’s friend Michael had scribbled the day before.

“Hello?” a woman’s voice answered.

“Uh, hi.” Patrick tried to think of what to say. He’d done this often enough, but for some reason even forming basic words felt impossible.

Ken’s finger’s covered his and slipped the phone from his hand. Ken knelt down beside him and held Patrick’s phone up to his own ear. “Hi. This is Jay Connelly’s dad. Is he around?”

Ken stayed close enough that Patrick could still hear the woman’s voice. “Nope, haven’t seen him since the boys left this morning. Did he get home all right?”

Patrick felt like the floor was falling out from beneath him. If Jay had come home and found their apartment destroyed, Patrick was sure he’d have called the police. But if he’d been home during the break-in, he might not have had the chance. Patrick squeezed his eyes shut and tried to stop his body from shaking.

“Not yet. I was hoping Michael might have seen him at the gym. Is he home yet?” Ken asked, his voice shaking a little.

“He just got home. Hang on, Michael’s right here.” There was a long pause. “Did Jay go to the gym with you?” There was another long pause. “Okay. I guess he told Michael he couldn’t go to boxing because he had to go to the library, if that helps.”

“It does. Thank you, thank you very much,” Ken said quietly. He ended the call and passed the phone back to Patrick.

Patrick took the phone, but his hands were shaking so badly it tumbled into his lap. All the fear he’d been ignoring for the last week came crashing back, a thousand times worse than he’d expected it to be. He wasn’t supposed to be afraid of anything. He was supposed to be strong, capable. But the thought of losing Jay left him so terrified he felt helpless. He sat there in a daze, watching Ken talk to the police. When they questioned him, the most he could manage were single-word answers and simple gestures. He couldn’t think beyond the driving need to find his son, but he couldn’t push beyond the fear to actually go find him.

“Holy crap. Pat, what happened?”

Patrick snapped his attention up. He was expecting to see Corbin, but instead his supervisor smiled down at him, offering him a hand up. “Ethan? What are you doing here?”

“You got us back on schedule this week. You worked your ass off, so I brought beer to say thanks.” He held up a six-pack of Guinness but nodded nervously at the hallway filled with uniforms, suits, and badges. “Seriously, what happened? It looks like they’re trying to open a police precinct in your living room.”

“Somebody broke into my place.”

“What? When?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t home. I haven’t been home this whole weekend.” Patrick had already dealt with a police interrogation trying to pin down a detailed timeline of his morning. Patrick suspected the questioning wouldn’t have been so awkward if the police officer questioning him hadn’t been the overprotective big brother of his lover. Patrick had stopped caring about Malcolm’s glares quick enough. He had enough to worry about without adding Ken’s disapproving family to the list.

Ethan glanced at the police officers again, then shuffled to the wall, lowering himself to the floor. Patrick was so used to working nights with the man he’d never really noticed Ethan was so much older than him. In the glaring lights of his building’s hallway, Ethan’s gray hair and deep smile lines were more obvious than they were at night. He remembered Ethan talking about looking forward to retirement, but he’d never really believed the man was old enough to consider it until now.

“Damn,” he muttered once he was settled on the floor beside Patrick. “I can’t believe this shit. Did they catch whoever broke in?”

“Hmm?”

“Did they catch him?”

“No. It’s not like it matters. I don’t have anything worth taking. Whoever broke in, they just smashed stuff.”

“Damn. This is some scary shit, Pat. What are you going to do?”

Patrick shook his head. “I’ve got to find my boy.”

Ethan’s eyes snapped open wide. “Your son? He was here?”

Patrick managed to shrug. “I don’t know where he is.”