Long Way Home by Carolyn Gray (19 page)

Stefan’s closet.”

It took him a moment, even given his mind had already torn right to where she was headed

with this. “You mean they—”

“Yeah. Stefan was quite enamored of Lee. And I think it was mutual.”

Gev stared at the sidewalk, a myriad of thoughts racing through him. “They were only

thirteen,” he said.

“And how old were you when you knew you were gay?”

He barked out a laugh. “I always knew. Since I was nine? Ten? I don’t know. I just—” He

hesitated. “I was too afraid to say anything. And I didn’t have anyone to tell.”

“I knew.”

“You were just a kid!”

She flicked her hand. “Whatever. You figured it out when Stefan was still alive?”

He hesitated, confused for a moment. Had he? “I—I don’t know, really. And it wasn’t

anything I understood what to do with. I didn’t know they were, though. There was no way to

tell.” He ran his hands through his hair, gripping it hard, welcoming the pain. “Fuck, I just knew

how much I loved being with them.”

“With Lee.”

He was miserable. “This is seriously fucked up. There’s no reason to believe he’s gay,

even if he experimented with Stefan. Why would he keep it hidden? He works for the gayest man

in the entertainment industry.”

“I know. That’s what I can’t figure out. It was an experimental stage he went through,

probably. Maybe.”

“Maybe,” he said with a grimace. He slapped his hands to his thighs. “Like it matters now.

He’s gone.”

“You should call him. I saw you snarling at your phone.”

“I wasn’t—”

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Carolyn Gray

“Yeah, you were. You have his number, right?”

“He would probably rather not hear from me,” he said.

“I doubt that,” she said, bumping him with her shoulder. “At least you can call and make

sure he’s okay. Then you can tell me everything that Mom said. She told me that she wants to

apologize to Lee.”

“Do you believe that?”

She appraised him, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I want to.”

“Me too,” he admitted.

“There’s something else interesting in there.”

“What?” He wanted to see this journal for himself now.

“Stefan was mad at her a lot. I don’t think he got along with her as well as we all think.”

That surprised him. “What does it say?”

“I don’t know, not anything specific. Just… You should see it yourself.”

“Yeah. I’d like that.”

“I’ll get it for you.” She stood. “Call Lee, baby brother, and then come inside and get some

sleep. You need it.”

“I’m not your baby brother.” Though she had always seemed older than him, he had to

admit.

“Not technically. But I love you, you know. I gotta watch out for you.”

Then she turned and left.

Gev took his phone back out and stared at it. He was still torn, very torn. Maybe she was

right and he should call, but he wasn’t sure if he could handle hearing Lee’s voice right then.

“Oh fuck,” he groaned. He had it bad, really bad, he realized. And for a straight man. Or a

probably straight man. Maybe he was bi? That made sense to Gev. He stuffed the phone back

into his pocket. He would give it a little while, then call. At least let the man make it back to his

hotel room first.

He only hoped Lee would answer.

* * * *

Panic clutched at him, but too many years of desperate practice kept him from saying what

he wanted to. “I didn’t hide it from you.”

“No,” the older man said, his boots scraping across the wooden floor until he stood next to

the man calling himself Robert. “But you didn’t tell me, either.” He picked up a pencil and

twirled it in his fingers.

Robert tried for nonchalance, tried to figure out if making a mad dash through the store to

his rental would work. Clarke was in his late fifties now, but he was still in good shape. He

would catch him.

“Why are you here, kid?” Clarke drew closer, his eyes narrowed. “Thought you’d pay a

visit to the old town without me?”

“I don’t—No. What did you do?”

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Clarke dipped his head down and whispered, “You didn’t answer my question. Not that I

need you to tell me.” He pulled out a piece of paper, showing it to Robert. “Tickets?”

Ice plunged through him as he looked at the paper, sick over what he had done. He should

never have come here. “What did you do?” he asked again, the slow build of horror curling in his

stomach.

Clarke bared even white teeth. He wrapped one arm around the younger man. “Don’t

worry,
son
. I took care of your little bit of fun.”

“
What did you do
?” Robert ground out, pulling back.

Clarke shoved him against the counter. “What I always said I would do.”

A man and woman looked at them, their expressions concerned. “Hey, now, not in here,”

the man said.

Clarke snorted but let him go, then strolled casually over to a bin of rubber balls and toyed

with one.

“You all right?” the woman said to Robert.

He looked at Clarke and back to the lady. “Yeah. I’m fine. Thanks.” He was anything but.

When he looked back again, Clarke was gone.

He rushed toward the front of the store, turning around, looking frantically for a

newspaper. Surely they had them here. They had everything else a person didn’t need. He went

up one aisle and down another, nearly running into some of the patrons.

A portly man with a red apron and cowboy hat stopped him. “Whoa, there. Can I help

you?”

“Yes.” He looked out at the street. Where had Clarke gone?
What had he done
? “Do you

have a newspaper?”

“Fort Worth?”

“No, Dallas,” he said, following the shopkeeper as he waddled slowly back behind the

counter.

“Sure, son. Here you go.”

The
son
made him pause, but he took the paper and shoved five bucks across the counter.

He scanned the front page, but there was nothing. He tore through the rest, ignoring the man’s

stare, searching for their names, begging silently he wouldn’t find them. Then he stopped.

“You all right? Look like you’ve seen something mighty bad.”

The paper dropped from his fingers.

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Carolyn Gray

Chapter Eleven

Rarely did Lee not have a plan, an idea what to do, a schedule to follow, or at least a vague

notion of where he would like to go next. He led a nomad’s life, true, but it was an organized

one, with decisions usually made well in advance as to what he would be doing any given week,

any given day.

After his decision not to leave with Nick and Mutt, he’d mentally blocked out the next two

weeks as time to explore Dallas, drive over to Fort Worth, maybe even hit I-35 and drive to

Austin, stopping at any of the dozen or so (it seemed) Starbucks that emphatically urged travelers

to drive in and refuel, even though the previous Starbucks had been only a few miles back.

The first time he and the others had gone to Germany—the first foreign country he’d ever

been in—he’d been amused by Nick’s horror that the opportunity to zoom off the motorway,

grab a fresh latte, and zoom back on was nonexistent. Had to plan ahead—which, of course, Lee

had done, saving them all by producing thermoses to assuage Nick’s never-ending need for

caffeine while they were on the road.

Those were the good days. Good memories. A different life.

As he drove aimlessly along the highway in Dallas, heading for he didn’t know where,

because he didn’t have a plan, he tried his best to think of other thoughts, planning thoughts,

trying to force his mind away from the hellish scene he’d left and figure out what the hell he was

going to do now.

It wasn’t working.

He couldn’t stop thinking about it, how Gev’s mom had looked, so angry and bewildered

as she stormed at him. He’d always known they blamed him for Stefan’s disappearance, always

wished it had been him who disappeared, was never found. But hearing it, seeing it in her eyes…

He took a random exit—
why not
?—and kept an eye out for someplace to get coffee. It

didn’t take long; another Starbucks sign rose above its tree-shrouded brethren on the horizon. It

was getting dark on the longest day he’d had in a while. His mind was numb, his fingers itching

to grab his phone, call Gev, tell him… Tell him what? Lee grimaced. There wasn’t anything left

to say, yet there was everything to say. The urge to apologize to Gev wouldn’t leave, but he

wasn’t sure what to do about it. The hollowness that unsurety left confused the hell out of him.

His cell phone rang. Grabbing it as he flicked his turn signal, he looked at the display. The

number was unfamiliar. He flipped the phone open. “Lee Nelson.”

Silence for a moment, then in a rush he couldn’t break through: “Lee? Hey! It’s Nick!

About time you answered your phone. I’ve been trying to call you all day long. How’s it going?”

Lee tensed. He didn’t want to talk to anyone right now, not even Nick. “What phone are

you calling from?”

“Tommy’s. Got a new one. You okay?”

“Fine.”

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87

Lee heard a huff. “Right. You don’t sound it. That detective called up here tonight, asked

me and Brandon a lot of questions about you.”

The twist in Lee’s gut, the heat at the back of his neck, annoyed him. He wasn’t normally

so easily bothered by things. “What did he say?”

He heard a muffled voice. “I’m not going to!” More mumbling. “I know what he said, but

this is Lee! You think I’m not gonna—”

“Nick,” Lee said, pulling into the Starbucks parking lot. He threw the car into Park and sat

back. “If the detective told you not to say anything, then don’t.”

“But he asked about your shoes! Why would he ask about those?”

Lee hesitated. “My shoes were taken from my hotel room, remember?” What the hell was

going on? “Did he say why he was asking you about them?”

“He wouldn’t tell me. I told him they were stolen and that we reported it to the hotel. He

said okay, thanks, and hung up.”

The shoes that had been taken weren’t anything remarkable. He didn’t like this, but he

wasn’t going to wait and see what happened, either.

“You okay?” Nick asked. “I think you should come home.”

“Surely you aren’t missing having a third wheel in the house.”

Nick snorted. “The fourth and fifth are here anyway. Let me get Marisa to buy a ticket for

you. Or charter a plane. Come home tomorrow.”

The idea was tempting. He knew that as much as he wanted to leave, he shouldn’t. Maybe

even couldn’t. He didn’t tell Nick that, though. The disappearance of his shoes, the detective

wanting to know about them—Lee couldn’t remember if he’d even mentioned the theft to the

detective. In fact, he was pretty sure he hadn’t. That made him uncomfortable.

“All right. Fine. Thanks.”

“Good. How’s Gev?”

Lee pulled the phone away for a moment, then tucked it under his neck. “Call him

yourself.” He immediately regretted that when Nick took an audible breath. “He’s fine, but I’m

not…” He couldn’t deal with this right now. “I’ve got to go, Nick. Talk to you later.” He

snapped the phone shut and turned it off before Nick could get started with twenty more

questions. Knowing Nick, though, he was calling Gev right now, on the pretext that Lee had told

him to. Which was the last thing Lee wanted him to do.

He didn’t care. He really didn’t. Then why did it hurt so damn much? Lee shoved the

phone back into his pocket.

* * * *

nephew, watching some television show after his sister had left to take care of the other two

kidlets, he had a hard time focusing on the storyline. He kept thinking about Lee.

“What is this crap, anyway?” Gev asked Colby.

Said kid looked at him sideways. “It’s
Family Guy
.”

Gev kept from grinning, barely. “She lets you watch that?”

“Sure! She watches it all the time too. She loves Stewie.”

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Carolyn Gray

“Does she.” It wasn’t really a question. Gev raised one eyebrow at Colby.

Colby held his gaze but could only do so for a second before his shoulders sagged. “No.”

Gev reached out and messed up Colby’s hair. “You almost had me. But you forget, I know

your mom, and I know for a fact she’s no fun.”

Colby’s eyes brightened. “You’ll let me watch, then?”

Gev opened his mouth to say yes, but the thought of Nina coming down on him made him

wary. “Tell the truth? I’m scared of your mom. She’d kill me.”

“I’m scared too,” his nephew said with such solemnity that Gev had to laugh.

“Come here, kid.” Colby bolted from the floor, jumped onto the couch, and snuggled

against him. “How about
Avatar
instead? Still fun and less likely to tempt you to make loud farts

in your mom’s presence.”

“Or the girls’.”

“It’s tough, huh? Surrounded by women.”