Something Like Thunder (8 page)

“Watch the game with me,” he said, blue eyes flicking over to meet his. Then he smiled.

Nathaniel felt sorry for any girl taken in by the perfect white teeth, the strong nose, and the eyes that danced with joyful glee. How many girls had been lured in by that handsome face, and how many had walked away damaged by the experience? Nathaniel tried jerking away, but Dwight’s jaw clenched and his expression grew dark.

Nathaniel stopped struggling. He attempted to relax, to pretend that none of this really bothered him. He even tried flipping the switch to kill his emotions. Dwight still gripped his wrist, making Nathaniel want to recoil in fear, but he distanced himself from the situation as much as possible while staring at the television. The increasing pressure on his wrist made this impossible. Like a python squeezing its prey to death, Dwight’s grip grew tighter and tighter. For half an hour they sat together, but Dwight never stopped. His own hand must have been aching from effort. Nathaniel—brow sweating now—looked out of the corner of his eye to see Dwight’s forearm flexing, his knuckles white. Nathaniel’s hand had lost sensation, the circulation cut off. Not his wrist though. That seared with maddening pain, the bones seeming to be on the verge of cracking and splintering. Then the garage door rumbled, signaling their parents’ return. Dwight didn’t let go until the door connecting to the kitchen swung open. Then he released Nathaniel, casually wiping the sweat of his palm on the couch. When their mother called for help unloading the groceries, he reached for the remote, turning up the sound a few notches.

Nathaniel stared at him, heart pounding. Then he rose to help his mother. His hand tingled painfully as sensation returned, his wrist burning, but he ignored this pain as best he could and carried in plastic bags filled with food. Once this chore was done, he went to his room, shut and locked the door, then curled up on his bed. Rebecca’s plan wouldn’t work. Any second that Nathaniel was at home meant being at risk. He needed more than an after-school job or a day at the museum. Karate lessons? A knife? A gun?

Help. That’s what he needed most. Perhaps that’s why the next day, when his wrist had turned dark red and purple, he left it in plain view. His mother didn’t notice at the breakfast table because she was running late for an appointment. His father had already left for work. Dwight was still in bed. If anyone noticed at school, they didn’t say anything. Just Rebecca, who only needed confirmation of her suspicions. She shook her head in frustration, knowing he wouldn’t listen to her advice. One other person noticed, but after school. Science books were spread out over the dining room table and Nathaniel was trying his best to explain chromosomal inheritance when Caesar interrupted him.

“What happened to your wrist?”

Nathaniel looked up from the books in time to see Mrs. Hubbard in the doorway. She had heard Caesar and was moving toward the table to investigate. For some reason Nathaniel didn’t want her to see it, so he quickly slid his arm under the table.

“Tennis injury,” he mumbled, which was a ridiculous claim, but he hadn’t prepared a good excuse.

Caesar was confused. “You play tennis?”

“Let’s focus on studying,” Nathaniel said. “You have a test tomorrow.”

Caesar appeared slighted, his eyes returning to one of the open books. Mrs. Hubbard’s curiosity must have been appeased because she turned and left the room. Close call. Tomorrow he would start wearing long-sleeve shirts until the bruises faded. He thought that was the end of the subject, but when he and Caesar were wrapping up, Mr. Hubbard strolled into the room.

“Nathaniel!” he said with an easy smile. “How nice to see you. Join me in my office, won’t you?”

Nathaniel nodded, gathered up his things, and followed Mr. Hubbard down the hall.

“Take a seat,” he said once they were in his office. Mr. Hubbard remained by the door long enough to close it. Then instead of walking around his desk, he leaned against the edge, looking down at Nathaniel. Or more accurately, at his wrist. “More horsing around?”

Mrs. Hubbard must have reported what she’d seen, which also implied that her husband had asked her to be on the lookout for such things. Mr. Hubbard knew. He had to, so Nathaniel nodded in confirmation.

Mr. Hubbard exhaled. “I have two brothers. I was the youngest, the lowest in the pecking order. My oldest brother treated me like a slave. My mother was always working, struggling to raise us on her own, which meant she wasn’t around much. So my older brother would make me fetch drinks for him or make sandwiches. Sometimes he would do worse. We had a cat, and one time he dumped out the litter box on the carpet right in front of me, and said that if I didn’t clean it up, Mom would put Ginger to sleep. He wasn’t the nicest guy. Occasionally I would get fed up with him, and a few times we got into physical altercations. Scratches, bumps, and bruises were part of that.” Mr. Hubbard nodded at Nathaniel’s wrist. “But not like this. You know what that looks like to me?”

“What?” Nathaniel asked, his throat raw.

“Abuse.”

All of Nathaniel’s excuses rose to the surface—that brothers play rough with each other, or that his own clumsiness was to blame, or even that he bruised easily. But he was tired of hiding the truth. He needed to tell someone, just one adult, to see if they had a magic solution, a useful course of action he hadn’t thought of himself. “I don’t know why he hates me. Most of the time I’m just minding my own business when it happens.”

Mr. Hubbard frowned. “Do your parents know?”

Nathaniel shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“It’s hard to miss a bruised cheek.”

“I’m a pretty good liar.”

Mr. Hubbard studied him a moment. “My mom had an awful lot on her plate. That’s why I never told her what was going on. My situation wasn’t as severe as yours appears to be. Most siblings torment each other to some extent, but what you’re going through is far outside the norm. It needs to stop.”

“It wasn’t always this bad,” Nathaniel said. “When we were younger, I would tell on him. Back then it was just friction burns or noogies. I would tell and he would be punished. I have good parents. I really do. But then Dwight started retaliating. One of my favorite toys might go missing, or once when I had a bunch of tacks in my backpack for a school presentation, he must have opened the box and dumped them out, because the next time I reached in—” Nathaniel’s fingers twitched at the memory. “There was never any proof, but these things always happened after I got him in trouble with our parents. So I stopped telling them.”

Mr. Hubbard’s expression was sympathetic. “Sounds to me that matters have escalated beyond a missing toy or a mean-spirited prank.”

“I guess so.”

“I would be happy to talk to your parents with you. Or even on your behalf.”

Nathaniel shook his head. “What are they going to do? Ground him? Kick him out of the house? Neither of those things will stop him from getting back at me. He’ll find a way, believe me, and when he does it’ll be far worse than what I go through now.”

“Then perhaps we should contact the police.”

Nathaniel’s head whipped up. “No! Think about my mother! One of her sons putting the other in jail? That would kill her. How long would they hold him anyway? Eventually he’ll be free to get back at me. I just need to stay out of his way. Soon it’ll all be okay. Dwight was supposed to go to college last year. I thought I’d be free of him then. Doesn’t matter because when I graduate, I’m
definitely
going to college. Somewhere far away. Dwight hates me, but not enough to travel across state lines just to punch me around.”

Mr. Hubbard’s brow was furrowed. “I don’t feel comfortable with this. I really think we should talk to someone.”

“I’ll deny everything,” Nathaniel threatened. “I’m sorry, but I will.”

Mr. Hubbard considered this. Then he rubbed his mouth and mustache, stood to walk around his desk, and took a seat. Once there, he seemed lost in thought.

Nathaniel watched him, heart pounding, hoping that he hadn’t made a major mistake. “I just need to avoid him. This job you gave me already helps. The less time I’m home, the better. Dwight got a job recently too. Everything will be fine. Honestly.”

Mr. Hubbard nodded reluctantly. “I’ll respect your wishes. I hope you know that you can always turn to me if you need help.”

“I know that now,” Nathaniel said. “Thank you.”

Mr. Hubbard nodded again, still not looking pleased. Eventually he sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Spring break is coming up. We’re taking a family trip. Camping, if this good weather continues. If not, there’s always the cabin. Why don’t you come with us? Give yourself a break by getting away. Besides, I enjoy your company. I know Caesar does too.”

Nathaniel wasn’t sure about that last bit, but the offer had his chest feeling tight, his eyes a little teary. He blinked, hoping Mr. Hubbard hadn’t noticed. Then, not trusting his own voice, he simply nodded. Nathaniel had always wanted help. He just never expected to get it.

Chapter Three

Pine needles, most of them dark green bristles, some more vibrant where they had freshly burst forth in this new spring. The rest were brown, carpeting the ground, absorbing sound underfoot and preserving the silence. No roar of a distant highway, no airplanes buzzing overhead. The Hubbards had driven him four hours away from Houston and now, so detached from civilization, Nathaniel felt safer than he had in years. These woods were his sanctuary.

Behind him… that’s where things became complicated. He glanced back, making sure Caesar was keeping up. Every time Nathaniel looked over his shoulder, Caesar flashed him a reassuring smile before quickly averting his eyes, usually down to the path. Awkward as hell, but still enough to whip Nathaniel’s hormones into a frenzy because he found the guy adorable. If only he wasn’t so difficult to penetrate.

Nathaniel allowed himself a covert smile at the double meaning as they continued their hike. This was Mr. Hubbard’s idea. During the drive, his eyes kept shining at them in the rearview mirror, as if they were already off to a great start. Nathaniel tried not to disappoint, bringing up topic after topic. Conversation remained one-sided. Caesar occasionally offered a few quiet words or nodded to show he was listening, but no lighthearted banter resulted. Nathaniel had been his private tutor for a few weeks with little progress. When added to their time at the learning center together, he felt even more like a failure.

While helping to set up the tent, Mr. Hubbard had been encouraging when Nathaniel broached the subject.

“He’s really quiet around me. I feel like I’m doing something wrong.”

“Caesar? Quiet?” Mr. Hubbard had winked. “I noticed that too, and it is unusual for him. I think he just admires you.”

“Really?”

“Sure! Why don’t you two spend some time together, man to man.” Mr. Hubbard then suggested the hike they were currently on, mentioning an old ghost town a few hours away from camp, and offered one more piece of advice. “Take him into your confidence. Pull the curtain aside and show him that you’re human too. That’ll help get you down from the pedestal he’s put you on.”

Nathaniel wasn’t sure what to make of that. Was he supposed to open up about Dwight? Right now, that was the last thing he wanted to think or talk about. Escaping felt too good. Why sully this paradise by invoking his brother’s spirit? Still, they had to talk about something. Nathaniel slowed, stepping off the path to walk beside Caesar.

“Miss your girlfriend yet?”

Caesar nodded.

“Spring break without you watching out for her. I hope she doesn’t get into trouble.”

Caesar managed a nervous chuckle.

“Seems like a good girl. I can tell she’s crazy about you.”

A smile that didn’t reveal teeth.

Ugh, so boring! Nathaniel decided to stop being cautious. “So, have you guys fucked yet?”

Caesar’s cheeks grew red and he smiled. More of a leering grin, really. A hint of swagger came into his step too. Promising.

“Well, well!” Nathaniel said. “Make with the details!”

“Like what?” Caesar said, not completely averse to the suggestion.

Like how big is your dick and what can you do with it?
Nathaniel struggled to find a question that didn’t center on Caesar. “Is she wild? Tame? Somewhere in between?”

Caesar thought about it, still grinning. “Sweet,” he said eventually. “When we’re just hanging out, she’s got a wicked sense of humor, and she loves to tease me. Not in a sexual way. Uh… She’s fun to be around. But in bed it’s like she’s vulnerable. Delicate.”

“Huh,” Nathaniel said. He would have preferred raunchy details, because now he was picturing Caesar being gentle and tender, calling on his emotions rather than his hormones.

“It’s kind of a shame,” Caesar said quickly. “Don’t tell her I ever said this, because it would break her heart, but I wish she was the same Steph in bed. I’m always worried I’m going to hurt her. I don’t mind being gentle. Occasionally though I just want to get nasty.”

“Nasty?”

“Freaky,” Caesar said.

Nathaniel wished he could casually adjust himself. His jeans were starting to feel tight. He wanted to ask what Caesar meant, but if his dick got any harder, there would be mounting evidence—literally—of how turned on he was getting.

“What about you?” Caesar asked.

“I’m down with freaky,” Nathaniel said, pretending to misunderstand the question. “Nasty too.”

Caesar chuckled. “No, I mean what’s it like with your girlfriend?”

“I don’t have one.”

“Really? Oh. What type of girl do you like?”

Nathaniel sighed inwardly, his erection subsiding. Coming out sucked. He had no regrets about having done so originally, the feeling liberating. What no one had told him was how he would have to keep coming out over and over again. People couldn’t tell just by looking at him, which meant he often found himself in situations like these where he needed to explain. There was always something to lose. Friendships were put at stake, casual acquaintances could end before becoming more. Telling his boss at the learning center had been an intense experience that would be repeated at each new workplace. Maybe someday being gay would cost him his job. Maybe this one, because Mr. Hubbard didn’t know. Nathaniel wouldn’t let that stop him. He refused to let fear dictate who he was. That was the deal. No gray areas. No compromises.

“My type?” Nathaniel repeated. “Tall is good, as is a deep husky voice. That always drives me wild. A six-pack is cool too, since no matter how many sit-ups I do, mine never surfaces. I’m not big into facial hair, although a little scruff is okay.”

Caesar continued to walk alongside him, appearing puzzled.

“I’m gay,” Nathaniel said helpfully.

He held Caesar’s gaze, refusing to show shame as he waited for judgment.

“You’re gay?” Caesar repeated. “Seriously?”

“Yup.”

“Wow. That’s…” Caesar stared off into space before his eyes focused again. “That’s really cool!”

Pine needles rustled underfoot as Nathaniel considered his words. “You think it’s cool that I’m gay?”

“Yeah! I never would have guessed. Do you have a boyfriend?”

“No.”

“Why not?” Caesar said. “I mean, just look at you!”

Without any convenient mirrors hanging on nearby trees, Nathaniel had only his memory to rely on. He had a strong brow, which Dwight insisted made him look like a Neanderthal. Aside from that, he didn’t consider any of his features noteworthy. More than a few girls had shown interest in him, but he never took much comfort in that. What he really wondered is what guys thought of him.

“You think I’m hot or something?” Nathaniel asked, grinning to show the question was a joke.

To his delight, Caesar chose to answer him seriously. “You could have anyone you wanted. I’m sure of it.”

Nathaniel wasn’t convinced. “Maybe. Finding the right sort of guy isn’t easy.”

“Have you tried online?”

“Yeah.”

“And?”

Nathaniel smirked. “Are you asking for details?”

Caesar grinned back at him. “Sure.”

“Mind your own business.” In truth, he didn’t have an exciting story to share because half the guys didn’t look anything like their profile pictures, and those who did were more interested in getting into his pants than talking to him. Occasionally Nathaniel was tempted, but ideally he wanted his first time to be with someone he actually liked.

Caesar looked disappointed, but he didn’t retreat back into himself. “Do my parents know?”

“That I’m gay? Nope.”

“Is it a secret?”

“Not really. My policy is when it comes up naturally, I’ll talk about it. I don’t see the need to broadcast it.”

“That makes sense,” Caesar said. “They’ll be okay with it though. They’re good people.”

Nathaniel arched an eyebrow. “You’d be surprised how much hate can come from people convinced they are doing good. All those Bible thumpers telling me I’ll burn in Hell? They think they’re doing me a favor by trying to save my immortal soul. Are your parents religious?”

“Yeah,” Caesar said. “We go to church every Sunday. They really are good people. All my siblings are adopted. You know that, right?”

The oldest girl was Asian, so Nathaniel had suspected as much. “What about you?”

“I’m their only biological child. For medical reasons. My parents didn’t let that stop them. They take in a lot of foster kids. I can’t count how many have come and gone.”

“I’m sure they’re good people,” Nathaniel conceded. “They wouldn’t have let me tag along if they weren’t. With the gay issue though, it’s hard to guess how anyone will react.”

Caesar nodded. “I know.”

Nathaniel was pretty sure he didn’t, but he let it slide. “It gets lonely. Sometimes I wish more gay people were around. Maybe there are, but I can never tell who. I don’t want to hang out in some anonymous chat room just to meet someone, you know?”

Caesar shrugged. “Whatever it takes. It’s not like a grocery store or whatever is much more exciting.”

Nathaniel snorted. “You’re right. Maybe I just like being lonely.” He wasn’t sure what he meant by that, and he didn’t really want to dwell on it because at the moment, his stomach was more demanding than his heart. “I’m hungry,” he said, coming to a stop. “Let’s eat here.”

“The ghost town isn’t far away,” Caesar said.

“Then let’s pick up the pace. You lead.”

Once Caesar was ahead of him on the path, backpack bouncing on his shoulders, Nathaniel allowed himself a smile. It was nice to be accepted, although he’d have to watch himself now. If Caesar noticed any lingering gazes, he would know they weren’t completely innocent. Maybe he would take it as a compliment, but Nathaniel was meant to be playing big brother, not would-be lover.

His stomach was grumbling by the time the trees thinned out, the shadows replaced by daylight that warmed their skin. At first he thought they had entered a natural clearing, but the land continued stretching outward, unhampered by anything but the skinniest of trees.

“Which way is the ghost town?” Nathaniel asked.

“We’re already there.” Caesar stopped, beaming at everything around them. “My dad and I discovered this place a few years back.”

“Did you eat some magic mushrooms along the way? Because I don’t see anything.”

“Wait.” Caesar walked forward, kicking occasionally in the dried yellow grass. “In the summer it’s impossible to find much. I tried once and came back with an army of ticks. One even got on my— Here!”

Nathaniel joined him. Buried in the earth was a long rectangular stone. A brick. Its shortest edge touched another, and after brushing more dirt away, they found a third attached to it. “The foundation of a building,” he said, glancing upward at the seemingly empty field. “Are there more like this?”

“I counted around twenty last time,” Caesar said. “A few still have walls. Mostly ruined, but you can get a better idea. I’ll show you.”

His hunger forgotten, Nathaniel followed him around the edge of the field. Rounding a curve they found even more empty space.

“Dad thinks most of the land had been cleared for farming. That’s why there’s not much out there in the middle. Most of the houses are toward the woods. Hey, there they are!”

In the underbrush, just before the first row of trees, were crumbling walls barely higher than their shins. Only the front steps stood taller, three of them, leading to a doorway that no longer existed.

“It’s kind of sad.” Caesar stepped onto one of the stones, its edges rounded with age, the flat surface stained green with moss. “At one time, this house must have been new. Like brand new. Somebody probably stood right here, feeling proud of his new home, and thought it would last forever. Maybe he pictured his grandkids inheriting it. Their kids too. I bet he never imagined this ruin when he carried his bride across the threshold. Or maybe his husband.”

Nathaniel scoffed. “If you want to get progressive, maybe a woman built this house and carried
her
man
over the threshold.”

Caesar didn’t seem to hear him, his eyes moving over the former interior of the house, which was now sunken earth filled with wet leaves. “Even the town didn’t survive,” he added eventually.

“Are you sure one was ever here?” Nathaniel asked. “It could have just been a farm.”

Caesar nodded toward the field. “There was a church. And a graveyard. I’ll show you.”

Nathaniel followed him into the cleared land. They walked past enough half-buried foundations and toppled bricks to convince him this was more than just a farm. They reached the graveyard first, where the stones had been worn down by so much weather that only the occasional number or letter was visible. They hovered on the edges, unwilling to walk over any graves.

“Dad found one from the eighteen hundreds. He said he was going to check the county records and find out more about what had been here. Never did. I guess he’s too busy.”

“You should do it yourself,” Nathaniel said.

“Maybe.” Caesar turned away from the grave. “The church was right over here. See? If you follow what’s left of the foundation, it makes a long rectangle. With it being so close to the graves, we figured that’s what it must have been.”