He trailed after Rowe, his eyes skimming over the plain white walls and creaking wood floors. All visual evidence of his grandmother ever living in the house had been wiped away, but it was like he could still feel her there, her dark eyes following him around. He was haunted by her harsh frown and stiff, bony body as she glared at him and Rowe.
“Nah,” Noah forced out then cleared his throat. “No point. I’m just going to put it up for sale as is. It’ll cost me more to make all the improvements than I’ll ever get out of the house.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, I made my money off it. The mortgage was paid for when she passed so I’ve collected a steady income from it over the years. It’s just become too much of a hassle to keep up if I’m not going to make the improvements.” Rubbing the back of his neck, Noah tried not to think about the fact that he moved away from Rowe’s outstretched hand as he turned toward the stairs going to the second floor. Uneasiness soured his gut, but he ignored it as he quickly mounted the narrow stairs that groaned under his weight. The heat grew more oppressive, making it a little harder to breathe.
The small hallways revealed just three doors—the master bedroom, a second bedroom, and the bathroom. He hesitated, glancing at the master bedroom before ducking into the second bedroom. It seemed smaller than he’d remembered. The walls were the same white as the rest of the house, but they’d been pale blue when he’d lived there, covered in posters of cars and rock bands. He’d been eighteen when he’d last slept in that room, leaving just after graduating from high school to join the Army because he’d known he couldn’t stay. Staying in Alabama with his frail and aging grandmother had never been an option.
“So this is where you grew up?” Rowe asked. Noah turned to find him standing in the open doorway, leaning his shoulder against the frame, his arms crossed over his chest.
He forced a shrug. A weak smile fell away before it could fully form. “My parents died when I was five. Car accident. My grandmother took me in.”
“Maternal or…”
“Yeah. The second my mom graduated college, she hopped on a bus headed for California and never looked back. She met my dad on that bus in Arizona.” He paused, searching his memory for a moment that included either of his parents. He could remember the ocean and the sun dancing off the waves. He could remember the cry of the seagulls…and being happy. But he couldn’t remember a damn thing about his parents. No image or touch or even the sound of their voices. “Met my grandmother for the first time when I got off the plane in Alabama.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“Talk to me, Kitten,” Rowe murmured, finally drawing a small smile from Noah. He couldn’t believe Rowe had started calling him that. He said it was because he made a purring noise when Rowe was blowing him. At least Rowe only used the endearment when they were alone because he’d never hear the fucking end of it if Snow or Andrei heard. “You’ve been on edge since we pulled up. Was she abusive?”
“No! Never,” he said on a horrified gasp. “She loved me. I mean, she’d already raised a daughter and buried her husband. I knew she wasn’t looking to raise another kid so late in her life, but she was good to me. She was strict but fair.”
“Then what?”
Noah stepped back until his shoulder thudded hard against the wall. “She…she wouldn’t have understood…” His voice drifted off as if he couldn’t say the words, but he motioned from himself to Rowe.
“I remember the story about that kiss at your high school football game, so you knew you were gay early.”
“Oh yeah,” he said, flinching at the bitter laugh that escaped him. He slid down the wall until his ass hit the floor. Resting his arms on his bent knees, he dropped his head back against the drywall so he could breathe past the lump that was growing in his throat. “I once told her about a gay kid in my school. She made it clear that the kid was going straight to hell and she thought anyone who chose to be like that deserved whatever ill befell them.” He rubbed his burning eyes. He’d loved his Grandma Gert, but the moment he’d figured out that he was attracted to boys, he’d stopped being honest with her and it had fucking hurt. He’d never hidden anything from her before. She’d taught him to value honesty over everything. To always be true and trustworthy.
But living here with her had meant lying about himself and lying to her.
He opened his eyes and his gaze shot straight to her open bedroom door across from his. “She was this amazing, strong, brave woman. But how…how could she have loved me? If I had told her the truth, she would have called me dirty and evil and kicked me out. I lied to her, and she was my only family.”