“Wife, please tell your brother that no man is allowed to tell me to keep it down? And that I wasn’t trying to steal Tweedlehotter. I just want him to live with us forever and cook me things.”
Rory’s grin was weak, but genuine. He was wondering when Janice and Essie would show up.
It had been three days since he’d been brought to David’s apartment. His partner, Walter had gotten Rory personal leave to deal with the death in his family. He’d called to tell him that Macy sent her love and said that she was ready to cook for him as soon as he agreed to meet the “sexy sweethearts Walter met in the hospital.”
The first day was a blur. He spent most of the time thinking about what Solomon had done for him. That he’d instinctively done what the therapist had already suggested—found a way to get closure for Rory before their father past away.
Holding Rory’s hand, he’d pulled out one of the old journals he’d left in his backpack. His autobiography of life with Elder. Younger had spoken quietly at Sol’s bedside, laying every ghost he knew of to rest.
“I’m sorry you’re father shamed you. Sorry the woman you loved chose your brother and he chose her in return. I can’t imagine how much that hurt, but it doesn’t excuse the nearly four decades of abuse you heaped on your family because of it. It doesn’t excuse you for torturing your brother with the possibility of reconciliation. It doesn’t excuse you for using your wives as personal incubators and then mercilessly cutting them out of your children’s lives just because you couldn’t have what you wanted. And it will never excuse the contempt, neglect and abuse you gave to Rory instead of your love.
You failed to protect him, but you also failed to break him. I’ll pray for your soul as you pass, and then I’ll make sure to spend my life worrying about what my heart says about me instead of my name. I’ll make sure what your brother taught me about being a man is what I aspire to. And I will make sure Rory never blames himself for your faults, and that he always knows he’s loved.”
Seeing the journals, hearing Solomon’s words had ripped away years of careful façade in moments. All he could remember after that was his brother hugging him. Water and a pill. Uncle Shawn singing and being rocked to sleep in Rig and David’s arms.
When he woke up? It was better. He was better. Not completely. It would take time, he knew, to finally sort through all the shit. But his big brother standing up for him, for all of them, had mended something inside him.
Since then he’d been spending his time curled around David or Rig. Neither seemed willing to let him go for long. They took turns cuddling him on the couch and both slept beside him at night. He’d been in heaven.
And he needed every bit of them he could get, since he knew their isolation couldn’t last forever. In fact, he was surprised no one had mentioned memorial services yet. Though Younger, James and Jennifer had all sent him texts each day to let him know he was on their mind.
James texting. Someone should declare a national holiday.
Rig was chuckling. “There’s plenty of cinnamon buns to go around, but I’m afraid I’m needed here.”
Cinnamon buns? Rory stepped out of the hallway and into the living room, watching the scene in the kitchen with sleepy amusement. “I hope one of those is for me.”
Essie froze in the act of keeping her wife away from the baked goods and beamed at him. “Rory. How’s my favorite vampire-loving sexpot?”
“I’ll live. How’s my favorite YouTube sensation?”
“Almost famous.”
Rory met David’s lustful stare with one of his own. “Morning.” He included Rig in his greeting and licked his lips. “Something smells good in here.”
“Wow.” Janice fanned herself dramatically. “Now wonder Rig the Roman’s sticking around. I’m turned on and I don’t even like boy parts.”
“It’s the sugar,” Essie assured her with a smirk. “Icing turns you into a harlot. Now get us some juice while I set the table, okay?”
“I kind of like it when you boss me around.” Janice winked. “Makes me want to take you home and eat cinnamon buns in bed. Of course, we’d have to distract the boys and steal them first.”
David snorted. “Fat chance.”
Janice grabbed a bun and held it in the air as she ran around the counter.
“No power in the ‘verse can stop her,” David shrugged sagely while Essie rolled her eyes.
“It’s been fifteen years, David. You need to let Firefly go. It’s aging you.”
“But mèimei…”
“Sister is not amused.”
But Rory could see that she was. So was everyone else. Rory snagged the bun as Janice jogged by and shoved half of it in his mouth with a grin.