Page 4 of Point of Contact

“Knock it off, Byrne,” Smitty started to say, but Riley cut him off, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yeah, my dad is gay, and his boyfriend Carl lives here with him. If you got a problem with that, I’ll call you a cab right now and you can get the fuck out. Or if you’d rather settle it a different way, well...”

He beckoned to Jesse, balancing on the balls of his feet, and Jesse lurched to standing.

Jesus, no. Don’t let it end like this...

Jesse took a half-hearted drunken swing at Riley, stumbling, and in one smooth move Riley pivoted to the side and used Jesse’s forward momentum to shove him right into the pool. Jesse went in face-first with a graceless splash, resurfacing to shouts of “Weak!” and everyone hooting and hollering. The shock of the cold water seemed to sober Jesse up a little, and he scrubbed his hands over his face.

“You gonna say shit about my dad when you’re drinking his beer and eating his food?” Riley growled. “Fuck you, man.”

He and Riley stared at each other for a moment, and then Jesse pulled himself slowly from the pool to stand dripping on the deck. “Sorry, Estes,” he mumbled. “I don’t like those kind of people being in my face, that’s all. But I’m at your house, and I shouldn’t have said all that shit.”

Riley just looked back at him, and Jesse continued, “If you want me to leave, I will.”

“He’s not a ‘kind of person,’ Byrne, he’s my dad.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Riley blew out a breath, and looked up at the sky. “I wanna kick the piss out of you right now, man,” he said. “But I won’t. ’Cause this is our last night at home and I ain’t gonna let it be like this. But you say any more shit about my dad or Carl, it’s on, I swear to fucking God.”

Jesse nodded. “I won’t.”

Smitty pushed to his feet and slung an arm around Riley’s and Jesse’s shoulders, pulling them into a group hug. “Kiss and make up now, aiight? Ain’t none of this gonna matter come tomorrow. ’Cause we leavin’ here, and once those plane wheels lift up, all we gonna have is each other. Why? Why is that?”

Jesse and Riley glanced at each other, then away. Smitty gave them both a gentle shake.

“’Cause we goin’ to war, boys. We goin’ to war.”

* * *

Trevor woke several hours later, desperately needing a drink of water. He carefully disentangled himself from Carl and groped on the floor for his discarded cargo shorts, pulling them on sans underwear before padding to the kitchen.

All was quiet, and he peeked into the large family room, smiling at the various dark shapes asleep on the leather couches, or stretched out in the recliners. A couple of them were curled up on the floor like little kids, out cold. A few soft snores reached Trevor’s ears, and he tiptoed back to the kitchen to snag a bottle of cold water from the fridge, chugging it right there, unable to resist a little “ahh” of pleasure.

All of a sudden there came the sound of a toilet flushing, and the door to the powder room off the kitchen opened. Jesse appeared in the doorway, shirtless in a pair of tight boxer briefs. They both froze, staring at each other in the weak light emanating from the open fridge, an unfathomable expression appearing in Jesse’s eyes. He seemed to be taking in Trevor’s disheveled state, and his nostrils flared as if he scented something. Trevor hadn’t showered since fucking Carl into the mattress, and he probably reeked of hard sex, though he couldn’t imagine Jesse could smell him from across the room.

The silence that stretched was uncomfortable, awkward, and Trevor had just opened his mouth to say goodnight when Carl’s loud whisper drifted down the hall.

“Hey, will you bring me a bottle of water, too, Trev?”

“Sure, honey,” Trevor replied automatically. A look of disquiet crept over Jesse’s face again.

“You got something to say to me, kid?” Trevor asked, his voice weary, looking him straight in the eye. After a moment Jesse broke their gaze and shook his head. Trevor grabbed another water and slammed the fridge door shut, plunging the kitchen into almost total darkness, and without another word went back to bed.

Chapter Two

Trevor’s butt was numb. His legs hurt. The hard edge of the coffee table dug into his back. On the couch in front of him, Riley snored softly, his cheek pillowed on folded hands. Trevor just sat, watching him sleep, resisting the urge to stroke his head like he had when Riley was little.

Definitely not my baby anymore.

Tracing his eyes over him, Trevor wondered how Riley’d felt getting all his hair shaved off in boot camp. If there was one thing his son was vain about, it was his hair, favoring a cut with short sides and long, floppy bangs that hung down into his eyes. That alone would’ve driven Trevor batshit crazy, but somehow, it suited Riley. Besides, it was just hair.

Pick your battles, right?

The predawn glow outside the window was starting to brighten, so Trevor got to his feet, trying not to groan as his muscles protested loudly. Maybe sitting on a hard floor for hours hadn’t been the best idea, but...

With a last glance at a sleeping Riley, Trevor picked his way through the bodies sprawled all around him, hurrying into the bedroom to shut his alarm off before it woke Carl.