My Old Man Read online

  It was the only reason the two of them had lived with Gordon’s parents as long as they had, instead of running away together before they graduated from high school. They knew they’d need their high school diplomas, at the very least, to get jobs.

  Luke was now going to college in Tennessee on a baseball scholarship, that much Jonah did know. He’d never reached out to him once he discovered him on Facebook two years ago for fear of rejection, or of incurring their parents’ wrath. At the time, Jonah was still struggling over having left Gordon, and being rejected by his own brother would have finished him off emotionally.

  He didn’t know if Luke ever looked for him, or if his parents even told him the truth. For all he knew, Luke might think he was dead.

  It didn’t matter. He’d missed his brother’s life, and he didn’t want to intrude.

  “I’m sorry,” Gordon said, squeezing his hand. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “It’s okay. It’s just something I’ve come to accept the way it is. My parents should never have bred to start with. I’d rather remember him as the little guy who followed us around and who I read stories to when Mom and Dad had to work late, and it was my job to feed him dinner and put him to bed.”

  They arrived at the jewelry store and it gave Jonah a little thrill when Gordon held out his hand to Jonah to take and walk in together. Apparently the first clerk they encountered was the same one who’d helped Gordon, because she recognized him instantly and smiled.

  “Did it fit?”

  Gordon grinned and held up Jonah’s left hand to show her. “Perfectly.”

  She clapped her hands together. “Awesome! Congratulations!”

  “Now we’re here so I can buy him one,” Jonah said, liking her already.

  “Did you want a matching one?”

  “Yes, please.” Later, they could buy new ones, if they wanted. For now, even though he really did want to get Gordon the fanciest, flashiest one he could find, it was more important to him to match.

  It was a nearly desperate need welling inside him.

  She sized Gordon’s ring finger, and when she brought the matching one out, he was both thrilled and dismayed to see how little it cost. Surely a lot to a part-time teacher, and he would have thought it was a lot just a couple of months ago, too. But he’d wanted to spend more on his Master, be able to finally give him all the things he’d never been able to before.

  He slipped it on Gordon’s finger, staring into his blue eyes as he did. “Forever,” he whispered.

  There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t have given or paid for the smile that lit Gordon’s eyes from within in a way Jonah had never seen before, a joy he never knew his guy could feel.

  “Forever,” Gordon said.

  * * * *

  Once they were at Gordon’s apartment, he handed Jonah his phone. “I’ll go walk down to the mailbox to check my mail,” he quietly said.

  “Why didn’t you do that when we drove in?”

  Gordon arched an eyebrow at Jonah, who finally put it together. “Ah, sorry.”

  “You know my lock code. Besides, she won’t recognize your number. That means she won’t answer. I’ll walk slow.” He slipped out before Jonah could stop him.

  Jonah settled onto the couch—their old leather couch—and called up her number in Gordon’s contacts. One of the conditions about Jonah coming back was that Gordon had free access to his phone, his e-mail, social media—everything. Likewise, at any time, Jonah could request access to Gordon’s and he’d receive it. He had all of Gordon’s passwords, but it was a protocol for them, and one Jonah wouldn’t dare breach, because Gordon hadn’t been the one who had the problem last time. Not the problem that nuked them.

  It’d been him, letting Josh talk him into thinking there were problems between him and Gordon that never were there, letting him light dark and evil fires in his brain, convincing Jonah that Gordon was just jealous and trying to hold him back.

  He’d never doubt Gordon again.

  Ever.

  He called Heather Pope’s number and felt his stomach clench as the call connected and started to ring. He wasn’t expecting it when she answered instead of voice mail.

  “Hey, Gordo.”

  “Hey, Mom. It’s not Gord, it’s me.”

  There was a pause, and he felt the tears already building and falling as she softly gasped. “Jonah, honey?”

  Oh, shit. “Yeah, it’s me.” He sobbed. “I’m home, Mom. I’m back with Gord.”

  “Oh, sweetheart! We’ve missed you so much!” Now she was crying, and part of him felt guilty that he had a better relationship with Gordon’s parents than Gordon did, but the part of his brain he currently couldn’t access, the one who’d been through recovery programs and knew that an addict and codependents had different paths to take, would process it all later.

  They talked for a few minutes, and he told her the truth—that a guy had lied to him and talked him into going to LA, but when he got there, he realized it was just that, a series of lies. That coincidence had finally brought him and Gordon back together three months earlier, the tour, everything.

  Well, except for the fact that they were kinky and getting married on Saturday.

  In fact, that’s where he flat-out lied.

  “And I asked Gordon if I could tell you this part, so please don’t be mad at him.”

  “What, honey?”

  “We eloped this week. We’re married.”

  “Married? Really?”

  “Yeah. I decided if he’s stubborn enough to take me back, I’m stubborn enough to let him.”

  She started crying again. “Oh, my gosh! I can’t wait to tell Craige, he’ll be so happy for you both!”

  He knew that, before he left Florida, Craige was trying to get into recovery. He’d had a scare where he’d awakened in his car, in a parking lot, and had no recollection of how he’d gotten there. Fortunately, there was no damage on his car anywhere.

  But Heather had confided in him that Craige was trying AA. He only hoped the man was still trying.

  “How’s Dad?”

  She sighed. “He just got his six-month token. He slipped and had a beer one night, but just the one beer. He immediately started going to daily meetings again.”

  “Are things better?”

  “I think so. I’m seeing a counselor, too. Gordon doesn’t know any of this, though. I won’t ask you to lie to him, but…”

  The silence spun out between them. He’d been honest with her about how hurt Gordon had been growing up, about his own battle with alcoholism, things Gordon had never confronted them with himself.

  “You’d rather me not tell him?” Jonah asked. “Still?”

  “Will it do any good? Honestly?”

  “I don’t know. But we’d like to have dinner with you on Sunday. We’ll take you out, our treat. I just got back from the tour last night.”

  “We’d love to! It’ll be so good to see you again.”

  “You know Gordon’s teaching, right? I guess Dad was riding him pretty hard at Christmas, he told me.”

  She sighed. “You know how Craige is. He’s really proud of him, though. He tells everyone about him teaching at Sorrellson. It’s very prestigious around here.” Her tone softened. “And he’s proud of you, too. Our bonus son.”

  He choked back another sob. “I’m so sorry I cut you all out of my life, Mom. Then I lost my phone and didn’t have your numbers anymore. I’m sorry, Mom. I miss you guys so much.”

  “It’s okay, sweetie. Make sure to give me your new number.”

  “I’ll text you when I get done. It’s not a Florida zip code.”

  She hesitated. “Have you been…safe?”

  There were a lot of ways to interpret that comment, so he went with the obvious. “I haven’t been with anyone but Gord, and I guess he hadn’t been with anyone but me. I was a dumbass for three freaking years, but we still loved each other. Thankfully I didn’t do anything I couldn’t fix.”

  “O
h, sweetie. Maybe you can help us all mend some fences around here now.”

  * * * *

  When Gordon finally returned to the apartment, Jonah was still talking to his mom. From the way he was sniffling, he knew both of them had been crying.

  That was fair. He knew damn well his parents had missed Jonah.

  He just wished they’d fussed over him as much as they did his boy.

  Instead of standing there listening, he headed into the bedroom and shut the door so he could sort through his mail. Not a lot, mostly junk, but sure, he’d peruse the T-shirt catalog that was geared to old people who had a bazillionty grandkids, wanted T-shirts to declare that fact, and also possessed disposable income, and which was addressed to the previous tenant or Current Occupant.

  Because why fucking not?

  He flopped back on his bed, definitely not wanting to go out there and pitch a tantrum that his mother’s favorite non-son had returned to the roost. It wasn’t Jonah’s fault his parents were fucked up, and Gordon damn well knew it. Thanks to his parents, they’d been able to be together in the first place. They’d taken Jonah in when they just as easily could have referred it to social services and Jonah would have ended up in foster care.

  He’d never begrudge them loving Jonah.

  It just…

  Stung.

  No number of meetings could lessen that sting, either.

  A few minutes later, he heard a knock on the door.

  “Yeah.”

  Jonah opened it. “She said congratulations, she loves you, and they’ll be happy to have dinner with us Sunday.”

  “Yay,” he quietly said. “Whoopee.”

  Jonah settled on the edge of the bed. “I apologized to her for leaving. Told her the truth, that it wasn’t your fault.”

  “Thank you, because I think she thought I was lying to them about what happened.”

  Jonah’s hand gently settled over Gordon’s stomach. “Thank you, Master.”

  “For what?”

  “For letting me call her and for agreeing to go to dinner with them.”

  He finally covered Jonah’s hand with his. “You’re welcome, boy.”

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t around to run interference with them for you, Master.”

  Gordon sighed. “That’s not your job, Jonah.” He finally met his boy’s gaze. “I mean, I know you always did it automatically, but it’s not your job. You have nothing to feel guilty about in that respect. I should feel thankful they weren’t like your parents.”

  Jonah lay down next to him and snuggled against his side, draped over him, holding his left hand up next to Gordon’s. Their rings both brightly shone in the light.

  “This is a day I never thought would happen,” Jonah admitted. “It’s a dream come true.” He nipped Gordon’s earlobe. “My old man.”

  That popped Gordon’s bubble of aggravation and cleared the way for sunlight to once again stream into his soul as he laughed. “Your old man, huh? Remind me, again, who’s older, Mr. Thirty-Two?”

  “Hey, I’m your old man, too.” Jonah rolled on top of him, and Gordon’s hands settled on his ass, tucking into his back pockets like he always used to do. “Is this our old bed?” Jonah asked.

  “Yeeessss?”

  “Lot of memories embedded in this mattress.” Jonah smiled down at him.

  “And in that couch out there. Thank god it can’t talk.”

  Jonah snorted. “Or the coffee table.”

  “So our new house needs to have at least one room we can use as a dungeon, and preferably enough room between us and neighbors that we can play without incurring 911 calls every time.”

  “Let’s build a house.”

  Gordon stared up at him. “You don’t want to look for one?”

  “Let’s see how much those properties are going for near Doyle and Mal. That’d be perfect. We could build a house, the way we want. Our house. And then we’d be close to them for the studio.”

  “Those are pricey properties,” Gordon said. “I know you’ve been gone a couple of years, but that’s prime real estate out there. Five-acre lots.”

  “I know. But with what we just made, and what I’m going to be making, we can afford it. Once we build it, that’s the biggest expense.”

  Gordon studied him. “Taxes, insurance, upkeep. I’m making part-time teacher pay right now, Jonah. We have to plan ahead. I won’t tap into my savings for this.”

  “I can buy the property. It can’t be more than a hundred grand. I have that and more. We sit on it until we have the money for building a house.” His smile faded. “Or are you thinking you’re going to make me quit the band? Because if you are, just tell me, it’s okay.”

  Gordon sighed. “No, I meant it—I’m not going to make you quit, as long as we’re okay.”

  “Can we at least call the real estate agent and price it out?”

  He finally nodded. “Next week. Tomorrow, you’re going to work with me, and Saturday is our wedding, and then…”

  “Sunday,” Jonah said. “The ’rents.”

  “Yeah,” Gordon grumbled. “The ’rents.”

  Chapter Five

  Friday morning, Jonah couldn’t contain the thrill of excitement that he would be spending the day at work with Gordon.

  Of course he knew he had to be on his best behavior, no PDAs of any kind.

  But he’d get to meet Gordon’s “kids.” Not like they’d ever have children.

  That was one thing they’d agreed on a long time ago, that children were not for them. With their shared shitty parental experiences, they were content loving each other and being a family of two. Maybe, eventually, they’d get a dog or something, but even that was in the future.

  Right now, they wanted to focus on them, and their careers. It wasn’t being selfish, it was being practical.

  Jonah felt underdressed in his plain black T-shirt and jeans, when compared to Gordon and his button-down with the Sorrellson logo on it and his necktie.

  With his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, Gordon had a hot-teacher vibe going on that Jonah knew he’d be thinking about for a looooong time to come.

  Gordon had already cleared him to be a guest at the school today, and they signed him in via the office and gave him a guest pass when they arrived. The first class of the day was high-school-aged kids taking advanced classical guitar. Jonah brought his, and his mandolin, at Gordon’s request.

  Once the bell rang to start class, Gordon smiled as he addressed the class. “So we have a special guest today.”

  Two of the students immediately gasped when they realized who Jonah was, even before Gordon introduced him. Gordon let them ask questions, and they peppered Jonah with queries about the band, touring, and, of course, Mevi Maynard.

  Once he and Jonah started playing, though, all of them looked awestruck. The two of them played “Word of Mouth” like they did in the video, Gordon on guitar and Jonah on mandolin. Then Jonah switched to his guitar for several of their old favorite duets, demonstrating how just because a song was classical, didn’t mean it had to be boring. Or how to take a modern song and play it classical style.

  By the time the first class ended—far too soon for Jonah—he realized he was having a blast.

  “Now I see why you love this,” he told Gordon.

  “Right? And next year, I’m probably going to be full-time. My classes are full this year, and they’re talking about adding more instructors.” He arched an eyebrow at him. “You’d look hot in this.” He pointed a thumb at his own shirt, and Jonah laughed.

  “You think so?”

  “I know so. Just keep it in mind that you always have a safety net with me.”

  Jonah knew Gordon still worried about possibly losing him to the band, but that wouldn’t happen. He’d gladly quit and apply to teach in a heartbeat if he needed to for Gordon’s peace of mind, but it’d be nice to have the money to build their dream house.

  For now, he’d follow his heart personally and professionally.

&
nbsp; But if the path diverged too far from Gordon, he’d adjust course immediately and always choose his man.

  He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

  * * * *

  Saturday afternoon was rainy, but on Doyle and Mal’s lanai, the roof overhang more than comfortably kept them dry so they could hold the wedding out there and grill steaks.

  And yes, Gordon had Jonah strip, except for his leather collar, and kneel for the ceremony. Not that Jonah minded.

  They’d asked Loren to keep it short and include their collaring vows as part of it, too. Doyle had taken staged pictures of them all earlier—with clothes and without the collar—so they had a “vanilla-friendly” picture to show others.

  “Do you, Jonah, take Gordon to be your lawfully wedded husband and Master? To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, to love, honor, cherish, and obey for as long as you both shall live?”

  Jonah looked up from where he was kneeling on Gordon’s right side. “I do.”

  “Do you, Gordon, take Jonah to be your lawfully wedded husband and slave? To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, to love, honor, cherish, and protect for as long as you both shall live?”

  Gordon smiled down at him, and it looked like peace filled his Sir’s soul. “I do.”

  “Exchange rings,” she said.

  They did, the metal bands still warm from having been taken off only minutes before.

  “Both of you, repeat after me: With this ring, I thee wed.”

  They did.

  “By the power vested in me by the State of Florida, I pronounce you husband and husband, and witness you as Master and slave. Kiss your boy.”