“Honey… I wish I had better news. It’s your dad.” She sounded sad in a way he had never heard before. Mrs. Fitz was one of those people tragedy followed, but she just continued on with the same “the sun will come out tomorrow” outlook.
“What about him? I just talked to him last week, and everything was fine,” Devon said, worry spiking inside.
“He isn’t fine. Your dad had a mild stroke two days ago. He’s okay, and the doctors say that if he rests and eat right, he can recover, but he sits alone in that cabin all day and night, or he goes down to the Trading Post and eats their food and drinks way too much. That’s what caused this, I know it. All that awful, fatty food.”
“Where is he now?” Devon asked.
“Your dad is at the hospital in Anchorage. Joe and I will go down there and pick him up in a few days. They want him to rest, but they’re sure he won’t once he gets back to the house here. That combined with the fact that the nearest doctor is forty miles away in Wasilla. So they want to make sure he’s stable and on his way to recovery. He can move in here for a few weeks, of course, but I thought we should let you know what was going on. Lord, that man is as stubborn as a mule.”
“That explains why he didn’t call to say what happened to him,” Devon said a little bitterly.
“Quite possibly.” She paused and said something away from the phone. “Is there any way you can come up here and stay with him, at least for a little while? He needs some family. Joe and I understand if it’s too much for you and if you’re busy, what with your life and success and all.” The words might have sounded snappish, but her tone was anything but.
Devon took a few seconds to look around his space and sighed. He felt empty and as down as he could ever remember. The only things keeping him from going down to the local liquor store and buying a bottle were his friends and supporters, who loved him and would kick his ass from here to kingdom come if he so much as had a single drop, Stephen and Roz among them. They loved him enough to intervene if he needed it.
“Let me look into some things and see what I can do, okay?” It was the most he could do in his unthinking and uncaffeinated state. “I’ll call you back before the end of the day, and thank you for telling me.”
“Sweetheart, of course I’d let you know. You’re family, and he needs you. The old goat just doesn’t realize it.”
“Thank you.” He said goodbye and hung up the phone.
“What is it… a call from the frozen north? God, you’d never get me up there. I’d freeze my little butt off, and I like it where it is, thank you.” Stephen actually turned to try to get a look at his own ass. “You don’t think it’s getting saggy, do you? There is nothing worse than a guy getting older and not realizing that his butt is about to meet the backs of his knees.”
“Focus a little,” Devon said as he took the cup of coffee Stephen offered him. “My dad had a mild stroke. He’s in the hospital and apparently doing okay. They’re going to send him home soon.” He sipped from the mug and sat down, growing number by the second.
“Do you want me to help you make travel arrangements? I can watch your place for you while you’re gone.”
Devon shrugged.
“Come on, it’s your dad. He needs your help.” Stephen sat down right next to him, hip to hip. “If my dad told me he needed my help… well, that would be once hell froze over. After I picked myself up from a dead faint, I’d be there for him. It’s my dad.”
“Even after all those years of fighting?”
“Sure. I have my trust fund, thanks to Grandpa, and Dad can’t do anything about that now. Besides, if he had to ask for my help, it would be like swallowing his pride and his balls at the same time.” Stephen threw his head back and laughed.
“That’s what I thought.”
“Yeah, okay, stuff with my dad is shit. But it isn’t that way with yours. You love the guy. So get on a plane and fly all the fucking way to Alaska and take care of him for a few weeks. He had a stroke and he could have died. Do you want the phone to be the only way you talk to him…? I didn’t think so.”
Devon groaned. “Things are… complicated.”
“They always are, but you deal with them.” Stephen pulled out his phone. “There’s a flight leaving first thing tomorrow morning from LaGuardia. You change planes in Seattle and then fly up to Anchorage.” He began pressing buttons like crazy.
“What are you doing?”
“Buying you a ticket. First class all the way, baby.” He continued working. “Okay. I got you a truck in Anchorage so you can drive to that tiny town where your dad lives. And a car will pick you up in the morning right out front to take you to the airport. Now call that nice lady who told you what was going on. I emailed you the details and your itinerary so you can send it to her.” Stephen put away his phone and crossed his arms over his chest.
“Were you always this pushy?” Devon asked.
“Yes. Pushy is my middle name.” He got up off the sofa, heading to Devon’s bedroom. “Where do you keep your luggage? Under the bed? And do you have clothes for the frozen north, or do we need to go shopping?” He turned back, a smile of delight crossing his lips. The man loved shopping as much as the guys back home loved to shoot stuff.
“I have plenty. Thank you.” There wasn’t going to be any stopping him, so Devon went along. Swimming up a waterfall was easier than going against Stephen when he set himself a task. In the bedroom, Stephen dressed and then opened the closet and began pulling things out, pausing with a handful of hangers.
“Why are you so scared to go back?” Stephen asked the one question that Devon had never answered in all the years they’d known each other. He’d always managed to avoid the question. “Did you corrupt the star of the ice hockey team or something?”
Devon growled. “No. I fell in love with the local golden boy.”
“And….”
“He didn’t love me back.” Devon shrugged. “He was also my best friend. And he’s straight, with two kids and an ex-wife, and is apparently courting wife number two. Not that it matters. I’m over him.” It was the man he’d never managed to get over that he’d stayed away from for a decade.
“Are you really?” Stephen asked.
“Yeah. It’s been ten years, and he has his own life. Not that it matters. Craig is straight, and….”
Stephen sat on the edge of the bed. “There’s more to this than you’re telling me. A lot more. Did you and Craig ever get together? Did he shatter your heart into a million tiny pieces?”
“No and no. The whole heart-shattering thing was someone else entirely. Someone who didn’t even know how I felt about him back then.” He shifted and figured he might as well share the rest. “Anyway, things got bad after that.”
Stephen leaned forward. “Who was it?”
Devon shook his head. “That’s the whole thing. There were all these rumors, and I was pretty sure Enrique was gay, but I couldn’t turn the town rumor mill on him. And I was such a mess I didn’t think I was good enough for him, and then things got even worse.” God, baring all this shit made him want a drink.