“I know it’s important for her to get out there and make things happen for herself,” Rory said, shifting. “But there’s this feeling in my gut when I know she needs more…structure, for lack of a better word. It’s like she’s asking me for that, in a way without words.”
In the extended pause between them, Rory wondered if he’d totally misinterpreted the situation, what Marcus had been trying to tell him that day in the driveway. Marcus removed that concern with one question.
“What did your gut tell you today?”
“That I should have gone with her,” Rory said instantly. “I’m wondering if she’s pushing herself too much, out of some misguided idea that she owes us proof that our faith in her isn’t unfounded.”
He shook his head. “I went through that. Thinking I had to prove myself to everyone by rejecting any help.” He probably still had too much of that, but he recognized when it went in a destructive direction. Mostly. “Sorry. I’m getting off track.”
“Not necessarily.” Marcus tapped the rim of his wine glass. “It’s all related. By giving her the bracelet, you made your first real step toward calling your relationship what it is. Acknowledging where it’s headed. How much do you know about the look of that?”
Rory knew he was going to redden to the roots of his brown hair, but the hell with it. “I’ve looked at things online. Some interesting stuff. Some scary and repulsive things.”
“Well, it’s the Internet. Equal capacity for both.”
Rory lifted a shoulder, met Marcus’s gaze. “I also heard Thomas call you something once. And when I look at Daralyn…or rather, when she looks at me…I think I feel that. No, that’s chickenshit. I know it. But I don’t know shit about any of this, so how can I feel that so strong?”
Marcus’s eyes flickered. “Thomas didn’t need a manual to know he preferred men. That came from his gut, his heart. His cock. His mind. That said, do you know how to read anything other than a farmer’s almanac?”
“Don’t be a dick.”
Marcus’s lips tugged in a smile. “I’m going to send a couple books to your tablet. That way you don’t have to worry about your mother seeing shocking print material in your sock drawer when she does your laundry.”
“She won’t let me do my laundry,” Rory muttered defensively. “She says I do it wrong.”
“Rory, Les is in medical school and Thomas doesn’t live at home. You pay your share of the bills and live with your mother to take care of her. There’s a big difference in that.”
“We take care of each other,” Rory said. He appreciated Marcus’s comment, though. He’d razz Rory about plenty of things, but not that.
He could transfer himself out of his chair into a bed, a shower, a bathroom. All the basics required to make living on his own an option, but it had taken time to get to that place, mentally and physically. During that time, his mother had helped care for him, encouraged him, dealt with his bullshit and his temper.
Once he moved past that, he could have lived elsewhere, but to prove what? He and Thomas had talked about it, talked about their dad and what he would have wanted.
Elaine wasn’t helpless or feeble. Hell, she wasn’t even elderly, not really. Marcus didn’t appreciate the reminder, since there was about a fourteen-year age difference between him and Thomas, but Elaine wasn’t much more than a decade or so older than Marcus. She had an active social life, volunteered regularly for their church, and was an avid gardener. She pitched in at the store whenever needed, though Rory had made sure she could start giving more of her efforts to her church and community work, finally enjoy with her friends the leisure time she’d earned a hundred times over.
Yet for all that, he, Thomas and Les all felt better having someone at home with her. The nest had emptied out fast, and their father had died shortly before that started happening. The house was always in need of repairs, with several outbuildings and a food garden that covered about an acre. Way more than one person could maintain. While the store and Thomas were both making enough to hire people to fix some of the stuff, Rory and his mom were of the same mind on that. If they could do it themselves, there was no need to waste the money.
The day might come when Rory would get his own place nearby, like Marcus and Thomas had done, but for now, this arrangement worked. Though she’d never hold her children back by saying so, Elaine liked having someone in the house other than just herself.
“You’re starting to embrace this side of yourself, whether you realize it or not,” Marcus said. “There are theories about this stuff possibly being hereditary.”
Rory’s brow creased. “You lost me.”
“We were with you at dinner a couple weeks ago. Your mom was tired, and it was time to clear the table, wash the dishes. Elaine was doing that thing she does, wanting her sons not to be bothered while she flitted around them. You told her to sit down and drink her coffee while you and Thomas cleared. She sat.”
Rory tried to remember. “I wasn’t disrespectful about it.”
“Not in the least. But you were adamant, and firm. Firm in a way she responded to.”
“Are you saying my mother…”
“I’m saying Thomas told me your father was a very authoritative person. Your mother loved him, fit with him. Thomas said as you’re getting older, you’re acting more like your dad. I’m not going to plant any whips-and-chains images of your parents—”
“Hell, thanks for that. You just did.”
Marcus’s eyes sparkled. “It was likely more subtle for them anyway, disguised by their time period, the father as head of household, things like that. But my point is, your father’s behavior and mannerisms groomed something already within you.”
Thomas came up the steps, picking up the bottle of water left there. He leaned against the porch rail. “Hey. When did you get here? Are you…”
He trailed off at Marcus’s significant glance.
Rory realized he was regarding Marcus in an almost mirror pose. Unblinking, his jaw set, back straight, his overall demeanor reflecting a watchful casualness. It was the posture of someone talking to a peer.
Thomas looked from Marcus to Rory and back. A corner of his mouth twitched, and he shook his head. “Don’t know how I ever missed it,” he muttered.
“He’s your brother,” Marcus replied. “So…”
“Yeah. Right. Eww.” Thomas shuddered, but as he turned to leave, he bumped Rory’s foot with one of his own, nodded to him and headed back down the steps.
“Hunh.” Rory watched his brother move to the wood pile, lean his ass against it and gaze out at the field, taking his break while giving them their privacy. “So he already knows.”
“Soon as I started pointing out the things in you I’d noticed. We’ve talked about it a couple times, when you might come talk to me. If you would.”
“Probably why I waited. Everything I learn from you I might have to visualize for Thomas.” Rory echoed his brother’s mock shudder. “Eww.”
Marcus’s firm lips curved. “Keep that in mind. I have a multitude of ways to traumatize you, because I’ve had your brother in every possible…”