Lucky break clean slate.., p.27
Lucky Break (Clean Slate Ranch), page 27
“Supper would be lovely, ma’am, thank you,” Robin said. “Lunch feels like a lifetime ago.” Shawn leaned into him, grateful to Robin for taking charge. He should eat, but Shawn wasn’t hungry.
Shawn wandered down the short hallway that led to the three bedrooms and single bathroom. His room had been the first on the left, and he pushed open the door, unsurprised to find it exactly how he’d left it. Same furniture, same handful of comic books and scholar awards and participation trophies. Things he hadn’t been able to take with him but couldn’t manage to throw away.
“You played baseball?” Robin asked. He pointed at the trophies.
“Yeah, and I was pretty good at it, too. Quit when I started getting booed during games. It wasn’t good for team morale, anyway.” Ugh, the funeral and reception were going to be a nightmare, but Shawn had Robin. They’d get through it together.
“Huh. So what other hidden talents do you have?”
“I can roll my tongue and stick it out.” Shawn demonstrated, and Robin chuckled.
“Outstanding trick.”
“Can you do it?”
Robin tried and failed, and the silly exchange helped Shawn feel normal for a few seconds. Then he remembered why he was here. He sank down on the slightly musty full-size bed and dropped his face into his hands. Robin sat beside him and wrapped an arm around his waist. Leaned in close.
“You tell me what you need, okay?” Robin whispered. “Anything. That’s a promise.”
“You being here is all I need right now. Thank you.”
“Of course.”
They sat quietly until Janet called them for supper. Tuna noodle casserole was a familiar family dish, and Shawn accepted a small scoop. He hadn’t eaten it in years, and he enjoyed the odd way canned tuna, cream of celery soup, egg noodles, and cheddar cheese came together to taste good. Robin sniffed at his first bite, and his surprised look after he tasted told Shawn this was his first time.
Probably didn’t make a lot of casseroles on the road with Lucky’s. And it struck Shawn that he didn’t know what Robin had done during that mysterious year between Xander’s death and Robin landing at Clean Slate. All Robin ever said about it was he’d been in a bad place, so Shawn didn’t push.
No one really spoke during the meal, which was fine by Shawn. He had no idea what to say about anything. After dinner, Pastor Schumer excused himself, and Shawn was glad to see the man go. His quiet disapproval of Robin irritated him. Janet went into the guest room to call her husband and check in about Thursday’s plans. Apparently, she was hanging around until then, which was nice.
Shawn, Robin, and Granddad watched a few game show reruns on GSN before Granddad excused himself to bed. Once they were alone, Shawn cuddled up closer to Robin, and they stretched out on the couch together to watch a movie. Shawn didn’t pay much attention. Mostly, he existed here, among these familiar furnishings and photos and rugs. In some ways, no time had passed at all.
And then he noticed the hospital bed—apparently, it was being picked up tomorrow by the company they’d rented it from—and Shawn remembered how very much everything had changed. Some things for the worse, but so many, many things for the better.
Later, Shawn let Robin wrap his bigger body around Shawn in bed, and it didn’t even feel strange spooning in his old room. He needed Robin, and Robin was there for him. Robin hadn’t walked away or turned his back when things got hard, and that meant the world to Shawn. Not having to handle this alone when he’d relied solely on himself for so many years.
Shawn shed a few more tears as he fell asleep that night. A mix of happy tears and sad ones. And in between, tears of hope for his future with Robin.
* * *
All the next day, Robin watched. He made it his mission to pay attention to Shawn and be there for whatever his boyfriend needed. Janet was polite and kind, and she took point on answering the doorbell whenever it rang. Often, it was a neighbor dropping off a casserole or freezer meal for Francis, sometimes baked goods. She put several wrapped loaves of banana bread right into the freezer. Most of the time, the guests stayed in the foyer. Francis occasionally spoke to them personally.
Shawn didn’t...hide from the guests, but he also made no effort to engage them. Francis and Shawn spent several hours Wednesday morning poring over old photo albums for a poster collage to put in the church vestibule tomorrow. They’d already chosen the photo that they’d have blown up for the front of the church: Irma Worthington on her wedding day, dressed in white, and so beautiful with her styled hair and bright smile.
“No matter how she aged, that’s how she always looked to me,” Francis had said, and it had brought tears to Robin’s eyes. The man spoke of his late wife of fifty-plus years with so much adoration in his voice. It was both humbling and inspiring.
After lunch, Shawn spent a lot of time prowling the house, both inside and out. Testing baseboards, poking at signs of water damage in one of the spare rooms, checking for termites on the front porch and other things like that. The house definitely needed work, and its condition bordered on disrepair. It wasn’t falling down around Francis’s ears but even Robin saw things that needed to be fixed, patched, or fully replaced, including that grease trap of an oven he cooked with.
That evening, Janet’s husband and two tween sons arrived and the family shared one of the casseroles and a loaf of homemade apple bread for dinner. Robin made sure Shawn ate a decent portion of food. His appetite had been down since yesterday, and the younger man needed fuel. Janet’s husband helped Robin wrangle the love seat out of the spare bedroom where it had been shoved a few years ago, and they put it where Irma’s hospital bed had been. Francis got emotional over that and went to bed early.
The boys weren’t excited about sleeping on the pullout couch, but they were really into the fact that Shawn and Robin worked on a dude ranch, so Robin entertained the kids with stories until around nine, when the household seemed to mutually agree it was time to retire. Shawn was quiet as they climbed into bed, and he quickly turned into their familiar spooning position. Robin kissed the side of Shawn’s neck, not worried exactly, but Shawn had been so quiet today...
“Penny for your thoughts?” Robin asked in the dark.
“I have so many, it’ll probably cost you a couple of bucks.”
“Totally worth it.”
Shawn sighed. “I think my biggest regret right now is that Nana never got to meet you. She didn’t get to see how freaking happy I am with you. And that’s my fault.”
“How’s it your fault?”
“You offered to bring me up here to see them, and I said no.”
“Hey, you had good reasons for saying no, and you also had no reason to suspect she’d pass so suddenly. Strokes just happen, baby. Same as heart attacks.” Robin’s thoughts shifted to this past summer when Arthur had suffered two heart attacks, one minor and one major. The entire staff had been terrified for the man, but he was bouncing back with lots of rest, a healthier diet, and a lot of determination.
“Yeah. I think a tiny part of me was also a little embarrassed. Huntington’s takes so much away from you. The ability to function, to speak, to do so many things. Half the time, I could barely understand her when we spoke on the phone, and Granddad had to translate.”
Robin considered a question he’d had in the back of his mind ever since Shawn mentioned his grandmother’s affliction. “Did your mom have the gene?”
Shawn twisted around to face Robin, his expression difficult to decipher in the gloom. “Would you see me differently if I said yes?”
“Of course not. I’d heard of the disease, and I did a little digging.” If one parent had it, then any children had a fifty percent chance of inheriting the gene, too, and eventually developing symptoms.
“I don’t know if she had it,” Shawn said. “Mom died before we knew Nana had it, so there was no chance to do the genetic test. And they’re expensive, especially without insurance, so I’ve never taken it. I don’t want to know. I want to live my life, Robin, and to be happy. Symptoms can manifest in the late twenties, but most don’t until much later in life. So for now, I don’t want to know.”
“Okay. I hear you, and I respect that.”
Shawn studied his face a beat. “Would me having the gene change how you feel about me?”
“Absolutely not,” Robin said without a second’s hesitation, and he meant it. He was in this with Shawn, period. “Even if you said you had it, I’m not going anywhere, I promise. Hell, I could be paralyzed in a car wreck tomorrow, or discover I have cancer next week. Part of life is taking the bad times along with the good.” He pressed their foreheads together. “I’ll weather any storm with you, Shawn Matthews.”
Shawn sobbed once but didn’t cry, and he pressed soft lips to Robin’s. “Same. Have you always been this amazing?”
“Dunno. But you definitely bring out the best in me, so thank you for that.”
“You bring out the best in me, too. I’m glad you’re here. Tomorrow is really going to suck, and not just because it’s Nana’s funeral.”
“Because of the thing that happened when you were a teenager?”
“Yeah.”
Shawn didn’t say anything else, and this probably wasn’t the best moment to ask, so Robin left it alone. For now.
Robin didn’t sleep well that night, likely because Shawn didn’t, either. Shawn didn’t usually toss and turn much but he couldn’t seem to get comfortable. He rose before dawn, and Robin let him go, trusting his boyfriend to ask if he needed something from Robin. As the house came awake, seven people had to take turns showering and using the toilet of the single bathroom, and that became an interesting juggling act.
The service was scheduled at ten, with the reception directly afterward. After a light breakfast, Janet’s clan headed for their car. Francis rode with Robin and Shawn in the rental, and Robin followed Shawn’s directions to the church. Shawn was shotgun, and he got out to open Francis’s door. The pair stuck close together, hands clasped, so Robin walked behind them, eyes open for anyone who might appear to be a threat to Shawn.
A small table in the vestibule had a guest book they all signed, next to the poster board of photos they’d put together yesterday. Their trio gazed at it with respect for a bit before moving into the sanctuary. Janet and her family weren’t far behind. Robin had attended a few funerals as a kid, but all those had been in funeral homes with open-casket viewings. Not small services like this.
Shawn and Francis stopped just inside the sanctuary, which seemed to be their position for whatever came next. At the front of the church, next to the altar, was an enlarged copy of Irma’s photo on an easel. The altar held a lovely arrangement of white roses and pink hydrangeas. Everything was simple and tasteful, as Robin imagined Irma had been as a young woman. Eager to marry and start a family. Family who had, according to Shawn, spread out across the States and rarely kept in touch.
The small sanctuary slowly filled with people, and Robin remained a steady presence on Shawn’s right. He wanted to hold Shawn’s hand, but Shawn hadn’t reached for him, and Robin didn’t want to push their relationship in these people’s faces. Everyone who came in offered condolences to Francis. Women hugged him, men shook his hand. Many folks acknowledged Shawn with polite nods, but few engaged him in any meaningful way, and it irritated Robin on a cellular level. Shawn was grieving too, and the mood here stoked Robin’s curiosity about Shawn’s past.
At ten, their trio moved to sit in the front pew. Pastor Schumer made a show of shaking their hands, even Robin’s, before moving behind the altar. Robin wasn’t religious. He considered himself spiritual, but he respectfully went through the motions of an opening prayer and singing hymns. Schumer recited Bible verses. Another hymn, another prayer, and it was over.
The sanctuary slowly cleared out. Francis whispered something to Shawn. Shawn clasped Robin’s hand and stood. Led him out into the vestibule to wait. “He wanted a few minutes alone,” Shawn said. His eyes were red, his cheeks dry, and he leaned into Robin’s chest.
Robin held him until Francis joined them.
The reception hall was modestly decorated with a buffet line of hot and cold dishes, and a drink station. Older women, who were probably church members, stood behind the line and were serving the guests. Some of the tables were already half-full of folks eating. Francis skipped the hot line and went directly to the dessert table for a big slice of chocolate cake. Robin loved that Shawn did the same, and they sat together at an empty table with their cake.
While they ate, people Robin didn’t remember from the church came over to talk to Francis. A few folks spoke directly to Shawn, and Shawn even introduced Robin to a young couple about Shawn’s age. An old high school classmate, he discovered. That couple was the most polite of the bunch, but Shawn didn’t seem very bothered by the constant snubs.
He’d expected it, that much was clear.
“Well now,” a deep voice said behind them. “If it isn’t little Shawnie Matthews all grown up.”
Shawn’s entire body tensed. His breathing became labored as his face paled. Literally paled in front of Robin’s eyes, and Robin knew without asking the voice belonged to the infamous Beck.
Oh shit.
Chapter Twenty
The only reason Shawn didn’t flee the room the instant he heard Beck’s voice was because of Robin. Robin was both his touchstone and his protector. And Shawn had returned to Breton today expecting some sort of confrontation with Beck. He was just glad Beck had waited to show up here, rather than at the church.
It still didn’t stop his body’s immediate panicked reaction or the cold ball of ice that landed in his gut.
Little Shawnie Matthews.
“Mr. Beckham,” Francis said coldly. “Please offer your condolences and move along.”
“But it’s been so long,” Beck replied in a familiar, too-charming-for-my-own-good tone. “Can’t I say hello to the kid who tried to ruin my life?”
Next to Shawn, Robin stiffened, hands balling into fists in his lap. Shawn squeezed Robin’s thigh briefly and then rose. Turned to face Beck for the first time in over five years. The man had aged well, only a bit more gray in his dark hair, a handful of new laugh lines around his eyes. Beck wasn’t handsome, exactly, but he used natural charm to win people over and make friends, and he’d used that charm to turn half this damned town against Shawn.
For doing nothing more damning than telling the truth.
“Hello,” Shawn said. He drew on all the confidence he’d been building by working at the saloon and the guesthouse. “Now you say hello, and we’ll both go our separate ways.”
Beck’s left eyebrow twitched. “That’s all I get? Not even a handshake?”
“Why would you want a handshake from someone you had branded a liar and opportunist? Especially when you’re the fucking liar and we both know it.”
God, but it felt good to say all this to Beck’s face. To finally get this off his chest. During the court proceedings, they’d been kept apart, and after the dust settled, Shawn had kept his head down until he left town. There hadn’t been a chance to defend himself, and even if there had been, Shawn hadn’t been strong enough back then. But he sure as hell was strong enough to say it all now.
“I’m not the one who preyed on a fifteen-year-old and then lied about it to save his own ass. You did that. And you’ll probably deny it until the day you die, but we know the truth. My conscience is clear. Is yours?”
Beck’s face twisted in anger. The man’s hands came up, but before Shawn could react to defend himself, Robin was there. Inserting his broader body between Shawn and Beck, and then Beck took a full step backward.
“Touch him,” Robin snarled, “and you’ll be eating your food through a straw while your two broken hands heal.”
Holy hell. Overprotective Robin is hot.
In the tense silence that followed, Shawn realized that the confrontation had gained the attention of the entire room. Everyone had stopped talking and eating to watch. Shawn’s face blazed with embarrassment, but he stepped out from behind the protective wall of Robin’s body. “This is my grandmother’s wake,” Shawn said with steel in his voice. “Please leave. You are not welcome here.”
Beck opened his mouth, then seemed to realize how many eyeballs were on him. Many pairs of them disapproving, too, which kind of pleased Shawn. Maybe they weren’t all on Shawn’s side, but they were not happy Beck had caused a scene. Beck’s face clearly showed he understood the mistake he’d made, that even someone as popular in their small town as Roger Beckham needed to know when to show respect.
Head held high, Beck pivoted neatly on one heel and strode out of the room. Conversation levels returned to normal. Shawn took a few cleansing breaths, a little surprised his anxiety hadn’t gone into self-destruct mode over this, but he was surprisingly calm. Because he’d faced his monster. And he’d won.
Robin turned to face him, his eyes silently begging for answers about what he’d just witnessed. “Granddad,” Shawn said, “we’re going to take a walk, okay?”
“Okay, son,” Granddad replied. “You be safe.”
“We will.”
Shawn had no expectations that Beck was lying in wait to attack them. It wasn’t the guy’s style. He attacked using words. Threats. Not physical violence—which was exactly why Robin’s words had made Beck back down. In his heart of hearts, Beck was a coward. And Shawn was done being afraid of him.
“Come on.” Shawn took Robin’s hand and led him through the maze of tables to the door. The cold air smacked him in the face and he inhaled deeply. Released the long breath through his nose.
The senior center was on the far end of town near a semibusy street. About five blocks from here was the hardware/general store where Shawn’s nightmare had occurred, but he didn’t want to take Robin there. So he took Robin in the opposite direction, down a residential street until he found a stone bench dedicated to the passing of some important person or another. Didn’t matter.
