Infuriating, p.21
Infuriating, page 21
“If my boy said it was an accident, then it was an accident, Jimmy.”
Jackson’s gaze jerked up to see his mom marching towards him, dressed in a green dress and mustard yellow sweater, her hair pulled back off her face in a casual style that told Jackson she’d had no intention of leaving the house that day. Beverly Avery was always dressed to the nines when she left her house. She always quoted Coco Chanel, ‘Dress like you might meet your worst enemy today.’
“Mama? What are you doing here?” he asked.
“That boy called me. The pretty one who’s married to Lincoln. He said Day was in the hospital and you were here with the police, so I came straight over and sent your sisters to the hospital to watch over Day until we get there.” She looked over the railing and sucked her teeth. “That him? That the one who hurt our Dayton?”
“Yeah, Mama. That’s him.”
She made a disgusted noise before turning on Jimmy. “You giving my boy a hard time, Jimmy?”
Jimmy shifted on his feet, looking contrite. “Of course not, Bev. You know you’re family. We just need his account for the official record. That’s all.”
“And it couldn’t wait? His boyfriend is in surgery and you’re asking him foolish questions about how the man who put him in the hospital came to be lying in the bottom of a swimming pool? Seems to me he is exactly where he belongs.”
Jackson had never needed anybody to plead his case before, but he leaned against the railing and folded his arms across his chest, giving the man a hard look.
Jimmy’s partner, a young, copper-skinned man with honey-brown eyes named Detective Graves, gazed over the railing with casual disinterest. “You say you got this guy on tape admitting to being a pedophile and a child killer?”
Jackson gave a single nod.
Graves shrugged, his boredom obvious. “Looks like an accident to me, Jimmy. Are you thinking anything different?” Graves asked.
Beverly crossed her arms just as Jackson had, her brow arching at Jimmy.
“No. No, of course not. We’re good. You should get to the hospital and check on Dayton. Tell him we’re all rooting for him at the station when he wakes up.”
Jackson couldn’t help the look of surprise he gave Jimmy. “Uh, yeah. Sure. Okay. I’ll do that.”
Jackson’s mother waited until they were walking down the steps of the dilapidated building, far from earshot, when she asked softly, “You do that to him?”
Jackson knew she was asking if he’d put that man in the bottom of that pool. He had. He hadn’t even felt bad about it. By the time Jackson had made it up to the motel room, Day’s face had been almost unrecognizable. The swelling. The blood. And all Day had wanted was to explain to Jackson how he hadn’t let Carl touch him. It shattered Jackson’s heart into a million pieces. If there hadn’t been an ambulance and three officers down below, he might have taken his time with Carl, made him feel everything Day had and then some, but he’d only had a small window of time to make a quick decision. He’d decided Day’s mental health was more important than his vengeance. Day would only have peace with Carl dead.
Jackson believed in the justice system. It was more than possible that, after a long drawn out trial, a jury would have found Carl guilty of aggravated battery or something equally infuriating. It was likely that winning that verdict would mean Day being forced to relive every trauma this man had put him through starting when he was just fourteen years old. It was likely that a defense attorney would force Day to admit he was a sex worker. He would insinuate that, despite Day’s age when Carl’s abuse began, it was an arrangement and Day had not only wanted it but instigated it to negate getting a ‘real job.’
If convicted, Carl might get a slap on the wrist, a few years in prison, but he wouldn’t get the death penalty. Those other boys, whoever they’d been, wouldn’t get justice, even with Carl’s mediocre confession. No bodies, no crime, and Carl had no incentive to give up any names of the others.
In the end, tossing Carl over that railing had been as easy a decision as loving Day had been, and he’d never regret either. “Yes, Mama.”
She nodded, patting Jackson on his shoulder. “Good boy. Good,” she said again with another firm nod. “I’m driving.”
Jackson looked at his five-foot-nothing mother with wonder. She was literally the strongest person he’d ever met. He thought about his sister and her request to finally tell their mother the truth so that Jimmy no longer had this hold over him. “Mama. Can I tell you something?” he asked once they were sitting in her SUV.
She gave him a look at the seriousness in his voice. “Is it that you’re gay? I figured that out when you were twelve and I caught you out back with that Roger boy from down the block.”
Jackson rolled his eyes. “No, Mama. I’m being serious. I need to tell you something. Something about Dad.”
For the first time in as long as Jackson could remember, his mother looked wary. “If you’re about to tell me your dad cheated on me or something, please don’t. I don’t want to know that. It’s best things are left where they are.”
Jackson frowned. “What? No. At least…I don’t think so. No. It’s about Dad and Jimmy. You know how Jimmy said Dad died from some unknown killer? It’s not true. Dad…” Why was this so hard? “Dad killed himself.”
She turned in the driver’s seat to look at him. “Is that what’s had you twisted in knots all these years? That you thought I didn’t know your daddy took his own life? You think I didn’t know the demons he wrestled with? That man was my everything. I knew how he struggled. I tried to get him to see a therapist, but that just wasn’t done back then. He was afraid they’d kick him off the force. He was always a deeply thoughtful boy. It’s why I loved him. He was too soft for the special investigations unit. Each case broke his heart. And there were too many people on the take.” She paused, her gaze looking out the window. “I know the things they did weren’t always on the up and up. Your daddy had to work ten times harder than everybody else just because of the color of his skin, and sometimes, he cut corners or turned a blind eye to the shit Jimmy and the others were doing. There’s a blue wall that you just don’t cross. It was self preservation, but he didn’t see it that way. I don’t know everything that happened, but I do know, in the end, it was too heavy a burden for him to carry alone and one he wasn’t comfortable forcing me to shoulder. He left me a note. I never told anybody, especially after Jimmy and the boys went through so much trouble to make it look like a murder so we were protected. He just needed me to know why he was leaving us.” She patted Jackson’s cheek. “There. No more secrets. Let’s go check on your man now.”
She turned over the engine and started to back out. Jackson had no idea why he’d needed to unburden himself right at that moment. Maybe he’d been stalling. He wanted to be there for Day, but he didn’t know if he could stomach seeing what that fucking monster had done to him.
As soon as they reached the hospital waiting room, his sisters ran to him, the three of them squeezing him tightly. The others from Elite were all there as well, taking up the majority of the waiting room. “How is he?” he asked Mariah, knowing she had privileges at the hospital, even though she was an OB/GYN, not a trauma surgeon.
Jackson’s stomach rolled as his sister listed out Day’s injuries with clinical efficiency. “He made it through surgery with flying colors. They’re moving him to recovery now. They said they’ll come get you as soon as he’s stable and settled,” Mariah said. “He had a fractured cheek and a fractured orbital socket they had to repair. They said a shard of bone was sitting near the optic nerve and that it might cause him to lose some vision in his right eye. He has a broken jaw, so they’re wiring that shut. He lost a few teeth, but they say that’s an easy cosmetic fix once his jaw heals. The doctor said a plastic surgeon would suture the lacerations to his face, but there was no way of knowing how he’d heal until the swelling went down. He’s going to have a lot of pain for the first week or two but he was able to answer questions and they didn’t find any swelling on his brain.”
“It seemed the dickhead centered most of his blows directly to Day’s face,” Della fumed.
“Mr. Avery?”
“That’s me,” Jackson said.
“You can see your husband now if you follow me.”
Jackson frowned at Mariah. She shrugged. “What? I told a little fib. Do you want them to think we’re not his family?”
Jackson kissed her on the forehead. “Nope. This is his family.”
Jackson followed the nurse down the hallway, who introduced himself as Brandon and said that he’d be taking care of Day for the evening and that, by happenstance, Day would be Brandon’s only patient so to just use the call bell if they needed anything. Jackson nodded as the man walked out of the room and sat at a desk just outside Day’s window where he could peer in anytime to see them.
It loosened something in Jackson’s chest. Day would be safe from now on. Safe and cared for. He picked up the large reclining chair and sat it beside Day’s bed, waving to Brandon, who looked up to see what Jackson was doing. He couldn’t see much of Day’s face. The right side was hidden by bandages, including his eye. The left side was swollen, covered in multiple black and blue contusions, his left eye swollen shut and his lips chapped and slightly parted.
“Jesus, baby.” He picked up Day’s hand, holding it gently, afraid to cause him any more pain. “I’m so sorry I left you alone. I’m so sorry. I never should have left you in that car.”
“It’s my fault,” Day croaked through clamped teeth. “I left the car.”
“Shh, don’t talk. It is not your fault. None of this is your fault. Fuck, Day. I was so scared. I could hear him hitting you.” Jackson’s voice caught on a sob. “I could hear him hitting you, and we were so far away and you just kept taunting him. God, why, baby? Why did you do that?”
“I...I’d decided I was already dead. I wanted to go on my terms.” Every word was forced and mumbled, only discernible when Jackson leaned in close, but they were music to his ears. Day was alive. Day was talking. Day remembered what had happened.
“Are you hurting? Do you need me to get the nurse?”
“Uh-uh. The drugs are nice.”
Jackson smiled, lifting Day’s hand to kiss the back of it. “Rest, baby. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”
“I do love you. Did you hear me tell him that?” he asked drowsily. “Did you hear me tell him how I loved you?”
“Yeah, baby. I heard everything. I love you, too. So fucking much.”
“‘Kay, good.”
Jackson sat, watching Day sleep, afraid to look away for even a second. When Brandon entered, Jackson fixed him with a hard stare. “I’m not leaving this spot. I don’t care what your visiting hours are.”
Brandon smiled. “If that were my husband, I wouldn’t leave either. But your friends and family were hoping for a quick update. I can sit with him while you let them know you talked to him. Like I said, he’s my only patient so far tonight. I’ll find you a pillow and some blankets so you can get comfortable when you get back.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
“No problem.” Jackson was almost to the door when Brandon said, “Look, I’m not supposed to say this and I only know what little your sister said about who did that to him, but I really hope they got what they deserve.”
Jackson gave a grave nod. “Believe me. They did.”
“You heard from our boy yet?” Mama Bev asked as she wiped her hands on her bright yellow kitchen towel.
Day looked up from the kitchen table and gave her a brief smile. “Yeah, he called when he was on his way from the airport, but you know LA traffic. He’ll be here sometime between now and next Tuesday,” Day said before stopping to massage his jaw.
Bev smiled, then frowned. “Still hurting? You need another pill?”
Day shook his head. “No, it’s fine. I took some ibuprofen. It just aches sometimes. I think I’m going to rest until Jackson gets here.”
She nodded, giving him an odd look. “Alright, sugar.”
Sometimes, it felt like he was surrounded by a family of mind readers or body language experts. Ever since Day’s assault four months ago, people seemed to try to interpret every word he said, like he was always moments away from snapping. Hell, maybe he was. It was hard to say. Sometimes, it felt like his life, like his face, wasn’t his own anymore.
He’d shut down his camming accounts when they’d finally released him from the hospital. Not exactly a difficult decision when your face looked like ground sausage, but even if his face had been perfect, he could never see himself going back to it, not after everything Carl had done to him, was still doing to him in some ways. Little ways. But they added up over time.
Day hated to be alone now. Hence the reason he stayed with Jackson’s mother every time Jackson was forced to go out of town for business. The plan was to eventually take Day with him back to Miami, but he didn’t want to meet Jackson’s Miami friends while looking like an escapee from a carnival. Wyatt and Charlie told him he was ridiculous and that he looked almost exactly the same, with the exception of a slight bump near his right eye. He didn’t believe them, but he just didn’t talk about it anymore.
Day had already had two reparative surgeries, one to correct the damage to his cheek and another to repair his broken teeth once the wire had been removed from his jaw. Through it all, Jackson was there, encouraging Day, going to therapy, rubbing his jaw, calling him beautiful. That was the one that ate at Day the most. Beautiful. It felt like Jackson was placating him. Day wasn’t beautiful anymore, thanks to Carl. But that wasn’t Jackson’s fault. He’d been more than patient with Day. He never pushed him, never got angry. He was just always there, always steady. He was everything Day needed, and part of him hated how much he needed it.
Even after all this time, it felt like Carl was there, whispering in his ear, telling Day that Jackson hadn’t touched him because he was ugly, he was damaged. Day’s therapist told him he was projecting his own fears onto Jackson’s behaviors as a self-defense mechanism. He knew she was right, but once a month, around the anniversary of his assault, the panic set in and that voice started all over again, forcing him to push Jackson away.
But not this time. Day might not look like himself, but for the first time in forever, he felt like himself. He didn’t hurt. He wasn’t swollen or sore or depressed. Jackson was coming home any minute, and for the first time in a long time, all Day wanted was for Jackson to touch him like he was more than a patient. Four months was a long time to be celibate, especially when he had a man as sexy as Jackson lying beside him every night.
It was weird to miss something and fear it at the same time. Part of him worried if they were intimate again, it would be obvious that Jackson was with him out of pity. Another part worried if his broken jaw would keep him from doing things Jackson liked, like oral sex. It was nice to be able to open his mouth to talk, but Day’s jaw ached all the time.
His phone vibrated on the bedside table. A Snapchat from Wyatt and Charlie that showed an entire box of condoms spilled out over the bed next to an industrial sized bottle of lube. They’d scrawled ‘good luck’ across the bottom. They visited all the time.
In the beginning, it irritated Day that Jackson had spilled to the others that Day was afraid to be alone. As if a dozen people witnessing his assault in 1080p hadn’t been embarrassing enough, but then Charlie and Wyatt had showed up and brought Robby who was a pastor and Elijah who was a fucking movie star, and they’d sat in a circle and shared their most intimate secrets with him. Robby’s and Wyatt’s abuse by their fathers, Elijah’s acting coach raping him when he was a child, Wyatt retelling his times at conversion therapy. Charlie talking about a photographer who’d taken things too far.
It bonded the five of them, made Day feel less like a victim when they would all come and sit with him whenever Jackson left. It was stupid to need protection from a ghost, and Carl was a ghost if Charlie and Wyatt were to be believed. His sweet, peaceful, level-headed Jackson had tossed the old man into an empty swimming pool. But once a month, Carl felt as alive as he ever was, sitting on Day’s shoulder and telling him the life he was growing to love was temporary. Day had told Linc about it the first time he’d sat beside him on Jackson’s sofa and just watched old movies when it was his turn to babysit Day. Linc told Day about his PTSD. How the brain fights to protect itself in weird ways. How there was nothing wrong with therapy. He’d promised not to tell Jackson about Carl, and it seemed he never had.
There was a soft knock at the door, and then Jackson was peeking around the corner. Day’s heart swooped at the sight of him. It always did. As always, Jackson dressed more for the runway than the boardroom, wearing dark jeans and a snow white sweater that made his dark skin radiant. Day didn’t sit up, just held up his arms. He wasn’t giving Jackson any reason to leave this bed.
Jackson flashed Day that panty-dropping grin before closing the door and crossing the room. He knelt on the floor beside him, wrapping his arms around Day, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek. “Hey, beautiful.”
“Hi, Daddy,” Day purred.
Jackson’s brow arched, and his mouth curled upwards. “You haven’t called me that in a while.”
“We haven’t been alone in a while,” Day countered, sitting up enough to capture Jackson’s lips with a moan.
Jackson deepened the kiss immediately, sending Day’s pulse fluttering, his cock hardening as Jackson slipped his tongue inside to slide over Day’s in a way that made him whimper. “Fuck, I’ve missed you,” Jackson whispered against Day’s lips.
“Me too. So much,” Day promised, trying to pull Jackson up onto the bed beside him. “Fuck me?”
Jackson chuckled. “You know my mom is in the kitchen, right?”
“And I’m right here,” Day whined. “We haven’t had sex since before the…since before. I finally feel good. I want you to make me feel better. Please?” Day pouted. He could see Jackson wavering. “Please, Daddy?”
