Better than Sex (San Francisco Sex Gods #1)

Chapter 20

TWENTY

Mickey

By Thursday evening, Mickey was starting to worry. Spencer’s party was two days away and he still hadn’t found a present for him. He lay in Greg’s bed, dressed in a T-shirt and sweat shorts, trying to get comfortable while he scrolled through his phone.

Greg had left a few hours earlier for a cross-country red-eye flight, and whenever he was out of town, Mickey would sleep in Greg’s bed so he was close to Logan if he woke up in the night. The arrangement made him slightly uneasy, not because it was his boss’s bed, but because the bedroom felt haunted by the death of Greg’s husband. It was as if the walls of the room somehow held the imprint of the traumatic morning when Greg realized Ryan was gone.

We fell asleep in each other’s arms , Greg had told him. And he never woke up.

In the aftermath of Ryan’s death, Logan struggled with being apart from Greg. On nights when his father was away, Logan was especially clingy and would fight going to bed. If Mickey put him to bed at his normal time, he would sneak out of bed and play with his toys until he fell asleep on the floor from sheer exhaustion.

Mickey’s new approach was much more effective. He’d allow Logan to stay up one hour past his bedtime to watch cartoons, and when the young boy started nodding off, Mickey would help him brush his teeth and tuck him into bed. After a quick bedtime story, Logan would be out like a light.

When he last checked on him, Logan was sleeping peacefully, so Mickey had some time to himself to continue searching for a birthday gift. His thumbs hovered over his phone.

What do you buy for a guy you barely know?

Scrolling through Amazon had gotten him nowhere, so he opened Google and typed gifts for a guy you want to have sex with . With a mix of amusement and dismay, he scrolled through the results, quickly determining that sex dice or a candle that said “Light me when you want a blow job” weren’t quite the vibe he was going for.

He closed his eyes and sifted through all the hours they’d spent together, searching for a nugget of information, any small detail he might remember that would point him in the right direction. He was struck by the sudden realization that he did know something deeply personal about Spencer. On their ice cream date, they’d talked about his dream career.

I wanted to do fine art photography.

Mickey started a new search and within fifteen minutes he’d found the perfect gift. At least, it seemed perfect. Until yesterday afternoon he’d never heard of fine art photography.

He sent the document to the printer in Greg’s office and checked the time. Quarter after ten. Spencer was probably still awake.

Mickey wanted to text him so badly. But if yesterday afternoon had been a date, was it too soon? Would he come off as needy? Then again, what if Spencer was waiting for him to say something, to tell him that this was starting to feel like more than a friendship and he was on board with pursuing something more?

He opened their text chain and traced the blue heart he’d sent yesterday afternoon. What message would convey all the thoughts and feelings that were fluttering inside him like caffeinated hummingbirds?

(I really like you)

“Mickey?”

Mickey was surprised by the sound of Logan’s voice. The young boy was standing in the hallway connecting his room to his father’s room, tears streaming down his face, clutching Mister Stripes.

“What’s wrong, Logy?” Mickey tossed his phone on the nightstand and hurried over to Logan, crouching down and wiping away his tears with his thumbs.

“I had a bad dream.” He hugged his stuffed tiger to his chest. “I’m scared.”

Mickey pulled Logan into a hug and rubbed his back. “Hey, buddy, there’s nothing to be scared of. It’s over now. Do you want to sleep in your daddy’s room with me tonight so you aren’t alone?”

Logan nodded, his lower lip trembling.

“Okay, let’s get you into bed.”

Logan tossed Mister Stripes onto his father’s bed and then climbed up after him. He looked so tiny in the massive king-sized bed, swallowed up by the sheets like a boat adrift in a vast ocean. Mickey lay down next to him and tucked the sheet and comforter around Logan’s body.

“Do you want to talk about your dream?” Mickey asked.

“I was all alone, and the house was dark,” Logan whispered. “I looked everywhere but Daddy was gone.” Tears filled his eyes, and through a sob he choked out, “I miss Papa.”

Papa was Logan’s name for Ryan. Mickey held Logan’s hand while he broke down and cried. When he started to calm down, and his sobs became plaintive whimpers, Mickey kissed his forehead. “What would you tell your Papa if he were here?”

Logan sniffed and rubbed his pajama sleeve over his cheeks and under his nose. “I want to play catch in the park, like we used to.”

“Close your eyes,” Mickey said. “Imagine you’re in the park. The sun is shining, and Papa is there with you, holding your favorite ball. Can you see him?”

Logan nodded and squeezed Mister Stripes harder.

“He throws you the ball, and you catch it on the first try. He cheers and scoops you up in his arms for a hug. He says, ‘I’m so proud of you, Logy.’ What do you want to say to him?”

In a fragile voice, Logan murmured, “I love you, Papa.”

“He tells you he loves you, too.” Mickey stroked Logan’s hair to soothe him in the way his Papa no longer could. “He’ll love you forever and ever.”

Logan’s shaky breathing evened out and his grip on his stuffed tiger loosened as he fell asleep.

“Good night, buddy.” Mickey turned off the light and settled on his back with his eyes closed. It wasn’t long before he’d fallen asleep as well.

Ronnie bounced the tiny metal dog along the game board and groaned when she landed on Marvin Gardens.

“Let’s see,” Mickey said, tapping his chin in a purposely smug way. “Marvin Gardens with one hotel. That’ll be $1200.”

“That’s the second time I’ve landed there. My dog burns your hotel to the ground.” His sister used her playing piece to knock over Mickey’s hotel, but still carefully counted out the colorful bills and handed over the rent.

“Thank you,” Mickey said, sorting the money into his piles. He righted his hotel and carefully centered it on the yellow rectangle. “The top hat rebuilds his hotel, bigger and better than ever.”

Their father appeared in the doorway, tying a grey plaid scarf around his neck. “Time to head out, Ronnie.”

“We’re right in the middle of a game,” Ronnie whined. “Just a few more minutes?”

“If we don’t leave now, we’ll be late. The roads are getting bad from the storm.” Their dad walked over to the table where they were playing and handed Ronnie her pink puffer jacket. “You can build your Boardwalk empire after dance class.”

She rolled her eyes while she slipped into her coat. “Those are Mickey’s houses.”

“Don’t worry,” Mickey assured her. “I’ll leave everything set up. We can finish when you get home.”

Suddenly he was alone, and he was overcome with the awful certainty that those would be the last words he’d ever say to his sister.

Darkness oozed into the room, until the only illumination came from the car’s headlights, creeping up the wall as his father backed out of the driveway.

“Ronnie!” Mickey yelled. “Stop! Don’t go!” He threw the front door open and ran after them, his sneakers crunching and slipping in the snow, chasing the red taillights until they winked out in a flurry of snowflakes.

He dropped to his knees, sobbing. “Ronnie. Come back. Please.”

All around him, the icy wind howled and shrieked like a tortured spirit.

Mickey awoke with a start and buried his face in the pillow so Logan wouldn’t hear him crying. It had been eleven years since the accident that killed his sister, but in his nightmares, it was as if no time had passed at all.

Was he good at soothing children’s grief because in some ways he was still a child himself, frozen in time, trapped in that winter night when he lost his sister? Forever seventeen. Never receiving the love and care he needed to get unfrozen.

He didn’t want Logan to get stuck like that. Maybe Keith was right, and adopting Pepper would be a good thing, for both him and Logan.

After wiping the tears from his eyes, he picked up his phone and sat back against the headboard. While Logan slept beside him, Mickey looked up articles about the role dogs can play in helping children process grief.