Thawed Out (Merry Everything #4)

Chapter 3

3

I t was dusk before pure hunger drove Kiren out of the bedroom. He’d waited as long as he could because he didn’t know what he was going to say to Flynn. The only thing he knew was there was no hope of having a conversation if Flynn couldn’t control the shouting.

The storm had ended, but there was so much snow on the ground and some of the drifts were so wild it was going to be a couple of days at least before he got out of there. He’d resigned himself to that fact, but still didn’t know what all that time was going to look like.

The main part of the cabin was chilly, and he discovered that the stove had cooled down—not cold, but it definitely needed fuel—and Flynn was nowhere. Probably out in the fucking snow again like the idiot he was.

No, like the idiot he’d become. Flynn wasn’t an idiot at all. He was just wired out of his mind and exhausted and looked like he hadn’t eaten an actual meal in months. He was spinning on something—adrenaline, sleep deprivation, something—and he was just…reacting.

Kiren filled up the pellets and got the stove humming again, then stuck a couple of logs on the fire for light and a different kind of warmth. When he’d done all of that and Flynn still hadn’t turned up, he pulled on his coat and opened the front door to see what he could see.

Flynn was in his truck, sound asleep. The silly son of a bitch had a death wish.

He needed to take care of himself so that he could make smart decisions.

“Third time is the charm, huh?” He stomped into his boots, zipped up his coat and trudged out in the knee-deep snow.

Damn. Some of the snow was hip deep.

He waded through the white stuff and pounded on the driver’s side window.

Flynn was so deep asleep that he just blinked, staring at him like he was confused. “Kiren?”

“You’re in your truck,” he said loud enough to be heard through the window. Then he reached for the handle and opened the door. “Come inside. It’s cold out.” The truck wasn’t too bad though. Cold, but Flynn must have had it running at some point. “Come on.”

“Sorry. I dozed off.”

Yes, he was aware. He didn’t say it though, even if he wanted to.

“It’s okay. I’ve got the place all warmed up. Come with me.” Jesus, Flynn was out of it. He helped Flynn get moving, and made sure the truck door was closed tight. “I’m going to make some dinner.”

“Damn, did I sleep all afternoon? Sorry, babe. I had one hell of a migraine. I hate these headaches.”

“You get headaches? Since when?” Flynn never told him about headaches. “I’m going to have to put the chain on the door to keep you from wandering outside like Jasper used to do.” Sleeping all afternoon was probably a fraction of what Flynn needed.

“Oh, man. That scared the living daylights out of me. At least Cass stays put, mostly.” That warm laugh made his balls ache a little bit.

That laugh was one of the many reasons why they ‘ended up married’ as Flynn said.

“Mostly.” Jasper was a bulldozer. Cass was more of an observer. “Me too. And you ran out and bought the chain-lock that very afternoon, remember?” He remembered it well. They’d sat around the fire that night drinking and talking about what shit parents they were and how they couldn’t believe anyone had trusted them with a baby.

“I do. I cussed all the way down the mountain, and I brought us burgers and beer…” Flynn shook his head. “Best burger ever.”

“Oh, that was an orgasmic cheeseburger. Or maybe I’m confusing events. There was beer.” He chuckled and made sure all of their snowy clothing got hung up and their boots were in the tray by the door.

“There was. It was an awful day, but good, because Jas was locked in and safe…” Flynn’s expression was distant.

“He was our first. What did we know? I mean, he only made it to the driveway; it’s not like he was lost for hours in the woods.” Flynn might not have survived that kind of scare. Safety was important to him. Having everyone under one roof was important to him too.

Kiren rubbed his forehead. Well, fuck.

“Uh…what do you need? Water? Coffee? Did you take anything for the headache?” Okay, he was frustrated and angry, but he still loved Flynn. He could be a decent human at least.

“About a handful of Excedrin Migraine. I think it’s the storm? Maybe stress? Maybe meanness. I’ll grab us both a bottle of water, huh?”

Okay, that was calm.

“Yeah. Thanks.” The storm, or the volume level. Jesus. At least Flynn wasn’t shouting now. “I’ll take stress for five hundred, Alex.”

“The jerking motion at the corner of your eyes, or a small mint.” Flynn actually chuckled.

He took his bottle of water. “What is a tic-tac!”

“Five hundred dollars to you, and that puts you in the lead.” Flynn offered him a wink.

“Well, that’s no surprise.” He winked back. God, he didn’t know what this weird little bit of normalcy was about, but he was holding onto it with both hands. “And it lasts just long enough for you to score a Daily Double on some random medical procedure from the nineteen fifties.”

“Only if it’s not literature. You’ve read everything.” Flynn leaned against the counter. “Like every book on earth. Even the bad ones.”

“I’ve read the bad ones twice.” He chuckled and took a big sip of his water, then breathed out some of the tension in his shoulders. “Seriously. Stop going outside in the cold. You’re freaking me out.”

“I was losing my shit and making you cry. I needed to scream somewhere so you felt safe.”

And as random as that may have sounded to someone else, he totally got it. “Yeah. okay. But for the record, you were losing your shit for sure, but I made myself cry.”

“I still felt bad. I never wanted to be the one that hurt you.” Flynn sighed softly. “I wanted to be the good guy.”

“I hear you. I definitely did not want to be the asshole.”

“Yeah.” Flynn closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I hate this.”

“Fuck yes. I hate all of it. I hate how I am right now too.” He’d never given up on anything the way he’d thrown his hands up over his marriage, and it had never once felt like the right answer. He just couldn’t see a better one.

“We can’t just keep beating on each other. We need to breathe. It’s going to be at least two days here. If we’re lucky, we’re down the mountain for Christmas Eve…”

He was going to go down the mountain on a sled if he had to. No way was he missing Christmas Eve with the kids. Okay. He’d had enough therapy to figure this out. “I need you to stop shouting. What do you need from me?”

Flynn’s lips twisted, and his ex’s cheeks went a deep, dark red.

He smacked Flynn in the shoulder. “Jesus Christ, Flynn. I’m serious!” He was having trouble hiding his grin though.

And that blush still did it for him. So fucking pretty.

“I know! I know! I didn’t say it. I didn’t.” Flynn’s cheeks were going to melt the snow.

He gave Flynn a sidelong, teasing glance. “You know that would just make you shout too.”

“I might just die of pure shock. I think I may be a virgin again.” Okay, there was his cowboy. He was coming back.

“Please. We paid it forward. We’re good for decades.” He snorted, then laughed at his own joke like a dork. “Decades.”

“Nonsense. I am totally virginal. Ask me. I’ll tell you. I’m all shriveled down there.” Flynn winked at him.

“Well, shit. Good thing I asked for a divorce.” That was funny for all of three seconds. He caught Flynn’s gaze to apologize. “Sorry. I didn’t mean—that wasn’t—Ugh. I’m sorry.”

Flynn’s lips twitched, and the motion finally resolved itself into a smile. “No. No, I hear you. We’re going to have to learn to laugh about it, right? Neither one of us is going to give up the kids and walk away. You have fourteen more years of me.”

“I wanted a lifetime with you.” That just popped out unfiltered, and he panicked for a second but then decided he wasn’t sorry he’d said it. It was the truth, and if nothing else, they needed to stay honest with each other if they planned to co-parent. They had to figure out how to communicate.

“So did I.” Flynn’s eyes filled with tears, and he turned away, into the kitchen. “What were you hungry for? There’s soup, mac and cheese in a box…”

He watched Flynn go. Fuck him, those tears were so much harder take than the yelling. The shouting made him angry. The tears hurt. Deep. “Flynn.” He took a few steps and reached out to rest a hand on Flynn’s back, but pulled it back last minute.

He couldn’t do that. That wasn’t fair to Flynn. If he was going to do that, he needed to know—he needed to be very, very sure or he’d make this all even worse for them both.

It didn’t stop his fingers from itching to touch though, to comfort, to hold his husband.

“I’m sorry. I’m trying to keep it together, babe. I promise.” Flynn shook his head. “I just can’t yet.”

“You’re exhausted, you’re not eating. You don’t have any way to cope; I can see that.” And the more Flynn tried to keep it together, the more Kiren felt like he was falling apart.

“I—” Flynn sighed, then turned to him. “Who the fuck do I talk to when my best friend wants a divorce?”

“Am I really still your best friend?” He didn’t feel like it. He felt like the enemy.

“You’ll always be my best friend, even if you never speak to me again.”

He didn’t know what to say. He stared at Flynn, mapping the lines in Flynn’s forehead and the bags under those dark, dark green eyes. “I can’t even imagine never—I can’t imagine.” Alone at home he could justify it with a handful of reasons, and everything was clear. But here? Flynn had kissed him for the first time here. Right here in this kitchen, almost exactly where they were standing right now. It was kiss he had never forgotten, never would forget. It was the night he fell in love.

“No. I can’t either.” Flynn leaned forward as if to kiss him, then Kiren saw Flynn glance toward the table where the divorce papers sat, and he saw the life disappear from his husband’s expression, leaving Flynn seeming a hundred years old. “But I don’t have to. We’re living it.”

He couldn’t watch what this divorce was doing to Flynn anymore. He’d never forgive himself for just letting it happen. There had to be another way. He marched over to the table, picked up the papers and threw them in the fireplace. “Now we’re not.”

“Kiren?” Flynn stared at Kiren, the fireplace, then his knees just gave out under him, and he landed on the floor.

“Oh, fuck.” He ran to Flynn and sat on the floor with him, taking one hand and holding it between both of his. “Baby? Are you okay?”

“No. Yes. I don’t… Tell me I didn’t imagine that? That I’m not frozen to death in the truck.”

“You’re not frozen. I’m just out of my mind. I don’t know what the answer is, but if it’s this hard for both of us then those papers aren’t it. The last day has been harder than all of the time we were living together and unhappy.”

“I’m so tired—” Kiren almost growled, but then Flynn continued. “—of pretending I don’t love you anymore.”

He shifted to lean against the kitchen cabinets, pulled Flynn into his arms and whispered. “You weren’t doing a very good job of it anyway.”

“Shut up, you shit.” Flynn cracked up, holding onto him, the laughter turning into soft, hitching sobs.

“I love you too.” He held Flynn and let him cry, Flynn needed to release all of the crap that was eating him up. “I don’t love what’s happened to us; I don’t love the things that finally made me suggest a divorce and—and whatever made you agree.”

“No one wants to make someone stay if they’re miserable. My feelings were hurt, man. I felt like I was a fuck up, like you were disappointed in me, and I’d worked so hard.”

He sighed. There was so much to say about all of that, and so much to listen to also. He had reason to be miserable. Flynn had reason to have hurt feelings. It was all true at the same time, and how did they fix that? “You do work really hard.”

“So do you.”

The words surprised him—not because he didn’t know he worked hard, but because Flynn said them.

“Thank you.” He hugged Flynn a little tighter and wondered if this might be possible. If they could take all the pieces apart and put them all back together in a way that they fit better. The way they should be. “You know what I think? I think we should eat, and then we should get some sleep. Tomorrow we can talk and shovel off the deck, and make a snowman, and talk, and clean off our cars, and talk some more.”

Keep their hands and their minds busy. Work some shit out.

“Okay. There’s bacon for sandwiches, or we have potatoes or soup or pasta. You can pick.”

“Soup. Easy and warm.” Maybe he’d have a beer. “Do you want to go sit? I can handle it.” He didn’t know if he felt better, but he felt lighter. And he dared to be a little hopeful. That was something.

“I’ll toast some bread on the fireplace to go with, fair?” Flynn stroked his cheek, the touch featherlight, sweet.

“Yeah, that would be good.” It was all he could do not to kiss those fingers.

“It will.” Flynn rolled his eyes. “If I don’t charcoal them. Again.”

“I have faith.” He gave Flynn a smile. They deserved a little smile. “I don’t really know why, because it’s rare that I don’t eat black toast up here, but I do anyway.”

“Yeah. I’ll pay super-duper attention, to quote Jas.”

“Or, ‘maybe Dad-Mom should make the toast next time.’” Jasper had started calling him Dad-Mom when he was about four. He figured it was Jas’s four-year-old way of fitting their family into the common narrative. Or maybe Jas wanted a mom. Or maybe it was just because he usually made the PB and Js before school. Who knew? He figured it was accurate in any case. “That serious look on his face. Wow.”

“I know. I know. Dad-Mom is the most bestest cook forever.” Damn, Flynn did a wicked Jasper impersonation.

He laughed. “I am that. Forever .” He shifted over and stood, offering Flynn a hand up. “You think you can manage it?”

“If not, it won’t be the first bread I’ve burned, right?” Flynn winked at him and headed for the bread. “I wasn’t planning on being here for too terrible long.”

“I meant standing, since you collapsed like a newborn fawn, butthead, but you seem to have your legs under you now.” Flynn was going to burn the bread. It was fact.

And he didn’t care one bit.