Chapter Text
It was nice being in Miami in the middle of winter. Even more than L.A., it was balmy, and the winter sun, no different than the summer one, shone down on the happy and unhappy alike.
He moved away from the plate glass window of the wedding designer’s showroom and turned back to his hostess.
Here, they were not merely sales associates, as Marissa, Cuban and flawless, had assured him, but professionals whose presence at this early stage assured the quality and type of wedding that Elite Soirée clients could confidently expect.
He had scheduled the appointment while still engaged to be married.
Now, trying not to have a reaction to her words, he silently maintained interest while she wrapped up.
Smoothly producing a business card seemingly out thin air, she daintily handed it to him. He accepted and bent his head to the card, attentive while she explained that the thirty-day limit on the username and password would give him plenty of time to access their exclusive online catalog, to ensure that he fully explored all their options for a truly unique wedding.
Bar none, she added, smiling attractively and wagging an elegantly manicured finger at him. Did he have any other questions?
Yes, as a matter of fact, he did.
He slowly pocketed the card.
Who, exactly, did one tell when one’s engagement was, in fact, off?
He shook his head and quietly thanked her for her time.
She thanked him for coming by, offered him some Voss water for the road, which he took on automatic.
Pushing open the glass doors, he left thinking of Sean.
~*~
Slush on the ground meant that they were in for more winter weather. It was only January, and so far it had been good and cold, and the air outside of Des Moines International Airport was chilly, to put it one way.
Adjusting the strap of his luggage across his chest, he smiled briefly at the Iowans getting a sighting of Sean Jackson outside of arrivals, and scanned the crowd instead for the man he was looking for.
Without much effort, seeing as he was casually strolling right through the crowds against the flow of traffic, he spotted “Tailgate” Davey Jones, his best friend in the wide world.
Sporting his usual hell raising grin, his eyes as mischievous as he remembered, Davey spread his arms and he walked right into them.
They crushed each other, and stood laughing like being together again was the funniest thing in the world, love and relief washing all over him. It was a feeling he could only describe like making it to the end of a very long journey.
Davey pulled back, holding at arm’s length and staring at his face.
“Motherfucker,” Davey said wonderingly.
“Right?” he agreed, and they grabbed his bags and headed for the parking garage.
~*~
“Hashers?”
“Still there.”
“With Two For Two Tuesdays?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“And the lake?”
“Just how you left it.”
He chuckled. “How the hell is Michelle?”
“Still Michelle. Still the light of my life, still sharp as a whip, no signs of slowing down.”
“Goddamn,” he said softly, looking at the passing scenery. “Two years.”
“Yeah, are ya happy now? You fuck. Making us have to keep up with your ass through CNN. I should pull over and make you walk the rest of the way.”
“Yeah,” he said, laughing, nodding. “And I would have deserved it, too.”
~*~
Davey dropped him in front of his parents’ house, promising to see him later, promising to “strip all the L.A. right outta him” and he told him he’d he ready for that.
Then he turned and faced the screaming hoard of a welcome party charging out of the house at the sound of Davey’s all-terrain, tricked-out Wrangler. He turned just in time to be slammed by a wall of his sister, a bunch of neighbors, screaming toddlers he presumed were newer additions to the neighborhood, three dogs and a fat, angry cat, none of which were theirs.
His mom and dad waited by the front door, astounded expressions on their faces, as if they couldn’t believe he had finally pulled himself away long enough to come and see them again.
He felt bad, he felt good, and above it all he felt home. He kissed the lips, cheeks, hair and fur pressing all around him, and let every last one of them drag some part of him inside.
~*~
They didn’t stop talking for the whole weekend. And by they he meant himself and everyone. It was exhausting but exhilarating.
His dad had built a deck onto the back of the house where he had grown up, elaborate and fancy as hell, a deck that represented everything that was true about their retirement. There were three different sections to it, one side facing a lovely fireplace, one centered around a more social gathering place with long tables and benches, and the third geared toward grilling and serving for party guests.
This was where, overlooking their huge backyard—a necessity, his parents had felt, for a growing son who had shown promise in football—he held court in the days following his return.
His niece, brought to him on Friday evening, had acted as his constant and vigilant companion. His sister and sister-in-law Kay had informed him that upon being told of his presence in town she had screamed at a single, sustained decibel for a horrible amount of time until she had been thrown into the car and brought over to see him. He was pretty sure they had had to gag her, but they’d been smart as ever in making sure that they had informed her of his arrival only after she had been bathed, fed, and been done with her homework.
Now, forty-eight hours later, she stood by his side unconsciously imitating his wide legged stance as he ate his dinner and talked to the steady stream of all and sundry.
In the two years that he had been away, she had turned seven, and it seemed that in that time she had grown from a baby into a wild and beautiful young girl.
His hometowners and neighbors wanted an answer to everything under the sun, and came to him like he was a magic eight ball. Was he going to make NFL MVP? Probably not. Who decided whether or not he went to the Pro Bowl? He did. Were the new contract negotiations kinda fun? Haha. Yeah, they were. So was there going to be another thing with the FRC, or was that over with? He hoped it was over with. What about his foundation? Still coming. Any plans for the kids in Johnston? Definitely. Barbecue this Sunday? Looked like it.
Was he really the Wilson in Wilson Realty?
Uh-huh.
Was he really thinking about having his wedding somewhere else.
He paused, scraped his food about his plate.
“Cause you know,” the local councilwoman who had asked it was saying. “Iowa legalized gay marriage back in 2009 and you would definitely be the most prominent gay Iowan to get married in the state.”
“Uh huh.”
“It’d be awesome for the town, don’t you think?”
“Definitely!” Deena cried, repeating the word she had been hearing all weekend.
The councilwoman laughed, and it diffused the situation, and he was able to mutter something along the lines that it was something to think about.
The answer seemed to satisfy her enough, and she smiled and accepted more food from his mom.
And it was his mom’s reaction, quiet and unforceful as she was, and as observant as the day was long, that made him finally come down to earth. She had hesitated in hearing his response to the wedding question, and he wasn’t idiotic enough to be mistaken as to why.
It was time to tell them why he had left L.A.
~*~
She kept her eyes somewhere mid-distant while his father stared at the floor. Allison sat at the dining table slightly farther away, her head propped against her hand and her eyes fastened on him. He hadn’t wanted to tell them, not any time soon anyway, but she had insisted over the phone that it be the first thing he do when he got here. He’d managed to hold it off for three days with her threatening to cut him off from hiding behind Deena.
Now he gave them a severely truncated version. Certain things had happened in their relationship that he wasn’t sure how to deal with.
“So for now our engagement is off. I’m here for the time being, I don’t know how long. And that’s all I’m prepared to say about it.”
The living room was silent. His mother passed her hand over her mouth, propped her chin, then lowered it.
“I thought—” she said, then stopped and went on a little more firmly, “I had thought you’d figured this all out when you made your announcement. Was he—” She seemed to be having trouble saying whatever was on her mind. She tightened her lips, then said, “Wasn’t he the one that made you come out of the closet?”
He gazed hesitantly at her, at her studiedly blank expression. Then he lowered his head and nodded.
“And now you can’t fix whatever’s wrong? I would have thought that the more difficult part was over.”
“Mom,” he said stiffly, pleading with his gaze on her. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Well,” his dad said, clapping his hands on his thighs and standing up. “If Sean doesn’t want to talk about it, we’re not going to talk about it.”
“Dad,” Allison said.
“No, Allison. A man’s got a right to be upset about what he wants to be upset about.”
“Are you kidding, dad?” she groaned. “How’s that supposed to solve anything?”
“It doesn’t. It gives Sean room to make up his own damn mind. We’re his family and we’re not going to add any more pressures on him. That’s not our job.”
His gaze remained on the rug, and he was thankful when his mother stood up and waved a tired hand between Allison and his dad.
“Let’s not do this,” she stated, and came over to him. Taking him by his shoulder, she bent over and planted a hard kiss on his forehead. It released a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. He smiled gratefully up at her.
But she wasn’t looking at him.
She had her head down and was patting his shoulder, and was already turning away as if she didn’t want him to see her expression.
He watched her make her way to the stairs, then started up, saying she was going to call it an early night.
His father came over and grabbed his shoulder. “It’s good to have you back, Sean.”
“Thanks, dad.”
He told them both he’d be in the den watching TV, and for Sean to come join him later, and left.
Sitting back, he rubbed a hand over his face, wondering how he was meant to solve any of this.
Allison got up from the dining table and came over to him. She sat on the arm of his chair and began rubbing his back.
“You think they’re disappointed in you, don’t you?”
“A little, yeah.”
“They’re just sad for you, sweetie. I don’t think they’ve ever seen you—”
“Quit?”
“Uncertain.”
He was silent. “I just need time.”
“It’s okay, kiddo,” she said, and kissed him on the temple. “It’s why people come home.”
~*~