Wes didn’t turn to look at him, just stared through the opening in the porch, into the darkness.
“I built this porch for her. She was always cold, but it got worse when she got sick. She liked to sit outside but didn’t want to always be in the back. She was crazy, used to watch the headlights on the cars that drove by and tried to decide where they were going.” He paused but Braden didn’t speak, knowing Wes would continue when he was ready. “I know it’s random for a porch out here, but I built this so she could be outside but keep warm.”
The pain in Wes’s voice slammed into Braden’s chest. But he felt something else, too—pride. He was honored and surprised that the man would share this with him.
“You put me to shame in the brother department.”
Wes chuckled like Braden hoped he would. They were quiet after that, each taking drinks of their beer. It was Wes who spoke first. “Thanksgiving is in a month...and Christmas. How am I supposed to—” He shook his head. “Never mind.”
“Hey.” He realized it might be a mistake, but Braden reached over and sat his hand on Wes’s arm. “I’m pretty good at keeping my mouth shut when I need to. You can talk to me.” He brushed his thumb over Wes’s arm, enjoying the feel of his heat, his muscles, the tickle of the hair there.
“No, I can’t. It’s not you, though. I don’t talk to anyone.” He pushed to his feet. “I’m going to grab another beer. You want one?”
Braden nodded, knowing that even though it wasn’t much, Wes had just given him something.
***
Wes opened the fridge and grabbed two more beers. Really he just wanted a minute to himself, some space to hopefully make that suffocating feeling in his chest ease up. The holidays—he wasn’t even sure where that thought had come from all of a sudden, or why he shared it with Braden. But the truth was, they did linger around the corner, and he had a little girl sleeping in the other room who he had to make them special for. Who he wanted to make them perfect for.
Another truth singed the edges of that thought. He’d never spent a Christmas with Jessie. He hadn’t spent one with Chelle or Lydia in years. Work was always an excuse. They knew, though. Knew that he’d come to see them less and less, which pretty much made him a bastard.
Wes shook his head. Jesus, he’d been feeling sorry for himself a lot lately. Not just lately; years, it seemed.
After twisting off the lids to their beers, he tossed them into the trash before heading back to the porch. “Here you go.” He handed the bottle to Braden and took the seat beside him.
“It’s relaxing out here.” Braden kicked his feet up and rested them on the railing.
“It is. Would be a nice place to paint.”
Wes felt Braden’s eyes on him, so he turned to face him and made himself grin. “What? That surprises you?”
“Nah. Totally used to you being a completely open book and sharing pieces of your life like that. You paint?”
He remembered Braden’s words from the kitchen the other night, winked, and repeated what he said. “I’m a man of many talents.”
Braden laughed. “Always bustin’ my balls. You’re lucky I like you. Especially when you’re like this.”
Wes almost asked him what he meant but realized he might already know. He wasn’t even sure when the switch had flipped inside him, changing his mood. “You make it easy,” he teased.
“Easy to bust my balls, or it’s easy to be in a good mood around me?” He swallowed a mouthful of beer, looking at Wes over the bottle. The bastard. He had that cocky glint in his eyes, the mischievous curl to his lips. “I think you like me, too. One of these days you’re going to admit it.”
Wes rolled his eyes, realizing he tried to hold back a smile. “Don’t hold your breath.”
“Would you give me mouth-to-mouth?”
He couldn’t fight it this time and let out a chuckle. “Now you’re moving into cheesy territory. You should stop while you’re ahead.” But then, Wes wanted to hold onto the lightness around them, too. Wanted to cling to it for once in his life because it felt a whole lot better than the alternative.
He took another drink. “It’d probably be easier than getting rid of the body.”
Braden let out a loud laugh. “Fucker. I’ll remember that. I guess we should change the subject, then. I wouldn’t want to get too cheesy on you and force you into mouth-to-mouth or digging a hole. When do you start work?”
A little sting of regret burned him at the subject change. “This week. I’m on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Wednesdays. I’m probably going to have to put Jess in daycare for a couple hours on Wednesdays, which I fucking hate. Lydia works a little later that day. I was hoping to get it off but it would screw up their rotation.” It was another change for her. She’d never been in daycare her whole life. Chelle and Lydia had always been able to work their schedules so they could help each other out.