The Wingman by A. Poland

Chapter Fifteen

The moment Nathan unlocked the door and stepped inside, Ben passed through the hallway, mug in hand, bathrobe snuggly fastened around his waist, and blinked at his son in surprise. Ben precariously balanced his mug on the stair railing.

I thought you were staying at Lorcan’s tonight? he asked.

Nathan frowned. He hadn’t exactly told his dad he wasn’t hanging out with Lorcan that evening. He’d left with an offhanded catching a movie, love you, and that had been that. Not that it was a huge thing: Ben and Nathan had a good rapport of trust between them. As long as Nathan didn’t end up behind bars or seriously injured, Ben was inclined not to freak out. But that relied heavily on Nathan actually keeping him in the loop.

Lorcan has an early shift tomorrow, Nathan replied before shrugging out of his jacket and huffing when a piece of forgotten popcorn fell free. What’re you doing up so late?

Ben paused, which immediately put Nathan on edge. It was close to midnight, and Ben was still wide awake. That was entirely unheard of.

Couldn’t sleep. Get up to anything fun, then? Ben eventually answered. He then plucked the empty mug from the railing and promptly made his way into the kitchen.

Nathan narrowed his eyes, not believing that for a second. Considering Ben was still wearing jeans under his bathrobe, Nathan highly doubted he’d get dressed to pop downstairs for a cup of herbal tea to lull him off to sleep. Ben had some weird habits, sure, but sleeping in jeans was definitely not one of them. But Nathan followed him to the kitchen, regardless, because going to the kitchen at midnight could only mean one thing.

Ever since Nathan was young, there’d been a tradition in the Reed household that restless nights called for hot chocolate. And not just regular powdered hot chocolate, but the proper stuff that required melted chocolate. Ben didn’t mess around with his beverages. And while this was definitely a ploy to distract Nathan from his dad’s sketchy answer, Nathan would play into it if it meant he’d get a cup of the good stuff.

Yeah. I saw a documentary at the Royal, Nathan informed him, propping himself up against the kitchen counter to watch the intricate process of Ben’s hot chocolate.

The Royal? Ben’s brows furrowed. That’s pretty far out. Were the buses running that late?

It’s okay, I got a ride back with a friend. Nathan was quick to reassure him in case Ben suddenly had visions of Nathan hitchhiking.

Ben took out a bowl and passed a chocolate bar to Nathan to start breaking up. Nathan beamed because obviously this was the best job.

Did you go with Andy? I haven’t seen him around in a while.

Nathan pulled a face, rewarding himself with a piece of chocolate as he deposited two squares in the bowl. Andy was a friend from college, until he and Lorcan had a big blowout. Nathan had no idea what it had been about, considering he was in the bathroom of the nightclub they were in when it all went down. Now, it was difficult to hang out with one without the other getting all weird about it.

With Miles. He went on the camping trip with us.

Ben poured a mixture of milk and cream together on the stovetop, stirring once before regarding his son again.

That’s a new name.

New to me, too, Nathan agreed. But hey, he’s a new friend who likes documentaries. So I can’t complain.

Good. I’m glad you had a nice time.

Nathan held out the bowl to Ben, reserving two more squares for himself. Ben smiled briefly and shook his head once he spotted the snatched treats. As his father placed the chocolate into the pan with the milk piece by piece, Nathan cast a careful look over his pinched expression. An expression that screamed: I want to say something, but I don’t know how to say it.

Okay, what’s wrong? Nathan asked.

Nothing’s wrong. Ben was being difficult on purpose; Nathan was sure of it.

You’re not saying something, and your eyebrows are doing that thing.

That’s not a thing, Ben denied even though it was definitely a thing. Nathan had grown up with the eyebrow twitch; he knew it was a thing.

Does this have something to do with your jean-and-robe combo? Nathan asked, giving a pointed glance over said attire—to which Ben immediately looked affronted.

There’s nothing wrong with wearing a robe and jeans. Ben turned away and resumed stirring the chocolate and milk together with a whisk while Nathan watched, transfixed, as the chocolate swirled throughout. When Ben turned to face Nathan again, it was to hand over a mug of steaming hot chocolate that would either give Nathan a stomachache or a sugar high; there was no in-between. But the risk was worth it.

I sometimes worry that you isolate yourself with Lorcan, Ben eventually conceded, and Nathan choked through a mouthful of foamy goodness. So it’s nice when you tell me about a new friend. You should invite him over for dinner sometime.

Nathan tried to recover, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve and earning a distinct look of disapproval from his dad, who was quick to grab a napkin and thrust it in his direction. Nathan shook his head to the napkin; he was going to do the laundry anyway.

Don’t get too carried away; we’re not that close.

Nathan chose not to comment on what Ben had first said, even if it ate away at him for the rest of the night.

Did he isolate himself too much in hanging out with Lorcan? And most of all, what did that even mean?

They were best friends; it made sense that they spent a lot of time together. That was what best friends did. Anyway, it wasn’t as though Nathan didn’t have any other friends. He had plenty of friends.

As a little self-experiment, Nathan fired off a text to six of his friends asking if they wanted to hang out later. And as each response pinged through, Nathan’s gut twisted more and more.

I’m in! Lorcan’s coming, right?

Can Lorcan give me a ride? My car broke down last week.

Duh, can never miss out on a night with you and Lorcan.

Sorry, can’t! You and Lor have fun though x

Yes, I miss you two so much!

And then, finally, the only one that didn’t mention Lorcan.

Only if you do your thing. I really need to get laid, man.

Crap. Was it really that bad? That Nathan wasn’t even viewed as a separate person from Lorcan? Maybe Ben had a point. And that didn’t sit comfortably with Nathan, no matter how much he loved Lorcan. Nathan was in his early twenties. Being attached at the limb was cute when you were a kid, but that ship had long since sailed. Nathan needed to be a separate person from Lorcan, and he knew that it was possible. He’d been just-Nathan in Scotland, not the joint entity of Lorcan&Nathan.

So why not here?

In the middle of his existential crisis about his identity as an individual, Nathan sent one final text. At least this person wouldn’t automatically assume he was bringing Lorcan—and if he did, then Nathan really had a problem on his hands.

Hey, had a great time tonight. Are you free Monday? I’m thinking something beachy.

Nathan got confirmation within five minutes, and there was no mention of Lorcan. Nathan shouldn’t find that as pleasing as he did, but he couldn’t help his emotions. Nor could he help when he felt a certain level of satisfaction (somewhere between when you finish a really long essay that you’re semiconfident about ten minutes before the deadline, and when a stranger’s dog makes a point of coming over to you for pets) while talking on the phone to Lorcan.

“What do you mean you can’t do tomorrow?”

It was Sunday afternoon, and Lorcan had called Nathan on his break from work. Nathan imagined him in a snug white button-up—because even though his job was talking on the phone the entire day, button-ups and dress pants were still required for some reason—pacing up and down the parking lot outside of the building.

“I mean I have plans tomorrow,” Nathan informed him, glowering a little when he spotted a cobweb dangling from the corner of his decorative bowler hat.

“Ground squirrel–related plans?” Lorcan replied since, of course, Nathan had filled him in on that precarious situation.

“What? No.”

“You guys should just call an exterminator; it would be a lot less hassle,” Lorcan pointed out, and Nathan hated that he had a point. It was a bad one, but it was a point nonetheless.

“Yes, but then I’d have to live with that on my conscience. And Dad would never forgive either of us.”

“So what kind of plans, then?” Lorcan pressed, clearly not too hung up on the concept of an exterminator. Which Nathan was relieved about. He wasn’t in the mood to fight for the lives of those squirrels and lure them away from the future vegetable patch.

Because Ben was getting his vegetable patch, damn it.

“The kind of plans that mean I can’t hang out tomorrow. There’s the rest of the week, dude,” Nathan said with a bit of a laugh as he reached out to wipe the cobweb away with the corner of a book. He felt oddly freed by the fact that not all of his social activities relied on Lorcan and his now-limited availability. “You can survive without me for one day.”

“I don’t know about that. I barely survived without you for a year,” Lorcan quipped back, his tone teasing. He took a breath, and Nathan heard muffled voices in the background. “I have to go back to work. Talk to you later.”

When the line went silent, Nathan couldn’t bring himself to feel bad that they’d ended on a slightly sour note.

He had plans.

Something moved on the corner of the book, and Nathan dropped it to the floor as though it had burned him. He would have preferred if the book had been on fire rather than the now-disturbed spider taking sole ownership of Nathan’s copy of LGBTQ+ Linguistics. He didn’t wait around to see how invigorating a read the spider found it and, instead, quickly made his way downstairs to find Ben to banish it from his bedroom.

Ben dealt with the spider, and over the rest of the weekend, Nathan brainstormed ways to deal with the ground squirrels. Project Fern had officially been put on the back burner as a worst-case scenario.

So, on Monday morning, before Miles was due to arrive, Nathan prepared to enact Plan Scare the Assholes Out—the name was a work in progress, depending on its success rate. He wore long trousers tucked into his socks—tastefully decorated with pineapples—just in case the squirrels decided to go for the ankles, and armed himself with an air horn he’d found in a dusty box in the attic. He didn’t want to burst their eardrums, just make a loud enough noise to hopefully make them rethink their choice of garden to burrow in.

Standing a few feet back from the hole, Nathan shook the can and took a deep breath. He screwed his eyes shut, head turned the opposite direction as he extended his hand toward the burrow and pressed the pump.

The sound that emitted from the air horn was less horrifying shriek and more disappointing fart. Nathan opened his eyes and regarded the can in something close to disgust. He pressed the pump again in a last-ditch effort, but once again, an exhausted squeak sounded out.

At a knock from the back door, Nathan glanced over to see Ben standing there expectantly.

Did it work?

No, it’s broken! Nathan replied with a hopeless eye roll, air horn tucked beneath his arm.

I didn’t think it would work anyway. Squirrels are made of stronger stuff than air horns, Ben informed him.

Thanks for the vote of confidence, Dad.

By the way, your friend just pulled up. Should I invite him in?

Nathan dropped the air horn and sprinted inside. Cool-guy Miles was not seeing Nathan in pants tucked into socks. And he’d definitely learned his lesson about being prepared for inevitable swimming and had no plans to strip off on a crowded beach in Santa Monica.

So he was quick to get changed and had yanked on his swim shorts the moment Miles rang the doorbell. Out of breath, Nathan made it to the door before Ben had the chance to and apparently pulled it open with more gusto than intended, considering how Miles jolted in surprise.

“Hey!” Nathan greeted, hoping he only sounded half as winded as he felt. “You look very beachy.”

Miles sported bright floral board shorts and a white sleeveless T-shirt with a plunging neckline—just enough to show a glimpse of the tattoo decorating part of his chest. His entire sleeve was on display, and his trademark bracelets adorned delicate-looking wrists.

But it wasn’t any of that that took Nathan aback. It was the wide hat perched on Miles’s head, which sure as hell fit Nathan’s criteria for funky hats.

“You said you were feeling beachy,” Miles replied with a bashful grin, his eyes averted to the ground for a brief moment—but long enough to catch a glimpse. “I like your socks.”

“Not as much as I like that hat,” Nathan shot back. “Which I want, by the way. Funky hats are kind of my thing.”

“Oh yeah?” Miles took off the hat and twirled it in his hands before cheerfully depositing it on Nathan’s head. “Then it’s yours for the day.”

Nathan couldn’t help but grin, now the happy part-time owner of probably one of the most stylish hats he’d ever worn—not that hats ever suited Nathan, but he liked them despite that. Ben approached to join him in his glee, the bag that Nathan had packed the night before dangling from his hand.

“Miles, this is my dad, Ben,” Nathan said.

Miles smiled politely, extending his hand to shake. He’d opened his mouth to say something, then stopped himself when he noticed Nathan’s hands in motion.

Dad, this is Miles. See? Not a serial killer; no need to investigate.

Ben chuckled at his son, shaking Miles’s hand firmly.

“Nice to meet you,” Nathan said once Ben retracted his hand and started to sign. “Take care of my boy today; he burns like a—” Nathan looked sharply at his dad.

Hey, no. That’s not fair. I don’t burn that badly.

Ben laughed again, a deep and warm sound. Nathan glanced back to Miles, noting how fondly he was observing the two of them.

What time can I expect you back? Ben asked, and once again, Nathan’s suspicions were on high alert. Asking what time he’d be back wasn’t something Ben normally did. If something was wrong, Nathan texted him. Similarly, if Ben wanted to know how he was doing, he’d just text. It was a happy system they had going that meant Nathan never really had to stress out about getting back at a certain time in order not to worry Ben.

Why? Got something on? Nathan asked, brows furrowed.

Me? No. Ben shook his head, briefly patting Nathan on the back. Have fun, don’t burn. A serious look accompanied his final words—a look Nathan was torn between interpreting as either go you for making a friend or don’t come back too early. Ben waved pleasantly to Miles and returned inside the house.

“Okay.” Nathan scooped his shoes up by the door. “Now we can go.”

“You two seem close; it’s nice,” Miles commented once they were in the car.

Nathan tossed his bag into the back and pulled on his shoes. He’d neglected to untie the laces the last time he’d worn them, which only added unneeded hassle to the process, but Nathan never learned.

“Yeah, we are,” Nathan said with a warm smile. Once he’d moved away from home for college, Ben and he had stepped into the territory of father and son but also friends, which Nathan much preferred. It made him more inclined to tell Ben things instead of Ben finding out because he could read his kid like a book. “He’s a pain in the ass sometimes, but it’s just been us for as long as I can remember. It’d suck if we weren’t close.”

“I can imagine,” Miles replied and then went quiet for a moment.

“You can ask, y’know,” Nathan said, taking Miles’s hat off and shuffling the brim from hand to hand. “What happened to my mom.”

“I don’t want to be intrusive…”

“Dude, it’s not intrusive if I literally just said you could.” Nathan nudged Miles teasingly with his elbow before resting back into his seat. Miles wasn’t the type to pry apparently, even if he was curious, so Nathan took the reins on this one. “Car accident. I was really young.” Nathan shrugged before Miles could hurriedly apologize for his loss.

Nathan had heard that too many times over the years, and he knew it was just something people said when they didn’t know what else to do. It was a nice gesture, but if anything, it was only an out for people to feel less awkward.

“I don’t remember much about her. But Dad’s a talker, so I know loads.”

There were photos of Lily Reed lovingly placed around the house, proudly showing the time she’d had on this earth. Their wedding day, Nathan’s first birthday, family holidays. Hey, even a photo from the event that Ben and Lily had met at, which was secretly Nathan’s favorite, seeing them both so young and clearly into each other before officially dating. It had been some kind of accounting event that Nathan thought sounded endlessly boring but made sense, considering Ben’s profession as a bookkeeper. Lily had been there as a sign language interpreter for the speakers. According to Ben, he hadn’t paid attention to one thing said there, completely caught up with staring at Lily.

Lily had made a point of introducing herself after the event, and the rest was history.

“He seems like that, yeah. Burn like a… What was it?” Miles had a teasing smirk at the edges of his lips, and Nathan swatted him again, which might not have been advised, considering Miles was driving.

“You’ll never know. It’s an exclusive secret for people fluent in ASL,” Nathan said pointedly. Miles did not have to know exactly what he burned like.

A tomato. It was a tomato. A sun-dried one, at that. Kind of dry and blistered. Delicious, but gross.

“Guess I’ll have to try to learn it then,” Miles quipped right back.

“Not getting any help from me,” Nathan chuckled, propping the hat securely back on his head and then rolling the window down.

Miles plucked a pair of sunglasses down from the dashboard and put them on, making up for any lack in his outfit that his missing hat had created.

Nathan popped his feet up on the dash, and Miles didn’t blink an eye.

It was going to be a good day.