Puzzle by Nora Phoenix
39
Had he pushed too hard? Branson wasn’t sure. After the shower, Ryder had pulled back from him, keeping his distance, though Branson didn’t get the impression he was upset or angry. More…baffled. Shocked, maybe? So he’d allow him time to mull everything over. And maybe discuss stuff with Dorian, since Ryder had left to hang out with him.
Branson had been disappointed Ryder hadn’t asked him to come with him, but he knew he was expecting way too much, way too soon. Ryder didn’t do things on a whim. He had to think this through…and Branson would have to be patient and wait until he’d made up his mind.
In the meantime, it would give him the perfect opportunity to spend some time with his parents. His father had started chemo, and according to Branson’s mom, he was tired but in good spirits. Brenda had returned to her post in Turkey, and Branson had promised her he’d check in and tell her the truth about how their dad was doing. Not that he hadn’t planned on visiting anyway, but it offered him an extra push.
His parents had bought an apartment in Bethesda years before so they’d have a “home” whenever they were in the US. That had turned out to be a smart decision now, as they were remaining stateside until his father needed no more treatment. It wasn’t too bad a drive for Branson, especially on a Sunday when the traffic was half of what it was on weekdays.
“Hey, honey,” his mom said as she opened the door, then pulled him in for a fierce hug. “I’m so happy you’re here. Your father has been looking forward to this.”
Branson raised an eyebrow as he let go. “That sounds rather desperate.”
His mom chuckled. “He is. He’s going stir crazy, being forced to sit still.”
That, Branson could imagine. His father had always been physically active. “I’m glad to offer some distraction.”
His father lay propped up on the chaise longue part of the couch, a blanket covering his legs. He looked a little better than the last time Branson had seen him but still so much frailer than usual.
“Hey, Dad.” He kneeled next to the couch and hugged his father, taking care to be gentle. “How are you feeling?”
“Like crap,” his father said, direct as always. He could be diplomatic if he wanted to, but he was known to be a straight shooter.
“I’ll make you some coffee,” Branson’s mom said.
Branson cringed. His mom preferred her coffee as weak as she could get it. “Thanks, Mom.”
“No worries, she bought me a Keurig,” his father whispered, then winked at him. “It’s still not the best, but it’s a lot better than the dishwater she made before.”
Thank fuck for small favors. He’d be spared from forcing down the crap she usually made. Branson smiled as he settled on a reading chair. “How was the first round of chemo?”
His father sighed. “Hell. I’ve never been this tired in my life except for when I had mono in high school. It reminds me of that, with nausea as an added factor.”
“Sounds like fun. Will that remain the case throughout all treatments?”
“They don’t know. Some people get used to it. Others are sick as a dog every time. My hair isn’t affected yet, so there’s that, though honestly, that’s the least of my concerns. I’d happily trade my hair for more energy… But talk to me about what’s been going on in your life. I need some distraction.”
Branson could understand that completely. “I’m good. Truly good. Better than I’ve been in a long time.”
His father’s scrutinizing eyes missed little. “Would that have something to do with that conversation you had with your mother and sister in the hospital?”
“Mom told you about that?”
His father’s expression softened. “Not to gossip, Bran. She was worried about you.”
Branson sighed. “I’ve been forced to look in a mirror, so to speak, and I didn’t like what I saw. It’s inspired me to make some changes in my life.”
“Like what?”
“Did Mom talk to you about the extreme adaptability?” His father nodded. “Then you understand what’s been on my mind. I did some research, and I recognized a lot about that. It’s contributed to my analytical skills because I learned to read people, to take a group’s temperature, and then adapt my response. So I’m not saying it’s all been bad. But I had to face that I’ve done the same in my friendships and other relationships…and that wasn’t so easy to accept. I think I missed out on a lot because I’ve never been myself…”
“I’m sorry. I hope you’ll believe that if we had known about this sooner, we would’ve told you. This wasn’t on our radar when you guys were growing up.”
“I know, Dad. I don’t blame you or Mom at all. I just wished I’d been aware sooner. If Ryder hadn’t pointed it out…”
“Ryder?”
“He’s…”
How did he explain this? His first instinct was to hide how much Ryder meant to him. What if they never got together? His parents would realize he’d gotten rejected. On the other hand, so what? Wasn’t it about time he showed all of himself and not just the good parts?
“He’s my new coworker, a forensic accountant…who’s also a new friend and my new roommate.”
“Roommate? Honey, why didn’t you tell us you were struggling financially?” his mom asked as she put down a cup of coffee in front of him, then served his father. “I know we’ve been focused on your dad, but we would’ve helped.”
“Lisa.” His father’s tone was mild, but the gentle rebuke was unmistakable. “Let's not jump to conclusions. I can think of more than one reason why Branson would take a roommate. But even if he was, it’s his choice if he wants to share that with us. He’s a grown man, sweetheart.”
Branson wanted to kiss his dad. The irony was that mere months ago, Branson would’ve felt that comment superfluous. He wouldn’t have taken offense at his mother’s words. But Ryder opening his eyes to the concept of consent in its broadest definition had changed everything. Branson was so much more aware of all the small instances where people didn’t respect someone else’s boundaries.
“I didn’t mean to belittle you,” his mom said.
“I know, Mom, but Dad is right. I’m not doing it for financial reasons. He’s…” He took a deep breath. “He’s my person, Mom. He’s it. I want to spend the rest of my life with him…but he doesn’t know yet.”
His mom’s eyes grew misty. “Oh, honey, that’s wonderful. Do you think he reciprocates your feelings?”
“I do, but I can’t push him. Ryder is a rational thinker, and I need to give him time to reach the conclusions on his own.”
His father grinned. “Considering that you already got him to move in with you, I’d say your chances of success are such that I’d put my money on you.”
Branson laughed. “You guys will love him. He’s super smart, and his skills with numbers are unparalleled. Plus, he’s super cute, and he has a dry sense of humor, and he’s just…” Both his parents stared at him with amazement. “I really like him,” he finished lamely.
“Honey, you’re besotted. That little speech just now? Those were the words of a man in love,” his mom said. “I’m so happy for you. I hope we’ll get to meet him soon.”
“I hope so too,” Branson said, his insides warm at his parents’ full acceptance.
“I’ll make us some lunch,” his mom said, still smiling. “Why don’t you talk shop with your dad? You know he loves that stuff.”
Branson and his dad both chuckled as she walked to the kitchen.
“Did you see the news about the case against some companies for illegal campaign contributions?” his dad then asked. “I’m curious what the deeper story is there. That seemed to come out of nowhere. I didn’t even know the FBI was investigating that.”
Out of all the things to talk about, his father had to pick something Branson couldn’t share more about than had already been revealed in the press. Luckily, the media had dug up quite a bit already, and while no one had made the connection between the campaign fraud and the Pride Bombing and the assassination, Henley had told Coulson multiple investigative reporters were on the trail, smelling something fishy. It would only be a matter of time before they connected the dots, and the story would break. Coulson was determined to beat the press to it and arrest the suspects before it all became public. Obviously, Branson couldn’t share any of that with his father.
“Grand juries are secret for a reason. You don’t want to give people like that a heads-up that they’re being looked into. That would only provide them with the opportunity to make evidence disappear.”
“True, true, but it’s been almost six years. One would think they’d caught on to that fraud sooner if it happened on that scale.”
“Some people excel at hiding their tracks, Dad.”
His father must’ve picked up on something in Branson’s voice or expression because he froze for a moment. He didn’t ask, and Branson knew he wouldn’t. His father realized all too well Branson couldn’t talk about it, and he’d never put him in that difficult position. Instead, his eyes grew warm and loving.
“Bran, I’m so proud of you. I need you to know that. What you do is all behind the scenes, and few people may be aware of it, but you’re serving your country just as much as those in the front lines. True to the CIA’s motto, you really are our country’s first line of defense.”
Branson had to swallow before he could answer. “Thank you, Dad. That means a lot to me. I love my job, you know that. It’s frustrating and discouraging at times, but when we get it right, we save lives…or we bring people to justice.”
He didn’t need to say more. His father would read between the lines.
“Justice matters, especially to the victims and their loved ones.”
“Yes, it does.”
His father repositioned himself, wincing as he moved.
“You okay, Dad?” Branson frowned. His father wasn’t a man who ever complained about pain. He’d been a Marine, for fuck’s sake. He was intimately familiar with pain, as he’d once told Branson. So for him to react to moving his body was worrisome.
“It’s the incision site from the colectomy. It keeps bothering me.”
“Is it inflamed? Did the surgeon have a look at it?”
“It’s not. She said it wasn’t uncommon for it to stay painful for a while, but she’ll keep an eye on it.”
“When’s your next checkup?”
“With her? Two weeks from now. They’ll run new scans to see if the chemo is working.”
It had to work. The idea of losing his dad wasn’t something he’d even waste a thought on because it was too terrifying. He wasn’t ready yet. One day, he’d have to say good-bye, but please not yet.
“Bran,” his father said softly and reached out his hand.
Branson sunk on his knees next to him, clinging to his hand as tears filled his eyes. “I’m scared, Dad… I’m so scared.”
His father squeezed his hand, then put his other hand on top of Branson’s head. “I will fight this with every cell in my body, and I’m determined to beat this. But if I don’t… No, Bran, listen to me,” he said when Branson wanted to say something. “If I don’t, I’m counting on you to take care of your mom. With your sister abroad, she needs you. Promise me.”
Then the tears came, Branson’s throat so tight he could barely breathe. “Always, Dad. I promise,” he said between sobs.
“Good. Then I can focus on the battle and not have to worry about the home front.”
