Bigger Love by Rick R. Reed

Author:Rick R. Reed [Reed, Rick R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: gay romance
ISBN: 978-1-64080-621-4
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Published: 2018-11-13T06:00:00+00:00

WHEN HE got home, he found Patsy waiting, wrapped up in a big wool blanket, sitting on the steps of the front porch. Odd Thomas was curled up next to her, his head in her lap. Patsy idly played with one of his ears.

“What are you doing outside? You’ll freeze that bony ass of yours off. I heard we’re supposed to get snow tonight.” Truman approached the porch. He couldn’t think of a time when the sight of his mother was less welcome. He just wanted to get inside and into his room, where he could collapse on his bed and, yes, cry.

“Bony ass?” Patsy asked. “Anyway, Seth Wolcott called. He said you bolted out of rehearsal tonight. Just up and took off without a word. He wanted to know if you’re okay.”

Truman stood, shivering, in the dark. He didn’t say a word.

“Are you?”

Odd raised his head, peered in his direction, then lay his head back down in Patsy’s lap.

Truman toed some loose dirt. “I guess.”

“Why’d you run away?”

“Can we talk about this later?” Truman tried to edge by her to get to the front door. “I’m so tired. I just want to crawl into bed and sleep forever.”

But Patsy was having none of it. She grabbed on to one his calves and held fast. “Yeah. You’re tired. But I didn’t raise you to run out on people. He was worried. Tru, this isn’t like you.”

Truman looked down at Patsy’s face. It was the very picture of determination. He knew that to fight her, to try to get away, would be an exercise in futility. He yanked his leg out of her grip. “Can we at least talk inside? It’s freezing out here.” Almost as though the universe wanted to prove his point, several snowflakes fluttered down.

Patsy stood. Wordlessly, they watched as Odd Thomas also got slowly to his feet, then descended the couple of steps into the yard and peed. He fairly trotted back. “I’ll make us some cocoa,” Truman said.

They went inside.

In the kitchen, Patsy slouched in one of the kitchen chairs while Truman busied himself making what they called cocoa—Nestlé’s Quik stirred into a simmering pan of milk, bubbles just beginning to appear on the sides.

“We have baby marshmallows?” Truman poured the hot chocolate into mugs.

“No. And no Cool Whip either.”

“Guess we’ll have to make do.” Truman set a mug before his mom before joining her at the table.

She sipped. “What happened tonight?”

Truman wasn’t sure how—or even, really, what—to tell her. His first thought, unfair as it was, was that she’d laugh. That somehow his greatest champion and the person who loved him most in the world would laugh at him. It wasn’t fair to her, and it was so off base that it was, well, laughable, but Truman couldn’t help his fear, which he sensed came from a primitive place.

He started. “He wanted—” He couldn’t continue. He lowered his face to his hands and cried.

Patsy was behind him, her hands on his shoulders, kneading. “C’mon, say the words—get it out.

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