Owen

Owen

Chapter forty-five

By Roy Reinikainen

"Hey," Lucas called, as the five men noisily entered the building and milled about the large vestibule, while he secured the door to the building. "I don't think I could ever become accustomed to leaving one's house or office unlocked, like most people do around here. After that roll on the grass, I'm feeling grubby. Let's all take a shower. Then we can make some sandwiches, or something, to eat."

"Yaaay, food!" Owen rubbed his hands together. "I'm so hungry I could eat the balls off a low flying duck!"

Owen's comment was met with instant silence, except for a quickly controlled snicker from Corey.

"What?"

"The balls . . . off a duck?" Lucas lowered his brows, and flicked a glance in Corey's direction, as much as accusing him of being a bad influence on Owen. Corey suddenly found something very interesting to look at on the room's ceiling, while trying, mostly unsuccessfully, to control a smile.

"Well . . . I could!" Owen leaned close to Sam. "Male ducks do have balls, don't they?" Sam shrugged.

"So . . . okay . . . I could eat Sammy's balls! Is that better?"

Sam shouted a resounding, "no!" No one else seemed to have any comments, and began climbing the stairs to the two apartments, looking like athletes heading back to the locker room after a grueling game, which involved lots of rolling around on the grass.

"Maybe Jonah and I should . . ." Corey began, hoping to save Owen from any more teasing about his low-flying duck comment. 'I thought it was original,' Corey thought to himself.

"Stay, and shower with us," Sam interrupted, turning one last uncertain look in Owen's direction. "I mean, really . . . the five of us can all fit in our big ol' shower, and still have room. I think it's cool when all of us hang out together." Sam draped his arm over Corey's shoulder, and gave him an encouraging smile; then took the last two steps, at the top of the stairway, in one leap, and grabbed Owen by the waist.

"Eat my balls, will you?"

"Yeah . . . hanging out! Very cool!" Jonah wiped his face with his t-shirt, then took off his ever-present baseball cap and ruffled his hair, wearing a brilliant smile. "I especially like hanging out, naked . . . with four sexy guys. The shower'd be nice, too, though not essential." He loudly sniffed an armpit. "Hmmm."

As everyone trooped through the apartment to the bedroom, Corey called out to Sam. "Y'suppose that super secret building you're workin' on will have a shower big enough for five guys?"

"Corey . . ." Sam warned, looking over his shoulder, as he pulled some extra towels out of a cabinet and tossed them onto the bathroom vanity.

"Just asking." Corey turned to Owen and Lucas, and winked, flashing his trademark brilliant smile and dimples. "Nothin' wrong with asking." He raised one of Jonah's arms, and rubbed his face in the hair of his pits, waiting for Sam's response.

"Okay, so here's the only answer I can give. I'm aware of such a shower, but, surprising as it may be, there are lots of things I don't know."

"It's Bailey's project, right? I never heard him talk about it, after we left here in the Spring.

Sam reluctantly answered. "Bailey bought the building, yes. You'd have to ask him though, if it's his project."

Corey pressed. "Do you know what it's gonna be?"

"Yes, and don't ask any more questions about it, 'cause I'm not talking. And, don't go askin' the workers, over there. They don't know what's going on any more'n you guys do. Anything they tell you will be nothin' but guesses."

"When will we get to find out what all the secrets are about? People all over town are talkin', wondering what going on."

"I don't have a clue when anyone's going to find out anything. No more questions, guys . . . for real!" Sam warned, as he stripped out of his shorts and underwear, then tossed them to Lucas, who dropped them into the dirty clothes hamper.

"Y'gotta forgive him for behavin' like this, Sam," Jonah laughed, as he pried off his tennis shoes and tugged off his socks. "It's all his mother's fault, y'know."

"Oh?" Sam asked, noting the sharp look both Owen and Corey turned in Jonah's direction.

Jonah laughed, either unaware of, or ignoring Corey's change of mood, as he pushed his shorts and underwear down his legs, and continued speaking. "Yeah. He was never like this till he was born."

While everyone laughed, Corey managed to regain his composure. 'Easy, guy,' he told himself. 'Jonah doesn't know what he's doin' to you by talking about Mama.' He blinked, struck with the realization that he was defending the woman he'd always claimed he detested. He inwardly shook his head. 'Hell, I don't know what I feel, any longer.' He gathered what good humor he could about him, and held Jonah steady. He looked into his eyes, then turned back to the guys, and sadly shook his head. "The wheel's still turning, but the hamster's dead."

"Uuuuu, profound," Owen cooed, jumping away from Corey's grab, almost losing his balance because his shorts were half-way down his legs. He freed himself and pitched them in the general direction of the laundry hamper. Next, he peeled off his pink underwear, then scratched beneath his scrotum.

"Owen!" Corey interrupted. "Pink?"

"They were white, until Mister-I-can-throw-my-new-red-sweat shirt-into-the-washing-machine-with-Owen's-white-underwear." He playfully glowered in Sam's direction, before tossing the underwear at Sam, and continuing. "So, he still has a red shirt, and I end up dressin' like a girl. I'd give 'em to Abigail, but they're too big for her, and I don't think she's too fond of pink."

"Lucas!" Sam shouted in the general direction of the bathroom, where his and Owen's partner was serenading everyone in an off-key rendition of something possibly . . . operatic. "Cut the racket!"

"I'll stop singing, if you guys'd join me!"

"Speakin' of pink . . .," Corey quickly dropped his shorts and underwear on top of Jonah's, for later retrieval, and hurried to the bathroom. Owen was holding the shower door open, waiting for him. Everyone else was already inside, with Sam claiming the second shower head, and Jonah the third. Lucas was standing with his back to one of the three shower heads, the steaming spray hitting his back. He grinned when Owen joined him.

"Hey, big boy," Owen murmured in a low voice. "Haven't I seen you hangin' 'round the showers before?" He jumped and yelped, when Lucas slapped his bare butt.

"That reminds me. Did'ya know your little brother is kinky?" he asked Owen. "He especially likes it when I slap his ass cheeks a couple times, makin' 'em nice and pink."

"Don't get any ideas about spankin' me, guys!" Jonah shouted, as he backed up to a wall. "The only guy who gets to do that is the guy with the sexy smile."

"I've got a sexy smile," Sam quipped. "So does Owen, here," he added, as Owen nodded, wearing a toothy grin.

"I do, too!" Lucas called, shaking the water out of his eyes and broadly smiling. "My orthodontist's crowning achievement! Yuck, yuck. Get it? Crowning achievement?"

"Keep your day job," Sam responded, in a deadpan voice.

"Well, none of you can spank me! My butt belongs to Corey."

"Sounds like the name of a song, or something." Sam acknowledged Jonah's gesture toward the shampoo, and tossed him the plastic bottle; then broke into a song, which made Lucas' singing seem half-way good. "My buuuuutt beeeelongs to Coreeeey!" he sang, holding his arms out to his sides, his voice filling not only the shower, but the entire apartment.

Corey turned toward Sam with a wide-eyed look of incredulity. Owen and Lucas merely looked resigned. Jonah made a face, unable to keep from making a comment. "Your singin' is worse than fingernails on a blackboard," he groused. "If you do that very often, I imagine your folks are happy to have you livin' way across town!"

"And, you all thought I was bad!" Lucas smugly smiled.

"Ahem," Corey chuckled, aiming Jonah's shower head in his direction. "Sam's voice isn't that bad. I'm sure a good voice coach might be able to whip it into shape in a couple dozen years, or so."

"Hey!" Sam called into the laughter.

Corey held out a conciliatory hand. "But . . . we were talking about Mister Sweet Cheeks, here."

"Uuuuuuuu," Owen cooed. "Sweet Cheeks?"

Jonah busily washed his hair, ignoring everyone's reaction to a pet name, which embarrassed him, even when Corey said it in private.

Owen's smile faded, as Corey continued. "Yeah. I call him Sweet Cheeks, 'cause he looks so damn sexy, laying over my lap, with his butt in the air." Corey grinned, trying to catch Jonah's eye. "Y'know, there are so many things a guy can do when he's got someone in that position. And, we've done 'em all, haven't we . . . Sweet . . . Cheeks?"

While Sam and Corey laughed, Lucas touched Owen's shoulder. "Y'okay?"

Owen jerked a small nod, and muttered, "Spanking." He shuddered. "Bad memories." He did his best to smile, as Lucas rubbed an understanding hand up and down his bare back. "It all comes back at the strangest times."

Sam glanced from his partners, to the other two men, who hadn't realized yet that Owen was troubled. "Hey! Someone dropped the soap!"

"You expect me to bend over in a shower full of gay men?" Corey hooted. "Let Jonah pick it up!"

"Hey!"

"He does have a cute ass," Owen teased, forcing a smile and leaving thoughts of childhood spankings behind, while appreciatively running a hand over his brother's buttocks.

"Hey!" Jonah's smile took the sting out of his complaint, as he brushed Owen's hand away.

"I'm only teasing," Owen sobered. He drew Jonah to him, kissing him on the lips. "All of you is cute."

"Uuuuuu, brother's kissing," Sam cooed, fondling his suddenly stiffening cock, while he intently watched Owen and Jonah kiss. "I love it!"

"Pervert!"

"And proud of it, Corey! Don't you tell me you wouldn't love watchin' Owen and Jonah have sex. I think it's the stuff of fantasies. I've beat-off lotsa times, imagining it. Not since moving in with these guys, though. With them around, I don't have to beat-off." He glanced from Owen to Lucas. "Do I, guys?"

Owen grinned, but didn't release his brother, who now sported an erection to match Owen's. "Jonah and I've never had sex, Sammy. All we've done, until a moment ago, is jack-off together." Jonah pulled his brother to him, mashing his lips against Owen's.

"I'd never have guessed," Corey murmured, watching the two brothers' tongues caress one another.

"Does it bother you . . . watchin' them kiss, like that?" Sam asked, moving to Corey's side. "'Cause of Jonah, I mean."

"Naw." He looked at Sam with a crooked grin. "I'm not the possessive type. Jonah's his own man. He doesn't belong to me, any more'n I do him." He tilted his head to where Owen was now busily kissing Lucas. "I love Jonah. I don't own him."

"Love who?" Jonah asked. Behind him, Lucas was slowly thrusting his groin against Owen as they kissed and tightly embraced. Jonah motioned for Corey and Sam to join him beneath one of the shower sprays.

"You. I love you," Corey smiled, drawing him to him.

"Thanks, Lover Boy." He backed away, slightly, and reached out for Sam. "We don't want to leave one of my favorite guys outta things though." He tenderly stroked Sam's erection, as his one-time partner kissed his lover. After a few moments, Sam turned his attention to Jonah, whatever remaining pain the two of them felt after their separation, forgotten.

"Fuuuuck, this is nice." Corey groaned, as Sam reached for his cock. The horseplay of minutes earlier had turned into a sensuous five-person embrace and kiss. One minute Corey found himself deeply kissing Owen. A few moments later, Sam was in his arms, then Jonah, Owen again, then Lucas. 'A freakin' wet dream.'

The five men held one another in a slow, writhing, dance, as they kissed, and slowly stimulated the person they happened to be with. The sounds in the shower had gone from laughter and good natured teasing, to sighs, moans of pleasure, accompanied by the spray of the water against skin and ceramic tile.

'I've never experienced anything like this,' Corey thought, as Sam's tongue found his. He rocked his hips, moaning with pleasure, as Sam pressed himself close, trapping their erections between their bellies, the shower spray acting as lubricant for their movements.

"Damn, I'm close," he moaned, as he watched Jonah knead his brother's muscular butt cheeks, spreading them wide, as Owen rocked his hips, forcing his erection against Jonah's. Sam had been right. It was sexy watching the two brothers kiss and fondle one another. 'Is it because it's taboo for brothers to be sexual with one another? Or, is it exciting because I know both of the guys . . . and, it's happening not more than a couple feet away?' Corey asked himself, in the small space of time before Jonah turned to him for attention. Lucas began working Sam's cock with one hand, and his own with his other, as he motioned Corey closer with a slight head motion, then kissed him.

Jonah's low groan was muffled as Owen worked his brother's cock as they kissed.

"Make him shoot, Owen," Lucas breathlessly urged, when it became clear Jonah was approaching orgasm.

"On me!" Corey pulled away from Sam and Lucas' attention, long enough to repeat. "Shoot on me, guys!" He hurriedly reached out and turned off the stream of water from one shower head, then moved out of the spray from the two others. Even so, the room, and its inhabitants were bathed in a warm mist which caused their bodies to glisten. Jonah stepped closer to Corey, his feet slightly spread, for balance. His own hand had replaced his brothers, as he barely moved his fist over his cock head. His eyes were closed, and he breathed deeply through his open mouth, gently pinching a nipple between two fingers.

At Jonah's side, Sam was working on his own erection, and alternately tugging on his scrotum, and working some fingers between his slightly spread legs, to toy with his own hole, while slowly stimulating himself. His thick black hair hung over his forehead, his small nipples now firm nubs on his hairless chest. He bit his lower lip, and speeded up his strokes.

Corey pushed back against Owen, who had wrapped him in a tight embrace, and was kissing his neck; at the same time, he slid his erection up and down between Corey's ass cheeks.

Lucas stood next to Sam, masturbating himself. He met Corey's eyes and grinned, then glanced first at Sam, then Jonah, as they simultaneously groaned. 'Damn, what a sight! I am surrounded by some of the most gorgeous men I have ever known . . . and they're all hard and naked!' He felt a surge of excitement. 'And . . . there's no jealousy . . . no possessiveness.'

Jonah's legs trembled. He tightened the grip on his erection, stroked once, and shot, splattering his sperm against Corey's thigh, in two strong shots.

Sam's orgasm followed a moment later. He held Corey's erection to the side as he rubbed the head of his cock over Corey's thick mat of pubic hair . . . and shot.

"That's the way, lover," Lucas murmured, steadying Sam, who appeared ready to collapse, with the strength of his release. "Beautiful," he murmured close to Sam's ear.

Corey reached his own point of maximum stimulation when Jonah began nibbling on his ear and gently pinching one of his nipples, two things which were sure to push him over the edge. Jonah's hot breath on his ear, combined with the stimulation of both his earlobe and nipple, was too much. His body jerked as his cock erupted, splattering Sam's belly with a single blast of thick white cream. His second and third contractions pushed out two more thick globs, coating his hand as he continued to slowly stroke himself.

"Awww, fuuuuck," he exhaled, blearily smiling when Sam scraped the sperm off of his own belly, then smeared it over Corey's chest.

"You said, on you," he murmured, his eyes twinkling.

No sooner had Sam finished speaking, than Lucas and Owen shot . . . Lucas against the side of one of Corey's butt cheeks, while Owen unloaded into Corey's cleft, between both cheeks.

'Fuuuuck,' Corey inwardly groaned, as he felt Owen's erection slide between his ass cheeks, using his own sperm as a lube. 'I wonder what it'd be like for him to slide into me.' His asshole twitched at the thought. 'It'd be soooo cool to have Owen in me while the other guys watched.' He was positive that he smiled, as his fantasy took root and blossomed. 'It'd be even better if the guys could take turns. Damn, I never thought of myself as much of a bottom, and here I am dreamin' of getting plowed by four guys, one after the other. Getting fucked isn't nearly as exciting as having the guys watch as it's happenin'.'

"I wanna taste," Owen grinned. He moved around Corey and kissed him on the lips, then quickly knelt and began to lick up some of Jonah's sperm. He was followed by the three other men, and, soon, Corey was being given a full-body tongue bath.

Jonah buried his face between the mounds of Corey's buttocks, and madly began lapping up his brother's sperm. 'Fuuuuck,' Corey thought, bending forward to give Jonah better access. 'Jonah wants to taste his brother's jiz as much as Owen wants to taste Jonah's. Hot! Now I know I'd like to watch the two of 'em.'

Sam held Corey's head with both hands, standing off to the side slightly, while Lucas sucked Corey's penis clean. He looked into the standing man's eyes, and grinned. "Now," he chuckled, "that is what I call a proper shower." He met Corey's lips in an open-mouth kiss, while, below, Owen was licking Corey's leg, and Jonah was on his hands and knees, and busying himself with his partner's feet.

Lucas tapped Sam on the shoulder. "My turn," he grinned. "I left the pubes and ball sac for you." Lucas embraced Corey, as Sam squatted and sucked first one, then the other, of Corey's balls into his mouth. "Welcome to Riverton, my friend," he murmured, as their lips parted.

"Hot damn!" Sam sighed, as he released Corey's nut sac, and sank to the shower floor. He leaned against the ceramic tile bench, which spanned the back wall, and gustily sighed. "This ranks as the best shower of all time!"

"I'm still hungry," Owen complained, as he sat on the shower bench, and spread his legs wide.

"I'm sleepy," Sam and Lucas said, in unison.

"I'm exhausted." Jonah took Corey's hand and sat cross legged between his brother's legs, while Corey sat at his side, resting his head on one of Owen's thighs. Jonah smiled when Owen began absently massaging his shoulder muscles. "You always were good at that," he murmured, sighing again, as Corey began massaging one of his feet. "I'm in heaven," he chuckled, then leaned back against his brother's limp cock and belly. "It's not possible for things to get any better'n this."

"I may be getting all mystical, guys," Lucas began, "but being here with you all, like this, means a lot to me. Because of what we just did, of course, but also because of how we're able to share, not only one another, but stuff like our achievements, our hopes, and concerns." He flicked a glance in Corey's direction. "And our troubles . . ."

"Our laughter," Owen added, reaching for Lucas' hand.

"And our tears," Corey added, finding it difficult to speak around the lump in his throat.

"Let's hope the five of us don't have many of those." Sam reached out and took Owen's hand on one side, and Lucas' on the other.

Lucas squeezed Sam's hand. "I'll second that!" Lucas groaned as he stiffly stood and slowly stretched, surveying his four friends, all of whom were now sprawled on the floor of the shower. "I'm thinkin' that you all look like a bunch of beached whales."

"Speaking of whales," Owen groaned. "I'm still hungry."

"It can't be time to get up," Owen groggily complained, pulling the bed sheets over his head. "That's not the sound of the rooster. Leave me alone for a couple more hours. I'm worn out."

Sam rolled over Owen and scrambled to answer the telephone, which continued to ring.

"I give up." Owen threw off the sheet. He stretched, and was in mid-yawn, when Sam came back into the bedroom. "It's for you," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "It's the University, returning your call."

"Oh, geez." Owen rolled off the bed and ran his fingers through his hair, as if trying to make himself presentable for whomever he was about to speak with. "Clothes!" He looked from side to side, then made a dismissive gesture. "Nah, I'm okay."

Lucas would have laughed if the telephone call wasn't potentially so important. 'Our lives may be about to change,' he thought. 'Owen's been complaining about not having anything to do. I should have known that he wouldn't sit still and let his frustration continue. He left Riverton once. He could, just as easily, leave it again. Only this time, he'd not only be leaving the town, but Sam and me.'

Sam sat on the edge of the bed and returned Lucas' worried expression, as Owen answered the phone, giving his two partners a distracted look.

"Hello. This is Owen Carver."

Lucas and Sam watched from the bed . . . Lucas propped up on one elbow; Sam sitting on the edge of the bed, his legs dangling over the edge. Lucas reached for Sam's hand and linked fingers.

"Yes." Owen solemnly nodded. "I understand." There was a long pause, while Owen listened to whatever was being said. "How long do I have? When do you need a decision?"

Sam turned to Lucas, his eyes wide.

"Thank you," Owen murmured, in a low voice, his back to the two men on the bed. "I appreciate you returning my call." He pressed the disconnect button, and set the phone on the dresser, his back still turned toward his two partners.

"Owen?"

"Yes," Owen answered Lucas' single word question, still not turning around. "I haven't decided what to do, yet."

"What is it you want to do?"

"I want to work, Lucas!" Owen turned around, his face flushed, as he raised his voice. "I want to work at something meaningful, and make some sort of contribution toward this household. I want to know that I'm doing something which will make the world better. I'm not doin' any of that, now." He held up a hand.

"Oh, I know. I'm helping out your father, Sam, and little Nicky, and doin' things for Mrs. McGilliahan, on account of her arthritis, and stuff like that, but I'm not making any sort of contribution to this household! I hate that . . . more n'I can say, I hate it. I feel like a kept man, whose every need is provided by someone else . . . by you. I've never needed a whole lot, but . . . still . . ." He sank to the edge of the bed, and turned to Lucas. "You are too loving a person to ever say anything, but I . . . I feel so . . . useless."

Lucas caught the panicked look from Sam and, with the barest of head motions, told him it was not yet time to break his promise, and tell Owen something of what Bailey had planned.

'Bailey better hurry up,' Lucas thought to himself, 'or Owen won't be here to learn what that building Sam and Bailey have been working on so hard is all about. I could have helped to prevent this from happening, but I've been too wrapped up in all that's going on to realize how bad Owen is feeling. Hell! His feelings are what's been driving him out to his long runs, and all the time he's been spending lifting weights. He's been trying to wear himself out, so he doesn't have to think about all the things bothering him.' He did his best to control his voice as he spoke.

"Both Sam n'I want you to do whatever is best for you, Cowboy. We'll stand by you, whatever you decide to do. I . . . I understand why you're feeling the way you do, about . . . things. I think you're wrong to feel the way you do, but I do understand."

"If I go back to school though, that'll mean leavin' you both behind." He sat on the edge of the bed and took his partners' hands, then stared across the room.

"There are other ways of getting an education than going to that particular school," Lucas murmured, trying to sound reasonable. "Neither of us is finished with our schooling yet. I've been investigating some of them, myself. If we put our heads together, we'll figure something out which'll satisfy everyone."

Owen pushed himself off the bed and scrubbed at his face. "Yeah . . . well . . . I'm not so sure that's possible. It's a puzzle I've been tryin' to figure out since we got back to Riverton." He did his best to smile. "Thanks, guys. I've been afraid of tellin' you how bothered I've been, both 'cause I didn't want to load you down with my concerns, but you've both got plenty of your own problems to deal with, what with that building of yours, Sam, and all your projects, Lucas."

Sam's voice was firm, completely unlike the laughing and joking man who lay sprawled on the floor of the shower the previous evening. "Now, that's where you took a wrong turn!" Owen looked up, surprised. "One of the most important things in any relationship, is communication. None of us is a mind reader. If we're having a rough time, we need to remember to talk! There is absolutely nothing more important to me than the welfare of you two guys. If either of you is hurting, I sure as hell want to know about it." His grin softened his words. "If I'm hurting, you'll be sure to know, 'cause of all the moaning and groaning. What can I say? I'm a wimp. You guys aren't! So, Owen! Quit trying to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, even as broad as they are. Lucas and I love you. We want to help, in any way we can." He paused, then raised his voice. "Understand what I'm saying?"

Owen nodded.

"Say it!"

"Yes . . . I understand. And . . . thank you both. I'll try to do better."

"Good. Now, stop paradin' around all nekkid. Get your cute butt over here and crawl into bed between Lucas n'me. After last night, none of us have gotten enough sleep."

Owen crawled onto the bed and lay down between his two partners, both of whom snuggled close. "I love you guys, y'know."

"And we love you," Sam murmured, wondering if he'd be able to return to sleep, welcoming Owen's warmth next to him.

"More'n you can know," Lucas murmured, half to himself. "More'n you can know."

"I tell 'ya, Bailey, Owen's beginning to act like his old self, chafing at the bit, feeling useless, working himself to a frazzle, by running and lifting weights, just so he won't have to think of how he's feelin'." Sam had worked with Bailey on the building project for so long, he felt as if they were long-time friends. He knew Bailey's feelings for Owen ran deep, and felt Bailey needed to know how his friend was doing. A good portion of every telephone conversation was devoted to hearing, first, how Owen, then Corey, was doing. "Lucas and I have learned that he's been talkin' with the folks at the University, about claiming his scholarship, and headin' back there. Lucas told him that we'd both support him in whatever decision he ends up making . . . but I'm not so sure I could do that. Besides, there's all the stuff that you're planning. This could throw a monkey wrench into all your plans. It'd be rough if he were no longer with us . . . rough on us, as well as on him."

Sam forced himself to stop pacing, and to take a couple deep breaths.

He glanced around the large open room, as he listened to Bailey's attempts to calm him down. The morning sunlight streamed into the vast room through the large windows, casting dappled shade on the gleaming, newly polished floor. Antique pendant light fixtures and slowly rotating ceiling fans hung from the high ceiling, replete with restored plaster moldings. The building seemed to exude serenity. 'It even smells good,' he smiled. 'Just like Owen.'

"Yes," Sam responded. "The building's done. In fact, the contractors are in the other room, doing the final clean up, as we speak. It's beautiful, Bailey . . . absolutely beautiful." He paused. "And, next door! It's amazing. Everyone's going to be so pleased.

"You are doing a wonderful thing, my friend. I believe that no matter how much anyone will ever do or say, that you will never know how important your gift will be, both to Owen, and to Riverton. Thank you, Bailey. Thank you, from me. You are a wonderful, kind hearted, soul."

When there was no response to his comment, other than a ragged breath, he became concerned. "Bailey? Are you okay?"

Sam sat on the counter stool, his hands wrapped around a mug of coffee, watching Lucas prepare lunch. As usual, Owen was out. Today, he was spending the morning tending to Sam's father, who continued to make slow but steady progress toward his recovery. In the afternoon, he planned to visit his mother and Daniel.

"Did you really mean what you said when you told Owen we'd support whatever decision he makes about returning to college?" Sam idly rotated the seat of the stool from side to side, lost in thought. "I've lost Owen once, Lucas. I'm not sure I wanna go through that again. My whole life was turned upside down." He grinned his thanks as Lucas set a sandwich and salad in front of him, then tugged a stool to the other side of the counter, so they could face one another.

"Of course, the first time Owen left, my father was really sick, and I wasn't in a relationship with you." His voice drifted off. "Still . . ."

Lucas tapped the plate, returning Sam's attention to the sandwich. "Yes, I meant what I said about supporting him. What else could I say. I want Owen to be happy. The trouble is, I don't think he'd be any more happy in school than he is here . . . most likely less, in fact.

"I can understand his desire to complete his education. I'm feeling the same thing. I don't think my parents would like it, but I'm considering an online school. They wouldn't like it because everyone in the family has graduated from the same school. But . . . they realize that I've got a lot on my plate at the moment, and there is absolutely no way that I'll be able to leave what I've started, to go back to school for a couple more years."

He made a face as he took a bite of his sandwich, which had nothing to do with the sandwich's taste. "I'm actually doing something, which has given me an entirely different perspective when it comes to school. When I was a student, I was always thinking about the future, and the things I was hoping to do. Now, I'm living that future, and am doing the things I once only dreamt of. I'm not so sure I could easily go back to school. I don't think I could fit in any longer.

"Do you suppose Bailey . . . ?"

Sam shrugged. "I've spoken with him, so he knows what Owen's thoughts are. He didn't say much, so I don't know what he's thinking."

"Is there a timetable for that project of his?"

Another shrug. "Who knows? The construction is complete. As far as I'm concerned, Bailey could show up tomorrow and do his thing. In fact, I wish he would. But . . . he's not told me anything beyond what I need to know. He's being pretty tight lipped about the whole thing."

"I won't ask anything . . . after this." Sam reluctantly nodded his permission for one last question. "Once Bailey does show up and does his thing, as you call it, would the . . . result . . . be enough to keep Owen with us . . . in Riverton?"

"Geez, Lucas!" Sam raked his fingers through his hair. "I wish I hadn't agreed to answer your 'one last question,' but yes, I'm sure it would."

Both men looked up at the sound of the building door closing, and Owen's happy voice. "Is everyone decent? I've got a little visitor, who has come to see where we live."

"Come on up, guys!" Lucas crossed the room and greeted little Nicky Saunders, who was racing Owen up the stairs.

"I win!" Nicky shouted, pumping his arms in triumph, and smiling brightly at Owen, who was playing at being out of breath. "You need to exercise more," Nicky laughed.

"Hi Lucas! Hi Sam! How's your Papa?" Nicky greeted the smiling men, extending a hand for a handshake. "Owen's taking me to Millie's for an ice cream cone, but he wanted to stop here first to get the book we're reading, so we can look at pictures while we're eating our ice cream. It's all about the place where he went to school, with lotsa pictures n'stuff. It's got some real big words, but Owen helps me out with 'em."

"That's the city where Lucas grew up, Nicky," Owen said, picking up the book and joining the three men.

Nicky's eyes grew large. "For real? It's so big! And, it has snow. I've never seen snow. Owen says I wouldn't like it. It's too cold, like standin' inside a freezer, only with wind." Nicky cast a questioning look in Owen's direction, not quite sure to believe everything he'd been told. "He told me how you rescued him from a big snow storm, when his 'partment burned down." Nicky reached up and patted Lucas on the back. "Thanks for doing that. Did'ya have to throw him over your shoulder and climb down a big ladder n'stuff? That's how they always do it in comic books n'stuff."

Lucas laughed. "Nothing so dramatic, I'm afraid. I don't think I'd be able to throw Owen my shoulder, even if I had to, much less climb down a ladder with him."

Nicky consolingly patted Lucas' arm. "That's okay. Maybe you'n Owen need to exercise together. You, too, Sam," he smiled. "You guys are a team. You can't split up the team, huh?"

Sam did his best not to look towards Owen, as he spoke. "That's right, Nicky. We're a team."

Lucas stood at the top of the stairs, as Owen, Corey, and Jonah came into the building's lobby. "Big delivery for you, Corey!" he shouted.

"Great! My stuff!" Corey's smile faded, as he surveyed the boxes.

"A change of clothes . . . at last," Jonah commented, in a deadpan voice, turning away from where Corey was examining the pile of boxes, to grin at the others.

"Smart ass!" Corey paused his survey of the boxes, long enough to add in an uncertain voice.

"I thought that was Sweet Cheeks," Owen murmured, to Sam, who had joined the group, drawing a frown from his brother.

"Guys!"

"Are you looking for something in particular?" Lucas asked. "I'm thinking Bailey shipped everything in your apartment that wasn't tied down." He peered into one of the open boxes. "I'll bet we find your old kitchen garbage in here, somewhere."

Corey pushed one of the heavy cartons aside, and knelt before a small box which sat by itself, marked, "Extremely Fragile - Handle With Care." Alongside the bold warning, was another hand written note.

"Hey, Corey," it read. "Bailey won't let me touch anything! He's acting like a nervous nelly." The comment was signed with a flourish. "Hugs, Riley."

He sat back on his heels, while absently running his fingers back and forth over the top of the cardboard container. 'Riley and Bailey . . . what a couple. I wonder what Bailey's thinkin' about Riley's eccentric wardrobe . . . and, about how he'll strip at the slightest provocation.'

Sam knelt close by. "Would you rather we let you look through your stuff in private?" He nodded toward the small box which Corey was slowly opening. "Is there something special about this one?"

Corey glanced up at Owen, then back to the box. "It holds my childhood, Sam." He bit his lip. "Everything of importance, up until I met you guys, is in this small box." He took a shaky breath and gave Lucas and Owen, who were now kneeling beside Sam, a crooked smile. "I've been hopin' my stuff would arrive, but, at the same time, I've been afraid that when it did, it'd be time for me to do something I've been dreading.

"I've already talked to Owen . . . back when Bailey n'I were here, a few months ago." Corey grinned crookedly. "We didn't necessarily see eye-to-eye, but I went away from that conversation, and others, realizing that I had to do something." When he looked at Owen his eyes were filled with naked emotion. "You inspired me, Owen . . . by your own behavior . . . to do the right thing."

He took a deep, shaking, breath. "This'll be rough guys, so no joking, okay?"

"Of course. If you're not ready for this, just say so. No one's pushing you. Isn't that right, Cowboy?"

"Truly. We're all here for you, Corey." Sam cast Owen a quick, questioning look, hoping for some sort of explanation. Owen, however, was entirely focused on the man, kneeling before them.

Corey jerked a nod. "Please stay. I want you guys to be with me for this first . . . step. It's time for me to do this. Past time, actually. Y'see, I never told Bailey about any of this stuff. Even so, he must have realized it was important to me, or he wouldn't have put all these warning labels all over the outside of the box." Corey looked at the opened box. "There's not much in here. I didn't have much of a . . . a . . . childhood."

Corey bit his lip and determinedly brushed packing material aside. The first object he pulled free was a painting. He studied it for a few moments, then turned it to face the others. "I must have done this when I was nine or ten." He shook his head. "It's a good thing I never tried to become an artist."

"Where is this?" Owen asked, his soft voice full of sympathy for what his friend was experiencing. Lucas reached for one of Owen's hands.

"It's where I grew up . . . It's home."

"Would you tell us about it?" Sam asked. "It looks like it's a beautiful place. So many trees!"

"It's completely unlike Riverton, Sam. Here's all farmland. Some people farm there, but mostly there are forests instead of farmland. The farms are smaller, and the people grow different stuff."

"What's the town called?" Lucas prompted, when Corey lapsed into an out-of-character silence.

"Hillsboro, population two hundred forty-three, give or take a few. A small enough place to get lost in all the trees." He grinned crookedly. "There are mountains everywhere, all of 'em covered with trees. And a lake! There's a lake. The whole place is misty and foggy much of the time; always drizzling rain, or snowing, in the winter. It's a beautiful place, and I would have done . . . anything . . . to get out . . . to escape."

The silence was profound, as Corey took a halting breath. He pointed to the painting, and a smudge of grey . . . smoke rising in the distance. "I love the smell of a wood fire, in the mist. From my room, I could see the smoke of our neighbor's chimney. That's what this is supposed to be. Sometimes, I would go out for a walk just so I could smell the wood smoke, hangin' on the wet air." He took a breath. "It wasn't as if I had to try and be alone," he added, cryptically. Lucas' flick of a glance in Owen's direction, wasn't returned. Owen's entire attention was focused on the man kneeling less than three feet away.

"There was a bird once . . . must have been lost, or something. That's what that red spot is. It showed up, stayed for a couple days, singing the saddest song you've ever heard. Callin' for its friends, I guess. Until I left for college, I was like that bird. It hung around for only a couple days. I stayed for eighteen years."

Corey brushed aside some shredded paper, clinging to a corner of a photograph, which was next to be removed from the box. He smiled crookedly. "This is me and my dog. My teacher took this picture one day, and gave it to me as a going away gift. Mrs. Higgins was her name. She . . ." Corey took a ragged breath, barely keeping his emotions under control. "She used to hold me . . . on the especially bad days. She . . . she'd hold me and tell me better days were comin'." He turned to his left and took Jonah's hand. "If Mrs. Higgins only knew how good . . . she'd be happy." He brought Jonah's hand to his lips and tenderly kissed it.

He looked at the photograph, running a thumb over the glass, as if petting his dog. "She's the reason I went into teaching." He looked up. "I wanted to be there if someone else . . . like me . . . needed someone to hug 'em and tell 'em things'll get better. I want to give back some of the love that was shown to me by Mrs. Higgins. I want to be able to let kids I teach know that the world isn't an uncaring place. . . . that there are people who do care about what they're feeling, and understand that . . ." He glanced at Owen. "That they shouldn't be embarrassed if they need to cry. Mrs. Higgins told me that. She helped me. I'd like to be able to pass on to other children what she did for me." This last was spoken, almost as a murmur.

"I had to leave my dog behind. That was rough. I never saw him again."

"Did you leave him when you came to college?" Sam asked.

Corey shook his head, but offered no explanation. "No . . . before that. I wonder if he's still living." He swiped at his eyes. "I hope so. He was always a good boy." Corey's voice faded. "A real good boy."

"Corey . . .," Owen murmured, reaching out to take his friend's hand. "We like hearing about where you grew up, but we don't want your tellin' us to make you feel bad. If it would be better, you can tell us more about growing up, later."

Corey wrapped Owen's hand in his. "No . . . no, we can't stop. I . . . I've worked myself up to this. When Bailey told me he'd shipped all this stuff, I knew I wanted to tell you all about . . . some of it, and what it all means. I don't know if I'd be able to do it again. Is that okay?" he asked, in a small voice.

"Whatever you want," Jonah murmured. "We're with you."

Corey jerked a slight nod at his partner's comforting touch, then reached for another photograph. This one was square, and small, surrounded by a frame made with more enthusiasm than skill. He looked at the photograph, ignoring the single tear which left a silvery streak over his cheek, then handed the photograph to Sam. "Those are my . . . my . . . parents. It's the only one I have of them."

Sam studied the small photograph of a couple of stiff, unsmiling people. It was easy to see Corey's resemblance to his father. They both had the same build. Corey's mother, a slender woman, who was pretty, in a serious sort of way, stood by her husband's side. 'I wonder what's going through those folks' mind, to look so serious,' Sam thought to himself. 'Are they the reason Corey wanted so badly to leave his hometown?'

Sam passed the photograph to Owen, who studied it for a moment, flicking a glance at the man who knelt with bowed head. He showed the photo to Lucas, then turned it over. On the back, in childish letters, was the message, "Mama, Daddy . . . I love you."

"Do you miss your folks?" Sam murmured.

Corey shrugged. "Sometimes I think I do. Other times, I'm glad I'm nowhere near where they are. Most times, nowadays, I . . . I don't know what I feel." He glanced up at Owen.

"Before meeting Owen, I was certain of my feelings. Then, Owen talked to me about learning to . . . forgive." Corey swallowed. "He urged me not to forget, but to forgive, and, since then, I'm not sure . . . how I feel." He chuckled. "Owen sometimes does that sorta thing, y'know. He says a few words, and everything a person ever thought was true, we're not so sure about, any more. Well, not everything. Just about Hillsboro, and growing up, and my folks. I used to be certain about how I felt. Now . . . I don't know." He huffed a laugh. "I'm not sure which is worse."

It was like he was speaking to himself. "If Owen can overcome what he did, and fought his way to a place where he can forgive, I should be able to do the same.

"I'm feeling pretty rotten, guys," he murmured, not looking up. "I'm sure glad I'm not alone, right now."

Everyone followed his lead, and stood. There was a moment of uncomfortable silence, then Corey turned to Owen, his lower lip trembling. "Am I doin' the right thing, Owen?" he asked. "Am I doin' okay?"

When Owen wrapped him in an embrace, Corey could take no more. He broke into wracking sobs as he clutched the man who had encouraged him to do his best to forgive.

"You're doin' way better'n okay, Corey. You're doin' great."

"It's . . . it's so hard, talkin' about it."

"Don't force yourself to do something you're not ready to do, Corey. All of us are here to help you out, but we're not here expectin' something of you. You take whatever steps you're comfortable takin'. Telling us about where you grew up, and your dog, and your folks, has been taking some huge steps, for you. You've done real good.

"Now . . . here, why don't you let Jonah hold you? He's wantin' to let you know that he's here for you, too, just like all of us."

~ to be continued ~

Thank you for taking the time to read my work. I always welcome your email and enjoy hearing your thoughts. If you would like me to send you a pic of the character(s), please ask.