Change Order
:: a disruption in the status quo
David
Thursday, April 6th, 6:53 am
Boyce Avenue, Towson, Maryland
Kate miscarried Josh’s baby, and he didn’t know about the pregnancy.
I roll over in bed and shut off my alarm, frustrated that even now, four days later, this is my waking thought.
She broke down with the news Sunday once Claire was gone, but I’d guessed from the start. Something in Kate’s reaction and the way she darted a glance at him after Claire brought it up. I couldn’t bring myself to stay for the details, though. Between Nick’s visit, stressing over those photographs, and the tension building between myself and the two of them? It was too much. And honestly? I’d rather not know.
So, I left.
Not the most mature response, but better than the alternative. I’ve been staying with Bennett and his family ever since. We have a unique relationship, him and I. He’s not a father figure exactly, but I think he views me more like a son than a student he mentored.
He knows little of the past me, but over the years I’ve shared pieces of information. He knows my mom and sister died in a car accident when I was six, and my father in a fire several months before college. He’s aware my childhood was disruptive. I think he senses my reluctance to talk about it and is gracious enough not to ask.
He and his family have grown fond of Josh and Kate, too. They know we grew up together, but little else. We’ve never shared their relation, or our connection to one another and Brought to Light. Janney is a common enough last name. So is Shaw. But I dropped that after Ian died and took my mother’s maiden name, Brennan. I guess Bennett could work out the link between us, but he’d have to dig for it, and that’s not his way.
Even on Sunday when I called, he didn’t ask questions, just offered a room. The same room where I lived during college. Their family still calls it David’s room; I love that. It feels like home to me.
Or at least, it did.
I lie back against the pillow and stretch, wincing as my arm twinges. A sharp, electric firing sparks behind my eye, the sign of an impending headache. I pull the blanket around me and breathe deeply, hoping to stave it off. I try not to think how empty this bed feels without Josh’s warm, cover-hogging body or Kate’s cozy morning snuggles.
The thing is, I’m not upset they were together. Does it bother me? I mean, obviously. And it hurts, knowing they kept it secret. But I understand why they turned to each other.
We’d drifted apart freshman year. The physical distance and trauma of the fire and those final months at home having taken their toll. They settled into school in North Carolina, and I threw myself into life at Towson. I made new friends and got a job working for Bennett, which is how he and I grew so close.
And I met Tessa.
An English major like myself, she’d been working as a part-time nanny for Bennett and his wife. We connected right away, dated on and off that first year and stayed close all through college. She helped fill the void left in Josh and Kate’s absence.
Kate.
My heart seizes at the memory of her broken cries Sunday night, her plea for Josh and I to understand. He’d been devastated to learn of the pregnancy and miscarriage, shocked and angered she never told him. But I wasn’t surprised.
Kate hadn’t been herself that year. She went weeks sometimes without talking to me. Josh, too. I think all three of us were experiencing some form of post-traumatic stress. I suspected something happened between them, that they’d sought solace in each other as I had with Tessa. I thought they would tell me eventually.
Growing up, there’d been this friction. Not sexual, exactly, but not platonic, either. I’m not sure they ever felt like siblings, only there was no reason to doubt. Whose parents lie about something like that? I don’t know, it was almost inevitable they’d explore those feelings after learning the truth.
And while I recognize this, I can’t help the anger welling inside when I think about Nick and our current situation. Here I defended them, only to learn they’d done something so reckless mere months after the fire. So what if nothing happened since? It was still a risk. What if Nick found out they were together? And then, the pregnancy?
That’s a mind trip. Kate. Pregnant. I can’t get past it.
A tiny soul, part Kate and part Josh—the two people I love most. What would their baby have been like? My mother used to tell me stories of a God so loving, he sent his son to rescue people in need. I clung to those stories after she and Abigail died, imagined them in heaven watching over me. Is that where this baby is, too?
How do you reconcile miscarriage with a loving God? Kate’s been through so much. To have a baby ripped from her body? Is that punishment or provision? And what about Josh? He carries so much guilt. I know this is tearing him up.
I don’t get it.
My phone vibrates and I grab for it, anticipating a message from one of them. It’s only Blake, though, seeing if I need a ride this afternoon. Then Bennett hollers up from downstairs, asking if I’m ready to leave.
I sigh and set down the phone as that spot behind my eye sparks again, more intense this time. The pain so sharp I almost cry out. I have to lie back and press at it to ease the pressure. I’ve been getting headaches for a while now, but lately it’s different—severe and more frequent. It seems my body isn’t equipped to handle all the stress being thrown its way.
And as I close my eyes and pray for the pain to pass, it occurs to me that maybe I’m not as fine as I think I am.
4: 56 pm
Foster Avenue, Baltimore, Maryland
It’s close to five when Blake drops me at the house in Canton.
I’d planned to pick up a few things and return to Bennett’s before Josh and Kate got in from work. But to my surprise, I find Josh sound asleep on the couch.
My throat fills at the sight. He’s a mess. Hair all disheveled, shirt hiked up, shoes on. He’s got Sports Center blasting, and it appears he’s been binge eating. Open chip bags, crunched up beer and soda cans, half eaten plates of food…it looks like a frat house.
Kate is not the neatest person, but I doubt she’d appreciate the state of her beloved couch. And Josh? Let’s just say he’s the only one to routinely use a coaster. This whole scene is so out of character, it’s laughable, and I’m not ready to face it yet.
I turn to leave, and that’s when I see it. My navy blue warm-up hoodie from baseball senior year. It’s my favorite sweatshirt, favorite piece of clothing, actually. And Josh is snuggling with it like I’ve been gone months rather than four days. I’m not sure if that’s cute or creepy, but either way the sight hits like a brick.
I weed through the mess and sit beside him, mute the TV and prop my feet on the ottoman. The sudden quiet is deafening, and I haven’t a clue what to say. After a minute, I place my hand on his chest, and he covers it, our fingers comfortably weaving. His eyes flutter open, and he gazes up at me.
“I can’t believe you left,” he says in a thick voice.
“You and Kate needed space, J. It was a lot to digest.”
His grip tightens. “Yeah, but I needed you.”
I didn’t get her pregnant, I feel like saying. Only, that’s not fair. And the last thing I want is to make him feel worse. He didn’t know. I nudge a bag of chips with my foot.
“You guys hosting frat parties, now? Looking for my replacement?”
He scowls. “The team came over after practice last night. And don’t joke, David. This isn’t funny.”
He’s right. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m going to go. I didn’t think you’d be here.” I move to stand.
He clutches my hand. There are crumbs on his neck, and a patch of hair poking skyward like a horn. He’s such an adorable wreck. I want to hug him and hold him and take us back to a time when that was enough to bring our world back in order. But we’re not those boys anymore. I take a step back and pull my hand away.
“Wait,” he says, stiffening. “You’re not staying?”
“Well, I hadn’t planned—”
He’s off the couch in a flash, chucking the sweatshirt at my feet as he shoves past me and into the kitchen. “Fucking leave, then,” he mutters. “Take the damn thing with you.”
I listen for a minute as he bangs around before reluctantly heading upstairs. If I’d been conflicted before, the sight of our room drives all thoughts of leaving from my mind. The beds are made, laundry is picked up and put away, and my desk is all tidy. Even the balls are piled high in a large bin. It’s neat and clean.
And indescribably lonely.
6:23 pm
Josh eventually comes looking for me.
I’m lying on my bed watching dusk fall over the city, mind a blur. I want this whole sordid mess behind us. Kate, the miscarriage, Nick and his threats, my aching head and whatever is plaguing me. Even this house and all its failings. I just want the three of us, together, free from the baggage.
Only, I sense we are miles from that.
He grabs a mini basketball and lies down beside me. We take turns finger spinning, something we’ve done for years—a challenge to see who can keep it going the longest. We’ve had some of our best conversations this way, on a bed with a ball.
“Look, the thing with Kate and I,” he says after a few minutes. “We knew it was a mistake. It only happened once, and—”
“I don’t need the details, Josh.”
“Yeah, but you should know—”
“I don’t want to know.”
I grab the ball and chuck it, hard. It strikes the ceiling with a loud thwap, then plummets toward him like a missile, nearly smacking his face.
Okay, so maybe I’m a little mad.
“Where is Kate?” I ask, glancing at the clock. It’s past six and she’s usually home by now.
“Working late at the spa. Some private party rented the place out. She won’t be home until after ten.”
I roll to my side so I’m facing him. “You guys are okay, then? Have you had a chance to…you know, talk things out?”
He nearly chokes on a laugh. “Talk? Have you met Kate? We’ve done nothing but talk.” His jaw tightens. “And you’re worried about us being careful now? Should’ve lectured me back then, huh? What a fucking mess. Can you imagine if Nick had found out?” He shivers. “No one can ever know about this…”
My blood runs cold as he trails off because, little does he realize, we’re already on someone’s radar. And there’s no telling what they’ll uncover. Or how Nick will react if something damaging really does leak out.
I stare into his sweet, puppy-like eyes and feel any semblance of anger dissolve. His brow is all creased, jaw clenched tight, the weight of the world on his shoulders. I need to tell him what’s going on with his father. That someone’s out there, watching.
But I can’t stomach adding to his worry. Not yet. Not on the heels of what he’s just learned. Besides, after this and our discussion about Nick last week? I doubt he’ll go anywhere near Kate, let alone touch her. There shouldn’t be anything scandalous to photograph.
“You didn’t even hear the worst of it Sunday,” he says, fretting a hand through his tousled hair. “She developed an awful infection after the miscarriage, was sick for weeks. They couldn’t stop the bleeding.” He covers his face with both hands. “She could’ve died, David. I don’t think you realize how serious it was.”
I don’t want to picture Kate that way, scared and alone. Bleeding. I don’t want to think about any of this. “But she didn’t, Josh. She’s fine now. You both are. And it wasn’t your fault she lost the baby. How could you have known?”
He pounds the bed between us. “She’s not fine! And stop with that fucking word! No one in this house is fine. She’s a wreck, and you and I are...” He pauses, cheeks hot, eyes lit like fire. “I don’t know what the fuck you and I are. But I’m sick of your calm, detached bullshit! We both know you’re mad, or you wouldn’t have left. Just have it out already. Say you hate me for fucking things up. For Kate, and all those times I stood by…” His face crumbles. “Tell me what you really think, asshole. I know you want to.”
Guilt is driving this outburst. Guilt and shame and a host of emotion we’ve left unattended since moving in here, since those abysmal years with our fathers. But we’re not prepared for a trip down that rabbit hole.
I give him a warning look. “Let’s not solve all the world’s problems tonight, okay? You want to know what I think? I think it takes two. So, unless you forced Kate…”
“I would never!”
“No, you wouldn’t. And she chose to keep the pregnancy a secret, that’s on her. So, stop acting like you’re the only one involved.”
Things between him and Kate are more complicated than a meaningless hookup. And some feelings are impossible to ignore, no matter the consequence. He and I know that better than anyone. But he’s not thinking clearly right now.
“Involved? You call that involved? One fucked- up night, David. That was the extent of my involvement. And she gets pregnant?” He shakes his head. “She ghosted me for months, you know. We barely talked. Which, okay. Fine. Whatever. It was awkward, I get that. But if I’d known she was pregnant? That she miscarried?” Anguished lines crease his forehead. “How could she keep it from me? What if she’d carried to term? What then? How would we have explained a baby?”
I thought of all that, too. “We could’ve worked it out, Josh, told everyone it was mine or something. I would’ve married Kate and we’d raise the baby with you. Together.”
Briefly, pathetically, I indulge the fantasy of a four or five-year-old child, here with us. A curly-haired little blonde. She’d have Kate’s smile with Josh’s quick wit and soft brown eyes. I’d read to her every night. We’d go for long walks in the park, bike rides…
Josh is not sharing this vision.
He’s up and halfway through the door before rounding on me, chest heaving. “So what? You’re just going to live your whole life covering my mistakes? Add another secret to the list? Pray no one finds out I’m the father, as if that isn’t history fucking repeating itself? Grow up, David.” He clutches the wall. “You’re leaving, aren’t you? Just go. Get the hell out of here. Run back to Bennett.”
And with that, he yanks the door shut, and he’s gone.
7:10 pm
It’s almost dark by the time I make it downstairs with a small bag.
Josh is in the kitchen wearing ripped jeans and an old baseball penny, getting ready to paint.
“I’m leaving,” I tell him.
He nods, watches as I pull my phone out and dial Bennett. But he’s on me before I hit send, yanking the phone from my hand.
“Hold up a second. Fuck.” He cancels the call. “Look, you know I didn’t mean what I said. I want you to stay, David. Please? I’m sorry.” He tosses my phone on the counter and steps closer, forcing my back into the wall. He plants his hands on either side of me.
“And I know you must think it’s awful, what we did.” His eyes are bright with unshed tears. “I wanted to tell you, D. Like a thousand times. But I just couldn’t.”
I lift a hand to his cheek, stroking the soft stubble. “I know. It’s all right. I understand.” And I do, only he’s not going to buy that.
“Yeah, but you loved her,” he says in a broken voice.
“I still love her. Nothing is going to change that.”
I love him, too. But he doesn’t like to hear those words.
His eyes squeeze shut, and I reach for him. Taking his hands, I draw him closer, wishing I could ease the pain. “You have to let it go, Josh. Regret won’t change the past, you know that. So, you guys made a mistake. You didn’t tell me; she didn’t tell you. Is it so bad, that we don’t want to hurt each other?”
Only guilt stabs at my heart with every word, because haven’t he and I done the same thing? A lie is still a lie, regardless of intent. “We know something about that, don’t we? Lying to protect her. Is it really so different, what we’ve done?”
We have been lying to Kate for years. And our betrayal? Far more deceptive than reckless sex and a concealed pregnancy. Our lies span a decade and shaped the very men we grew to be…
After the initial success of Brought to Light, Nick and Ian realized what a gold mine they were sitting on. Exploitation is big business. Why limit themselves to the confines of television when they could put their resources to use privately and keep the profit for themselves?
They didn’t even need a decoy, they had me. And Josh.
I’d already proven I wasn’t a fighter that day in the woods. And they knew Josh could be coerced if they threatened me. Or Kate, as would later be the case.
So, they set up these small-scale sting operations, similar to Brought to Light. They targeted specific, high-profile men who could pay to keep their preferences secret, even took photographs of me and posted them online, like bait.
It’s all foggy now, but they convinced Josh and me to go along with it, said we’d be crime-fighting heroes like they were on TV. Because what boy doesn’t want to be like his father?
Only, the reality was nothing like television.
I’d almost forgotten about the photographs when they took us away one weekend—a sports card trading show, they said. Ian was a collector; he went to those occasionally. Josh and I thought nothing of it, squished together in the back of a sedan they rented, happily taking turns on his Nintendo DSi.
But there’d been no card show.
Only me, alone in a seedy motel room with an aggressive congressman who never should’ve left his house. And Josh, helpless, watching things unfold from the room next door with our fathers. He’d been distraught when we realized what they planned to do.
Regardless, it went off without a hitch, just as our fathers planned. The man even apologized to me, but the damage was done. A picture is worth a thousand words. God only knows how much he paid to keep them quiet.
Afterward, they dropped Josh and I off at our own suite, miles from that hellish motel, and left us with food, movies, and instructions to stay put while they celebrated. We wouldn’t see them again until morning.
I have little memory of how he and I passed those first few hours. We hardly spoke, I know that. It was midnight before I climbed into bed, still shaken.
Josh sat by the door like a guard until, weary, he crawled into bed beside me. He tucked one arm beneath my head and wrapped the other around my body, like a cover. He held on tight until we both fell asleep.
We woke in each other’s arms. It wasn’t awkward, or uncomfortable, or anything. It was just us. We didn’t say a word about it. But the next time, he did the same thing.
And that is how we started…
I squeeze his hands.
“No, I guess it’s not so different,” he concedes, fingers tightening around mine, reminding me of the night we met, how he took my hand and wouldn’t let go. And of that first night in the hotel, how he covered me. How love flowed like a current between us. Blurred lines from the start, him and I.
We were never just friends.
Those trips with our fathers went on for years, and Kate never knew. They said if either of us told anyone or refused, they would use her instead of me. And we couldn’t let that happen any more than we could stop the bond that forged between us.
He moves closer, leaning in. “Your hands are warm,” he says in a thick voice. “You’re always warm.”
“Warm hands, cold heart,” I joke, swallowing, sensing an approaching storm. Clouds darken his handsome face.
“Damnit, David. Is everything a joke?”
“No! I just—”
But he doesn’t let me finish.
He makes a plaintive, guttural sound, and pounds the wall beside me so hard it vibrates, cracking beneath the weight of his fury. Stunned, I duck out of his way, nearly falling as I clutch my arm.
Josh isn’t a violent guy. His anger’s more like that of a grumpy toddler. And the wall? We spent hours on it. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.
Neither does he.
He draws in a sharp breath, eyes flicking between me and the wall as if he can’t quite grasp what’s just happened. The color drains from his face. “Your arm! Oh, shit! Are you all right?”
“It’s fine, Josh.” I’m quick to reassure him. My hand skims along the jagged crack. “And the wall’s not too bad. We can fix it. I’ll help you.”
He slumps against the counter. “You think I care about the stupid wall? It’s you I care about, asshole. Not some piece of plasterboard.” He shakes his head. “When you left Sunday, I just—”
“Josh—”
“No, let me say it. You were upset, but you can’t just leave like that. You can’t…” His fingers rake through his fine, tousled hair. “Don’t you get it? All this time, I just… I don’t know. I just, miss you. Like, more than I should. More than I want to, anyway.”
He releases a long, anguished breath, as if the words forced themselves out. And everything stops. The noises fade and even the city stills as we regard one another, the air thick with all he didn’t say. A thousand moments pass in a heartbeat. Because, of course, I get it.
I miss him, too.
He reaches for me then, hesitant, as if I’d ever turn him away. As if I don’t need him just as much. What would I do without Josh? His rumbling laughter, the comforting warmth of his skin. Those broad, safe shoulders and strong, protective arms. His body. Every bend and curve is as familiar as my own.
And I don’t know who starts in first, but we’re both tearing up. And laughing like we do. Wrestling playfully even as we cling, needing to touch anywhere and everywhere all at once—a pathetic parody of desperation and relief.
It’s awkward and amazing and so absurdly us, my chest could explode with love for him. And longing. Familiar and fierce and as fully awake as it’s always been. So much, that when our bodies and mouths finally collide, it’s less a kiss and more an explosion of hunger and need and this intense desire that never seems to fill.
Because this is what we do.
What we’ve always done. Since those first terrifying nights together. Let our bodies speak the words we couldn’t. Friendship, love, attraction, all one and the same for us. No one knows me like Josh. Not even Kate.
Oh God…Kate.
Heat tickles my chest.
Should I tell him about Saturday? Would he care? No, he wouldn’t care. She would, though. About this.
And what the hell are we doing, anyway? We’re obviously reeling from her news. And of course, we’re missing each other. We’ve been sleeping together for months with this between us. As if that’s not tempting fate.
Besides, I love Kate. I want to be with her. I do. He knows that. It’s what we agreed was best moving in here. For her, for our friendship, for everything.
No more of this.
She doesn’t know about him and I. Doesn’t know about any of it. And she’d be so hurt. And he’d lose his mind if he knew about Nick, that we’re being watched. That I’ve kept it from him? Reality barrels in, dragging reason and rational with it.
“Kate,” I murmur weakly, tearing myself away from him. “We can’t do this, Josh.”
His eyes close at her name and he groans. He doesn’t argue, though, just buries his face in my neck with a weary sigh. I wrap arms around his warm body, and we stay like that, quiet but for the low hum of city noise.
I stroke his back as my pulse settles and his breathing slows, thinking of our years together. The secrets we’ve kept, and the lies we’ve told. Lies we’re still telling.
I think about the strength of delicate thread when woven together three times over, and how that’s us, Josh, Kate, and I—a cord not easily broken. Nothing will tear us apart. I won’t let it.
Not our past, not his father, not even this.
I hug him tighter, still wanting, wishing things were different. “No regrets,” I say, as much for myself as him. “Not now, not then, not ever.”
8:40 pm
Boyce Avenue, Towson, Maryland
We pull up to Bennett’s house an hour later.
I convinced him to come back with me for dinner and to pick up my stuff. An easy sell—Bennett’s wife, Julie, is an amazing cook. Kate should have some lessons with her.
Kate.
My stomach twists. I’m holding it together for Josh’s sake, but inside I’m a wreck. Guilt, confusion, shame. I should be focused on this thing with Nick, not whatever it is I’m doing, or not doing with the two of them.
As if we need more complication.
The pain behind my eye sparks to life, like a jackhammer pounding from the inside. I press at it to ease the pressure. “Have you heard from her?” I ask Josh, wincing as we walk toward the back door.
He texted Kate to say I was home, and that we were heading to Bennett’s to eat dinner and pick up my stuff. Before he can respond, we’re met by Bennett’s daughter, Grace, who literally launches herself at Josh.
“Josh! Are you coming to stay, too? Please stay!”
He grins and lifts her onto his shoulders.
“What am I, chopped liver?” I ask, trailing behind.
“No, silly,” she laughs, “you already live here.”
Josh gives me a wounded look.
Jack, Bennett’s son, is inside the doorway. He’s glaring. “No, Grace. David’s leaving, aren’t’ you? That’s why he’s here.” His finger stabs accusingly at Josh, who shrugs.
“Hey, don’t blame me kid, I’m just the driver.” He sets Gracie down and gets Jack in a headlock before he can back away. Within seconds they’re wrestling on the family room floor.
I smile to myself. Grace adores Josh, and he and Jack can distract each other, so that’s a win. But then I notice Bennett leaning against the counter, concern etching his brow.
“Come to the study a minute,” he says, beckoning me to follow. Once inside he closes the door and we sit together on the leather couch. It’s cozy in here, tidy, but worn, and smells of old books and lemon polish. This room has been the same since I’ve known Bennett, familiar and dependable—like him. “So, you’re going home, huh?”
“Yeah. I think it’s time.”
His eyebrows arch. And honestly? I’m not sure going back is the best decision. Not after what just happened with Josh. We could use some space. And I need time to work out this Nick/stalker situation. There’s no chance I’m doing that with him watching like a hawk. But how can I stay away?
“Are you sure you’re ready?” Bennett probes.
Um. “Mostly.”
We’ve talked about this. He and Julie want me to stay a few weeks. They’re concerned about my stress level, the weight loss, proper healing of my arm, the blackouts, everything. And I’ll admit, it’s nice, being taken care of. It’s been easy, falling into step with their family again.
I feel a surge of love for Bennett and lean over impulsively to hug him. I rest my face against his soft sweater which smells like fresh wood and musk mingled with soap and something unidentifiably collegiate.
“Thanks for letting me crash here,” I say.
At 5’10, I’m not exactly tall, but Bennett is well over six feet. I’m like a child beside him. He returns my embrace, which is a little awkward at first. I’m not great at showing affection.
“You always have a place with us, David. I hope you know that.” His voice catches on my name, and I’m relieved to hear Julie’s call for dinner in the distance. He tousles my hair then gets up and heads to his desk. “You’re still going to help out with basketball, right? The kids love when you’re there.”
“Sure thing,” I tell him. I’ve been helping coach Jack’s youth basketball team at their church. A few of my students are part of the league, so that’s fun.
He’s rifling through a stack of papers. “Hang on a sec. I had another reason for bringing you in here.”
I stand and take a step, but suddenly the room is spinning. My stomach swirls as the edge of my periphery goes black.
Maybe I stood too fast?
Unable to right my balance, I pitch sideways, falling hard against the bookcase. Pain stabs at my arm, and I cry out as Bennett turns, a small envelope in hand.
Nick’s envelope?
My entire body goes slack. As if in slow motion, I see him move toward me, hear him call for Josh in a thick, distorted voice. There’s a distant, fleeting thought to protect my arm, and then penetrating darkness closes in and covers the room.