The Christmas Throwaway (6 page)

"I'm not—" Zach started, his voice full of shock and embarrassment.

"Not what?" Jamie pushed for answers.

"I haven't taken drugs, I don't use drugs. I don't even smoke."

Jamie stepped back, suspicion still on his face,

facing his brother.

"Did you research him?" Zach gazed at Ben, probably unaware of just how vulnerable he looked and how his eyes were suspiciously bright with tears. Ben felt guilty. Yes, he had checked out Zachary Weston from Richmond, Virginia. No, there were no missing persons'

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reports filed. Yes, his family still lived there. Yes, he had managed to track down Zach's home school registration and SATs results for the last four years. All as Zach had said. He didn't tell any of that to Jamie, simply and quietly pleading with his older brother to back off and let him deal with it.

"Boys?" Donna trailed in after Zach, catching the tail end of the conversation, "Jamie, let Zach go. He is our guest, and as such, you should treat him with kindness.

Now come back in, Daniel is desperate to open presents."

Jamie relaxed and moved away from Zach,

following his mother out of the kitchen. Ben waited until it was just the two of them in the kitchen.

"Did you check me out?" Zach said softly. "Are they trying to find me?" He clearly only wanted one question answered.

Ben closed his eyes briefly and then shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Zach, but not that I could see." Zach's face fell, his expression bleak. Ben hated what he'd had to say.

Zach's family wasn't worried about him.

"Is my sister okay? Does anyone know?"

"Your sister? No, there's nothing filed about her either."

"There won't be; she's at home still. My dad… he 60

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isn't interested in her."

Ben watched as Zach unconsciously raised his right hand to the cuts that had healed and twisted around his left eye, at the skin discoloration where bruises never seemed to heal. He couldn't be aware how much that small gesture gave away, probably so used to hiding every emotion for so very long that he thought no one could see through the walls.

"It's been a while now," Zach finally said. His voice was giving him away, a broken voice, with a sadness that was so damn obvious.

"I'm sorry, Zach," was all Ben could say, in pure cop speak. "I'm very sorry…"

Zach slipped into the living room at the back, trying to make his limbs curl into a space small enough that he wouldn't be noticed, just watching as people opened presents. He slipped off into a world of his own where he was people-watching and enjoying their expressions as they removed the wrapping on each gift. He had dug himself farther back when the small boy —Daniel, he

remembered— gave him a parcel. Instantly, Zach was the center of attention. He wanted to tell the boy that he was 61

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wrong, that Zach wouldn't have presents under this tree, but he gripped the package hard, turning over the label to see his name on it.

"For me?" He looked directly at Donna, who smiled encouragingly, and finally when the others turned to watch Daniel open a box to reveal a remote control car, he felt he could open his own. Somewhat bemused, he lifted out a sweater in a rather bright green with an elf embroidered on the front and winced as he realized it was what Ellie had called fugly. It was ridiculous that something so very, very, ugly could make him feel special, even when he knew it was a present originally meant for someone else.

He thought of what his sister was doing today. Did she hate him that he had gone? Did she realize he'd had no choice? He closed his eyes, picturing her face, swearing that when he turned eighteen and felt better, he was going straight back to get her.

All too soon the presents were done, each person

dispersing to place gifts in their rooms, or in the case of the children, leaving them scattered all over the floor, this way and that, making it fun to try and get from one side of the room to the other. Everyone moved with the exception of Zach, who sat in his corner, with a small pile of gifts, the ugly sweater, socks, boxers emblazoned with a grinning 62

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Santa, aftershave, and a couple of what he had been assured were recent bestsellers. Quite a big haul considering.

Zach sensed Ben hovering and looked up as the cop crouched down in front of him.

"I'm still on duty — have to check in for an hour.

Wanna come with?" Zach glanced out at the snow still falling, and nodded, which led to a scramble to find him suitable footwear and a thick winter jacket, courtesy of Ben himself, until he was bundled up like a huge teddy bear, a fact that didn't escape Ellie's notice.

"So cute," she said, pulling him down by the hood and placing a smacking kiss on Zach's lips. He made a noise halfway between a squeak and a no, which just made Ellie smile. She pulled back and indicated the mistletoe hanging over his head. Zach just blinked, not exactly sure what to say, looking at Ben who didn't seem angry. Maybe he should make it clear, tell her in no uncertain terms that he was not only gay, but that both of her brothers were watching his every move.

"One word, little sis," Ben piped up as he opened the front door and stepped out into the snow, waiting for Zach to follow.

Ellie looked curious. "One word?" Zach scuffed across the floor, sliding past Ben, looking up into the steel 63

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sky and the swirling snowflakes, mesmerized by their random movements.

"Gay," Ben replied and pulled the door closed, laughter dying on his lips as he looked at the man-child standing next to him. Did Zach even know? Did Zach have any idea how beautiful he looked right now? Ben couldn't stop staring at Zach's expression, which alternated between thoughtful and sad as he stared up at the snow, random flakes landing on his skin and melting against his tongue as he poked it out to taste the ice.

Images from last night came to Ben unbidden. He

was still not entirely sure why he had hugged Zach. It had been as if he had had no choice. He was, however, certain that at this moment what he really wanted to do was kiss him.

Shaking his head free of the impulse, he pulled

himself together. A cop could not have any kind of feelings, sexual or just plain emotional, for a clearly underage charity case. He started the short walk back to the station, which in reality was little more than a large house, manned by alternating shifts of only five people, wondering what Zach would think of it. For his part, Zach was mostly 64

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quiet, commenting briefly on the snow, and on the gifts he had received but staying away from the whole
my family
isn't looking for me
thing.

The only person in the station house was Mitchell, three months away from retirement and the man who, in effect, Ben was replacing.

"Hey, newbie," Mitchell smiled, and then looked past Ben at the tall boy behind him. "Maureen made me bring mince pies over; they're in the kitchen." Ben's stomach rumbled. Mitchell's wife made awesome mince pies.

"Tell Maureen I love her," Ben replied, returning the smile. "This is Zach. He's a friend of the family, staying with us."
Best to get that out of the way.
Mitchell didn't question that. He simply picked up his thick jacket and waved goodbye as he went back to his warm home and his wife's cooking, which accounted for most of his generous stomach.

Ben showed Zach the desk he shared with Mitchell, the kitchen where they sneaked a mince pie each, and the two rooms at the back with bars and locks. Ben described it as the jail, pointing out that the last time it was used had been 1999 when a group of kids from the local high school spiked the prom punch and needed to just calm the hell 65

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down. Zach looked alternately amused and bemused and Ben realized Zach probably never had a prom or anything like it if he had missed the last four years of public schooling.

Which only left Ben checking for messages and

emails. Since there were none, it was time to leave. As they neared the front door, Ben stopped Zach with a touch to his arm. "I'm sorry your parents are idiots," he offered, not entirely sure how to word it, watching carefully as Zach shrugged. "Maybe they weren't as bad as you thought?"

Maybe they could redeem themselves when they realized what they lost?

Zach didn't know what to say. How could he

explain? How could he even word it to make Ben

understand that his father had literally changed the locks and disowned him, left him with just the money he had from his last birthday. How would Ben ever begin to comprehend the level of hatred in Zach's house? He stared blankly at the man. Maybe Ben was right; maybe he
was
over-exaggerating. Maybe, if he thought about it, there had been love, or affection, or anything apart from blind obedience, maybe, just maybe, they hadn't tried to beat his 66

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feelings out of him.

Sighing, his head suddenly very clear, he turned his back to Ben. He removed his jacket, lifted his sweater and t-shirt, and exposed half his back, knowing what was there.

He heard Ben's indrawn breath, the sudden intake of air that indicated shock, but he didn't drop the shirt, just let Ben look. He knew what Ben saw; he had seen it himself in mirrors — scars from the stick his father had used, crossing scars from the belt. Almost all healed, almost all—

Ben caught Zach's hand, pulling it so the clothes dropped back in place, and then using it to turn him around to face him. Zach wouldn't look him in the eyes, shame washing his skin red that Ben had seen the evidence of sin on his body. He startled suddenly when Ben simply placed a finger under his chin and encouraged him to look up. He couldn't do it, and he shut his eyes tight. He couldn't look at Ben, didn't want to see the disgust that he had let this happen, that he was marked for his evil.

"I could kill them for what they've done to you,"

Ben said softly.

Zach opened his eyes, confusion washing over him.

Ben surely wouldn't kill, but what he saw in Ben's face was scary, really, really, damn scary. Zach tried to pull back, abruptly very uncomfortable with the intense emotion on 67

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this cop's face. "You— you can't…" he said quickly, watching as Ben's face changed from intense to soft in the space of a single heartbeat.

"I know, but I want to hurt someone back."

Zach felt the wall behind him, and the radiator

touching his legs, the warmth nice against the chill of the air, and he wanted to cry. Someone was looking at him with such naked support. Someone believed him. The moment was frozen, Ben moving slowly closer, until only inches separated them, and Zach could see Ben's eyes were actually a mix of stormy gray and sapphire blue, intriguing, stunningly beautiful. He wanted Ben to kiss him,

desperately, as much as he needed his next breath.

Instead, Ben just pulled him in for another of his bear hugs, patting his back carefully and stepping away with a thoughtful look on his face.

"C'mon, let's go enjoy Christmas for a couple of hours."

Zach felt a mix of disappointment and fear, and it scared him how much he wanted to kiss Ben, and how much he didn't want to face the family for Christmas at all.

Sighing, he trailed after Ben, back to the

unrealistically happy household, with its sparkle and fire and its uncanny ability to make him wish for things he 68

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could never have.

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Zach noticeably didn't know where to start. He was faced with an array of bowls full to the brim with buttery carrots and fresh baby peas and platters with piles of turkey and bacon. Instead he sat back, waiting for others to enquire if he wanted the food, and then taking similar amounts to what they had until his plate had no plate showing and gravy was touching the edges. Ben was pleased to then see the teenager virtually inhale turkey. He was totally absorbed in his food, unaware that he was making appreciative noises each time he chewed a

mouthful. It made Ben thoughtful to watch this young man with the sparkling eyes, not talking, or joining in the teasing at the table, but focusing intently on the food and just listening to the chaos around them with a small smile on his face.

Zachary Isaiah Weston, seventeen, school records at thirteen showed him as a grade A student, his records cutting dead in the November just before his fourteenth birthday. His mom was a homemaker; his dad was ex-army. Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing in their records showed any kind of evil that would drive a father to beat his son for his sexual preferences. He had a sister, younger, 70

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in school still.

"To blue bananas." His mom's voice broke into his daydream, and he realized he had almost wandered his way through the entire dinner with his thoughts and worries. He raised his glass of non-alcoholic beer in toast, watching Zach lift his glass also. Maybe Zach needed to know what the toast was for, seeing as how he was looking totally clueless.

"Dad," Ben started, looking at his mom, wondering if even after four years it was still too difficult for her to hear. She nodded and lifted her glass gently to indicate he should carry on. "He passed on nearly four years ago, and he made this dessert once, and to this day we don't know how he managed it, but he turned the bananas blue, hence the toast."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Zach said immediately, his eyes going straight to Donna. "It must be hard."