Four Hours (Signed Paperback)

I’d been to downtown Boston countless times, so I thought I knew what a city smelled, looked, and sounded like.
But Manhattan?
Crowded and chaotic didn’t begin to describe what I gawked at out Dad’s SUV windows. The stench of the streets seeped through the vehicle’s seams, filling my nose with greasy food and acrid exhaust while I peered up at towering skyscrapers that stole the beauty of the sunset. Obnoxious car horns and gut-rumbling bass from other vehicles drowned Aerosmith’s “Dream On” from Dad’s speakers when we stopped at a red light.
And talk about fucking pretentious. Not just the people with their noses in the air, either.
The building Dad’s new wife lived in—hell, we were moving into—lay directly ahead of us and looked like it was made solely out of glass.
Fucking forty-two floors of glass!
A doorman assured Dad our boxes of shit would be delivered upstairs and that a valet would see to his old SUV. Not trusting strangers with the important stuff, I grabbed my duffel that held my laptop and Xbox.
Dad and I walked into the vast lobby, and I tipped my head back to take in the three-story space laid bare to the bustling world beyond. Everything was either see-through to the pandemonium outside or white furniture with chrome accents. Pops of red and orange littered the walls in funky artwork that didn’t make a lick of sense to me.
Everyone was in such a damn hurry too, not even taking time to make eye contact or say hello as their heels clacked or shoes squeaked while passing us commoners by. The men and women were dressed in expensive clothing and carrying purses or briefcases that probably cost more than Dad made in a month.
He clasped my shoulder once we stood in front of an elevator, waiting for the doors to slide open. “Okay, son?” he asked, assuring me he still cared even though he’d turned my world upside down.
Not wanting to dampen his upbeat mood, I nodded, fearing that me and my dad’s closeness was about to be completely obliterated by the fancy bitch with money who’d whisked him off to Vegas but had refused to take his last name.
Like a Hemmings was beneath her or something.
I followed him into the elevator, relieved to leave the ruckus behind. Glancing over at my father, I wondered if he felt the same sense of being misplaced as I did. A blue-collar worker, he dressed in jeans that had seen better days, a black button-down, and old slip-on shoes he called classy.
He pressed the button for the thirty-fifth floor. A smile I’d become familiar with the previous few days stretched his lips. His blue eyes, the same cornflower shade as mine, were filled with a happiness I hadn’t seen on his face since before his and Mom’s divorce years earlier.
I clutched my bag’s handle a little tighter as though trying to hold onto some sanity in my new reality. I’d enjoyed living in Boston’s suburbs with Dad, but he’d dug us up like a clod of dirt and flipped us wrong-side-up. “Who did you say this woman is?” I muttered.
“She’s the reason my heart is beating again,” Dad said without hesitation or a hint of questioning in his tone. “The love of my life,” he continued as though to himself.
My chest ached a bit at Dad’s statement. His and Mom’s divorce had been the first earthquake in my childhood when I’d been in sixth grade. At least splitting time fifty-fifty between them hadn’t been bad since Dad chose to get along with the woman who’d crushed him.
He hadn’t seen the divorce coming, he’d told me when I was older. There’d been no cheating, no lies, just Mom feeling as though they’d grown apart for whatever reason.
Sounded like bullshit to me, but what did I know about love? In my dreams, it meant a white picket fence, kids, and romantic dinners by candlelight until death do us part. Their divorce fixed in my head that happily ever afters were a fantasy and nothing more.
Mom had met Bob and his two young daughters, Lyla and Kayla, when I was in ninth grade, and when she’d agreed to move into their Rhode Island house, I’d stayed in Boston with Dad. I wasn’t about to leave my hometown, my high school, and my best friend, Sean.
But Dad went to New York on a business trip a couple of weeks ago, met Jacqueline Casswell, took off for Vegas in her private jet, and returned a married man. Then he informed me he would be relocating to Manhattan…yeah. Talk about balls. I was more than a little annoyed to say the least.
Since sixteen was too young of an age for me to stay in Dad’s rental on my own, I was given the choice of going with him or moving in with Mom and my two whiny soon-to-be stepsisters, who were wicked annoying.
With my sophomore year starting in a month and having no real choice, I decided I would experience New York until I could return to Mass for college where I would spend the rest of my life.
Parents or no parents nearby, Boston would always be home to me.
Dad glanced over at me. We stood eye to eye at six foot, both of us brawny with wide shoulders even though I’d just gotten my driver’s license. His grin slowly faded, and I realized I scowled.
“Coming to New York isn’t going to change anything between us, little buddy,” he stated quietly.
I scoffed. “I’m not little.”
Dad grabbed me in a big hug, squeezing the hell out of me. “Love you, Drake. More than anyone or anything, no matter what. Don’t you ever forget that.”
The elevator slowed, the ding announcing we’d arrived.
Tears stung my eyes at Dad’s declaration, and I gave him a few bro pats before we both stepped away.
Regardless of Dad’s assurance, fucking Cupid’s arrows could suck a dino dick and choke on it for all I cared. Didn’t the angelic shithead with wings realize I’d had it good back home?
I mean, I wanted to be happy for Dad finding love after Mom broke his heart, but come on. New fucking York?
Grumbling internally about the second disaster of my life, I followed Dad into a hallway spanning to the left and right. A single door lay at either end.
He strode toward the left, his footsteps quick and light while I lagged behind.
The door yanked open before he got there.
A petite redhead threw herself into Dad’s arms with a squeal. While stumbling together into the penthouse, they kissed as if they’d been separated for a year rather than the three days it had taken Dad and I to pack up our shit and leave Boston behind.
My steps slowed as I approached the open door.
Redheads had always been my kryptonite from the minute I figured out what a dick could be used for. Guess Dad and I had that in common too.
But the same as my best friend Sean, my cock didn’t get hard for females. While my buddy from back home was out and proud, I’d yet to share my sexual orientation with my dad.
Later, I told myself as I’d been doing for the past two years since he already had enough on his plate.
Foreheads together, Dad and the supposed love of his life whispered a few words I didn’t catch as I stepped over the threshold, shut the door behind me, and glanced around.
My jaw dropped again.
Fucking floor-to-ceiling windows lay straight ahead past a living room decked out in off-white furniture. A massive grand piano sat on the left, a silent Manhattan spreading beyond in a dizzying display of buildings reaching for the sky. The walls, windows, and insulation of the skyrise blocked all the noise of the city we’d left outside, while light jazz-like music filtered through the condo in surround sound.
Smooching noises drew my focus back to the couple clinging to each other beside me. Their size difference was laughable, but rather than snickering, I cleared my throat because one, I had to piss, and two, their PDA kinda made me nauseous…and a little jealous if I was being honest.
I was a sucker for affection, even though I didn’t have a boyfriend I could cling to like a koala.
“You must be Drake.” Jacqueline finally ripped her attention off Dad, coming into my personal space without hesitation to wrap her arms around my waist.
Expensive perfume and the scent of crisp one hundred dollar bills clung to her, or at least what I figured freshly printed money smelled like. I’d never held any in my rough palms that were scarred from all the sports I played.
Awkward as fuck, I glanced at Dad.
Talk about heart eyes. He stared at the small woman hugging me, and in that second, I recognized the fact Dad planned to spend every day he had on earth beside her, same as Mom with Bob.
They’d both found what they thought would be forever, but my parents had been in love once upon a time too, and look how that had ended up. While I didn’t hold onto hope either of them had found something that might last, I’d already set the one boundary in cement for myself. I wasn’t up for adoption to either Bob or this Jacqueline woman, who Dad swore walked on water.
I could admit her money would make shit a hell of a lot easier for as long as the two of them lasted though. Wouldn’t complain about that, but I already had two parents. I didn’t need a third or fourth.
Dad’s wife stepped away from me, clasping her hands together beneath her chin, her eyes like glittering green jewels as she peered up at me. “You’re a picture image of your father, Drake. So tall and manly.”
“Thanks,” I muttered, wondering over her emphasized last word.
Dad got plenty of attention when it came to the ladies. He only had a touch of gray in the dark hair at his temples, and he’d yet to have a wrinkle show up and announce he approached forty. Good genes meant I would hopefully look the same when I was older. But, I could do without the women.
“Uh, bathroom?” I tacked on, my bladder grumbling as much as my mind.
“Of course.” She gestured for us to follow her into the…house?
I had no fucking clue what to call it. Whatever title her place officially had, it would be home for the next three years at the very least.
After telling me I could leave my bag on the steps leading to the second floor, Jacqueline showed me to the half-bath in a back hallway. I took care of business and washed my hands before slipping out and heading toward the open concept main area where I’d left her and Dad.
There were windows everywhere.
Fucking hell, I’d never seen anything like it. Not a fan of heights, I wasn’t too keen on the view from practically every angle. I hoped whatever room I ended up calling my own was either an interior space or had blinds to block out the city far, far below that made me woozy.
I turned the corner into the living room and slammed into somebody. A grunt pulled from whoever it was, and I grabbed his slender arms to keep them steady. “Shit—sorry.”
Another tiny person with a mop of red, wavy hair stood inches away from me.
But unlike Jacqueline’s smooth, blemish-free skin that had probably cost a fortune to maintain, pimples littered the kid’s face. He peered up at me with emerald eyes framed by pale lashes before flitting his focus to my chest. Cowering in on himself, he hitched his narrow shoulders, sending a sudden pang through me.
I dropped my hold on his arms, fisting my hands as though he’d burned my skin.
The young teenager was cute as a button and would be a heartbreaker when he was older, that was for damned sure.
“H-Hi,” he croaked, his voice breaking like a pubescent kid as his face flushed the color of a cherry. He stepped back and continued to stare at my chest, which was eye level for his short height. Everything about him screamed bashful and insecure. “S-Sorry about that. I t-tend not to look where I’m g-going.”
His stuttering hit me in the gut and made me want to soothe him somehow.
“Preston?” I asked, figuring out who the kid was.
Dad had told me Jacqueline had a boy a year or so younger than me, and I’d been kind of excited to have a stepbrother to play sports with.
From his appearance, I didn’t think Preston would be joining me on any field. His long, slender fingers looked like they belonged on the ivory keys of that piano out in the living room rather than grasping a football or baseball.
“You must be Drake.” He held out his hand, acting all posh and shit with straightened shoulders, his words more articulated than before, even though his extended arm shook.
I swore if the floor opened and swallowed Preston whole, he would sigh in relief. At least he hadn’t sneered at my ripped jeans and old Aerosmith T-shirt when he wore a starched button-down and perfectly creased slacks.
“Hey.” I clasped his hand, wishing I could wrap my arms around him in a big hug instead and tell him we would be best buds and that everything would be okay like Dad had promised me.
Preston gasped at my touch and quickly stepped back, wiping his palm on his thigh.
My eyebrows dented inward.
“S-Sorry,” he rushed to say. “I-I’m not normally this n-nervous.”
So he wasn’t scrubbing the lower class of me off his palm. Good to know, because I didn’t want to spend the next three years with a rich snob for a stepbrother.
“No worries, kid.” I clasped his shoulder with a light touch.
He still shied away from me again, nodding.
I guessed I needed to keep my hands to myself.
“You—have an accent l-like your d-dad,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Boston,” I stated, the first hint of a smile on my face. Fuck, did I love that city.
“It’s…c-cool.”
I grinned even though he hadn’t taken his focus off my chest. “Thanks.”
“Mom wanted me t-to tell you that d-dinner is served,” he stuttered and spun.
I followed on his heels, noticing he wore fucking loafers or some shit while my right big toe threatened to push through the thinning material of my old Vans.
Preston had serious self-esteem issues if his stooped posture and lowered head were any indication. I wondered how he would handle high school in a couple of weeks. Unless he had a solid group of friends, I expected it would be a rough transition for him from middle school.
Hopefully, New York teenagers wouldn’t give me shit for the accent Preston liked. As long as no one started talking shit about my Pats or the Sox, we’d be okay.
Dad seated Jacqueline at the foot of their small dining room table before heading to the other end. Preston and I sat across from each other on the longer sides, the cushioned chair beneath my ass white and in serious danger of getting stains with how little manners I had when it came to eating.
A woman dressed in all black appeared out of nowhere with filled plates in hand before anyone had a chance to speak.
Outside the 99 Restaurant back home, I’d never had someone serve me. Who the hell had waitstaff in their houses for fuck’s sake?
Eyebrow raised, I eyed Dad on my left.
He smiled at his new wife, oblivious to everything but her.
I mean, the woman was easy on the eyes, no doubt about it. It was obvious where Preston got his cuteness from, but come on. Did Dad not notice the richness around him? How his wife ignored the men in black who silently moved through the condo with boxes of our shit? They sure as fuck weren’t invisible, but Jacqueline felt they were beneath her for all the attention she paid them.
If she knew I used to stock shelves at Market Basket alongside Sean on the weekends, she’d probably turn a blind eye to me too.
Our new lifestyle was about fifty rungs up from the ladder Dad had attempted to climb back home.
Neither of us fit it.
At. All.
How long before Jacqueline grew bored with Dad’s modesty and proved to me yet again that forever didn’t exist? Sure, he was a good-looking guy, but he didn’t come from old money like the Casswell family. He also lacked the refinement I figured she would expect when around her type of people. She would see that soon enough and send us packing—not that I would complain.
A plate suddenly appeared in front of me, and I checked out the funky white sauce artfully dripped over a seared chicken breast. Asparagus spears stacked alongside small, elongated potatoes, the likes I’d never seen before, their pale flesh sprinkled with some green shit.
Parsley, maybe?
My cell dinged with a text, but while I fished it from my back pocket, Jacqueline cleared her throat.
“No phones at the table,” she stated firmly with a fake-ass smile.
“Sorry,” I murmured, ignoring the text from Sean and powering the thing off.
“Next time, leave it in your room, Drake,” she ordered, her tone suggesting she wouldn’t listen to any argument on the topic.
I glanced at Dad. His unwavering smile directed at her annoyed me.
Jacqueline’s home meant her rules, I realized when Dad didn’t speak up. Either the woman had a magical pussy, or she’d lobbed his balls off.
Whatever.
As long as he was happy, I could put up with Jacqueline until I could escape New York. But when she eventually ripped his heart out like Mom had done, I wouldn’t keep quiet.
Mom’s choice to find another man and move to Rhode Island had been forgivable but only because we shared blood.
Jacqueline?
She meant nothing to me. Not even a purse for me to take advantage of. With her snobbish attitude, she could keep her fancy meals, penthouse, and jewels for all I cared.
Three years.
I repeated the two words in my head, turning my focus to my plate.
The meal looked like a work of art, but the steam rising toward my nose smelled fucking divine regardless of it silently screaming I shouldn’t mess up its beauty. I dug into my food like the starving teenager I was while the newlyweds chatted, Dad’s wife filling me in on the private school I would be attending with Preston.
Of course, Jacqueline had family connections that allowed her to sign me up for classes much later than normal at the elite school. I couldn’t begin to imagine how much of a sore thumb I would be regardless of the school’s uniforms. My stomach churned.
Jacqueline bragged that a big donation had the headmaster bending the rules before my less-than-stellar transcripts could even be an issue.
Dad had told me she came from money, but seriously.
The diamonds around her neck? In her lobes? On four of her ten fingers for a weeknight dinner at home?
And her driver would take us in a limo—a damned limo—to high school.
What the actual fuck?
I was in another dimension. At least I was the steady sort and didn’t get too flustered with change. Outwardly, anyway. Inside? I attempted to cling to a deflating floatie of normalcy in the ocean I’d been tossed into.
Preston sat across from me pushing his food around his plate with a fork rather than eating. I wondered if he felt the same. Our gazes caught, and his face flushed before he jerked his eyes back down as though afraid I would punch him for looking at me.
The poor kid. He seemed terrified of me. Or, maybe he was all uptight about the school Jacqueline continued to go on about.
Had Preston been bullied in eighth grade?
The thought roused heat in my chest. Made me want to curl up my fist and smash something. I’d always had my best friend Sean’s back, so I recognized the rising protective instinct for what it was.
“The first day will be here before you know it,” Jacqueline said with excitement in her voice, and I realized she spoke to me. “Less than two weeks!”
A flash of nerves lit inside me as I nodded, unable to smile. I expected Preston and I would both be half-sick while being carted to a new school. I might be calm by nature, but I wasn’t above first day jitters. Swallowing shit down and putting on a brave front would be my top priority if for no other reason than to help keep Preston from tossing his cookies.
“Will…Dad be here to see me off like he used to?” Preston asked, his voice as quiet as a mouse.
The air cracked like an impending lightning strike, same as that time Dad and I had gotten caught in a storm while fishing up in New Hampshire.
Tension hovered over the table stifling everything as though awaiting the thunder.
My new stepbrother stared at his plate, fork poised over a spear of asparagus, his cheeks pale compared to moments earlier, shoulders hitched up around his ears. That need to wrap the kid in my arms sparked to life inside me again. It was too bad he didn’t like me all up in his space because he could definitely use a good hug or ten.
I glanced at Jacqueline—the source of the disturbance in the atmosphere.
She glowered at Preston, her lips pressed into a tight line and cheeks mottled red. My forehead dented into a frown. Dad eyed her funny too, like he had no clue what the fuck was going on.
Married or not, you couldn’t know everything about a person’s past a few days after meeting them.
“Nancy is no longer allowed in this building,” Jacqueline snipped, the name spat out like a curse, “or the high school for that matter, so no, he will not.”
The fuck?
Dad and I caught each other’s gazes. He shrugged.
“That…man is an abomination,” Jacqueline continued, waving her hand as though her ex-husband was nothing but a pesky black fly. Her hard, annoyed tone hinted at the same. “You will not speak of him—her—or whatever it is Nancy believes himself to be these days.”
Tears welled in Preston’s eyes at Jacqueline’s harsh statement, and empathy and anger bolted through my chest.
One of Sean’s and my classmates had come out as trans the year before. I guessed Preston’s dad had done the same, and Jacqueline couldn’t handle Nancy’s truth.
If that were the case, Dad’s new wife, while rich and beautiful, reeked of transphobia, which made me assume she was probably homophobic as well. That whole manly word’s strangeness took on meaning.
My heart fell even though anger for Preston caused it to beat harder than the norm.
Guess I’ll be staying in the closet a little bit longer.
I wiped my mouth with the linen napkin and set it atop my plate. “Dinner was great, but I’m beat,” I lied, needing to get the hell out of there. “Hey, Preston, want to show me my room? Dad told me we’re across the hall from each other.”
Preston pushed back from the table immediately, scurrying away without a word like his ass was on fire.
Jacqueline’s face reddened further, and she opened her mouth, most likely to bark about us not asking to be excused or finishing our dinner. She seemed the sort to do both.
“Darling,” Dad cooed, distracting her before she spoke more hatred, “it’s been three days of agony not being by your side. I’ve missed you terribly.”
Wanting to gag, I followed after Preston, who headed toward open stairs along the far wall as Dad continued with his lovey dovey bullshit about sharing a bottle of wine on the balcony. At least he’d allowed Preston and I to escape without a fight.
I grabbed my bag off the first stair, and my chest lightened a little in knowing he did still have my back.
I caught up to Preston at the top of the stairs.
“B-Bathroom is straight ahead. This room is yours,” he whispered, his voice cracking, but I expected it was from the tears wanting to roll down his cheeks rather than late puberty.
Once more, I had to fist my free hand, but the second Preston entered my room on the right, I dropped my duffel, grabbed his arm, and pulled him against my chest.
His entire body stiffened, and I shushed him before he could argue, squeezing him tight. Whether he liked physical touch or not, the kid desperately needed some damned comfort.
“You can cry if you want to,” I murmured, my tone light and unthreatening. “I won’t judge. Promise.”
Preston released a heavy exhale, sagged against my chest, and broke into silent tears. I expected with a mom like Jacqueline, he’d learned how to keep his hurt on the quiet side. He clutched at my T-shirt, his leaking eyes soaking the thin, ratty cotton within seconds.
I kicked my bedroom door shut behind us, glancing around the vast area with its queen-sized bed—and the windows beyond.
Fuck.
Those blinds would be closed twenty-four seven from here on out.
I gave my attention to the thin kid clinging to me.
“If you wanna see Nancy at any time, you just tell me, okay?” I said. “I’ve got my license and will drive you in my dad’s SUV wherever the hell you want to go. Your mom doesn’t even have to know about it.”
He cried harder, and my throat thickened at the sobs spewing from my new stepbrother. How long had he been holding that agony in? Even though my parent’s divorce had hit me hard, I couldn’t imagine the bullshit Preston had faced with his dad transitioning into a woman when his mom was downright vile about the whole thing.
At least, I was pretty sure I had figured the situation out.
“Your dad.” I paused once he quieted a bit, not real sure how or what to call them. “Nancy…she’s trans?”
Preston hesitated, once more tensing, but jerked his head in a nod.
“Sweet. I can’t wait to meet her,” I stated firmly while holding his shivering body just a bit tighter. While a fraction of my size and easily half my weight, Preston fit in my arms perfectly.
I didn’t give a shit Preston’s bitter mom was Dad’s new wife or the reason his heart beat again.
I would be in my stepbrother’s corner no matter what. He was now mine to look after. Mine to protect—even from his mother if it came to it.

Content Warning: Loss of parent

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