Cut and Run 6 - Stars and Stripes

her.
    She stepped back, taking his chin in her hand and turning his head to the side. “Is that hand broke?” she asked after she’d assured herself his face was okay.
    “I’m not sure.”
    “Well, serves you both right.” She took a bag of frozen broccoli from Ty and turned to leave. “Mule-headed, the both of you.”
    Zane sighed and lifted the bag off Ty’s hand to examine his knuckles. “Doesn’t look too good,” he said, lowering the bag back into place over the injury. He touched Ty’s cheek, checking it for signs of redness, and tried to look at his eyes to make sure the fear was subsiding.
    Ty was still shaken, but considering how terribly it could have gone, that wasn’t surprising. His parents were angrier about the fact that Ty had never told them why he’d chosen to leave home right after high school, rather than the fact that he was gay. That was a promising step. A big one.
    “I think I’m going to throw up,” Ty groaned, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. Then he met Zane’s eyes and appeared to calm. After another moment, he seemed almost back to normal. “They’re right, you know. I should have done that fifteen years ago.” He took Zane’s hand in his. “Thank you for . . . letting it play out.”
    “Thank Deuce.” Zane glanced over his shoulder. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea I go back in there with Earl right now. I don’t think you hit him hard enough.”
    Ty turned his face into Zane’s and nodded. “Come on. We have to, sooner or later.” He didn’t let go of Zane’s hand as he pulled him toward the living room. Zane let the mild surprise buoy him.
    Chester was still rocking merrily, either pleased with himself for the commotion or oblivious to the fact that he’d caused it. Deuce was sitting on the sofa with his head in his hands. Earl was still on the floor as Mara perched on the loveseat and pressed the frozen broccoli to the side of his face.
    “That is one hell of a hook, son,” Earl said to Ty as soon as they appeared.
    “Thank you, sir.” Ty held up their linked hands as everyone in the room watched them. “Is this a problem for anyone?”
    Deuce smiled, a hint of pride in his expression as he looked over at them. Mara shook her head, though her eyes seemed to be misting over. She was upset and probably would be for a while, but Zane was confident that it had nothing to do with their relationship and everything to do with the secrets Ty had been keeping and the years they’d lost because of it.
    Earl took the broccoli from her and struggled to his feet, wavering. He waited a moment, and then walked over to them. He looked from Ty to Zane and shook his head. “Don’t matter who you love, son,” he said. “As long as you do it well.” Then he held his hand out to Zane.
    Zane looked at it, wondering if he could just not take it. But when Ty’s hand loosened in his and let go, he reached out and shook Earl’s, meeting the older man’s eyes, letting his expression say what he couldn’t. Earl nodded in acknowledgment of the uneasy peace. Then he moved away again, pressing the peas to his face and mumbling more about Ty’s impressive right hook.
    In the rocking chair, Chester began to hum. It wasn’t a song yet, merely a cadence with a certain familiar ring to it. It was one of the songs Ty whistled and sometimes made up his own words to: “When Johnny Comes Marching Home.”
    Chester began to laugh, rocking by the fireside with his shovel in his lap.
    Ty bit his lip and glanced at Zane, trying not to smile. Zane rolled his eyes. “Galloping crazies.”
    Ty squeezed his hand. “Well, you said you liked horses.”

    Ty sat on the edge of his old bed, looking down at the cast on his hand in the soft light of the bedside lamp. In all the times he’d thrown a punch in his life, he’d rarely broken one of his own bones in the process. It was a metacarpal this time, one of the bones within his hand. And it hurt like a bitch. His entire wrist had to be immobilized, hence the bright green cast on his arm.
    It was a common fistfight injury, but Ty still couldn’t believe his dad’s jaw had broken his hand.
    “Figures the old man would break my hand,” he grumbled.
    Zane was behind him, leaning against the headboard. “I’m going to start calling you Tytanium.”
    “That’s clever.”
    “I know.”
    “Does it hurt that bad to hit me?” Ty asked.
    “Yes.”
    “Good,” Ty said, mollified as he looked back down at the cast and