Love Means_. Freedom - Andrew Grey

ring. He called and waved back.

    "I can't believe how far she's come." Stone turned and saw Sherry's mother, Alicia, standing next to him. "A few weeks ago she'd say nothing at all, now I can't keep her quiet." The smile on her face told Stone she was delighted.

    "Has she talked about her dad?"

    "Not much." Her smile faded a little. "But she will when she's ready." Her smile returned, brighter than before. "She did tell me last night that when she grows up, she's going to be pretty and she's going to marry Stoney."

    "So I have a rival for your affections." Stone turned and saw Preston wheeling himself around the ring to where they stood. He was smiling, but to Stone it seemed forced and not exactly genuine.
    "What are you doing here? I wasn't expecting you until your therapy session tomorrow."
Stone excused himself and smiled as he walked toward Preston. "Is something wrong?"
Preston dropped the smile. "Are you almost done here?"
"Yeah." Now he was becoming very concerned, and he followed Preston back out of the ring and into the barn.
"We need to talk."
    Stone could feel dread settle in the pit of his stomach. Was Preston regretting what they'd done last night? He looked carefully at his face, hoping for some sort of clue as to what happened, but he couldn't read anything. He felt certain that Preston was going to tell him he didn't want to see him anymore. "It's okay, Preston, you don't have to say anything. I understand." He began walking toward the barn door. He should have known that Preston was just being nice to him and that last night was just some sort of demented pity fuck. "You've done your good deed for the year, so you can go." How could he have been so stupid? He berated himself as he walked blindly across the yard into the house, almost collapsing as he reached the kitchen.
    "What happened?" Adelle inquired, as she looked him over before pulling him to her. "What did that boy do?" He could hear the scowl in her voice as someone banged on the back door. She let him go with a pat on the shoulder, and he heard her talking at the back door. A few minutes later, she followed Preston into the room, glaring down at him. "Do you want me to stay?" She actually picked up the rolling pin she'd been using. "No, he can say what he has to say and then go." Stone restrained himself from wiping his eyes. Adelle looked Preston over before leaving the room, glaring back at him one last time.
    "Do you want to tell me what that was about?"
"You said you wanted to talk. So I figured I'd save you the trouble of breaking up with me."
Stone closed his arms over his chest, like he was trying to shield his heart from Preston.
"I wasn't breaking up with you."
Stone stopped moving, and he felt himself color again. "Then what was all that about in the barn?"
"Maybe I better start at the beginning." Preston pulled a chair out from the table for Stone.
    PRESTON saw his father standing in the hallway blocking his path. "We need to talk." He knew this wasn't good. His father's jaw was set and his eyes blazed with what looked like angry hurt.
    "Let me get my coat off and I'll come to your office." His father nodded, and with one final glance walked toward his domain at the rear of the house. Preston shrugged off his coat and threw it on the bed, setting his small bag on the floor. "May as well get this over with." Leaving his room, he glided through the main floor, arriving at his father's office. "You rang."
    "Don't be flip," Milford chastised. "I have serious things to discuss."
"Okay--considering you haven't talked with me in years. At me, yes, but not with me."
Preston rolled into the room. "So why don't you tell me what you want?"
"You've been home with us for about nine months, and I understand that you're making progress in therapy and should be walking soon." "Jesus, Dad. If you get any more clinical sounding, you could be one of my doctors."
Preston knew open antagonism wasn't going do any good. "I'm your son, not one of your business projects or company divisions." "I don't treat you that way." His denial was automatic and fast.
    "Yes, you do. Whenever you talk to me, you treat me like an underperforming asset that you have to develop a plan to fix or liquidate. But I'm not an asset. I'm your son!" Preston glared at his father, trying not to let his soul-deep hurt show, and he saw his father's face soften a little. "I wanted to talk to you about your future."

    "What about it? As soon as I'm out of this chair, I'll get a