Love Means_. Freedom - Andrew Grey

besides arrange for the funeral. All the pigs had been sold, which was a huge relief. "I hate those fucking pigs," Stone mumbled as he opened the door. "I told him he had to load them." A truck and large trailer pulled up behind them. "Mr. Halloran, they're all yours."
    The older man approached Stone and shook his hand. "I can't believe you're selling me the prize pigs."
"You'll take good care of them, and I hope you win as many ribbons with them as he did."
Stone actually managed a smile.
"Let's get them loaded, boys," Halloran called, and the men backed the trailer to the hog barn and got to work.
"That's one thing down." Stone marched up to the front of the house, opening the door and going inside.
    Looking around, not much had changed, except the house stank. "Jesus. It needs a good cleaning," Eli said behind him. "Let's get to it. I'll start in the kitchen. Is there anything you want?"
    "No, when in doubt, pitch it. There isn't much I want, and I'll get that stuff loaded. The rest can either be sold or pitched. The lawyer said he'd sell anything that we left. If there's anything you want, take it." Stone kept his eyes from focusing on anything until he felt Preston's hand on his arm. "I never wanted you to see this place."
    "Why? It's just a house."

    "No, it's not. It's a hovel and it's terrible." Stone picked up a lamp and chucked it against the wall, glass shattering everywhere. "It's where he beat me and made me feel worthless." Stone turned around as Preston hugged him.

    "You were never worthless." Preston lifted his chin. "To me you're everything." Stone felt warm and wanted as they stood there amid the remnants of a life he no longer wanted or had any use for. "Now let's get done so we can get the hell out of here."

    "Yeah." Stone pulled away. "Can you throw away all the crap in here? I'm going to tear apart his bedroom."
    "You got it." Preston grabbed a trash bag and began filling it as Stone walked down the hall to the last bedroom and pushed open the door. This room had been his mother's. His father had still used it, but it appeared to be the only room in the house that wasn't a shambles. Opening his box of trash bags, Stone opened the top dresser drawer and began emptying the contents.
    Underwear, socks, and T-shirts all went into the trash. Slamming the drawer closed, Stone yanked open the next and began throwing old, tattered shirts one at a time, shaking each out before transferring it to the black trash bag. The final drawer was jammed with work pants. Knowing how lazy his dad could be about such things, he made sure to check the pockets before stuffing them in the bag as well. At the back of the drawer, Stone found a wooden box. Gingerly lifting it out, he ran his hand over the smooth, polished wood. He knew what this was and tried keep himself from shaking with excitement.
    "Stone, I've got the trash and junk out of the living room." He looked up at Preston leaning against the door frame for support. "Where's your walker?" He leapt up and helped his lover to the bed.
"I didn't think I'd need it and I didn't." He seemed pleased. "Forgot about getting back, though."
Stone couldn't help smiling as he squeezed his lover, liking that he was nearby. "If I empty the closet, can you stuff the crap in garbage bags?" "Sure, but shouldn't we donate this to someone?" Preston replied as Stone began slipping shirts off hangers.
"God, no! Everything smells like pigs." Stone curled his nose, "Who'd want it?"
    Preston sniffed. "Good point. Guess it proves you can get used to anything." Stone saw his lover wink at him before stuffing clothes into trash bags. Shirts, pants, shoes, old, forgotten, discarded things that Stone wouldn't touch with his bare hands, and a stash of half-empty liquor bottles went straight in the plastic bag.
    "What's that box under the shelf?" Preston asked, pointing to the back corner.

    Stone gingerly reached for it and pulled open the lid. "Jesus Christ!" He showed the contents to Preston. "There has to be thousands in here." Hundreds, fifties, and a few twenties filled the box.
    "Put it aside for now."
"Should I give it to the lawyer?"
"Hell, no. Think of it as payment for years of free labor and abuse. Besides, it's yours anyway."
"I know, I just don't want...." He slipped the lid on the box and set it alongside the wooden box from the drawer.
"What's that?"
    "It was my mom's." He ran a hand over the wood again and slowly lifted the lid. Looking inside, he gazed at a few pictures