I've Got You Read online

  I've Got You

  Copyright (c) September 2011 by Alex Berry

  Published by Sitting Bull Publishing

  Raeford, NC

  www.wix.com/SittingBullPub/sittingbull

  All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this e-book ONLY.

  No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed without prior written

  permission from Alex Berry or Sitting Bull Publishing.

  ISBN# 9781937334109

  This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author

  I've Got You

  By: Alex Berry

  I Feel You

  Coming to Terms

  At His Beck and Call

  "I've Got You" revisits the characters from I Feel You.

  Ron and Travis have been together two years. Ron wants a ring, but Travis feels he's given him something better. The news of Ron's grandmother's death has him traveling to New Hampshire where he is besieged by a host of relatives who all want something. By the time Travis arrives, family ties have heated up and Ron's glad for Travis's solid presence. After a run in with his cousin and dealing with his own self-doubts, Ron takes matters into his own hands. Travis is floored by Ron's gesture and gives him what he most desires.

  Chapter 1

  Ron Griffin walked briskly through the airport. "I don't know why he has to be so difficult," he murmured, thinking about his live-in lover, Travis. "He knew how much I wanted rings, but noooo, he decides to mark his body and thinks that should be enough. Asshole," he muttered as he barely missed an older couple who'd suddenly stopped in the middle of the corridor.

  As he waited for his luggage, his foot tapped in time with his growing anger at his stubborn lover. The man simply refused to understand how much it meant to him that they wear rings. "Two years," he muttered, staring at the silent carousel. Ron wanted to take their relationship to another level. In his mind, engagement or wedding rings were symbolic of a strong commitment. Travis disagreed. Not that Ron doubted the love of his partner; Trav had proven how much he loved him time and again. It was just he wanted the ring, the wedding, and maybe adopting kids. He groaned at the murky path his thoughts traveled. If getting his man to agree to wearing rings was this tough, kids would be way down the road. But he refused to give up, he'd chill for a while and then go at it again, from a different angle..

  Inhaling, he pushed thoughts of anger and disappointment from his mind. His granny had just died and he was executor of her estate. Toughen up and focus, you have two days before Trav arrives. Back up and regroup. For today, just deal with the final details for granny's funeral. A porter clipped his leg as he reached to pull his bag from the wheezing carousel. Ron glanced down as he accepted the man's apology. The creases in his dark dress pants were still precise. He wore a matching crisp cotton and linen blend dark dress shirt with two buttons undone at the neck. The darker colors were to camouflage those stubborn rolls around his pouch. His polished black wing-tips cushioned his steps as he made his way through the terminal. Anyone watching would see a slightly pudgy, well-dressed man. He'd obsessed over his weight for years. Despite his lover's assurance that those extra pounds didn't bother him, he still wished the rolls around his waist would disappear.

  Glancing at his gold watch, a gift from Travis, he hoped his mom was on time to pick him up. Especially since he'd called and reminded her before boarding his flight in Jacksonville.

  She'd blown him off with a snappy, "I know."

  After a quick trip down the escalator, he strode through thick glass doors and looked for his mother. A barking sound to his left drew his attention. Squinting, he suppressed a groan as he watched his cousin Darryl lean out the window of the silver Honda slowly pulling up in front of him.

  His heart dropped. Of all the people in his family, his mother just had to send his obnoxious cousin.

  "What's up fat-fat?" Darryl opened his door, starting right away making comments about Ron's weight, despite the fact he was smaller than he'd been in years. Darryl stepped out and looked down at Ron. Nodding, Ron pulled his suitcase behind him as he walked towards the rear of the car to stow it in the trunk.

  "Can't talk?" Darryl stood beside him, placed his hand on the top of the trunk, and held it up so it couldn't be closed.

  Turning, Ron looked up at him. Darryl stood about six feet and had a decent swimmer's build with a muscular chest and arms. His straight dark hair brushed against his shoulders in an unkempt look and large green eyes crinkled at the corners in silent laughter. In high school, his cousin been sought after by guys and girls. After college, Darryl had decided he preferred men. Through it all, he'd been a royal pain in Ron's ass, always making fun of his weight, his style of dress, and his lack of partners. They were not what anyone would call close.

  "What's up, D?" Ron's voice sounded as tired as he felt. His cousin always seemed to get a kick out of teasing him, but he was not in the mood for verbal sparring today.

  Darryl slammed the trunk down, walked to the passenger side, and slid in. Ron slid into the back seat and glanced at Blake, Darryl's partner. Blake was the light to Darryl's darkness. His short blond hair and blue eyes glanced in the rear view mirror as he nodded a greeting. Blake was a little shorter than Darryl and not as muscular. He wasn't as vocal as Darryl, but he never put his lover in check, either. In Ron's book, that made them both ignorant morons.

  "Hi, Blake." Ron fastened his seat belt as the car moved forward.

  "Hey, Ron. Good to see you. Trip okay?"

  "It was cool." Ron started to pull his hand through his hair, but remembered the amount of time he'd spent on it this morning, and cupped his chin in his hand, instead. Looking out the window, he glanced at his bare finger and grimaced. He couldn't help it, he wanted more. Blanking out those thoughts, he forced his mind to think about his granny's state of affairs. She'd left him in charge of her burial; he had the program, the contract with the funeral home, and signature rights on her accounts. No one could do anything until he arrived, so he'd taken a week's emergency leave and headed north to New Hampshire.

  His partner's work schedule wouldn't allow him to come early, and that had been hard for Ron to accept. They hadn't slept apart since they reconnected two years ago. He missed him already. Idly, he wondered what would've happened if Darryl had made the fat-fat comment in front of Travis. No need to wonder, he knew his lover would've at least put his arrogant cousin in check immediately, that is if he didn't deck him first. His lover was very protective of him and didn't tolerate anyone disrespecting him.

  Smiling, he pulled out his cell and punched in a number. Travis picked up on the first ring.

  "I just got in." Ron closed his eyes, blocking out everyone and everything but the sound of his man's voice. Their recent disagreement was forgotten, for the moment at least.

  "Everything go okay?" The deep bass, a soothing balm on his frazzled nerves, He wished he could bottle the sound and carry it with him wherever he went.

  "Yeah, I'm a little tired, but I'll get some rest after I get to the house and make a few calls."

  "Granny F
lo was a special woman. I know this is hard on you, Babe. Take it easy, don't overdo anything."

  Ron's words caught in his throat as he thought of his favorite relative. "I know. I know she was special. I'll take care of her."

  Travis growled. "I know you will. Promise me you'll take care of you until I get there and can do it."

  Ron chuckled. "I'll take care of myself, too." Clicking off, he wished he were alone so he could open up about his fears and concerns. Everything had happened so quickly. The frantic calls, the packing, the rushed flight. His granny had been sick a while, so on a subconscious level he had expected the call. B But no matter how prepared you think you are, the reality will still kick you in the nuts.

  Darryl broke the silence. "Aunt Deb got busy with the funeral home and asked me to pick you up. My car's in the shop, so Blake brought me." The two men glanced at each other and smiled.

  "Thanks. I appreciate it."

  "Aunt Deb said you'd give me something for gas."

  Ron rubbed his forehead at the comment he knew was a lie. "Did she?" Knowing his mother, she probably gave him money before he left. Under hooded lids, he watched Darryl grin at Blake. The man was such an asshole. For some reason his cousin, who was a year younger than him, got a kick out of trying to run games on him.

  "Yeah." He held his hand out toward Ron.

  "I'll take care of it when we get to the house." He turned and looked out the window. Traffic was moving slow.

  "No, man. We don't have enough gas to make it back to the house. Your mom said you'd hook us up." Darryl's tone had taken on an angry edge; like most bullies, he hated waiting to get his way.

  Ron closed his eyes and wished for the hundredth time he could've waited and flew in with Travis. They would've had their own car, their own room, and best of all, be free of family.

  "Okay, pull into the next station and put in twenty dollars." Darryl winked at a pink-faced Blake when the next gas station came into view. After they pulled up to the pump, Ron got out and paid. His phone rang as he walked back to the car where Blake pumped the gas. It was his mother.

  "Mom, we're on our way to the house, just made a quick stop for gas."

  "Yeah, he said he needed gas, so I gave him fifty dollars if he would pick you up for me." Ron wasn't surprised. Blake turned away as he walked to the car. "I know, Mom." At least Blake had a conscience, too bad Darryl was a douche.

  Within the hour, they arrived at his granny's house. The older two-story brick home beckoned his tired bones to rest and replenish. He needed to make quick inroads into the mounds of her paperwork and property before returning home in five days. Darryl had Blake drive off the moment Ron pulled his luggage out the trunk. Glad to be rid of the conceited jerk, he walked up the driveway, and being the only relative with keys to all of the locks, opened the door.

  Granny's house was a trip into another era. Lace doilies, crocheted blankets, and antique heavy wood furniture filled the small rooms. The old woman had been a hoarder. She'd acted as though everything she'd collected over the past fifty years was necessary to her happiness and had refused to throw anything away. Now the house and all its contents were his. A part of him wanted to fill a U-Haul and take it straight to the dump. But she'd asked him to give certain pieces of furniture and jewelry to specific individuals. Afterwards, he still might make that trip to the dump.

  Glancing at some of the black and white pictures on the wall, he stopped and stared at one of him, Travis, and his grandmother. She looked small and fragile standing next to Travis, but then again, most people did. Idly, he ran his fingertips over his lover's tall muscular frame. Skin the color of walnut shells glistened in the sunlight, his long hair was coiled in dreadlocks and pulled back to display an angular face that held a rare smile. If Travis didn't know or like you, he treated you as if you were invisible. Unseen and unworthy of his attention. It'd taken Ron some time to get him to temper his attitude, especially when he accompanied him to company events. Picking up the picture, he took it with him to his bedroom where he set up his laptop; there was a lot he needed to get done in a short amount of time.

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  Ron's Aunt Betsy made an appearance that night, along with his mother and their brother, Uncle Randy. "I want her to wear her blue dress. She looked real pretty in that one." The sisters tried to decide what to take to the funeral home while his uncle sniffed around Ron's work area.

  "Mama leave everything to you?" His uncle stood over his shoulder staring at granny's letter giving him her instructions.

  "I don't know." He brushed the man off. In the past five years, his uncle hadn't visited his mother once. During the past four years, Granny had stopped asking him and his kids to come visit.

  "If they want to see me, then they're welcome."

  He knew it had hurt that her children, his mother included, had abandoned her. Everyone was so caught up in their own lives, they had forgotten the woman that gave them birth.

  "She gave you the house." Since it was a statement of fact, Ron didn't feel the need to do more than nod.

  "What else she leave you?"

  "I don't know," he lied. He had a copy of her will, but didn't feel his uncle deserved to know anything. "You'll have to wait for the attorney like everyone else."

  "Hmm. Just don't seem right her giving you all this and not leaving anything for her other grandchildren." He waited a beat, and when Ron didn't respond, he walked off toward the kitchen.

  "If her kids or other grandchildren had called once in a while, maybe she'd have remembered their names," Ron murmured once his uncle was out of earshot.

  The funeral director was en route to discuss the funeral. His mother and aunt had wasted their time earlier at the funeral home, since they had no authority to do anything. Granny had picked out and paid for her casket as well as the funeral service. Ron had the program and was responsible for making sure it went exactly as Granny Flo wanted. His mom and aunt were shocked at their mother's efficiency.

  "He's here," his mother yelled. The sound of fast clicking heels on the hardwood floors indicated someone had arrived at his grandmother's, correction, his house, and his relatives were racing to the door. After shutting down the computer, he walked to the cluttered living room. The two women sat perched on the herringbone print sofa while his uncle talked to the director, Mr. Brinks. Obviously, the director had been waiting for him because as soon as he cleared the corner, the smallish man moved quickly to his side.

  "Ron, how good to see you again. The circumstances are not the best, but Ms. Flo always planned ahead."

  Smiling warmly, Ron shook the older man's calloused hand. "Yeah, she did. For a ninety-eight-year-old woman, she had a sharp mind. Saw things as they were and had no problem speaking her mind." Both men chuckled; each had been the recipient of Granny's sharp tongue.

  "Mr. Brinks, I have a few ideas about mama's program that I wanted to run past you." The man's face turned pink as he looked from Aunt Betsy to Ron. Another test of wills. Ron offered the man a small smile to let him know it'd be handled.

  "Aunt Betsy, you know Granny already made out her program and doesn't want any changes." They'd had this discussion before.

  "I know what you said," she snapped, her eyes shooting bullets. "But we can change things if we want to, I'm her child. I have rights."

  "Ms. Greer left instructions that have to be executed. The only person I can discuss her burial with is Ron, she made that very clear on a number of occasions. He is in control of her estate and has been for quite some time." Mr. Brinks looked between the siblings before offering Ron a sad smile.

  Grinning, Ron handed Mr. Brinks a copy of his Granny's program. The man smiled, obviously recognizing her handwriting.

  "Okay, have you contacted the people on the program?" He looked at Ron.

  "Actually, they called and reminded me who they were and what they were supposed to do." He smiled as he walked Mr. Brinks to the door, ignoring the glares thrown his way from his aunt and uncle.
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  The two men shook hands. Ron paused at the door before turning to face his angry relatives.

  His uncle decided to go first. "You little pisser. How dare you cut us out of everything. She was my mother! I have a right to say something about her funeral." The older man stood, fists balled and chest heaving.

  His Aunt Betsy decided to join the choir. "That's right. It's not fair you get everything. Mama wasn't in her right mind these last few years. She--"

  "How would you know?" Ron's quiet voice sliced through the room. His mother glanced at him before looking at her sister.

  "Whaa?" Aunt Betsy frowned, staring at him.

  "How would you know she wasn't in her right mind? You were too busy to come see her, or call, for that matter. Uncle Randy, when was the last time you talked to your mama?" He snickered at the man's red face. "Granny would tell both of you to go to hell. She'd be appalled that you'd think you had any say so over her funeral now that she's dead. When she was alive you didn't give a damn about her, now you want people to think you're her loving children." He shook his head at their shocked faces. "Trust me, everyone that knew her, knows exactly how much you cared." He returned to his room and closed the door. Raised voices went back and forth until he heard the front door open and close, leaving him with blessed silence.