by Leta Blake
Grant smirked at the thought. At least those ridiculous romantic movies that his roommate in medical school used to watch might be good for something.
• • •
As it turned out he did have to drive to the farm. The rain was coming down in buckets, and he could barely see through his windshield, but Leo wasn’t answering his phone, and Grant was starting to get worried.
Pulling up to the side of the house, Grant saw Leo sitting by the kitchen door in a wooden lawn chair, an umbrella in one hand, and a dark bottle in the other. As Grant got out, the rain washed over him in a sheet, instantly soaking him through. His shoes sank into mud and splashed through puddles as he crossed the driveway and stared down into Leo’s dull eyes glaring up at him.
“What the hell are you doing?” Grant said, grabbing the bottle from Leo’s hand.
“Having a drink. Getting fresh air,” Leo said, belligerent annoyance in every word. “Oh, calm down, Grant. It’s just ginger brew, non-alcoholic, get a grip.”
Grant grabbed Leo by the arm and hauled him up. “No, you get a grip. It’s barely forty degrees out here, your immune system is compromised, your body is weak, and you’re drinking something that, while it isn’t alcohol, still isn’t any good for you. Leo, this pity party needs to be over right now.”
Leo jerked his arm out of Grant’s grasp. “Oh? And you get to tell me what to do?”
Grant shook his head. “No. I get to tell you that you’re being an ass and that it’s not a very attractive trait.”
Leo sniffled and stared up at him with red-rimmed eyes. “Oh, well, of course, because what really matters right now is how attractive I am to you. I should’ve known—”
Grant sighed, grabbed Leo by the arm again, and guided him more or less toward the door into the house. They were both freezing and wet, and Leo had dropped his umbrella, so now they were both soaked to the skin. Leo scuffled with him, though, refusing to enter.
“If you want to have a fight with me, let’s at least do it inside where it’s dry,” Grant barked.
“No,” Leo shook his head. “Lucky’s in there. Don’t want to scare her.”
Grant scoffed. “Oh, of course not. Like it won’t scare her when you’re hospitalized with an infection your body would have otherwise been able to fight off if you hadn’t submitted yourself to this ridiculous behavior tonight.”
Leo stared at him and then turned to open the kitchen door, stalking inside, leaving wet, dark muddy prints everywhere. Grant had empathy for the floor.
“Lucky!” Leo called out. “Dad!”
They both entered from the living room, Lucky already in her nightgown, and Chuck looking pretty tired and ready for bed himself, with a thick five o’clock shadow and sleepy eyes.
“Leo, Grant,” Chuck greeted, and then he did a double-take. “You two look like drowned rats. Did you forget your umbrellas? I’ll get you some towels. Just a minute.”
“You know, don’t bother, Dad,” Leo said, and Grant could see Chuck’s face register that there was something wrong. “Come on, Lucky,” Leo said. “It’s time for bed.”
Lucky’s face scrunched with confusion and she started to complain. “But Dr. Grant just got here, and I wanted to—”
“It’s bedtime,” Leo snapped, rounding to the stairs. “Come on.”
Lucky looked at Leo, then at Grant, and she bit her lower lip. She glanced to Chuck who nodded his head at her, as though telling her to go on, and she ran past her dad and up the stairs fast without looking back. Leo followed her, stomping as he went.
“Rough night?” Chuck asked, resting his arm against the back of a kitchen chair.
“You could say that,” Grant replied, still staring at where Leo and Lucky had disappeared, wondering where to go from here. Wondering if this called for that Say Anything move he’d been considering. But he was too angry and frustrated to even fully imagine it now. He pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. “Ah, well, I guess I should be going. Tell Leo…hell, just tell him I left.”
“Oh, come on, you’re going to leave him just like that? I expected more from you.” Chuck’s gravelly voice was somehow tender in its scolding.
Grant took in Chuck’s rough hands and kind smile, his old blue jeans, and plaid shirt. He was a good old country man, and he’d done his best by Leo when he came out and continued to do so even now. That much Grant knew. So, Chuck deserved a reply, even if he was coming across a little interfering now. “I’m not leaving him; I’m leaving his house. There’s a difference.”
Chuck sighed. “Look, I’m not going to try to tell you what to do. But I know my son. I’ve watched him grow from a baby to a man, and I know him very well.”
Grant bit back the urge to demand that Chuck spare him the trip down memory lane to Leo’s diaper days. Chuck wasn’t to blame for the way the evening had gone down in flames, so taking his bad temper out on him would be fruitless and unkind. Besides, he wanted Chuck to like him, if only to make Leo happy.
“This is about Hannah,” Chuck said.
Grant stuffed his hands into his wet pockets and nodded.
Chuck turned to a pantry on the left, opened it up, and pulled out a beach towel. “We keep these down here to use down at the pond in the summer,” Chuck said. “Here’s hoping it’s not mildewed.” He tossed it to Grant. “Dry off. Sit down and we’ll talk.”
“I don’t know. This is between me and Leo.”
“Not if it’s about Hannah it’s not. It’s between Leo and his demons. I’m just offering you some insight. Take it or leave it.”
Grant glanced toward the stairs. He wasn’t sure how Leo would feel about him talking with Chuck about this, but he sat down at the table anyway. Chuck pulled out the chair across from Grant and sat down, too.
“So, Grant, I’ve had my eye on you.”
“Great, is this when you threaten me and show me your shotgun?”
Chuck smiled, but not necessarily with reassurance. “Not quite. This is when I tell you that in all the years I’ve been Leo’s father I’ve never seen him as happy as he’s been lately. His illness, the stress he’s still facing with the separation from Curtis, none of that is coming close to breaking his stride. And I believe that’s because of you. I can’t say that I understand why—frankly, I find you a bit off-putting—but Leo is happy with you, and that’s all I give a damn about.”
“Then we have the same goal.”
“I believe we do.”
“So, Hannah,” Grant prompted.
That was, after all, why he’d stayed. He needed a little more information about Leo and his relationship with Hannah to fully understand what would bring Leo to this kind of breakdown. The temper fit in the restaurant was one thing but sitting outside in the rain drinking an indulgent brew that would leave him sicker than he needed to be before his next dialysis was something else entirely.
Chuck took in a deep breath and sighed. He started to fiddle with a napkin ring that had been left lonely on the table, and he said, “Hannah and Leo always had a special bond. I remember when Hannah first came home as a baby, Leo stayed the whole first night in the nursery, lying on the floor by her crib, because even then he insisted that she needed him to take care of her. Meryl had to step over him to get to Hannah in the middle of the night to nurse her.”
That sounded like a little boy Leo. Grant could imagine it clearly.
“Meryl and I—we’ve had our money troubles in the past, and Hannah, especially, always took it really hard. Leo—well, Leo did too at times, but he would buck up and try to be a man for his sister. We never had a problem with Leo.” Chuck chuckled in a kind of still-shocked disbelief. “But then Hannah hit her teenage years and, boy, did she more than make up for Leo being an easy child.”
“Boy trouble?” Grant asked.
Chuck shook his head and raised his brow. “I can see how you might think so, but not exactly. That’s when the drinking started. I assume you know about that.”
Grant nodded cu
rtly. He knew Leo’s sister had a substance abuse problem. Those usually began with drinking.
“Drinking and lying, and then there were the events that led up to her going out to California. The drama after that…well, there was a lot of it. Drugs and drama. Then she got pregnant. Meryl and I …we didn’t take it so well, to be honest.” Chuck shook his head. “Leo is the one who held her together, or tried to, but he felt so ashamed that he hadn’t protected her better from her own self.”
Chuck stood up got a glass of water for himself and poured one for Grant, too.
“Thanks,” Grant said, taking a sip, washing the remnants of wine and anxiety out of his mouth. Grant rubbed the beach towel over his head as Chuck continued to talk.
“Always, though, in the background was Leo propping Hannah up, helping her through everything. I remember when they were just little things finding Hannah curled up at the foot of Leo’s bed sometimes, even after he was much too old to have his sister in his room. Leo would tell me just to leave her, that she was scared from the storm or a bad dream. And I would. Leo was her rock. And he wanted to be that for her always. When things changed, when she changed, and Hannah went her own way, Leo didn’t understand.”
Grant cleared his throat. He took a sip of the water. He had little to contribute to this conversation, so he focused on just listening.
Chuck went on, “When Lucky was born, I wasn’t surprised that Leo offered to take her. I suppose we should have stepped up, insisted that we raise her, but Leo and Curtis said they wanted a family of their own, and it seemed perfect for them.” Chuck rubbed a finger over one tired eye and said, “Leo’s a good father.”
“He is,” Grant agreed.
“Better than I am,” Chuck said.
Grant said nothing, not sure if he had enough information to offer any real reassurance that Chuck wasn’t to blame in any of this.
Chuck went on, “So, this thing with Hannah—running off to California and then New York, complicated by the drugs, and the abusive boyfriend. Leo’s not handling it well. I think he sees it as the ultimate proof of his failure to protect her. Even taking Lucky as his own, even that was partially about protecting Hannah. He was still taking care of that baby whose crib he slept by. Do you understand what I’m saying, Grant? He loves Hannah fiercely, and this has broken his heart. Again.”
“Does he always push people away when his heart is broken?” Grant asked.
Chuck nodded and gave a half-hearted chuckle. “Don’t we all? Go on upstairs. Lucky should be asleep by now. He’s probably waiting for you.”
Grant shook Chuck’s hand. “Thanks for the talking to.”
“Go on. He won’t send you home.” Chuck shooed Grant on. “I’m gonna head on back to town.”
The floorboards of the stairs creaked under Grant’s feet as they always did. He went to Lucky’s door first, opened it and looked inside. She was sprawled asleep on the bed, her long hair wrapped like a blindfold over her eyes, and her left leg kicked out from under the blankets.
Grant went to Leo’s door next and knocked. He waited a moment and when there was no answer, he opened it slowly.
Leo lay on the bed staring at the ceiling. He’d changed from his wet clothes to a pair of sweats and a T-shirt that was so old it was nearly see-through. He looked comfortable and warm, and Grant’s damp clothes felt clammy and cold against his skin.
“I thought you were going home,” Leo said quietly.
“I thought I’d stay.”
Leo sighed and rubbed his hands over his eyes. “I’m not always a nice person.”
“No? Well, neither am I.”
Leo breathed out a small laugh and scooted over on the bed, patting the place beside him. The storm outside grew louder, the wind and rain beating against Leo’s window, and a sudden downpour rushed against the roof.
Grant sat down on the edge of the bed, running the backs of his fingers down Leo’s arm, feeling the smooth skin and soft hair. He toed off his shoes and then he lay down next to Leo, his hand wrapped loosely around Leo’s forearm.
“I’m sorry,” Leo said.
“For what? Loving your sister? I can’t blame you for that.”
“For acting like an ass at the restaurant.”
“You were very dramatic. I’ll give you that much. A+ for making the whole town talk about us.”
Leo chuckled. He rolled onto his side and Grant could feel him studying his profile. Grant kept his eyes on the ceiling, counting the faded-out green stars that someone, maybe Leo, maybe not, had put on the ceiling once upon a time.
“And I’m sorry for sitting out in the rain,” Leo said.
“Well, that was stupid,” Grant agreed.
“And for treating you like crap just because I was upset about Hannah.”
Grant rolled onto his side, too, touching Leo’s face, running his fingers along Leo’s cheekbone. “Don’t make a habit of it.”
Leo’s eyes were dark and yet clear, too, and Grant leaned forward to press a kiss to each lid. Leo wrapped his arms around Grant and held him close, burying his nose in Grant’s neck and breathing in slowly.
“You’re soaked,” Leo murmured, as though he’d just realized how wet Grant still was. “Get these clothes off. You must be freezing.”
Grant couldn’t deny that he was. He was very cold, and damp, and really ready to feel warm again. Leo pushed at Grant’s jacket, peeling it off his arms. He’d started on Grant’s shirt buttons when Grant stilled his fingers. “Leo, I’m sorry, too.”
“Why? I was the one who overreacted.”
Grant said, “It’s hard for me to understand what it means—being Hannah’s older brother, having her as your sister. I’m an only child with a pretty weird family history, and I didn’t get it.”
Leo shrugged. “You got it eventually. That’s all that matters, right?”
“I haven’t entirely changed my mind about her,” Grant warned. He still thought that every word he’d uttered about her was true. Now, though, he just had more information about why it was true and how that hurt Leo.
“That’s okay. You’re probably right.” Leo went back to Grant’s buttons. “Let’s not talk about Hannah anymore. I want to get you dry and warm. Before you get sick.”
It became obvious very quickly that Leo’s idea of dry and warm was as naked as he could get Grant, and as much skin as he could manage to put under his hands and in his mouth. Grant was not complaining about that definition at all.
As Leo bit down gently on one nipple, Grant gasped, “Door. Locked.”
Leo hopped up, pulled Grant’s pants off, and threw them to the floor, not taking his eyes from Grant sprawled naked on the bed as he locked the door and moved a chair in front of it, too, for good measure.
Leo came back to straddle Grant, mouthing his neck, and sucking gently on an earlobe. Grant squirmed and laughed at the hot breath in his ear.
Leo blinked slowly, looking hesitant as he spoke. “So, the other night I told you I wanted to try something, and then my never-ending life drama got in the way and we never did. But we’re finally alone again, so we could do it now. I mean, if you still want to, that is. I mean, I still want to, but if you’ve changed your mind or—”
“Oh, I still want to.” Grant rolled Leo onto his back, brushed the hair off his face, and looked down at him for a long time. “Are you sure? Tonight? You’ve had an emotional evening. We can wait.”
“No, please, Grant. I’ve waited so long. You have no idea how much I want this,” Leo said, his eyes earnest. So damn earnest.
“Tell me what you want.”
Grant wanted to hear him say it. Leo almost never said ‘fuck.’ Grant didn’t think he’d ever heard Leo say it at all before the previous night, and just imagining the word come out of Leo’s mouth made Grant’s gut curl with lust.
“I want you,” Leo said, reaching down to grab Grant’s cock.
Grant smirked and put his hand over Leo’s, making Leo grip him even harder. “Say it. Just
like you did last night.”
“I want you to fuck me,” Leo whispered, and Grant flared with want.
He climbed on top of Leo, holding his hands down against the bed, and said, “Say it again.”
“Fuck me,” Leo said.
“Again.” He wanted Leo to beg for it, for him to tremble and shake, and beg to have Grant’s cock in him.
Leo squirmed desperately under Grant, pushing his hips up against Grant’s, begging with his body. Close, so close to what Grant wanted. “Tell me again, Leo. I want to hear how much you want it.”
Leo grabbed handfuls of Grant’s hair and gazed up at him. “Please, Grant. Fuck me. Please.”
It was perfect, just what Grant wanted, and he rewarded Leo by slapping his hip hard, and then soothing the mark by rubbing it.
“Grant, please. Please fuck me,” Leo said again.
“Shhh,” Grant said kissing him. Leo’s lips were so soft, and Grant sucked the lower one into his mouth, and then deepened the kiss.
Leo arched under him, scrambling to jerk his sweat pants down as Grant continued to kiss him, until Grant pulled away to push Leo’s shirt up and away as Leo kicked his sweats off the bed.
“Grant,” Leo said, panting.
“Yeah?” Grant asked, pushing Leo back onto the bed and running his hands over the body he’d come to know well, feeling the outline of Leo’s heart transplant scar and running his fingers down Leo’s arm, avoiding touching the AV fistula.
“This isn’t make-up sex,” Leo said urgently. “Okay? Do you understand? That’s not what I want this to be.”
Grant huffed a small laugh and said, “Fine by me.”
Leo relaxed back onto the bed, comforted by the clarification, and he whispered, “I want this because I love you.”
Grant let out a low growl and whispered, “I love you, too.”
“Was that special enough?” Leo laughed.
“No midnight picnic in a rose garden, but I’ll take it,” Grant said, and he knew he was smiling like a loon.