by Avril Ashton
At least in that regard.
They’d excelled in sex, Levi calling the shots and Van obeying command like a good soldier. When everything got ruined he’d never gone back to that. He’d slept with women, and Juan Pablo Castillo. But he could never go back to calling the shots, ordering another man to his knees.
He was only ever that man with Van because his husband needed it. With Van, Levi needed it too. Fucking miracle, wasn’t it?
They worked.
After seven years of pretending he wasn’t still in love with his husband, the weight of that lie was off his shoulders.
Second chances. He had one. A second go round to make it to the forever he’d been eyeing since that first kiss.
He left the bathroom and entered the bedroom, dressing quickly in a gray shirt and jeans. He went downstairs on socked feet, and found Donovan standing out on the balcony, his phone in his hand as he stared out over Coney Island.
Levi walked over and wrapped his arms around Van from behind. Van caught his hands, holding them to his middle as he sighed.
“What’s wrong?”
“Message from my father.” Van held up the phone. “He’s holding a fundraiser in Brooklyn tonight and wants to meet before then.”
Levi stiffened. “How does he know you’re here?”
Van turned to face him slowly. “I’m sure Dutch told him.”
Levi took a deep breath. “He’s your father.” He nodded to himself. “But I have to tell you, I have never been as scared as I was the five minutes I spent in his company.”
Van’s expression darkened.
“Not for myself,” Levi continued. “He threatened Izek. Blatantly. Explicitly. He threatened our son, and I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in seven years because of him.”
“It’s okay.” Van pulled him back into his arms, hugged him tight. “I’m sorry you had to deal with him, and I promise you won’t ever have to. I’ll handle it. I’m here now, you can sleep.” He stroked Levi’s head, kissed his temple. “I promise.”
Levi’s phone vibrated in his back pocket so he fished it out, read the text message. “That was one of the guys downstairs. Izek is in the building.”
Van pursed his lips. “Pablo has men with him?”
“Two.”
“All right then.” Van caught Levi’s hand, kissed his knuckles. “I’m ready.” He didn’t sound nervous or apprehensive.
But Levi was. Izek had been ten when Van left. He was almost eighteen, about to go off to college. Dating. Fuck. How would he react seeing Van again after all this time? Would he think Levi weak for giving him a second chance? What would it mean for Levi and Van if their son wasn’t onboard?
He didn’t get the chance to voice any of those questions because Van was tugging him back into the condo. So he went. Heart hammering in his chest when the knock came on the door. He stared at the thing with wide yes.
Van nudged him. “Open the door.”
Yeah. He did, yanking the door open.
“I’m baacck!” His son grinned at him with his crooked smile and Gia’s eyes, flanked by two strangers. “Dad, I swear you should have seen—” He jerked his chin up, gaze shooting over Levi’s shoulder. Levi didn’t look away from Izek, so he saw when recognition hit. Izek’s eyes widened.
He barged past Levi. “You.”
Van’s hands were in his pockets, face creased as he gazed down at Izek with the sappiest fucking grin in his face. “Hello, Izek.”
Izek punched him. In the face.
“No. Izek.” Levi lunged, grabbing his son and yanking on him. “Izek, stop.”
They were staring at each other, Izek and Van who didn’t seem to even notice that their son had sucker-punched him.
“You came.” Izek cradled his left hand with his right, glowering at Van.
Van smiled. “I said I would.”
“You took too goddamn long.”
Levi looked from one to the other. Something else was going. He frowned. “What do you mean?” he asked Izek before turning to Van. “What does he mean?”
“He said he’d be back, that we’d be a family again,” Izek said.
“What?” Levi gaped. “When did he tell you that?”
“Last year sometime.” Izek held his hand up to his face. “Ow. Your face is hard, dude.”
“Nah, you just need to hit more, toughen up that hand.”
“No, he does not.” Levi held up a hand. “Somebody explain what’s going on here.”
“I always knew where you were. Philly. Seattle.” Van shrugged as he flexed his jaw. “Wasn’t a bad punch, by the way.” He winked at Izek then grabbed him in a gentle headlock, ruffling his hair as he looked at Levi. “I made contact with Izek.”
“You made—” Levi needed a fucking seat. “You did what?”
“He came to some of my football games, Dad. Stopped by after school sometimes.”
Levi stared at Van. “You did?” But he attended every one of Izek’s games. Got there early, left late.
“I didn’t want you to see me,” Van said softly. “But I didn’t—I also didn’t want Izek thinking I’d abandoned him, that I didn’t love him.”
Levi turned to his son. “Why didn’t you tell me this?” He owned up to feeling some kind of way about Izek keeping that from him.
“Dad, you didn’t talk about him,” Izek said. “Like, at all. I didn’t want you to be sad.” His tone lowered. “And I didn’t want you to move us again. I liked it there.”
“I didn’t ask him to keep it from you,” Van said. “I was kinda hoping he’d tell you.”
Levi just stared at them, the two men he loved most in the world.
“Are you mad?” Izek asked.
Was he? “No.” He shook his head. “I’m not mad.” He went to Izek, gave him a quick hug. “I’m not mad.”
“So…” Van cleared his throat. “Your dad and I are gonna—we’re back together.”
“Finally.” Izek threw his arms around Van. “Welcome back, old man.” They hugged each other tight, with Van cupping the back of Izek’s head and their son’s face pressed to his neck.
Levi’s eyes dampened simply watching them. When Van met Levi’s gaze, he saw the tears in the other man’s eyes as well.
Izek finally released Van then turned to Levi. “Can we order pizza? I’m starving. I forgot to eat on the plane.”
Van narrowed his eyes. “How do you forget to eat?”
“One of the flight attendants had um…” He blushed. “Let’s just say she was pretty, and liked younger men.”
“Oh, my God.” Levi gaped at him.
“What? Chicks dig the whole two gay dads thing.” Izek flipped them two thumbs up before he turned and ran up the stairs.
Van doubled over laughing. “He is so your son.”
“Shut it you.” Levi motioned with his hand. “Order the boy his pizza.”
The laughter drained from Van’s face and he touched Levi’s chest as he straightened. “I—Ah.” He cleared his throat. “I told Izek why I was gone. What I did.”
“Wha—Why?”
“Because he deserved to know, and he deserved an apology too.” His lips curved slightly. “And I approached him first because I figured he might be easier than you in the forgiveness department.”
Levi just kinda stared at him for a moment, lost in his eyes and the little smirk curving his mouth in that sexy way Levi liked so much. “You were always coming back,” he acknowledged in a low voice. There were moments over the past seven years when he thought Van had moved on, found someone else. He’d come so close to asking Sullivan about him once, but managed somehow to stop himself. When year after year passed without Van barging in to demand his place back in Levi and Izek’s life, Levi chalked it up to Van not wanting them after all.
But here they were, and Van was telling him he’d been in contact with Izek all this time, making sure their son knew he had another parent who’d fucked up but wanted to make things right. He couldn’t even get
mad that Van chose to reach out only to Izek. Fact was, Levi hadn’t ever been ready to hear I’m sorry.
“Wait. The money in my bank account every month.” He gaped at Van. “That’s been you the whole time?” On the last day of the month, every month, twenty thousand dollars would appear in Levi’s bank account. Didn’t matter what state he’d ran to, whatever new account or bank he had. The money would always show up. He’d assumed it came from Dutch, hush money he’d been too embarrassed to question.
He’d been able to buy a house with that money, after leaving everything behind when he’d run from Van. He’d sent Izek to a private school with that money.
“Yeah, that’s been me,” Van murmured as he kissed along Levi’s jaw. “I was always coming back home.” He took Levi’s mouth tenderly, deeply, making him feel the kiss all over.
Levi moaned for him, burrowing into his arms, eyes closed as he indulged in this. Kisses. Touches. Fuck, but he’d been without it for so damn long. In Van he found comfort and happiness.
“God, you guys aren’t gonna be doing that all the time are you?” Izek’s footsteps thundered down the stairs. “Gross.”
Van lifted his head and winked down at Levi. “Better get used to it, kid,” he spoke to Izek without breaking eye contact with Levi. “There’s a whole lotta loving way past due round here.”
Izek heaved a loud, dramatic sigh as he walked past them and onto the balcony. “Fine, I’ll allow it if you out the brakes on calling me kid.”
“You are a kid,” Levi pointed out. “My kid.”
“Our kid.”
Levi patted Van’s chest. “What he said.”
“Whatever.” Izek waved their words away.
Chuckling Van released Levi and stepped back. “I gotta go.”
“What?” Levi frowned. “Go where?”
“My dad.” Van grimaced. “Gotta get it over with.” He brushed a thumb over Levi’s cheek then grabbed his keys and wallet. “I’ll be back in a few, save some of that pizza for me.” On his way out the door, he yelled, “Hey kid, I’m out.” He disappeared as Izek grumbled.
Levi smiled at the simplicity of it.
So big.
* * * *
“Aren’t you going to eat?” Mark Dulles nodded at Van’s plate. “The steak here is award winning.” He smiled. “Or so I’m told.”
Van rolled his eyes. “I don’t want to eat, old man. I want to know why you did what you did.” They sat inside a private room in a restaurant downtown Brooklyn. Men in dark suits, wearing ear pieces guarded the main entrance and flanked the entryway into this secluded space.
Being this close to his father used to be something that only happened about once a year when he was growing up, on very rare special occasions. He’d thought himself lacking something back then, despite having a man in his life who was more a parent than Mark ever was. Arturo Cintron had done the best he could, but Van had wanted his dad. When he got into the FBI, the full brunt of his father’s attention focused on him, and Van wanted back the days when he was nothing more than a visit whenever Mark’s job took him to West Virginia.
“You’re here because you’re my son.” His father watched him over the rim of his wine glass. “And I wanted to share a steak with my son.” He glanced down at Van’s plate again. “A steak you’re ignoring, by the way.”
“Fuck the steak.” He jumped to his feet. “If you don’t tell me why, I’m out.” The men at the door stepped forward when he got up, but his father waved them off.
Mark was also in a suit, clean shaven, with gray liberally coloring the short hair on his head and the sharp goatee. He looked the same, skin as dark as ever, eyes secretive and mocking. Now that he’d met Israel Storm, Van saw bits and pieces of their father in his newfound brother. The nose. The cheekbones. Even their skin color.
In some ways, the ways that mattered, Israel was more Mark’s son that Van.
“Sit down, Donovan.” Mark sighed. “You always had your mother’s flair for the dramatic.”
Van snorted. This dude.
“I wanted to talk to you.”
“Yeah?” Van narrowed his eyes as he sank back into the chair. “About what? You outing everybody on Dutch’s team, outing my fucking husband, me?” He thumped his chest. “You want to talk about you threatening my son?”
“That child is not your son.”
The dismissive tone set Van’s teeth on edge. “He’s my son in every way that matters, and I’ve got a piece of paper saying so.” He gripped the sides of the table as he leaned forward. “You threatened him. A kid, Mark. He was a defenseless kid and you threaten his life if Levi doesn’t walk away from me?”
“Your life is more than playing daddy to a kid that’s not your blood.” His father sipped his red wine. “Besides, that man was already on his way out once he learned the truth about you. I only hastened the process.”
“You like playing God, don’t you, Mark?” Van sat back, keeping his eyes on the man opposite him. “I mean, you get to tell me who I can play daddy to, all while ignoring your own fatherly duties to the children with your blood running through their veins.”
Mark put the wine glass down. “I regret that,” he said blithely. “Maybe if I had been in your life you’d turn out to be someone more than you are now.” He shook his head, a disappointed look on his face. “Sleeping with men.” He made a disgusted sound. “It’s unnatural.”
“I’ll take your word for it, since you’re uniquely qualified to know about unnatural. You’re the one with the wife and numerous mistresses on the side. The secret babies stashed away. I guess I only get your approval if I follow in your footsteps?” He lifted an eyebrow. “I also sleep with women. Do you love me yet, Dad?”
“I blame the women you grew up around. Your mother and—”
“Don’t,” Van snapped. “Don’t you fucking say her name.” A movement at the door caught Van’s attention, and he smiled when one of the agents—tall, with darkly bronzed skin and dreadlocks, approached their table.
“Sir, we have someone at the door asking for you and your guest.” His accent was lilting, singsongy, from somewhere in the West Indies. Trinidad, if Van had to guess.
Mark frowned. “I’m not expecting anyone else.”
“But I am.” Van grinned. “It’s a small family reunion, Dad.” He nodded to the agent. “Send him in,” he said, watching his father’s face as their new dinner guest came through the door.
His father turned ashen, hand opening and closing around the stem of the wine glass.
Dressed in a white t-shirt under a black leather jacket, jeans and boots, Israel walked in like he owned the place. And when he stopped at their table, Van addressed their father. “Say hello to your first born.”
“Get him away.” Mark jumped to his feet, hands waving frantically as red wine splashed onto his crisp white shirt. “Out.” He yelled. “Out.” So yeah, anger and rage, but more than that Van caught the fear in his father’s eyes and in his voice as he glared at Israel.
For his part, Israel simply grinned. “Not quite the reception I anticipated, but I’ll take it.” He pulled out a chair and slouched into it. “You gonna eat that?” He didn’t wait for Van’s reply before he grabbed a knife and fork and began cutting into his steak.
Van pushed the plate toward Israel. “You can have it.” He glanced up at his father who stood there, mouth agape, all kinds of fear in his eyes. “Sit down, dad. Your sons are here.” He tossed Israel a wink.
“That—” Mark sat down slowly, gingerly. “That…” A finger pointed at Israel, he shook noticeably. “That thug is not my son.”
Israel chewed slowly, eyes shuttered, head cocked. “Name calling. I can feel the familial bonds already.”
“So our father here was telling me all about his disappointment that I had a husband and a son.” Van sat back and crossed his arms. “He’s all about family values. And threatening children. And keeping a mistress in each state while he ignore and disowns his own children.�
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“Uh-huh.” Israel cut into the steak. “I think that’s called being hypocritical.”
“A lion never concerns himself with the opinions of the sheep.” Mark tried for haughty and dismissive, but he didn’t quite hit the mark. He kept watching Israel, while pretending not to watch him. Van didn’t think his brother had met their father’s eyes at all since he’d entered the private dining area.
Van was glad he’d opted to call Israel and ask him to join this little tête-à-tête. Nothing in Israel’s demeanor said he came to see Mark. Instead he’d shown simply because Van had asked it of him.
He had a big brother.
“This isn’t going to happen again,” Van told Mark. “You’re not going to call me up and demand my time. Because we both know you don’t give two fucks about me, or him—” He jerked a thumb in a quiet Israel’s direction. “As your blood.”
Mark harrumphed into the white napkin as he wiped his mouth. “I’m your father, boy—”
“You’re his father in private,” Israel spoke to Mark directly for the first time. “Isn’t that right?” He mocked Mark, gaze and tone derisive as he held their father’s attention. “You’re his father when it suits you, like in Iowa when you need the sympathy votes so you tell the public your son might have been in a car bomb.” His teeth appeared. “Yeah, I know about that.”
Mark’s eyes widened and his chest puffed up. “How dare you? I can have you arrested with a snap of my finger. I can make you disappear in a hole so deep, you’d never see daylight. Don’t think you scare me.”
Israel smiled. “But I do scare you, and I don’t have to think. I know.”
Van watched them with a narrowed gaze. He’d never seen his father scared before. He’d seen him calling the shots, pulling strings, blackmailing and throwing his weight and name around. In control. Powerful. All the time. Untouchable. But not now.
Israel kept his voice low and steady, his gaze, too. He paid more attention to the food on Van’s plate than their father. He never raised a hand, but yeah, he was touching Mark.