by Vivien Dean
That was good news. But when Cruz tried to get closer, a firm pressure pushed him back.
“Simone,” Etienne scolded. “He came back in to make sure I’m fine.”
“It’s okay,” Cruz said. “She’s just worried. I can’t say I blame her.”
“How’s Junior doing?”
“Shaken but oddly unfazed.”
“That’s what I figured, but better to be sure. They’re not about to cause any real damage to their meal ticket, so you shouldn’t have to worry about them blowing up the car while he’s sitting out there.”
The possibility hadn’t even occurred to him until Etienne mentioned it. The thought left him sick to his stomach. “So you know, he is a sensitive. He saw Simone.”
Etienne’s brows shot up. “Really?”
“He hasn’t made the connection that she’s a ghost yet, but I’m waiting to tell him. He doesn’t need to deal with that right now too.” Funny, though, that he thought Simone was alive. Cruz had never bothered to ask about what a ghost actually looked like. He’d just figured it was like the movies, but apparently not. “I’ll call you when we get back to Philadelphia.”
Setting aside his water bottle, Etienne tried sitting up but failed. He winced as he sank into the cushions again. “There’s no reason to run all the way home.” The bottle clattered onto the floor, and he rolled his eyes. “We weren’t prepared this time. That’s no reason to give up.”
“He’s going to need time to regroup,” Cruz said. “And apparently you have to talk Simone down.” He saw the bottle rise a split second before it flew through the air and ducked in time for it to hit the wall behind him. “Plus, Brody doesn’t need a concussion on top of everything else.”
“Well, keep your phone close. I’m not letting these sons of bitches win.”
If Simone would’ve let him get closer, he would’ve hugged Etienne. This was the friend he loved best. “Thanks.”
“Give Junior a kiss from me!” Etienne called after him when he left.
Cruz was still smiling when he reached the car. The issue of the lock sobered him up again.
“I don’t suppose you can ask your friends to let me in now?” he asked.
The locks clicked. Cruz tested the door. It opened easily.
“Thanks.”
All the way down the driveway, Brody twisted his fingers in his lap. Neither one of them spoke until they were back on the road.
“I need to apologize to you too,” Brody said. “The fact that you still wanted to try even though I’m a lost cause means a lot to me.”
Cruz’s hands tightened on the wheel. “You’re not a lost cause. And who says we’re not trying again? This is just a temporary setback.”
“Are you crazy?” The look on Brody’s face answered that question for him. “You saw what happened back there.”
“Do you give up when you hit a bump in the road in your research? No,” Cruz replied. “Because you understand that making mistakes can be valuable in the long run. You take what you learned, and you apply it to your next attempt. Which is exactly what we’re going to do now.” He glanced in his rearview mirror before changing lanes. “Well, not right now. But soon. Right now, I’m taking you home.”
“I’m sorry for the wasted trip. I’ll pay you for the gas.”
“No, you won’t. And stop apologizing.”
“But you’re taking me back to where we started.”
“No, I’m not.”
“You said—”
“We’re going home.” He flashed Brody a warm smile. “My family’s home. If they can’t take your mind off what’s going on, nothing can.”
Chapter Fourteen
THE Guthrie house was the last place Brody wanted to spend the night, but short of grabbing the wheel out of Cruz’s hands, he couldn’t put a stop to it. Just like he couldn’t stop his ghosts. Knowing what influenced them was one thing, but eliminating them altogether was something else entirely.
Cruz was oblivious to his arguments. In fact, he seemed downright cheerful about the whole night ahead. “You’ve got it easy,” he said when they pulled up in front of the house. “You’ve only got to deal with Cami and Bella. If Mariana was home, it would be ten times worse.”
What he failed to mention was that at least one of his parents would be there as well. It was too early for the parent meet. They’d only had one real date. Forget the fact that it felt like he’d known Cruz for months longer than reality measured time by, or that he had hopes this relationship would have real legs beyond this initial rush. Parents. Family. Parasitic ghosts that acted up whenever they didn’t get their way. That was a disaster waiting to happen.
Cruz took Brody’s free hand in his as soon as he hit the sidewalk. He held on all the way up the flower-lined path to the porch, up each of the stone steps, and all the way through the doorway that opened into the place that had made Cruz the man he was today.
The house wasn’t big by anyone’s standard, thirteen hundred square feet if it stretched really hard. The front door swung into the living room, overtaken by two mismatched sofas and a coffee table currently laden with Barbie dolls in various stages of dress. A TV sat in the corner on a wide stand, showing the Cartoon Network, while watching it was a young girl trying to fit a pair of pants onto the legs of an unbending doll.
“Hey, Cami,” Cruz said. “Who’s home?”
She didn’t look up. “Mom and Bella.”
“What about Dad?”
“He’s at CHOP.” With a frustrated growl, she tossed the doll aside and picked up a different one. “Courtney’s always the difficult one.”
Cruz laughed and tugged on Brody’s hand. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to Mom since Cami’s having a fashion meltdown.”
As Cruz led him deeper into the house, Brody looked over his shoulder at Cami. She hadn’t even picked up on his presence, still fighting to get the doll dressed. Or did Cruz bring guys home often enough to merit it being a nonevent? No, he’d said he hadn’t dated in almost a year, and Brody believed him. So why hadn’t Cami said anything?
He was still mulling it over when they stepped into the brightly lit kitchen. A tiny woman stood in front of the stove, stirring something in a steaming pot, while a teenaged girl with Cruz’s eyes was cutting up tomatoes. Neither one looked up until Cruz cleared his throat.
“I hope there’s enough for an extra plate at the table tonight,” he said.
“When do we not have leftovers?” the woman said. When she glanced over her shoulder, she immediately smiled. “Hello, Cruz’s friend who he hasn’t bothered to introduce to me yet.”
“Because we just got here.” Cruz hauled him closer. Whatever was on the stove smelled amazing, the spices making Brody’s mouth water. “Mom, this is Brody Weber. Brody, this is my mom, Cece Guthrie.”
Brody tugged his hand free so he could hold it out to her. “It’s a pleasure, Mrs. Guthrie.”
She wiped her hand on the dishtowel tucked into her waistband before slipping her tiny fingers into his. “So polite. But you can call me Cece.”
At the sound of his name, the girl’s head snapped up. “This is Brody?”
Cruz stepped almost imperceptibly between them. “Be nice.”
Her pretty features immediately pulled into a scowl. “I’m always nice.” Just as quickly as she’d put on the frown, she brightened again. “How was Etienne’s?”
Brody was struck dumb by the query. What had Cruz told his family?
“They didn’t actually get a chance to meet,” Cruz replied, saving Brody the issue of coming up with a feasible story. “Etienne wasn’t up to having guests tonight, so we turned around and came straight back.”
Bella’s smile widened. “Any guests, or just you because he already had someone tucked away for the night?”
“Are those tomatoes done, young lady?” Cece asked.
Obediently, Bella went back to cutting. Brody let out the breath he’d been holding. He was starting to really love Cruz’s mom.
“Dinner’s not anything special,” Cece went on, as if she hadn’t just averted teenaged meddling at its finest. “Just tortilla soup and fresh nachos. Your dad’s eating down at the hospital, though, so there’s extra jalapenos in everything.” She looked to Brody. “I hope that’s okay.”
“That’s fine,” he reassured. “Thank you for letting me join you.”
“Dad can’t handle the same heat levels as the rest of us,” Cruz explained. “We get the good stuff when he’s not around.”
“Well, the good stuff isn’t going to cook itself.” Cece turned back to the stove and resumed stirring. “Since you’ve got a guest, you don’t have to help, but it would be nice if you could set the table.”
“Sure, Mom.”
Brody hung back as Cruz bent down and brushed a kiss across his mother’s cheek like it was the easiest thing in the world, then poked his sister in the side as he went around her to an upper cabinet to get bowls. It wasn’t that Brody had never seen a family different than his before. He had. Not often, but often enough to know that families came in all flavors, some friendly, some funny, some hostile, some homey. The Guthries were fulfilling every prediction he’d made about them, based both on what he’d been told and what he’d gleaned from Cruz’s behavior. They were loving without being smothering about it, comfortable in each other’s presence without any questions.
And now they’d accepted him with the same grace and warmth. It was overwhelming.
He was quiet when the five of them sat down to eat. Cruz was busy answering all Cece’s questions about his morning with Mariana, while the girls listened in, only occasionally offering commentary. Part of it was wonderment. A bigger part was the fascination of watching Cruz in this new environment.
He was the same but different, bigger in a way, and yet unassuming. Every word out of his mouth was animated, and he talked with his hands more than Brody had seen so far. But while the conversation remained loud and fast, he blended in with these three like the corner piece on a puzzle, bringing them together without losing a single one of them.
If he hadn’t been crushing on Cruz before, he sure as hell was now.
“So what is it exactly that you do, Brody?”
Cece startled him out of his thoughts with the sudden question to include him. “I’m a neurological researcher.”
“At Perelman,” Cruz added.
Was that pride in Cruz’s tone? Cece certainly straightened at the university’s mention. “Did you two meet at the hospital?” she asked.
“No, Etienne actually introduced us,” Cruz said.
“Etienne?” Bella cocked her brow in disbelief. “Your Etienne?”
Cruz pointed his spoon at her. “You’re lucky he didn’t hear you call him that.”
“It’s not as direct as Cruz makes it sound,” Brody interjected. “Etienne referred him to my father for some work he needed done. We met when I crashed one of their meetings.”
“You crashed a meeting?” Bella had the American teenager’s gift of making every word out of her mouth sound disdainful. “You don’t look like you would speed through a yellow light.”
“Bella!”
Her head swiveled toward her mother. “What? That was a compliment. He looks like a nice guy.”
“He is a nice guy,” Cruz said. “He just has this really bad habit of making himself sound worse than he is.” As if in punishment, he poked Brody in the arm.
“Hang around Cruz for good, and that won’t last,” Cece predicted. “He sees the best in everyone.”
“When he isn’t buried in his computer.”
“Bella!”
“That was a compliment too! He’s a hard worker!”
Brody had to laugh at the back-and-forth between mother and daughter, so typical in some ways, so unusual in others. Dinner was over before he knew it, and he stood before anybody else to announce he was going to do the washing up.
“I’ll help,” Cruz said, rising as well. “That way you can call the hospital and find out how Mariana’s doing, Mom.”
With dirty dishes in hand, they retreated to the kitchen, where Cruz started filling the sink with steaming hot water. “Well, look at that,” he said. “We made it all the way through supper without a single door slamming or light bulb breaking.”
“Shhh!” Brody glanced into the dining room, but it was already deserted, the other Guthries scattered to their own privacies. “Do you want to jinx it?”
“Would they have acted up in front of so many people?”
The honest question made him pause. It was the same rationale he’d always used about going out, that the incidents rarely happened when there was an audience to witness them. He understood now it was likely that he was usually in a better mood when he wasn’t alone, but which was the causative factor? Did it matter if the end result was the same?
“That’s what I thought,” Cruz said when he didn’t reply. “Which is why I’m going to insist that you not spend the night alone tonight. It’ll be safer if you’ve got company.”
That was part of why he’d packed a bag for Etienne’s. Supposedly that was going to be a secure location too, though now he’d never really have the chance to know for sure.
The greater implication of what Cruz said sank in. “That’s not necessary. I’ve got sleeping pills that help me get through really rough nights. I’ll take one of those.”
“That was before.”
“Before what?”
“Me.”
Brody laughed. “You’re good, but you’re not that good.”
“I’m serious. Sleeping pills aren’t good for you.”
Brody crept closer, tilting his head to get a better look at him. He meant it. “What are you proposing?” Images of Cruz sprawled in his bed sent heat southward. He’d fill it up and still find a way to make enough room for Brody, maybe spooning behind him with a protective arm around Brody’s waist or letting Brody drape over him in sleep. Nobody had shared Brody’s bed since Aaron. He’d let every guy he’d dated since then play the selfish card and spent nights at their places instead.
“I sleep in the basement when I spend the night,” Cruz said. “It’s not exactly the Hilton, but it’s nice and cool in the summer, and there’s a private bathroom so you don’t have to go up and down the stairs. I’ve been sleeping on the futon, but you’re welcome to it. I’m too tall for it anyway.”
The reality Cruz suggested shattered Brody’s illusions, and he set to drying the dishes Cruz had already washed to hide his disappointment. He was overreacting. It was too soon to sleep together, even if it felt otherwise.
“I’m not kicking you out of your bed,” he said.
“You’re not saying no to staying either,” Cruz countered.
“Your parents don’t want a stranger sleeping in their basement.”
“Mom likes you. If I ask, she won’t mind.”
“I barely said two words to her at dinner.”
“You’re polite, you were nice to Bella even though she acted like a brat, and it’s obvious I adore you. Trust me. That’s more than enough for Mom.”
Brody nearly dropped the bowl he’d been drying. Of all the things Cruz had said in the past couple of hours, this one stood out. “You… adore me?”
“Well, yeah.” He leaned a hip against the counter and grasped Brody’s wrist. His skin was slick and hot, sending tremors down the back of Brody’s thighs, but he seemed unconcerned with the soapy water dripping down his forearm as he used his hold to compel Brody closer. “I know it’s kind of a silly word, but that doesn’t make it any less true.”
“How….” His voice was hoarse. He cleared his throat before trying again. “How do you know it’s not just a crush?” He had to ask. The word had been plaguing him all night, as feelings rolled through him faster and harder than he’d ever experienced before. He posed the question to Cruz, but he had to face the truth about what his own answer would be too, once he knew where exactly they stood.
A loose tendril fell against Cruz’s cheek when he leaned closer. “You know how important my family is to me. Do you really think I’d bring you here to meet them if you were just a crush?”
No, not in a million years, which scared him even more. Because that was his reply as well. Not a crush but the start of something deep, something real.
Could everything Brody wanted actually be this close?
“How about we have that second date here?” Cruz suggested, his tone still low. “Tonight. Downstairs. There’s a TV. We could pop a movie in or find something on cable to watch. Frankly, I wouldn’t care if you asked to play tiddlywinks, as long as it meant we got to spend more time together.”
Whether Cruz intended it or not, the offer was dangerous, because it had the potential to be absolutely perfect. Brody’s worst experiences with the ghosts always came after the highs. The crash of his mood seemed to provoke them the most. If he stayed, tomorrow would be horrendous. They might not even wait that long. Something could happen to Cruz’s family in the night, and then he’d never forgive himself.
But wasn’t he already on the cusp of announcing this the best night ever? Even in spite of what happened at Etienne’s. Getting locked in the car had been alarming, but it was hardly a unique experience. The scariest part had been Etienne’s friend getting batted around like a toy when she raced out of the house. She must be a sensitive too, because she went straight for the shadows that weren’t even trying to camouflage themselves. They’d bested her in the end, forcing her to flee to the sanctuary of the house, but for a brief, shining moment, he’d been optimistic about her chances.
Like he was optimistic now about his future with Cruz.
Cruz waited for an answer, eyes soft, mouth softer. Common sense fled.
“That sounds like a great idea.” To show he meant it, he stretched and brushed a kiss across those delectable lips, tantalizing both of them with what was yet to come. “And in case I forget to say it after, thank you.”