Bryce’s gentle voice and warm presence pushed him over the edge, and Seth fell apart. His body shook, and loud sobbing echoed throughout the cavernous space of the cold garage. Instead of shushing him, Bryce held him tighter, whispering “I got you” over and over until Seth believed it. He was safe in the arms of a man who would see him through this new crisis.
When he was done and finally able to complete a sentence without sounding like a hiccupping five-year-old, Seth pushed back and said, “Thank you for being so understanding.”
“I’ll be here as long as you need me.”
“What I’d like is a stiff drink,” Seth said.
“I have a fully stocked bar,” Bryce replied.
“I know,” Seth said. “Let’s do it.”
They held hands to the elevator, and Seth didn’t say another word until Bryce handed him the tumbler with two shots of the good whiskey they’d bought at the duty-free shop at Heathrow Airport. They’d first tasted the thirty-three-year-old Tomintoul single malt in Edinburgh and fallen in love with the smooth flavor. It came with a hefty price tag, but they were more than willing to split the cost of the two large bottles they brought back into the US and had decided to save it for special occasions. Staving off a nervous breakdown was a good reason to break the seal.
Seth turned to Bryce and was relieved to see the beautiful blue eyes gazing at him lovingly. Encouraged, Seth asked, “What if I tell Doug Osler to drop the whole thing and let sleeping dogs lie?”
“You could, but I’d like you to give it serious thought before you decide. Cleaning up a house with toxic black mold is a long and arduous process. It’s also very expensive.”
“How much are we talking here?”
“Anywhere from five hundred to thirty thousand dollars if the entire house is involved.”
“Holy crap.”
“I know—it’s a lot. It’ll throw off our timing by several weeks, and then there’s no guarantee the house will sell immediately or even if you’ll get full price. Half a mil is a lot of money to pass up because you’re afraid of being scrutinized. You have nothing to hide, babe. Let them investigate.”
“I’m a private person,” Seth whined. “Having someone poking around my space is repugnant.”
“These people are professionals. They’re not going to post the color of your boxers on Instagram,” Bryce teased.
“It’s humiliating. I bet they’ll want to know everything about us. How is that any of their fucking business?”
“It’s not, but you’re right. The insurance will try to determine if we had a relationship prior to Mark’s death to make sure this isn’t part of some master plot.”
“Oh please,” Seth said disparagingly. “I don’t write murder mysteries for a reason. Having to figure out sequences and times of death isn’t my thing; I hate numbers!”
“But you forget, I’m a mechanical engineer. Numbers are my life, and it won’t take Sherlock Holmes to figure out I could have been very useful if offing Mark was the main goal.”
“Bryce, you’re scaring me.”
“I don’t mean to, but you have to realize these people will do everything in their power to avoid paying out that much money. It’s in their best interest to prove we’re conniving bastards.”
Seth stood to pour himself another drink. After swallowing it in two gulps, he turned to Bryce and declared. “I don’t want their money.”
“Babe, that money belongs to you. Mark paid into that policy for years and intended for you to have it. I know you don’t like to talk about finances, but have you checked to see what you’ve got in the bank? I told you I’d be willing to foot a lot of the bill for the remodeling, but that was before I knew we had a mold remediation to contend with. The numbers will climb because I’m going to have to job that out.”
“I want to throw up,” Seth said. “Seriously, this conversation is making me sick to my stomach.”
“You know where the bathroom is,” Bryce said evenly.
Seth wished Bryce would tell him it was okay to shelve the entire conversation but a decision had to be made, and it was obvious that Bryce intended to pin him down for an answer. Swallowing his bile and taking several cleansing breaths, Seth went back to the sofa and faced Bryce.
“Okay. You’ve made your point. This is an ugly situation, but I’m up for the challenge. What’s the plan?”
Bryce smiled and then leaned over to kiss him. “I think you’re doing the right thing. Let’s postpone our caucus until tomorrow. I’d like another drink and maybe some takeout. Are you in the mood for pizza?”
“I’m always up for that.”
Bryce grinned. “Okay.”
Seth flushed. “Don’t start….”
“Your answer went straight to my dick.”
“What happened to dinner?”
“Cold pizza after sex is the best.” Bryce yanked Seth to his feet. “Let’s go to bed, babe. We need to end this crazy day on a positive note.”
Chapter 6
BRYCE ADJUSTED slightly, trying to get comfortable without waking Seth. Soft puffs of air escaped from Seth’s slightly parted lips, tickling the sensitive skin underneath Bryce’s pits, where Seth tucked in peacefully. Bryce tried to recall the last time he’d been so completely at ease with postcoital cuddling. Until Seth came along, he’d be out the door as soon as the act was over, never lingering long enough to invite pillow talk, a clichéd exchange usually filled with empty promises.
He brushed his lips against the soft blond curls, which smelled of almond extract. The appealing aroma, so much a part of Seth, had first come to his notice in London at the start of their trip. He’d liked it then, and now he’d never be able to smell it without thinking of this man.
Not that he needed reminders. Seth had turned his life upside-down in a relatively short time and was constantly on his mind. Unfortunately, with this new development, Bryce was certain their recent harmony was about to be disrupted by an insurance investigation that would comb through every aspect of their lives, hoping to unearth something suspicious that might give them an excuse to deny Mark’s death benefits. Well, fuck them. He wasn’t about to be intimidated by the creeps. If they were anything like the government assholes who inspected job sites, he was more than capable of dealing with them. They could dig until they hit China and would come up short. He and Seth had nothing to hide.
His gaze shifted upward to the ceiling mirror, relishing the erotic tableau. Seth had one long leg draped over Bryce’s right thigh, using him like a body pillow. Physically, they were quite different. In spite of the excessive amounts of food on the cruise ship, Seth was still lean, genetically blessed with the body of a runner despite his aversion to treadmills. Now an attractive shade of gold from lazing around on deck, he was relatively hairless compared to Bryce, who’d been described as swarthy and “bearish” by his stable of Grindr boy toys. Bryce was proud of his physique and worked hard to maintain his muscle mass, which was supposed to melt away with age. Looking younger than his years was important to him, and he’d been doing a great job, judging by all the past hits he’d received on dating sites. They must have been surprised to find he’d deleted his profile. He’d given in to Seth’s request to stop online hookups if he wanted to pursue a relationship.
Not surprisingly, he didn’t miss them at all. Bryce was more than satisfied with Seth, in and out of bed. The only thing that could ruin their fledgling romance would be outside interference, and he was hoping to maintain their status quo throughout the investigative process. However, everything hinged on Seth’s state of mind. He hadn’t written a thing since that first morning in London. Bryce could understand being distracted on their trip, but eventually Seth had to hunker down and start working on a novel. If his muse could produce quality work in the office Bryce had set up, didn’t it stand to reason that every other decision they’d made so far had been right? He didn’t want Seth having second thoughts due to some stupid notion that Mark was sending bad juju from beyond.
Seth told him often enough that writers were a superstitious lot, and any little thing could switch them from positive to negative. Bryce worried that might happen if the insurance company or the lawyer made their lives a living hell.
For the first time in years, Bryce wasn’t looking for an exit, and he was actually afraid that Seth might waver and back away from a relationship that had barely started. Slowly the tables were turning, and he had to get Seth to understand he was in this for the long haul. Bryce knew he should come right out and say he was in love with him, but would that help or put more pressure on Seth? Shouldn’t he leave a door open in case either of them had second thoughts? Admittedly, that was a shitty attitude, but old habits die hard.
It was barely eight in the morning when Seth got the first call from the insurance company. Bryce was getting ready to walk out the door but paused after he caught the panic in Seth’s tone.
“Who was that?” Bryce asked once Seth disconnected.
“Some guy from Hartford, Connecticut, asking if their agent-investigator could meet with me today.”
“The insurance?”
Seth nodded.
“What did you tell him?”
“We set an appointment for four o’clock.”
“Why not this morning?” Bryce asked.
“I thought I’d try and work on my novel,” Seth said vaguely. “Start an outline at least.”
“Gotcha,” Bryce said. He picked up his keys and bent to kiss Seth good-bye. Before walking out the door, he turned and asked, “Do you want some moral support when the investigator shows up?”
Seth perked up, visibly relieved. “That would be great.”
“I’ll shuffle things around to get here in time. Try not to answer any questions until I arrive.”
“Okay,” Seth said.
“What’s the guy’s name?”
“Lightfoot.”
Bryce froze. “What did you say?”
“The investigator’s last name is Lightfoot. He must be Native American.”
“What’s his first name?” Bryce asked woodenly.
“He didn’t say. Why?”
“Just curious,” Bryce murmured. It couldn’t be, he thought to himself as he walked out the door and double-locked it from the outside. No. Fucking. Way. Then again, how common was that surname?
He’d tracked Owen Lightfoot for a few years after their breakup, wondering how long he’d get away with being a closeted football player. He supposed there were idiots willing to screw him on the side—and keep mum—so why change and risk a thriving career? After a while, Bryce stopped caring. So long as he wasn’t the one living a lie, there was no reason to give a shit how many people Owen trampled on his path to the NFL. He’d suspected something went horribly wrong when Owen suddenly stopped playing pro ball, but all he could find to explain his sudden departure from the Chicago Bears was a short article citing contractual issues.
It would be ironic if it was his ex-lover investigating this mess. Beyond the irony lay devastation if Owen held a grudge after all this time and deliberately twisted the truth to get revenge. Although he’d been the cheater—and caught in the act—Owen had tried to convince Bryce that banging his agent was a meaningless one-off and forgivable. Gay men cheated all the time so why the big fuss? Bryce hadn’t bought into the lame excuses. Owen was a self-serving fuck and thought nothing of breaking promises to further his career. Had he matured over the years and realized Bryce had no choice but to walk away? He sure hoped so, or Seth would end up paying the price.
With a knot in his belly, Bryce sat through a couple of meetings and, later, walked through a few construction sites, all the while hoping his fears were unfounded. One of his projects was a remodel in Lake Forest, and the architectural firm of Lampert and Dilorio was involved. He smiled when he saw Grier’s familiar figure hunched over a set of blueprints in the garage they were using as their makeshift office. As usual, he was dressed like a total badass instead of a respectable interior designer, but anyone who’d worked with him in the past knew it was all smoke and mirrors. Behind the edgy façade was a dedicated and talented designer who poured his heart and soul into every project. The numerous ASID awards he’d garnered since starting his business years ago were a testament to his talent.
“Hey,” Grier said by way of greeting. “When did you get back into town?”
“Less than a week ago,” Bryce said. “Any problems I should know about?”
“Nah. I’m just here to check on the tiles that came in from Portugal. Sandy swears they’re not the same as the ones she picked out in my office.”
“Is she right?”
Grier lifted one eyebrow. “No.”
“Problem solved.”
Grier shook his head. “I’m waiting for her to get out of bed and see for herself before I give the tilers the go-ahead. The last thing I want to do is tear down a finished bathroom.”
“I hear you,” Bryce said. “Speaking of teardowns, I’ve got something in the works I’d like you to look at.”
“What is it?”
“A property in Lincoln Park needs a major do-over before we put it on the market.”
“Yours?”
“Actually—” Bryce faltered. “—it belongs to my… a friend.”
Grier smirked. “This wouldn’t be the same guy who convinced you to drop everything and go on a cruise, would it?”
“Yup.”
“So… the trip was a success?”
Bryce flushed. “I asked Seth to move in.”
“Holy shit,” Grier exclaimed. “Who are you, and where did you hide my Grindr-loving friend?”
“He fucking fell in love,” Bryce said with a deprecating laugh. “Enough said.”
“Hell no! Lil will cut me off if I don’t come home with the juicy details. Who is this guy? What does he do? How old is he? Does he even know your history? What makes you think this will work after you’ve been single all this time? I’m speechless….” Grier looked at Bryce like he’d turned into a unicorn or something equally improbable.
“Speechless? You’ve vomited at least a hundred words.”
“You know I mean well,” Grier said apologetically. “You guys really connected, huh?”
“Shocking but true.”
“Can we meet him?” Grier asked. “You have to come over to talk about the remodel anyway. Let’s make it a lunch thing at the house.”
“When?”
“Sunday?”
“Don’t you have to check Lil’s schedule first?”
“We never do anything on a Sunday unless Luca’s in town, and he’s not due home until Thanksgiving.”
“How’s he doing?” Bryce asked.
“Fine,” Grier said. “Don’t change the subject.”
Bryce laughed. “Let me ask Seth and I’ll get back to you.”
“How’d he like the mirror in your bedroom?” Grier asked knowingly.
“Is that your not-so-subtle way of trying to get more details?”
“Yeah,” Grier admitted. “You’ve got to realize I live with an incorrigible romantic. Lil will be over the moon when he finds out you’ve dipped your toes into the sea of love.”
“He’s the worst,” Bryce said. “Maybe he’ll finally shut up and stop trying to convince me that love is a many-splendored thing.”
“He’ll be happy for you,” Grier said softly. “You shouldn’t have to settle for one-night stands when you deserve so much more.”
“Thank you,” Bryce said gruffly. “I always considered you and Lil an anomaly, but not anymore. The idea of spending the rest of my life with one person doesn’t scare me as much as it used to.”
“Let’s plan on Sunday unless I hear otherwise.” Grier stepped forward and gave Bryce a hug. “I can’t wait to meet the man who flipped you.”
“I think you’ll be surprised,” Bryce said. “He’s different from anyone in my past.”
“Thank God,” Grier said. “Not to be a jerk, but your hookups weren’t e
xactly relationship material.”
Bryce shrugged. “They served a need, and I don’t regret a second, but it’s history.”
“Seth knows about them, right?”
“Of course.”
“Just checking. We don’t want him going psycho on you if anything from your past rears its ugly head.”
Bryce stiffened. God, was that a warning out of the blue or some bizarre prediction? He shuddered imperceptibly, imagining the look of surprise on Owen’s face if he was the investigator assigned to Seth’s case. And with that sickening thought in mind, he gathered up his things and got ready to go.
“I’ll be in touch about Sunday,” Bryce said.
“Don’t back out,” Grier said in parting. “We want to check him out.”
“Yes, Mother.”
Due to the normal chaos on I-90, Bryce arrived at his apartment building thirty minutes late and was sure the investigator was already badgering Seth. He stepped into the foyer, hoping for the best but, at the same time, expecting the worst. He could hear low murmurs coming from the living room, but even if they were talking louder, too many years had passed and the chance of recognizing Owen’s voice was slim.
His heart plummeted when he got a good look at the man sitting across the sofa from Seth. It was definitely Owen, and the shock on his face mirrored Bryce’s thoughts. Would this meeting be peaceful or would the past influence the outcome of this investigation?
Chapter 7
OWEN STOOD immediately and walked toward Bryce with his right hand outstretched. “Long time, no see,” he said.
Bryce shook automatically. “How are you, Owen?”
Seth’s gaze flicked from one to the other, and understanding slowly dawned in his eyes. “You’ve met.” he stated, confirming the obvious.
“Owen and I go way back,” Bryce said.
“Is that right?” Seth replied, seemingly peeved by this new development.
“Yeah, we were close back in our college days,” Owen said jovially. “You haven’t changed much, buddy. I’d recognize you anywhere.”
Open House Page 5