by CJ Bishop
♦
“Sit.” Clint threw Jim Evers into the one of the kitchen chairs and shoved the gun in his face. “Stay.” He looked at Devlin and Abel, then cast a glance at Noah who stood frozen and wide-eyed, and eased the hammer back into place, tucking the weapon inside his jacket. Looking at Abel’s hand which was already starting to swell, he raised one eyebrow. “Nice right hook there, kid.”
Clint was typically a man of few words and his compliments were to be cherished. Abel smiled, a little nervous; he hadn’t had a lot of direct one-on-one interaction with Clint and was still a bit intimidated by him—though he wouldn’t hesitate to trust the man with his life. “Thanks.” He tried to make a fist and winced, a sheepish laugh escaping him. “Guess I should start working out with Axel and Maddy, huh?”
The cowboy nodded. “Never hurts to be prepared.”
When Noah remained glued to the counter, startled eyes locked on Clint, Devlin touched his shoulder and smiled. “You don’t have to be scared. He’s on our side.” Devlin chuckled softly. “Thank God.”
Noah swallowed and blinked. “That was…” the shock in his eyes began to morph into wonderment. “…so cool.”
The cowboy’s mouth twitched with a fleeting smile.
Abel was still shocked by his presence there. “Where did you come from?” he asked. “How did you know…?”
“Max called Anthony after you talked to him,” Clint explained. “He was worried that you might be walking into an unsafe situation. I came out here to make sure everything remained under control.” He turned cool eyes on Abel’s dad. “What do you want done with him?” Clint looked at Abel. “Your call, kid.”
Jim stared at them fearfully, his previous belligerence gone without a trace as he cowered back in the chair.
“Just leave him,” Abel said quietly. “He isn’t worth the time or effort.” Abel motioned to Noah. “Come on, get whatever personal stuff you want to bring with you and we’ll take care of whatever else you need.”
The boy nodded and came forward unsteadily, favoring his leg. Clint watched him and Noah glanced up at him with a shy, awed look as he moved passed the cowboy. When Noah was out of the room, Clint shot a cold, narrowed glare at Jim Evers, though his question was directed to Abel. “Did he do that to the boy?”
Abel stared at his dad. “He didn’t cause it,” he murmured. “But he prevented Noah from taking therapy that could have greatly helped in the healing process.”
Clint walked over to the man in the chair and lifted his foot, shoving the heel of his boot hard into Jim’s hip bone. “What do think?” he muttered low to the frightened man, leaning his weight on his foot, causing the heel of the cowboy boot to grind harder. “Should I bust your fucking hip, too? See how you like limping around for the rest of your life?”
The man’s chest heaved in terror.
Clint chuffed and withdrew his foot. Abel suspected he would’ve crippled the man if it wasn’t for Noah being right there in the apartment with them. After seeing Clint with Jules, and hearing the story of how he rescued Gavin and Axel’s pup, Abel detected a much softer heart in the cowboy than was visible to the naked eye. He clearly had a soft spot for kids—and puppies—in distress.
When Noah returned with a backpack strapped over one shoulder, he looked at the three men anxiously, his voice low and uncertain as he asked quietly, “Where are you taking me?”
Startling Abel, Clint was the first to respond as he stepped over and unburdened the boy by taking his heavy pack, then ran his hand over Noah’s head. “Home.”
♦
Dane looked at his mother. She hadn’t changed much in nine years but for a few extra lines around her eyes. The woman could simply stare at him, clearly disbelieving what she was seeing. “Freddy…” she whispered. “Please go get your Uncle George.”
Freddy touched her shoulder and cast Dane an uncertain glance. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?”
Eyes narrowing, Dane said, “I’m her son—not a serial killer.”
“It’s okay, hon.” She squeezed Freddy’s hand with obvious affection. “Go get your uncle.”
Freddy shot Dane a cool look that warned him not to cause the woman more grief, then disappeared back inside the house.
Katherine Chambers gazed at Dane. “I…I don’t know what to say,” she admitted quietly. “I didn’t expect…” she blinked and Dane thought maybe he saw dampness in her eyes. “I never thought you would come back.”
“Did you want me to?” Dane curled his hand over Angel’s shoulder muscle, taking comfort in his presence, and drew him a fraction closer; a move his mother didn’t miss, causing her answer to stall.
“You’re our son, Dane,” she told him. “We love you. We always did…even if you didn’t think so.” Her eyes repeatedly jumped to Angel, though never lingering for more than a few seconds.
“If you really love me,” Dane said. “Then you want me to be happy, right?”
She hesitated as if he were trying to trick her. “Of course, we do,” she murmured, her tone guarded. “But we want it to be a genuine, healthy happiness.”
“Well, I’ve found it.” Dane tightened his arm around Angel. “Genuine, healthy happiness.” He looked down as Angel raised his face and smiled; the smile that never failed to explode Dane’s heart with love, joy, and light. Dane turned his gaze on his mom. “I’d like you to meet Angel. My fiancé. We’re getting married this weekend.”
His mother visibly recoiled, eyes shifting, instantly nervous and uncomfortable. Had he expected anything less? George Chambers appeared behind her—soon enough to hear Dane’s announcement. Everyone always said he was a “spittin’ image” of his father; black hair, dark eyes, masculine jaw, strong, stout build. But that’s where their likeness ended.
“You wait nine years to come home?” George murmured tightly. “Nine years in which we didn’t know if you were dead or alive? And you return for this reason? To flaunt your lifestyle in our faces?” His features strained and eyes narrowed as he wrapped his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “I held out hope for all these years that you would come to your senses, see the error of your ways, and grow into a good and decent man. But apparently my hope was in vain.”
“Dane is a good and decent man,” Angel spoke up, a whisper of defiance and defensiveness in his lovely voice. “He is compassionate and loving and strong and protective. He would give his life for those he loves—and those who love him would give their lives for him. How can you say what he is or isn’t? You don’t even know him.”
Licking his lips slowly, Dane stifled the smile that struggled to stretch across his face. He’d seen Angel stand up to a cowboy gangster—there was no way a couple religious bigots were going to intimidate this little fireball.
George Chambers looked at Angel with visible disdain, but refused to acknowledge him as he turned rigid eyes on his son. “What do you want from us?”
“First of all,” Dane said. “I didn’t come here to flaunt anything in your faces. I guess I was hoping that you could simply be happy for me, that I’d found someone who loves me and makes me happy and wants to spend the rest of his life with me.” He sighed and kissed Angel softly on the head. “But I guess my hope was in vain.” He reached inside his jacket and withdrew a white envelope with decorative embossed floral designs. “I came here to invite you to my wedding,” he whispered and placed the envelope on the porch rail, knowing neither of them would accept it from his hand. “That’s all.” He looked at them both, certain that somewhere deep inside them, they did love him. But it was a love buried beneath a lifetime of false perceptions and wrongful interpretations of a holy book that was meant to be God’s love letter to his creation…not the weapon with which they used to destroy one another.
Angel took Dane’s hand and squeezed it gently, gazing up at him with all the love he would ever need in this life…or the next. All of the sudden, Dane just wanted to be back home in their own bed…making sweet, passionate love.
Reading Dane as only his Angel could, a tender smile formed on the young man’s lips, capturing Dane’s heart all over again as he said softly, “Let’s go home.”
BEST MAN
The Phoenix Wedding
BOOK THREE
Chapter 1
Clint returned with them on Horatio’s plane and stretched out on the sofa near the plush leather seats, his hat tipped over his face. Noah was given a seat by the window, having never flown before. Abel noted the way his eyes repeatedly darted to the cowboy, that look of awe holding. He sensed the boy had a ton of questions about Clint but held them back, clearly nervous about speaking much at all.
While awaiting their return, Horatio had ordered a variety of entrées, nothing overly lavish but simple dishes that most of them were accustomed to eating. He’d anticipated Noah’s presence on the return trip home and added a special order of burger and fries for the boy, which they had all secretly coveted.
“Did you get enough to eat?” Horatio sat in the chair next to Noah, drinking a glass of wine. Upon closer inspection, it was evident that Noah was underweight. He hadn’t been living in poor conditions, so either Jim regulated his meals in a strict manner, or the stress of the situation weakened Noah’s appetite. Whatever the cause—and Abel suspected the latter—he’d had no problem finishing off the hamburger and fries, and ate as if it were his first full, “enjoyable” meal in a long time.
The boy held a fountain-cup of soda in his hands, occasionally sipping from the straw. He nodded and replied quietly, “Yes. Thank you.”
“All right,” Horatio said. “But it you want a snack later, just let me know.”
Noah nodded again and looked out the window, wonder lighting up his face. Abel gazed at him, emotion squeezing his throat. You think you’ve died and gone to heaven, don’t you? Abel smiled; he knew the feeling. He was sure everyone who was welcomed into this family felt exactly the same.
“Noah,” Devlin spoke up and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. The boy looked at him. Devlin cleared his throat and continued with a soft tone. “I don’t want to bring up bad memories for you, but why did Jim say you caused the car accident?”
Noah went still and stared down at his cup. “I went out when I wasn’t supposed to,” he whispered. “I…I accidentally broke Jim’s favorite beer mug and I knew he was going to be really mad when he got home, so I went out before he came back. I was scared to be there alone with him when he was mad at me.” He sipped the soda and rubbed his lips together. “It started storming before I got home and I had to have my mom come pick me up. She was mad, too, because Jim had yelled at her about me.” He blinked as wetness seeped into his lashes. “She started yelling at me, too, saying I needed to be more responsible and to stop making Jim mad all the time. She said…” his words wavered and tears thickened. “She said sometimes I was more trouble than I was worth.” His throat worked and a tear slid down his face. “Then a car hit us and she was…dead. That’s the last thing she said to me.” His chin trembled and another tear followed the course of the first one. “I was more trouble than I was worth.” He raised tear-filled eyes to Devlin. “If I’d just stayed home and not been so scared of Jim…she would still be alive.”
He sniffed and wiped his face and looked out the window again.
Horatio cupped the back of Noah’s neck. “People say things when they’re angry, son,” he murmured. “Things they don’t really mean. And life isn’t predictable. You can’t blame yourself for what happened. You were being a normal kid, and it wasn’t right of your stepfather to put that on you.”
On the sofa, Clint shifted and, without moving his hat, muttered low, “Should’a pulled the trigger.”
They all glanced at him but he said nothing more as he settled into the soft cushions and appeared to drift off to sleep.
“A man of few, albeit quality, words,” Horatio chuckled.
A hint of a smile played at the corner of Noah’s mouth as he continued to stare out the window. Abel glanced at Clint. You just made some extra points there, cowboy.
♦
Less than an hour into the flight, Devlin noticed that Noah was beginning to shift around in his seat as if he couldn’t get comfortable. A slight pinch in his brow was something Devlin saw often at the hospital and betrayed discomfort. “Are you all right, Noah?”
The boy nodded, though the strain on his face was intensifying little by little.
“Is your leg bothering you?”
Noah started to shake his head, then nodded again. “A little,” he mumbled, but Devlin suspected more than a little.
Devlin directed his next question to Horatio. “Do you mind if he lies down in the bedroom?”
“No, of course not,” Horatio said. He looked at Noah. “I want you to be as comfortable as possible.”
“I’m…I’m okay, really,” Noah said quietly. “I’m used to it.”
“Does it hurt often?” Devlin asked.
Noah nodded. “Most of the time. But sometimes worse than other times.” He shrugged. “I’m not used to sitting up so long.”
“Did Jim give you anything for the pain?” Abel asked, a bit tightly.
“No,” Noah whispered. “He said I was probably lying about it hurting so I wouldn’t have to do anything around the house.”
“Asshole,” Abel muttered low.
Devlin squeezed Abel’s hand, agreeing wholeheartedly. “I have some Ibuprofen,” Devlin told the boy. “You can take some of that and lie down. It should help some. Tomorrow, I’ll schedule you a checkup at the hospital and get you the proper pain medication.”
Noah stared at him, warm gratitude in his eyes. “Thank you.”
Devlin smiled and rose from his seat and motioned to Noah. “Come with me. I’ll show you to the bedroom.”
The boy pushed up out of his chair and followed Devlin, his limp more prominent after an hour of sitting in one place.
In the bedroom, Devlin had Noah sit on the bed while he removed the boy’s shoes, then filled a small glass with water from the bathroom sink and had him take two pain pills. “Go ahead and lie down.” When Noah scooted onto the bed and lay down against the thick, plush pillows, Devlin brushed his long bangs off his brow and out of his eyes. “Try to get some rest.”
“Dr. Grant…” Noah stopped him when Devlin started to leave.
“You can call me Devlin, if you like.” He smiled.
Noah nodded and Devlin looked at him expectantly. The boy scooted up higher against the pillows, a somewhat troubled look on his face. “Is this…temporary?”
Frowning, Devlin sat down on the bed. “Is what temporary?”
“Me staying with all of you,” Noah mumbled. “Are you just taking me until you can find someone else to adopt me?”
Devlin squeezed his hand. “No, Noah. We very much want you to stay with us, indefinitely. Be a part of our family. And I promise you, you’ll never find another family quite like this one. It is filled with amazing people who will absolutely adore you, and spoil you,” he added with a soft smile. “And you don’t have to worry about not fitting in. There is always a place for new family members.”
The boy relaxed a bit. “Is the cowboy part of your family, too?”
Devlin chuckled and nodded. “Very much so.”
“He’s pretty cool.”
“Yes,” Devlin agreed with a soft laugh. “He is very cool.”
Abel appeared in the doorway. “I was wondering if I could get a couple of those pain killers, too.” He raised his swollen hand. “It’s really starting to throb.” He looked at Noah and winked. “But so worth it.”
“I’ve never seen anyone stand up to Jim,” Noah murmured. “Or hit him.” A smile tweaked his lips. “That was really awesome.”
Abel sighed and chuckled. “Honestly? It felt really good—even if I am paying for it now. He didn’t treat me and my sister very good, either, when we were younger.”
“What’s your sister like?”
Abel looked at Devlin and they both smiled. “Savannah. She’s sixteen, and a total sweetheart. Prepare to be fawned all over.”
“She’ll be like my sister, too?” he asked with uncertainty. “Or…my stepsister?”
“There are no step-siblings in this family,” Abel said. “We’re all just family. So, if anyone ever asks who I am to you, or who Savannah is…you can tell just tell them we’re your brother and sister.”
Noah pursed his lips and smiled. “Cool.”
“Maybe I should go ahead and wrap that.” Devlin indicated Abel’s hand. He stood up and retrieved two more pills from the bottle then he and Abel went into the bathroom. Devlin found a roll of gauze and had Abel sit on the closed toilet lid while he removed the gauze from the box. He sank to one knee before him and had him hold out his hand as he began gently wrapping his swollen knuckles. “I’m really proud of you,” he said softly and looked at Abel. “The way you stood up and fought for Noah. But after the way you’ve always cared for and protected Savannah, I wasn’t surprised.” He leaned up and kissed him. “You’re an amazing man, Abel Sims.”
Abel smiled and caressed Devlin’s cheek. “Soon to be Abel Grant.” He cupped Devlin’s face and kissed him deeply. “You don’t mind if I take your name, do you?”
“I would be honored,” Devlin whispered against his lips.
Abel drew back somewhat abruptly and looked past Devlin, into the bedroom. Devlin turned his head to find Noah watching them from the bed. They hadn’t come right out and told Noah they were a couple, or that the majority of their family was gay.
Devlin finished wrapping Abel’s hand and taped it, then stood up. The two of them returned to the bedroom and sat down on the bed. “Does it make you uncomfortable?” Devlin asked quietly and cast a glance at Abel. “That we’re together this way?”