Lost Souls Found

by Kris T. Bethke

  Michael greeted him at the door with a tight hug and a sexy kiss and led him through a well-appointed living room and into the kitchen. Sam wasn't surprised to see the high-end equipment, gleaming counters, and top-of-the-line stove. It seemed to be a thing with anchors--having a state-of-the-art kitchen, especially the ones who had the gene. They needed to take care of people, and a big part of that was food.

  "The manicotti needs a few more minutes, but I can offer you a glass of wine. I have a great pinot grigio that can hold its own with the sauce."

  "Here's a hint for you. You don't have to wine and dine me. I'm already yours," Sam teased.

  Michael's dark eyes got darker, and possessiveness shone from their depths. "Yeah you are."

  Sam laughed. "I'd love a glass. Thank you."

  Michael poured and passed it over. He also poured one for himself, but Sam noticed he didn't take a drink. Huh. That, combined with Michael's almost-frantic pace, made a curl of unease unfurl in his stomach. He set down his glass and then leaned back in his chair to watch Michael.

  He hurried back and forth, set the salad on the table, and then hustled back for the basket of perfectly toasted garlic bread. Then he was across the kitchen again, peering into the oven at the bubbling manicotti. He closed the door, wiped his hands on a towel he had slung over his shoulder, and then turned back to the table to light the two taper candles in silver bases. Sam snagged his hand before he could bustle away again.

  "Hey."

  "Hello there." Michael's voice was dark, and when he leaned down, Sam lifted up for his kiss. It was slow and easy, a promise of things to come, and Sam pulled away smiling.

  "It's just me." Sam swiped his thumb along the inside of Michael's wrist. "You can relax."

  Michael's laugh sounded forced. "Easy for you to say."

  "Why don't you start talking, then?" he suggested gently. "Get whatever it is off your chest."

  "Manicotti is ready." Michael eased out of his hold, but at least when he crossed the kitchen, he didn't walk like the devil was on his tail. "Let me plate it up and we can eat."

  Sam watched him closely and tried to figure out exactly what was going on. Michael gave him absolutely zero indication, so he just smiled when Michael set the plate before him and took his seat next to him.

  "This looks amazing. And God, it smells so good."

  "Dig in. I hope you like it."

  "No way I won't." He smiled again and used his fork to break off a piece of the steaming pasta. Cheese oozed out, and Sam made sure to scoop that up along with the pasta and sauce. He blew on it to cool it, put the bite in his mouth, and moaned loudly. "Holy crap, that's good."

  Michael's radiant grin warmed him to his toes. Sam reached for a piece of the bread and tore off a chunk to run it through the sauce. The flavors exploded on his tongue. The food was perfectly seasoned without going overboard. He could get used to that kind of food.

  They ate in silence for a few minutes. Sam enjoyed his food and made sure to show it. He loved the quiet smile on Michael's face and didn't want to disrupt it. But he knew he needed to get to the heart of the matter. Michael was wound tight, and Sam wanted to ease that.

  "Start talking?"

  Michael blew out a breath, took a sip of wine, and then looked Sam straight in the eye. "Have you ever thought about teaching?"

  Sam snorted out a laugh. "God, no."

  The light in Michael's eyes dimmed just a little. "You should."

  Sam took another bite as he tried to figure out where the conversation was going. Finally he gave up. "Michael?"

  "Look at how you were with Tyler. You knew exactly what he needed, and you provided it with a gentle hand. I think you'd be great at doing the same for ghostwalkers just coming into their own--the ones who are finally going on ghostwalks and need guidance. You'd be amazing." Michael paused and then, in a quieter voice, added, "And if you worked in that department, I wouldn't be your direct supervisor anymore. I wouldn't have to kill you and not be able to take care of you when you came back."

  Sam's blood froze, and his appetite vanished in a blink. He set his fork down and turned fully to face Michael.

  "This is your solution?"

  "Why not?"

  "Because I don't want to teach." If Sam's voice was too loud, he couldn't help it.

  "Really?"

  Could Michael be that clueless?

  "Yes, really. What I want is to ghostwalk, to be valuable and important. What I do makes a difference. I like helping people."

  "I know," Michael said, his voice strangely calm. "Don't you think you'd still be doing that? Still be valuable and important. And talk about helping people. Sam, that would be all you did if you were teaching."

  Sam ground his teeth together. "So you, what? Just made a unilateral decision that this is the answer to our problem?"

  "I'm not making a unilateral decision. I'm offering you an option. Something I really believe that you'd excel at and that also happens to solve our problem." Michael took his hand. Sam tried to pull away, but Michael's grip was too strong. "I wouldn't have even entertained the thought if I didn't think it would be a good fit for us--for you especially. I think you'd be amazing."

  As nice as that was to hear, Sam was just too angry to listen. "This is a cop-out."

  "How?" Michael threw his hands up and then crossed them over his chest. Sam mirrored the action, his glare mutinous.

  "Because this forces me to make all the changes. Again. Jesus, don't you understand that I like what I do? That I value my job? How can you ask this of me?"

  "Because I love you."

  Sam went still, and his mouth dropped open and hung there for a moment. When he realized how he must look, he snapped it shut and then swallowed.

  "What?"

  "I love you, Sam. And I get that I've made a lot of mistakes where you and I are concerned, but I don't want to make any more. I want you here with me. But if we stay where we're at, we'll end up resenting each other."

  "I.... Michael...."

  "Will you at least consider it? Talk to your brother. And Dom, because he'll have to do this with you. I know it's a lot to ask. I know." Michael squeezed his eyes shut, and Sam couldn't stand it. He put his hand on Michael's, and Michael immediately turned his over to lace their fingers. "Christ knows I was against this program coming to our office. But now it's offered us the perfect solution. If you take a job there, we can keep work and home separate."

  Sam stared at Michael, and his heart broke at the torment in his eyes. Sam had put that there. For years Michael had been the reason for Sam's heartbreak, but now that their positions were reversed, Sam felt it keenly. It was a lot to ask, sure. But was it too much? Just because Sam had hurt for so long before they got together didn't mean that Michael should make all the sacrifices.

  "I'll think about it," Sam whispered. "Talk to Dom and see."

  The relief that flooded through Sam was not his own. He felt it pour off Michael in waves, and it nearly made him cry. He opened his arms and reached for Michael, and Michael slid to his knees to wrap his arms around Sam's waist. Sam bent and kissed his hair, and he could hear Michael's repeated thank-yous in his head.

  "I can hear you right now. Just so you know."

  Michael gave a watery-sounding chuckle and lifted his head. "I've been meaning to talk to you about that. I did a little research today, and it seems there's a hypothesis that it could happen. Because of our emotional investment in each other, when I let down my shields and project, you can hear me. I tried it on Julie, thinking maybe because we're close, she could hear me. But she couldn't."

  Sam's heart lightened at that. "So it's just me? I'm special?"

  "You are. And this is one more thing to add to the reasons why." Michael cupped Sam's head and kissed him. He tasted like sauce and wine and him. Sam would never get tired of kissing him.

  "I'm not making any promises. I want to be clear. But I'll talk to Dom and see what he says. Okay?"

  "That's all I ask, th
at you consider it. If it doesn't work...." Michael grimaced, but then his expression smoothed. "We'll have to figure something out. But I think you'll be amazing."

  "You said that already. Get up. You're gonna hurt your knees."

  Michael chuckled and groaned as he straightened and sat in his chair once again. He looked like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and Sam couldn't stop smiling.

  "Michael?"

  "Hmm?"

  "I love you too. You should know that. I love you so much."

  Michael's smile softened and filled his whole face with light. "Yeah, sweetheart. I know."

  Chapter Twenty

  IT was late by the time Sam got home, but he didn't care. The lights were on across the street, so he parked in his own driveway and headed straight for his brother's. He tested the doorknob, and finding it unlocked, rapped sharply on the door as he walked in. If his brother was upstairs getting his brains screwed out, the door would have been locked.

  Blake sat up immediately and pushed at Derek's chest for leverage. He took one look at Sam and stood to cross the floor. But Sam ducked the intended hug and flopped down on the couch much harder than necessary. Blake cautiously walked back toward him.

  "Sammy? What's going on?"

  For a moment Sam didn't know what to say, how to express everything that was going on in his head. Finally he settled on, "What do you think about me teaching?"

  Blake exchanged a look with Derek as he sat on the coffee table. "You mean, in the training program? As a mentor?"

  "Yeah."

  A slow smile stole over Blake's face. "That's brilliant."

  Derek chuckled. It was a deep rumbling sound. Then he nudged Sam on the shoulder. "It really is."

  Sam blinked. "What? Are you serious?"

  "Of course I am." Blake sat forward and rested his arms on his knees. "No one has more patience than you."

  "Are you drunk?" Sam squinted. His brother was probably drunk.

  "No, wise guy. Think about it, though. Really. You have the patience of a saint."

  Sam turned to Derek and pointed at Blake. "Maybe he's high."

  Derek just beamed at him. "Sam, you waited ten years for the man you love to love you back. That's, like, master-level patience."

  Okay, so Derek did have a point--a small one. He shook his head. "I was leaving, though. I was going to do it. If he hadn't... I would have gone."

  "Well, sure." Derek stood up, speared a hand into Sam's hair, rubbed for a second, and then stepped away. "Even saints have a breaking point. But it took you ten years to get there, and even then, Michael had to push you to it. Tell me you would have gone even if Michael hadn't taken things one step too far."

  Sam scowled. "Don't be logical now."

  Derek just chuckled again and walked toward the kitchen. "Anybody want a drink?"

  "Water for me, please."

  "You got it, B. Sam?"

  "No. I'm good, thanks." Sam turned back to his brother. "Really?"

  Blake slid from his perch on the table to the cushion next to Sam. "Yes, really. Patience to spare. And you like working with other ghostwalkers, right?"

  Sam was about to deny it, but the look on Blake's face made him stop and consider. Truth was he did enjoy working with other ghostwalkers. Not only when, like in Tyler's case, they needed help. But whenever a case called for more than one ghostwalker, Sam was one of the first to volunteer.

  "Okay, yeah. Maybe I do. But so what? I'm not exactly teacher material."

  "And if this were for the introductory training sessions, I'd have to agree," Blake said with a nod. "But the people who come through this program are going to be in their last leg of training. Most of them will already be paired up. This is about guiding them through ghostwalks--showing and instructing. And that, you'll be very good at indeed."

  "That's basically what Michael said," Sam admitted grudgingly.

  Blake didn't say anything for a minute, and then he asked gently, "Was this his idea?"

  All Sam could do was nod. His face heated. The anger started to boil up again, even though he knew it was irrational. He clenched his fists and then made a conscious effort to relax them.

  "So why does that bother you?"

  Good question. Sam blew out a breath and leaned back into the couch. "Because it feels like he's asking me to change while he gets to stay the same, all in the name of the good of our relationship."

  "Ah."

  Sam gave his brother the side-eye. "What does that mean?"

  "Let me ask you this. Do you love Michael?"

  "What kind of question is that? Of course I do."

  Blake nodded. "And do you think he loves you?"

  Sam gulped as he remembered their dinner just hours before.

  "Yeah," he said softly. "I know he does."

  "Okay, then. Look at it this way. Because of what he is and does, it's not like he can just change jobs, right?" Blake didn't wait for Sam to acknowledge the question. "But you can. You can do something else, something important and worthwhile, and it makes things better between you, or easier, at any rate. How is that a bad thing?"

  "When you put it like that, it makes me sound selfish."

  "You're not selfish, Sam." Derek's voice made him jump, but Derek just handed Blake his water. Then he grinned at Sam. "Well, mostly not selfish. It's okay to feel all these things and to want Michael to bend more than you. Especially after everything you've been through. But at the end of the day, you just need to ask yourself one thing."

  Sam eyed him warily. "What's that?"

  "Is what you have with Michael worth the sacrifice?" Derek looked at Blake, and his entire demeanor softened. "Sometimes you have to face your biggest worries or make the bigger change to have the thing you need the most."

  Just like that the air between his brother and Derek charged with electricity, and Sam fought not to roll his eyes. Those two were so stupid in love. It was a sight to see. Sam's throat constricted as he thought about what it could be like with Michael if the tension of the job were no longer between them.

  "I guess I need to talk to Dom."

  SAM waited until the next day, then texted Levi to ask him to make Dom's favorite pot roast with baby carrots and new potatoes, and then wrangled himself an invite to dinner. But Dominic Larabee was no fool, and the moment he saw his favorite food and his best friend and work partner at the table, he closed off.

  "What's going on? Are we moving after all?" Dom's face clouded over. "If that bastard hurt you, I swear I'll--"

  "No." Sam was quick to interrupt. "No, nothing like that. But I do need to talk to you about something."

  "Well, spit it out," Dom grumped. "There's no way I'll be able to eat my favorite meal with this hanging over us. Just tell me."

  Sam had to take a second to make sure he had all the words, and in the end, he realized that Dom was his closest friend, the one who knew him best, and he didn't have to frame the conversation in any special way. So he just told Dom everything, every detail of dinner from the moment he arrived at Michael's house to the time he left.

  Dom listened in silence, and he worked his jaw as he clenched his teeth. Sam all but held his breath while he waited for Dom to speak. Levi had no such worries. He dished up the food. Sam found he could breathe again with just that action. Dom might be his best friend, but Levi knew his husband better.

  "So, another change for you--for us--but nothing on his part. Isn't that asking a lot?"

  "That's what I said," Sam crowed and then laughed and shook his head. "But tell me, wouldn't you do it if Levi were the one asking?"

  Dom squinted. "So it's like that, is it?"

  "It is." Sam smiled. Sometime in the past twenty-four hours, he'd settled his mind and heart. Derek was right. It was a change only Sam could make.

  "Well, fine, then."

  Levi chuckled. "You know, I was originally planning on manicotti this evening."

  Sam jerked his gaze to Levi. "What?"

  "Tell him, baby." />
  Dom let out a long, explosive sigh, as though speaking were a hardship. "Fine. I was going to, you know, ask you if you would consider moving to the training program. Levi was going to make your favorite, and I was going to play the 'but I was going to move for you' card if I had to."

  Sam burst into laughter and gripped his side. "You ass. You could have just said."

  Finally Dom gave him a genuine smile. "It's more fun to make you squirm."

  "Tell him why," Levi gently prodded.

  Dom's eyes got big, and he looked at his husband in surprise. "You sure?"

  "It's time."

  "Holy shit. I have been dying to tell you for weeks, Sammy." Dom's excitement was infectious, and Sam leaned forward, eager to hear their news. Dom cleared his throat dramatically. "Levi and I are looking into starting a family."

  It took a second for the words to sink in, but then Sam shot up and raced around the table to hug them both.

  "That's awesome. You guys always said you wanted to be dads."

  "Yeah." Dom couldn't stop grinning. "We haven't decided on surrogacy or adoption yet, but we're looking into options."

  "So that's why you want to change departments."

  "The hours will be better, more controlled. I won't have to worry so much about a middle-of-the-night emergency to anchor you when you have to go in, or long days when you take a hard case and you push the time limit." Dom sent him a mock glare but then brightened again. "We weren't quite sure how we were going to do it before, but when King made the announcement, I couldn't wait to tell Levi. My only concern was convincing you."

  "You know," Sam said as he dug into his dinner. "You really should start calling him Michael. He's your best friend's boyfriend, after all."

  Dom made a face. "I'll pass, thanks."

  "So, what? Your kids are going to call him Uncle King?"