by Sam Burns
She smiled and nodded. “We’ll do everything in our power, Mr. Quinn. We’ll need you to sign some paperwork to get started, but we can call if anything changes. You don’t have to stay in the waiting room.”
Keegan nodded and followed her away.
Jon turned to Mickey and Owen. “You guys can go ahead if you want. I can drive Keegan when he’s ready to go.”
Owen was still off in his own world, but Mickey met Jon’s eyes and nodded. “Good idea. You take care of him, huh?”
“I will,” Jon promised.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Keegan's Safety Net
Keegan woke with his face pressed into Jon’s neck. Part of him expected to be in a stiff, uncomfortable hospital chair, but he wasn’t. He could tell that it wasn’t his bedroom from the light streaming through windows behind him.
He opened his eyes and found himself in an unfamiliar bed. Jon’s, obviously. He didn’t remember going to bed, but he’d slept so little the previous few days that he was surprised he remembered anything.
The sheets were crisp and—of course—white, with a surprisingly high thread count for someone on a federal agent’s salary. Jon also had an impressive wardrobe for a fed. Keegan guessed the only things Jon spent any money on were his home, his clothes, and books.
Keegan had grown up in a world between, where half of his friends barely had enough to eat every day, and the other half wasted insane amounts of money on things like gilded wainscoting and tiny, purebred dogs that had to be replaced when they got too big to fit in a purse. People somewhere in the middle were still something of a novelty.
“Deep thoughts?” Jon asked from above him.
Keegan smiled up at him. He was taller and bulkier than Jon, but it was nice to be held like that for a change. “Nah, just thinking you have nice sheets.”
Jon grinned. “I figured you’d mock me for having plain, white ones. They were a gift from my parents.”
“Sheets?” Keegan tried to hide the dubious note in his voice, but really, who bought their kid sheets?
“Sheets,” Jon agreed. “My parents are very supportive of my sensible tendencies. They only buy me things I’ll be able to use, even if they insist on picking the most extravagant versions.”
That made Keegan chuckle. The only time Brendan had gotten Keegan what he’d asked for was his eighteenth birthday, when he’d given him the . . . He frowned.
“Keegan?” Jon asked, concern in his voice.
Keegan sighed at him. “My dad isn’t the kind of guy who buys sheets. He gave me a gun for my eighteenth birthday. I mean, it was what I wanted, but not exactly the kind of thing you tell cute stories about.”
“At least it was what you wanted,” Jon said. The man was relentlessly supportive. “I mean, imagine if he bought Owen a gun.”
He couldn’t hold back a chuckle at that. “He took O out to the range once, when he was sixteen. The poor kid’s never gonna make it as an FBI agent.”
“It didn’t go well?” Jon asked, looking morbidly curious.
“He only took one shot. Gave himself a black eye because he didn’t brace for the kickback.” Keegan smiled at the memory. Owen hadn’t even wanted to touch the thing, but their dad had insisted that he needed to know how to protect himself. He’d refused to ever try again.
Jon’s hold on him tightened, and Keegan was pretty sure he was snickering into his hair.
“He’ll have to use one if he wants to be a fed, though, won’t he?”
“Yeah,” Jon agreed. “But he seems like a strong-willed kid. I’m sure if he’s determined, he’ll do it.”
Keegan looked up at him. “How the hell are you such a nice guy? You don’t even know Owen, and most of the people who’ve met him don’t like him.”
At that, Jon looked confused. “I don’t know why. He seemed nice to me. Stressed out and miserable, but he wasn’t rude or anything.”
There was a long moment of silence. “Huh,” Keegan finally said. “What do you know, he wasn’t. He’s not usually so nice to people.”
Jon squeezed Keegan tight against him. “Glad I could be the exception to that rule, then. I’d say he recognizes when a guy actually cares about his brother, but it was probably the ambition to join the bureau talking.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Keegan answered. He caught sight of the clock next to the bed and sighed. “I should get to work. I’ve been away two days—Brigit’s got to be going nuts.”
“She’s a big girl, she’s been doing fine,” Jon said.
Keegan lifted his head to look Jon in the eye. “You were there last night to get the food. Was everything okay?”
Jon made a face. “Other than your ex hanging around? Sure.”
“Phil was there?” Keegan asked, sitting up. That didn’t make any sense. They hadn’t had plans to meet or anything like that.
“Yeah. Hanging out at the bar, annoying Brigit.”
Keegan didn’t have to ask what Jon thought of that, his disdain was written all over his face. “She really hates him. Don’t know exactly why. I mean, you’ve got more reason than her.”
After a moment of consideration, Jon shrugged. “That’s fair. But like I told him last night, I don’t think you’d be interested in getting back together with him even if I weren’t in the picture. I don’t see him as a threat to us, just an annoyance that I have to put up with.”
“You told him that?” Keegan was profoundly amused. “That’s great. I mean, it’s true. I’m really glad you know it, though.” He turned in Jon’s arms until they were face to face. “I don’t even remember why we were together anymore. What we talked about, or did, other than have sex and go to parties.”
“You were what, twenty-two? Twenty-three? You didn’t need more than sex and parties.” Jon smirked, letting his hand drift down to settle on Keegan’s boxer-covered ass. “The sex part is still pretty awesome, even if I’m not much of a party guy.”
“You kidding me?” Keegan asked. He pressed their bodies together from the toes up, finishing by planting a kiss on Jon’s lips. “The sex part is way better now.”
He was considering suggesting they demonstrate that fact when he looked at the clock again and sighed.
Jon followed his gaze. “Need to get to Wilde’s?”
Keegan nodded. “I’ve already taken two unscheduled days off. Brigit’s supposed to be off tomorrow, and if I’m not there today, you can bet she won’t take it.”
“I’m sure,” Jon said, nodding along and sitting up in the bed. “Should I take you back to your place, then? Or your car?”
He had to think for a moment to remember, and he frowned when he did. “Car’s up at Dad’s place still. I dragged him to the hospital in his car. If I can shower here, I’ve got a spare suit at Wilde’s, so you can just drop me off.”
“Sounds good,” Jon agreed. “But only if I can pick you up too.”
Keegan gave him a salacious smile. “You can pick me up anytime, baby.”
Jon groaned and threw a pillow at him.
#
When he walked through the door, Brigit was as happy to see him as she’d ever been, throwing her arms around him and sniffling wetly into his shoulder. Jon had dropped him off at the curb before heading to work too.
“Hey, hey,” he said, wrapping his arms around her and rocking back and forth. “Everything’s okay, Brigit. It’s all gonna be fine.”
She pulled away to look up at him. “Your dad?”
He could feel his face fall at the reminder. “It’s cancer.”
“Oh Keegan, that’s—”
“It’s gonna be okay,” he whispered. He wasn’t sure if he was talking to her, or to himself. Talking about it brought the whole mess right back to the front of his mind, and he almost wanted to cry. Instead, he kept talking. “They said he’s got a fighting chance, and the old man has always liked a good fight. He’s gonna make it.”
He wasn’t half as sure as he was acting, but as long as he could convince
her that he was okay, then he could pretend that he was.
“Okay,” he said, pulling away a bit and patting her on the back. “I’m sure there’s lots of paperwork for me to catch up on, but is there anything you need me to do first?”
The look on her face morphed from sympathetic to guilty. “Um, maybe you could help me fill the salt shakers.”
He quirked an eyebrow at her.
“Don’t kill me?” she asked. When he didn’t respond, she motioned for him to follow, and took him to his office.
It was neatly organized, maybe even cleaner than he’d left it on Wednesday night. She didn’t meet his eyes when he looked at her, so he went around his desk and started looking through the paperwork. “Did you run last week’s payroll? That’s great! I didn’t even know you knew how to—”
She was shaking her head, so he stopped and waited. She took one deep breath and spoke, stringing the words together so tightly that he had trouble hearing where one ended and the next began. “Jon called his cute brother who came and fixed all the paperwork and organized everything and I know it’s all in a different place now and I’m so sorry if he messed anything up but he was really nice to come in and help and he’s—”
“Brigit?” he cut her off, and she immediately stopped talking and gasped for breath. “Let me see if I got any of that. Jon’s brother—the one he brought for lunch?” He paused, and she nodded. “He came and helped you get things done last night?” She nodded again, still looking nervous.
That bothered him. As long as they’d been together, and as much as she did at Wilde’s, at some point he’d stopped thinking of her as an employee and started thinking of her as a partner. He didn’t want her to worry that he’d be angry when she had to get things done without him.
He smiled at her. “Jon’s cute brother, huh?”
She blushed crimson, and nodded, looking at the floor.
Going back around his desk to where she was standing, he squeezed her shoulder. “Hey, you gotta stop worrying about this. I abandoned you for two days, and the place didn’t fall down. You got help where you could. And if Jon’s brother is anything like him, I’m sure he can be trusted. Plus, you know, apparently he’s pretty.”
She giggled at that. “You’re not mad?”
“Jesus, Brigit, the only thing that would make me mad was if you quit on me.” He stopped and thought about it for a moment, then added, “Or ran yourself into the ground trying to work too hard.”
“Oh please, as if I’d ever quit,” she said, shoving his chest with both hands, but not hard enough to move him. “I’d never find a boss who was less worried about some stranger shuffling all his files around than about whether his employee managed to score a date with that guy.”
He turned her around, leaving his arm around her shoulder, and walked them both back into the dining area. “That’s because you’re more little-sister than employee,” he told her.
“Heck yeah she is,” Drew’s voice drifted in from the back. He walked into the dining area wiping his hands as though they were dusty. “Or, you know, big sister,” he corrected.
She rolled her eyes at them. “We’re all less than two years apart, you big goofballs.”
Keegan was distracted, looking at Drew’s hands.
“Keegan?” Brigit asked. “Everything okay?”
“You quit again, right?” he asked Drew without preamble. “No more smoking?”
Drew looked guiltily behind himself. “Um, working on it? Hey, hey, now, what’s that face about?” He came over and put a hand on Keegan’s shoulder.
Brigit sniffled. “It’s lung cancer?”
Drew turned to her, eyes wide. “What?”
“Key’s dad.”
Drew looked like he’d been punched in the stomach, and Keegan knew the feeling. He decided to address the source of the problem instead of acting like Drew had done something wrong. Drew’s choices were his own, and Keegan had no right to question them. The best Keegan could do was remove the stress that was driving Drew to smoke. “We gotta get new employees in here, pronto. We work too damned much.”
Drew nodded. “I promoted Stephanie. She’s doing good. Turns out she had wanted to branch out. Now we just have to find someone to replace her. And, you know, someone else to lighten up the load, eh?”
“And someone for front of house,” Brigit added. “I’ve gotten a few resumes, but it’s a pain to find someone who fits our style.”
“You mean someone who knows how to work at a snooty restaurant, but isn’t snooty?” Drew asked, smile returning. “Last guy from Le Cordon Bleu Chicago gave me a look like I’d slapped him when I said we made french fries.”
Brigit stuck her nose in the air. “His loss. Your fries are the best.”
Keegan took a deep breath and let it out slowly. His mind settled, much as it had in Jon’s bed earlier that morning. Maybe one part of his life was a mess, but he had Jon, and as always, he had his friends. He would make it.
#
Saturday morning passed without incident once Keegan figured out what Jon’s brother had done. He’d alphabetized the files on the desktop, made a new spreadsheet to track employee overtime, and streamlined the existing payroll setup, apparently all in one night. Keegan didn’t know whether to feel grateful, or completely outclassed.
Still, with all the help, Keegan was able to focus on sorting through job applications instead of just spending the day catching up. The applications, on the whole, made him a little nervous. Neither he nor Brigit had ever gone to college, and all of the applicants had higher educations. One even had a PhD. He knew the job market was bad, but that seemed excessive.
He made calls and set up appointments for interviews over the coming week, all in the morning so that the applicants could be introduced to both Brigit and Drew. He may have been the owner, but if someone didn’t get along with his partners, they weren’t going to make it at Wilde’s.
Around one o’clock, just as he was getting off the phone with an enthusiastic young man, Brigit stomped into his office. “He’s here. Again.”
He stared at her blankly for a second, but then he saw Phil hovering a few dozen feet behind her. Frowning, he looked at her. “Again?”
“First, he stalked you on your date. Then, he creeped on Jon and Miles having lunch. And then, he was here last night, giving Jon the eye when he picked up food to bring you guys in the hospital. It has to stop, Keegan. I don’t want him here.” She paused and frowned, obviously second-guessing her harsh words.
Instead of letting her take it back, Keegan nodded and got out of his chair. “Understood, boss. I’ll take care of it.” He went to where she was standing in the doorway and put an arm around her, squeezing her close and whispering in her ear. “This is your place too, Brigit. You get to say things like that.”
She curled into him a bit, hugging back. “Thank you. I’m glad you’re not dating that tool.”
He had to stifle a laugh as he pulled away. “I think Phil and I will go out for lunch.”
Brigit made a face, but didn’t protest. “I need you back here before four,” she said, throwing a glare over her shoulder. “Or I’ll start calling. And I will call the cops if you don’t answer.”
“Don’t worry,” he said, looking over his shoulder at her as he headed toward Phil. “Everything will be fine. I’ll be back in plenty of time for the dinner rush.”
“Mom says you can play outside?” Phil asked, giving Keegan his patented model smile. “I was starting to worry you were grounded or something.”
Keegan didn’t have a response to that. He suspected that back when he and Phil had been dating, he’d have had a snarky retort that made his independence from Brigit’s will clear. As it stood, the fact that Brigit was worried made him feel cared for rather than smothered. He smiled back at her and waved, and she returned the gesture, if not the smile.
“Are we going out, then?” Phil asked.
“Yeah. You creep Brigit out, and she doesn’t like you ha
nging around Wilde’s,” Keegan told him bluntly.
Phil chuckled. “You mean she’s worried I’m going to get in the way of you dating the Boy Scout.”
It took Keegan a moment to realize that had been intended as an insult. On the other hand, he suspected Jon had been a Boy Scout. He did always seem prepared . . .
“Keegan?” Phil said, breaking his train of thought. “Don’t tell me you’ve got it that bad. I mean, he’s cute, sure, but he can’t be that interesting. Squeaky-clean guys like that never are.”
“I dunno, Phil. I think I’m dirty enough for both of us. And he’s—” Keegan cut off when he realized he had no way to finish that sentence. Was Jon exciting? Not really. But thinking of seeing Jon made Keegan’s heart pound in a way that had nothing to do with the adrenaline rush of his youth. And Keegan didn’t miss his youth.
“He’s a good guy?” Phil asked, his voice neutral.
“Among other things,” Keegan agreed. He didn’t want to talk to Phil about Jon, though. He didn’t want to connect the two men in his mind, because they had nothing in common other than him. “So, why did you really want to talk to me?”
He realized they were headed in the direction of the Italian restaurant he’d gone to with Jon, and stopped short.
“Keegan?” Phil asked. “Something wrong?”
After orienting himself, he pointed in another direction. “There’s a sushi place over on Wells.”
Phil shrugged and changed direction with him. “I’ve been worried about you. I heard your dad is sick.”
That was interesting. Keegan wondered if the news was out there for everyone to hear, or if Phil had a source in the family. Maybe someone he’d known back when they were dating. “Yeah?” he asked. “What have you heard?”
“Not much,” Phil hedged. “Just that he’s sick. I know he’s getting up there.”
Keegan shrugged, affecting nonchalance. “He’s only fifty-seven.”
Phil let the subject drop, and they were quiet until they had walked around the block and been seated at the restaurant. Keegan had always liked the place, liked sushi in general, but something about ordering raw fish seemed appropriate while having lunch with Phil. That was probably ungenerous, but there it was in his head anyway, so he ordered sashimi. Phil made a face and ordered a salad.