A Worthy Man

by Jaime Reese

  He bit his lip to hide the smile. “I’m glad you called.”

  “Night, Vann.”

  “Good night.” He pressed the red button and set the phone aside. He tucked his hand under the pillow and stared out into the night, smiling when the clouds cleared and the moon peeked through to stare back at him again.

  Vann had managed to work all day at the diner without a single issue. Well, other than the constant distraction of wondering if he was finally going to see Drayton for a while tonight. Drayton had a business to run and a life he couldn’t pause just because Vann was now out. He was being selfish, and he knew it. At least Drayton had called him during the day to let him know he was going to fly in tonight.

  Finally.

  He sat in the living room, trying his best to ignore Frankie and his constant yapping. How the hell Ryan had put up with his shit every night for the last two months was impossible to guess. After only a few nights, he already wanted to shove his boot down the guy’s throat.

  He glanced up at the wall clock for the millionth time in the last thirty minutes. The damn thing didn’t seem as if it was moving. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, willing his leg to stop bouncing. Drayton’s flight was late. Which meant he was cutting it too close to the end of visiting hours.

  And fucking Frankie wasn’t shutting the hell up, arguing with the damn television as if the reality show contestants could actually hear him.

  Vann shot up from the couch when the doorbell rang. He swung his head around to steal a quick peek at the wall clock.

  “I’ll get that,” Julian said, holding out his hand to stop him.

  Vann blew out a slow breath through pursed lips, hoping to turn down the jackhammer that had taken residence in his chest. He’d have forty-five precious minutes with Dray. Assuming that was him at the door and not some late-night pizza delivery. He closed his eyes and took another deep breath, counting down from ten, needing to calm himself.

  He opened his eyes and his breath lodged in his throat.

  Drayton held a small overnight bag and stood inches away, those stunning steel gray eyes locked on him.

  Julian placed his hand on Drayton’s shoulder, breaking the trance between them. “Drayton, you can leave your bag here.” He looked over to Vann. “You guys can go sit out back. I doubt you’ll be able to get in a word with Frankie’s one-sided debate.”

  Vann nodded and turned to walk out the back door, hearing Drayton’s footsteps following close behind.

  He took a few more deep breaths, needing to calm the pounding echo in his ears. He missed Dray, his smile, his laugh. Everything.

  There was no way he was going to screw this up.

  ∞ ♥ ∞

  Drayton couldn’t silence the buzzing in his ears. His flight had landed, and the moment the plane had touched down, the shaking of his hands had begun and hadn’t stopped. There was no way in hell he’d waste a single minute waiting for the driver to arrive at the airport to pick him up, so he had asked Taylor to drop him off.

  He only had forty-five fucking minutes. Stupid airport weather delays and protocols forced him to lose too much time. He hated this crap and felt like a teenager at the junior prom with a damn chaperone and curfew.

  He took a seat by Vann on the porch bench, sitting sideways to face him, clasping his hands in his lap, hoping to steady the shake.

  Don’t touch him.

  “How was your flight?” Vann asked.

  “Sucked. Rain delays slowed us from leaving so it took a while. We had some turbulence but we landed. I came straight here.”

  Don’t touch him.

  “I saw the bag. I noticed you came up the front. You didn’t drive yourself?”

  Don’t touch him.

  Drayton clenched his hands into fists then opened them, needing to stop the tremble vibrating through his fingers. “Uh, no.”

  Don’t touch him.

  “Are you okay?” Vann rubbed his hands on his jean-clad thighs.

  Those thighs.

  Don’t touch him.

  They were thicker than before, obviously muscled. He wondered if he’d be able to see the indentations of his muscles and how each rise and dip would feel against his tongue. Everything about the new Vann was thicker. Stronger.

  Don’t touch him.

  Fuck it. He reached out and grabbed Vann’s hand, finally taking a deep breath as the tension began to ease from his body and the shake in his hands almost instantly vanished.

  “How long was that?”

  Drayton hadn’t realized his eyes were closed until he opened them. “I missed the question. Sorry.”

  “How long was that? A minute?”

  His brain was so scrambled he couldn’t follow the conversation. He focused on the balm of calmness that seemed to seep into his body with the touch. Vann had asked a question…hadn’t he? What the heck had he missed? Drayton willed his mind to focus. “I’m not following the conversation. I’m sorry.” He stroked his thumb along Vann’s fingers, seeing the new tiny, almost invisible white scars on his knuckles. His hands were strong, his fingers thick.

  He’d missed this. This intimacy. The warmth of Vann’s touch. He couldn’t stand being this close to him without some form of contact.

  “It took you a minute before you needed to touch me,” Vann said. “Did you fight with yourself a little before you grabbed my hand?”

  “I…” Drayton looked from their clasped hands up to Vann then back again. “I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about me pouncing on you after being apart so long. I’m not sure how you feel about me touching you.” He looked at their joined hands. “When I picked you up, I had to shove my hands in my pockets so I wouldn’t touch you.”

  Vann quietly chuckled. “I thought it was strange when you did that. You were never shy.” He brushed his thumb along Drayton’s skin. “You always needed to have that contact. You were never able to sit close to me and not touch me in some way.”

  “Do you want me to stop?” He tried to release his hold on Vann’s hand, but Vann tightened his grip.

  “Don’t ever fucking let go.” Vann placed his free hand on top of their joined hands and blew out a shaky breath. “Being away from you was tough. And it would have been impossible to be a few inches away from you during a visit and not be able to touch you.”

  Drayton struggled to breathe through the storm of emotions clamping down on his throat. He couldn’t imagine being this close to Vann and being denied contact.

  “I…would have lost it inside,” Vann finished on a whisper. “I wouldn’t have been able to survive as long as I did.”

  Drayton released Vann’s hand and reached up, hesitating for a moment before slowly wrapping his fingers around the nape of Vann’s neck and brushing his thumbs along the corded muscles. His chest heaved with each breath he pushed through his lungs as his eyes scanned every tiny detail of Vann’s face, cataloging every millimeter, logging in his memory bank each new scar and wrinkle. I missed you.

  Vann reached up and placed his hand over Drayton’s. “I missed you too.”

  Damn Vann and his ability to read him like a flashing neon sign. Drayton had never been able to hide anything from the man. Hell, most people couldn’t. Vann had a knack for reading people and figuring out their next move.

  Drayton reached up and traced his fingertip along the scar that started at Vann’s temple and cut through his eyebrow, a permanent mark his father had left on Vann’s face during the attack. He had seen the mugshot and had read the report. His father’s large, hideous fraternity ring had sliced through Vann’s skin and left a lasting reminder of their time apart and the pain they had each endured with the separation.

  He pulled Vann near and pressed a kiss to his temple over the scar. He took a slow, deep breath, relishing the warmth of Vann’s skin. He brushed his nose against Vann’s cheek then lightly brushed their mouths together, moaning when Vann immediately captured his lips and welcomed him to explore. His eyes slid shut as he enjoyed the tas
te of the man he’d craved for so many years and still needed as much as his next breath. Fingers brushed against the back of his neck and a firm grip held him in place.

  Drayton jerked away from the kiss when a yell echoed from inside the house.

  “Fucking Frankie,” Vann growled, pressing their foreheads together.

  Drayton took a few deep breaths, hoping to slow his heartbeat to something semi-normal. He imagined being a foot away from Vann, seeing him through a divider that might have been dirty or scratched. He imagined hearing Vann’s voice distorted via those crappy telephone lines he’d seen in movies and on TV. What if the connection had been so bad he couldn’t pick up the tiny changes in his tone that often spoke more than Vann’s words? He knew, without question, the truth of his next words.

  “I wouldn’t have made it.” He looked away, hating the weakness stinging his eyes. “I wouldn’t have been able to see you in there. Like that.” Drayton forced himself to make eye contact and gasped a breath when the pain he felt stared back at him.

  “I need to know you don’t hate me for keeping you away.” Vann swallowed heavily. “Please.”

  The crack in his voice spoke volumes.

  Drayton had sensed the pain in Vann’s written words when he had read the notebook entries. But there, in his eyes and the tiny, almost negligible break in his voice, Drayton had the proof Vann had suffered just as much with the separation.

  “I could never hate you.”

  Vann closed his eyes and exhaled a deep breath that skated across Drayton’s cheek. “I promise…I’ll do everything I can to make up for it. I’ll grovel as much as I have to and earn your love back.”

  Drayton brushed his nose against the side of Vann’s face. “I never stopped loving you. So you don’t have to earn anything back. We’ll talk tomorrow. Today…I…”

  He didn’t know what he wanted. He needed to be close to Vann. To know that he was safe and near him.

  Vann slid his arm around Drayton’s waist and rested his head against Drayton’s shoulder. “Tonight, you want this.”

  Drayton could put up an iron wall with everyone else and steel his features and emotions. But with Vann, any facade he attempted to put in place always seemed transparent.

  “Yeah,” he finally said.

  “Me too.”

  He pushed his nose into Vann’s hair, enjoying the comforting, familiar scent mixed with a hint of something new he couldn’t wait to discover. He eased into the embrace when strong arms pulled him closer and silently held him tight for the best thirty-seven minutes he’d had in the last ten years.

  Vann imagined it would take a while to ease back into things, if he ever truly did. He wasn’t going to kid himself into thinking things would ever be the same, but he would adjust—as he always did—and find his new normal. He just needed to get back into the swing of things and find a rhythm that would work for Vann 2.0. He was optimistic. Nearing the end of his first week, he finally felt as if he could breathe a little easier.

  He slowly chewed the biscuit, enjoying the butter and cheese flavors awakening his taste buds. The bread was so good he didn’t give a shit about Frankie and Ryan bickering at the table. He ate at a timid pace, not wanting to appear like a starved animal.

  Frankie dumped his plate in the sink and left the kitchen, cursing at Ryan who followed closely on his heels.

  Ben shook his head but quickly followed them. Even though he stayed out of their arguments—and they never seemed to pull him into their battles—Ben’s curious nature seemed to drive him to always linger nearby. Vann was just thankful the house drama didn’t include him in the mix.

  “Don’t crowd your plate.”

  Vann looked over to Julian sitting across from him at the kitchen table and swallowed his mouthful of food before responding. “What do you mean?”

  “That thing you do where you rest your forearms around your plate when you eat as if you’re guarding your food. It’s a tell.”

  Vann frowned, looking down at his forearms. Inside, some inmates had to eat quickly to avoid their food getting stolen or thrown on the floor by other inmates who chose to relive their grade-school bully days. But he kept his distance from the others and minded his own business, focusing on bulking himself up and maintaining that physical barrier between him and trouble. Anything to keep them away as they watched him from a guarded distance with a careful eye. They occasionally tested the boundaries, but they were quick to back off when he fought back.

  He withdrew his arms and tucked them under the table. “I never had to guard my food.”

  “You still need to eat, Shaw.” Matt looked to his side and gave his partner a reprimanding look.

  “That probably didn’t come out right.” Julian rubbed his shaved head. “I’m guessing you don’t want people figuring out you went to prison unless you tell them. So, minimizing your tells gives you the power to control who you want to know about your past.” He leaned over to his partner and pressed a gentle kiss on Matt’s lips. “Was that better?”

  Matt smiled. “Much.”

  Vann ducked his head and reached up with one hand to grab the fork. He stole a glance at Matt, then mimicked him. He eased into the silence, circling the pasta in his bowl to scoop up the remaining sauce.

  “Bill says you’re doing great,” Matt said.

  Vann sipped his water then set the glass down, withdrawing his hand and resting it in his lap. “There was a part there with the lunch crowd that threw me off the first day, but…I’m glad to hear he thought I did okay.” He poked the last tortellini in his bowl and swirled it around, polishing off the remaining sauce before popping it into his mouth. Damn that’s good.

  “You’re a thinker,” Julian said.

  He swallowed his mouthful of pasta and wiped his mouth with the napkin, making sure to tuck his free hand back in his lap. “Huh?”

  “You carefully think things through for a while.”

  Vann frowned, not really sure he wanted to dive into a personal conversation. These people were here to help. They knew Drayton. They had this inner circle of trust, and it seemed as if they were welcoming him into the fold. Maybe he could take a chance. Maybe opening himself up a little wouldn’t be so bad. “Most people thought I was stupid growing up,” he mumbled, staring at his now empty pasta bowl.

  “You’re not. Far from it. And don’t use that word in this house. You prefer to digest and analyze things before responding. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  Vann hesitantly glanced up. “I know I’m a little slow sometimes.”

  “You’re methodical.” Julian crossed his arms on the dinner table and leaned forward. “And you’re a quick learner. But you think things through a lot, almost too much.”

  “That’s what happens when shit gets thrown your way so often, you have to make sure you pick the right thing to say and do the first time around.”

  Julian kept staring as if assessing him and trying to peel away each layer of his guard. It wasn’t creepy or intimidating, but it sure as hell felt intrusive.

  “Stop it, J.”

  Julian looked over to his partner. “What’d I do now?”

  “I brought chocolate chip cookies. From the diner,” Vann added, hoping to head off a potential argument at the dinner table.

  Julian’s chair scraped against the tile as he rose, scanning the kitchen for the diner-branded bag from Lucy. He found his target and quickly dug into the bag for a cookie, moaning with each bite.

  Matt leaned in. “You are a quick learner,” he whispered.

  Vann ducked his head. It didn’t take much to figure out Julian. All was well as long as someone didn’t disrespect him or threaten his partner, and if he managed to have a steady inflow of food, he was a happy camper. Vann stared at his empty bowl. “The next time you make this for dinner, can you show me how to do it?”

  “Absolutely.” Matt beamed. The joy he emitted was so damn bright anyone would think the man had won a prize. “Do you know how to cook?”


  Vann shook his head. “Not much. Just a few survival basics I had to master growing up.”

  Matt sobered. “I hope you don’t feel as if it’s an invasion of privacy, but we do know about your father and living arrangements after your eighteenth birthday.”

  Living arrangements? That was one hell of a fancy way of saying he’d been kicked out on his eighteenth birthday and had to fend for himself. He had lived on the streets for eight weeks without telling a soul. Not even Drayton had figured out he was barely making ends meet and sleeping under their tree by the lake.

  Until that stupid fuck-up that landed him in jail for the night. It was amazing how being hungry drove a person to have lapses in judgment. He didn’t want to remember how desperate he’d been when he had called Drayton to bail him out for shoplifting.

  The last thing in the world he’d ever wanted to do was ask his rich boyfriend for anything. But hell, he hadn’t had anyone else he could call and his father probably wouldn’t have thought twice about leaving his ass in that jail considering he had tossed him out on the street in the first place.

  “Shaw?” Matt said, pulling Vann from his thoughts.

  “Sorry about that.”

  “Don’t apologize. You’ve got a lot of changes going on, and it might take you a while to adjust. Just take your time. I’ll call you down tomorrow before I start dinner. That way, you can learn how to cook a different meal each time. We can do that every night if you want.”

  He nodded.

  “Are you a baker or a cook?”

  “I’m an eater.”

  Matt laughed. “Okay, so I’ll let you know when I’m going to make anything in the kitchen and you decide if you want to sit in.”

  “Thanks.” Vann folded his napkin, trying to ignore the faint flicker of hope that started to bloom.

  Hope was a dangerous thing, and he knew better than to let it take root.

  ∞ ♥ ∞

  Drayton turned into the back lot of Halfway House and pulled into the spot next to Julian’s truck. He had swiftly gone through the day, sitting in on meetings, listening in on contract negotiations with Taylor for their recent partnership, and reviewing the final details with the testing department on the motor adjustments. He sped through each meeting, limiting his input to critical points and becoming the designated time-watcher for each appointment. He had to stay on schedule. Period. There was no way in hell he would miss spending as much time with Vann as possible at the end of his day.