Craft Brew

by Layla Reyne

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Nic recognized Cam’s shock setting in as they left the hospital.

  It’d been another few hours after Edye woke before they’d given everyone goodbye hugs and finally made their way to the elevator. Hours during which Cam had held it together remarkably well, despite the swing from low to high to low again. He’d held his mother’s hand while she cried in grief and relief over the news of Erin. Nic hadn’t drifted more than a few feet away from Cam at all times, even when the nurse had insisted she treat the cut on his head. He’d had her clean it and butterfly it shut while he sat in the chair behind where Cam stood by Edye’s bed, always within reach, ready to catch Cam’s trembling hand or to lay a steadying hand on his back whenever he needed the extra support.

  In the elevator though, on their way down to the ground floor, the slight tremble in Cam’s hands and knees spread to the rest of his body, leaving goose bumps in their wake. And when the doors opened, Cam’s dark eyes stared ahead, unseeing.

  “Hey, Boston,” Nic called gently, grasping his hand. “Exit’s this way.”

  He tugged him out of the elevator, trailing behind Jamie through the hospital lobby and out to the parking lot. Jamie glanced over his shoulder periodically, expression increasingly worried as the chatter of Cam’s teeth grew louder, despite the warmth and humidity that hung heavy in the air. When they reached the Jeep, Jamie opened the back door and Cam practically fell inside.

  “He’s in shock,” Nic murmured low to Jamie.

  “Should we take him back in?” Jamie asked, eyes cutting to the hospital entrance.

  Nic considered it. Considered how Cam would be admitted and he’d be left outside in the waiting room. Not family, technically. He shook his head. “I think what he needs most right now is a good night’s rest. It’s been days.”

  “Agreed.” Jamie shrugged out of his jacket and shoved it in Nic’s hands. “Get in there and wrap him up.”

  Nodding, Nic removed his own coat and slid into the backseat with Cam. Jamie closed the door behind him, climbed in the front, and started the car.

  “Can’t stop shaking,” Cam chattered.

  “You’re in shock.” Nic wrapped him in the jackets, then in his arms, holding him close.

  “We’ll get you warmed up,” Jamie said, blasting warm air out of the vents.

  With it eighty degrees inside and outside the car, it was sweltering, but the slight easing of Cam’s tense frame was worth it. Nic ran a hand through his dark hair, down his neck, and over his back, coaxing the relaxation through the rest of him. “That’s it, Boston.” He pressed a kiss against his temple, breathing in his own moment of calm.

  The tears came not long after. No giant heaving sobs, no audible whimpers. Just short breaths and wetness that seeped through Nic’s shirt. The shock worn off enough, the time for responsibility passed such that Cam could grieve. Nic held him closer, whispering “Let it out” and “I’ve got you” as Jamie slowly wove the Jeep through the lingering rush hour traffic.

  By the time they hit South Boston, Cam’s tears had dried and he was snoring in Nic’s arms, the week-long roller-coaster ride having finally caught up to him.

  “I hope you don’t mind a bedmate who snores,” Jamie said.

  Nic’s eyes shot up, catching Jamie’s blue ones in the rearview mirror, the corners crinkled, somewhere between exhaustion and a smile.

  He pulled Cam closer, resting his chin on his head. “I was in the military. Impossible to ignore it in the barracks. You learn to tune it out. And I was probably one of the loudest.”

  Jamie chuckled. “Get a pug and you’ll be a symphony.”

  “Don’t think Bird will take kindly to that.”

  “That cat could probably take down a German Shepherd.”

  “It’s fucking huge. And that name...”

  “I tried to rename it Jordan.”

  They both laughed, and Nic marveled at the ease, and oddity, of the mundane yet momentous conversation. He’d basically just agreed to move in with Cam, to Jamie. Of all people.

  The mind boggled.

  The silence was surprisingly comfortable the last few minutes of the drive, and Cam didn’t stir as Jamie idled the car near the hotel’s entrance. “Go ahead and take him up. I’ll park.”

  Nic tried to rouse Cam, only to have him burrow closer. “Will he wake and pull his weapon on me if I carry him?”

  Sympathy clouded Jamie’s face as he regarded his sleeping friend. “That’s twenty years of guilt and grief off him.” He glanced again at Nic, face softening. “I think he’ll sleep through just about anything right now. Besides, doesn’t look like he’s letting go.”

  No, he was still holding tight. Hiding from the world now, and Nic was happy to continue to shield him. “Okay, then, help me out?”

  Jamie nodded and got out, while Nic, unwrapping Cam, put his jacket back on and pulled out his room key. He hauled Cam into his lap, one arm around his back, the other under his knees, and when Jamie opened the door, climbed out with Cam in his arms, still nestled against his chest.

  “You got him?” Jamie said, closing the door.

  “Got him,” he said, readjusting and securing his hold. It’d been a while since he’d carried someone so solid, but he wouldn’t have Cam anywhere else right now. “We’ll be in my room, if anything—”

  “I’ll see you in the morning.” The trust and friendship in Jamie’s smile pushed the last of the water under the bridge out to sea, for good.

  Even brought a smile to Nic’s face, but it fell as they entered the hotel lobby and heads turned their way. He glared off every person who looked like they might approach and ignored the rest of the stares as he stalked past the front desk on his way to the elevators.

  It opened as he reached it, a young couple on their way out. The one man looked concerned, the other like he might swoon. Concerned shuffled Swoony out of the way and stretched an arm in front of the elevator doors, holding it open for Nic. “Can I hit a button for you?”

  “Top floor,” he replied gruffly, then softer, added, “Please.”

  The man reached in, hit the button, then backed out. “I hope he’s okay.”

  “Me too.”

  As the doors closed, he heard Swoony mumble “relationship goals” to Concerned, and Nic chuckled lightly.

  He made it up to his suite and inside, walking swiftly into the bedroom and sitting on the end of the bed with Cam. He didn’t wake as Nic rid him of his outer layers, and when Nic laid him out on the bed, he rolled onto his side and buried his face in the pillow Nic had used. Standing, Nic worked free his shoes then spread the blanket at the foot of the bed over him, gazing down at him a few moments before he headed into the living room to turn off lights and lock up. He was on his way back to the bedroom when the phone in his pocket vibrated.

  Nic recognized the DC area number lighting up the screen, and suddenly remembered it was Friday. He owed someone an answer.

  “Sir,” he answered, “I apologize for missing our call today.”

  “I was afraid you’d forgotten about me,” the Deputy AG replied.

  “No, not at all. I’m still in Boston, working that case. We just wrapped it.”

  “I heard. Nice work. Cleared more than one case off the board.”

  “Including my boyfriend’s sister’s.”

  “Boyfriend?” Said not so much in judgment—the fact that Nic was gay had long been in his file—but in surprise. “I didn’t realize there was someone serious.”

  Nic leaned against the bedroom doorjamb, admiring Cam sleeping soundly in his bed, curled around his pillow with a smile on his handsome face, finally at peace. “We recently made it official.”

  “By the smile in your voice, I guess I know your answer on San Diego.”

  “It’s a no, sir,” Nic confirmed. “I appreciate being co
nsidered, but I’ll be staying in San Francisco.” Though the Deputy AG wasn’t completely correct as to the reasons. Cam was a big part of the reason, but Nic also had a brewery to run and friends and family in San Francisco who he didn’t want to leave any more than Cam did. Even if it would be the safest thing for them. His list was in ink now, as good as if he’d etched it on his skin with the other names he cared about.

  “Okay, then,” the Deputy AG said. “That’s what I needed to know. Bowers is lucky to keep you.”

  Nic’s bitter laugh snuck out.

  Laughter sounded on the other end as well. “San Francisco is lucky to have you.”

  “Now that I’ll believe,” Nic said. “Thank you again for the opportunity.”

  “You’re one of our best, Price. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Hanging up, Nic felt oddly settled. He’d just made a decision that would make his day job hell, continuing to work for Bowers when he could have had his own office. But at home... His gaze fell again on Cam’s sleeping form. He wasn’t foolish enough to think it would be easy. There was so much open still and Nic needed to make certain provisions, to protect those he loved, but there were people he loved.

  And the one he loved most was in his bed, right now.

  He tossed his phone on the bedside table next to Cam’s, toed off his shoes and flung his jacket into the chair, then crawled under the blanket, spooning his boyfriend.

  Cam scooted back in his arms, as if seeking more heat. Nic wrapped his arms around him, tightening his embrace.

  “Did you carry me up here?” Cam mumbled, still sounding half asleep.

  “I did.”

  “Shit,” Cam cursed. “I missed it.”

  Smiling, Nic kissed behind his ear, whispering, “I promise to do it again sometime later, when you’re awake.”

  “You better, and sometime sooner.” Cam twisted and kissed the underside of his jaw, then burrowed back into the pillow with a mumbled, “Love you.”

  Nic smiled against the nape of his neck. “Love you too, Boston.”

  * * *

  “A celebration of life,” his mother had insisted. They’d grieved Erin enough. Now that they knew she was at peace, it was time to celebrate her life, and the second chance at life Edye had been given too. So as soon as she was discharged from the hospital, they’d made it happen, Nic leading the effort.

  They’d had case wrap-up to handle the past few days as well, but when they weren’t at the station house or the courthouse, Cam had worked on getting his mother resettled at home, while Nic had gone into captain mode, Keith his second in command, readying their father’s biggest boat for the occasion. And a spectacular job they had done. Tables and chairs covered in Erin’s favorite blue dotted the deck, and from wires strung between the masts and rails dangled black-and-white photos of Erin. Cam had helped his mother pick them out, and Nic had had them reprinted and displayed, a gallery of Erin’s life for family and friends to remember and enjoy. Erin reading one of their mother’s romance novels, Erin playing the fiddle, Erin double-fisting cream horn pastries, her face a mess.

  Guests mingled on deck, looking at the photographs, sharing stories, visiting with his mother, and eating Erin’s favorite foods that Jamie had prepared from Edye’s old recipe cards. It was exactly the celebration Cam’s mother had wanted, and she laughed far more than she cried from her bench seat along the boat’s stern.

  Leaning against the wheelhouse wall, sipping from his bottle of Gravity Belmont Red, Cam tracked his lover’s silver-tinged head, higher than most. Nic circulated among the crowd, checking to make sure all the photos were properly displayed and that everyone had what they needed. He frequently stopped to check in on Edye, and each time he did, she’d grab his hand and proudly introduce him as Cam’s boyfriend to anyone who was near.

  He deserved all the attention. He’d helped make this happen, on multiple counts—standing by him, working his legal magic, finding Erin, and pulling this celebration together in only a few days. He was amazing, and Cam was head over heels in love with him, now more than ever.

  “I think Mom has a new favorite.” Quinn stepped out of the wheelhouse, a beer bottle in hand.

  “You complaining?” Cam said with a nod to the beer.

  Smiling, Quinn clinked his bottle against Cam’s. “Not in the least. Your man makes a good brew. Nice catch.”

  Nic and Jamie were right. He hadn’t given his parents or siblings enough credit. “Never thought I’d be the best fisherman in the family.”

  Quinn chuckled. “I wouldn’t go that far. How did you catch him?”

  “I argued with him, nonstop, until the day he dissed Brady.”

  “How the fuck did that lead to you two being together?”

  “I kissed him to shut him up.”

  Laughing, Quinn playfully punched him. “You should have told us sooner. I feel like an idiot, not having put it together.”

  “You left for college when I was eleven. I hadn’t put it together yet either, about my bisexuality.”

  Tension crept back into Quinn’s tall, muscular frame. “Maybe I should have stayed. Helped you out in that, maybe also kept you out of the chop shop. If I had, maybe—”

  “Don’t go there, Q.” Cam threw an arm over his shoulders and hugged him to his side. “You don’t bear any of the blame for what happened to Erin. None of us do.” He’d given them the full story last night—how Harper was determined to take Erin that day, even if he had to kill—but shaking twenty years of guilt wasn’t going to come easy for any of them.

  “I always felt...”

  “Let it go, brother.” Cam leaned his head against Quinn’s, temple to temple. “We all have to. It’s over now, and turns out, none of us were to blame. She’s at peace. She’d want the rest of us to be too.”

  Quinn was silent a few minutes, then rasped out a hoarse chuckle. “I don’t know, Cameron, maybe you’re the catch.”

  “Don’t tell Nic that.” He pulled back, smiling, and Quinn’s gaze drifted back out to the deck. Cam’s followed, to where Nic and Keith stood by his mother. “Keep an eye on Keith, though, yeah?” Cam said. “I think he’ll be better now, less angry, but I’m not sure what will fill that place for him. Hopefully something or someone good, but...”

  “We’re on it, brother.”

  The harbormaster radioed then, letting them know their lane would be clear shortly. Only the immediate family would remain onboard as they rode out to sea to scatter Erin’s ashes. There was already an empty casket buried at the cemetery; no one wanted to go through that again. Returning her to the sea, the lifeblood of their family, was the celebration she deserved. Quinn went about powering the boat back up while Cam signaled Nic and Keith that it was go time.

  Fifteen minutes later, all the guests had disembarked and Cam was passing his best friend around for hugs. Jamie had been invited to stay for the journey out, but already green on the docked boat, he’d declined, not wanting to mar what should be a beautiful moment with his seasickness.

  Nic moved to follow him off, and Cam jerked him back by their twined fingers. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “This is for family.”

  “And you’re mine.”

  Bobby clasped Nic’s other shoulder. “Your words, brother.”

  The look that bloomed on Nic’s face—wonder, gratitude, and love—made Cam’s chest ache, in a good way. He’d gotten so lucky with the man he loved, and his family. “Besides,” Keith added, “do you really think Mom’s going to let you out of her sight?”

  “I have to agree with my boys,” Ken chimed in. “Ride out with us, son.”

  Nic’s Adam’s apple bobbed as the normally eloquent prosecutor struggled for words. “I’d be honored.”

  That settled, everyone snapped into motion, getting the boa
t unmoored and into their channel lane. The ceremony at sea was quieter than the one at the docks, but no less joyful, and even a little funny, as Irish wakes tended to be. Edye read from the book about the old family dog that Erin had written in second grade, each of them adding their own memories and anecdotes. Then each member of the family, Nic included, tossed a handful of her ashes into the water. They dissolved in the foam of the ship’s wake, and the seagulls swooping alongside the boat cawed and rose higher, lifting up each bit of her soul that was set free.

  She, and his family, were finally, truly at peace.

  They drifted and told stories, remembered their sister, for another hour or so before aiming the boat back to shore. Ken sat with Edye on her bench, surrounded by their grandchildren, while Quinn and Bobby, with their wives and Keith, toasted to the future in the wheelhouse.

  Cam went looking for his future, finding Nic standing at the front of the boat. Arms spread along the rail, hair swept back by the breeze and sea mist, he looked at home out here on the sea. Cam, however, wanted to talk to him about making a different sort of home, with him.

  Coming up behind him, Cam wound his arms around his waist and rested his chin on Nic’s shoulder. “Quinn wanted to know how I became the best fisherman in the family.”

  “I’ve never even seen you catch a fish.”

  “He meant catching you.” Cam dropped a kiss behind his ear, and Nic hummed contentedly.

  Then spun, bringing them front to front and pinning Cam against the rail, reminding him of the strength and training that lay beneath the suit, or scowl as it were just then. “It sure as fuck wasn’t your taste in sports teams,” he said, flicking Cam’s green Celtics polo in exaggerated disgust.

  Cam returned the gesture, flicking the collar of the maroon shirt Nic had borrowed. “Says the man wearing my BC polo.”

  He smirked. “We can’t all be perfect.”

  Cam grabbed a handful of his shirt and jerked him forward. “Come here, you smug bastard.” Off balance, as Cam intended, Nic stumbled into him and Cam sealed their lips in a rough, hard kiss.