by Jay Hogan
“Of course we have. Seems a little more than a casual friendship for you to be dropping everything and rushing out to help the guy when you’re exhausted.”
“Jake, I haven’t got time for this….”
“Mmm-hmm. Just know this conversation isn’t over.”
Fuck. “Just… just don’t say anything.”
He rolled his eyes. “Of course I won’t, you idiot.”
AN HOUR later found me pulling alongside Craig’s garage with Cory in the back seat. We’d agreed the best option was to bring him back to Reuben’s since there’d been no time to gather any of Cory’s stuff before they’d left. It was a risk if Craig turned up, but it wasn’t as if the guy didn’t already know the two of us were friends—and besides, it was an emergency of Craig’s own making. Didn’t stop me hoping Reuben returned first.
By eight I had Cory settled on the couch under a blanket, almost asleep. He’d taken a little while to get comfortable with the idea of me looking after him, but after watching twenty minutes of one of his favourite movies, he relaxed. The baked beans on toast suggested by Reuben was accepted with barely an eyebrow raised. Score one for me. I learnt pretty quick not to help him too much at the table—he didn’t like the idea of me coming too close to his food—but he managed to load up the quartered toast nimbly enough on his own.
After dinner it wasn’t long before his long lashes drooped and the remote fell from his hand. I watched his chest rise and fall for a few minutes, trying to decipher the odd sense of contented domesticity washing over me in waves. For a guy who’d arrived home from work strung out and exhausted, barely able to even feed himself a beer, I’d somehow managed to find a state of blissful peace stretched out alongside a semiconscious four-year-old. Go figure.
At some point I dragged my flagging body off the couch and into the kitchen long enough to clear the dinner prep so Reuben didn’t come home to a mess. I was on my way back to the lounge to curl up in the faded armchair in front of the television when the front door slammed back on its hinges and Craig barrelled in.
Shit. I strode to intercept him before he woke Cory with his goddamn noise. He took one look at me and his lip curled back in a sneer. Yeah, I’d had better receptions.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” He reached to steady himself on the wall. “Where the hell’s my son?”
The guy had at least four inches on me, but I hadn’t spent three hours settling Cory just to have this idiot fuck it all up. His shirt hung untucked, his brown curls were lank and streaked with grease—motor oil if I had to guess—and dark stains marked his underarms. And with him standing less than an arm’s length away, there was no way I could ignore the glassy sheen to his eyes and the stench of beer peeling off him. He was well and truly plastered, and I knew in an instant I wasn’t letting Cory go anywhere with him. Double shit.
“Keep your voice down,” I warned, glancing behind into the lounge. “He’s asleep on the couch, no thanks to you.”
“What the fuck is it to you?” he snapped, making to push past, but I blocked him. He shoved at my chest. “Get out of my way, or I’ll move that faggot arse for you.”
Son of a bitch. Where the fuck did these redneck bastards spring from? The only thing worse than a loudmouthed bigot was a drunk loudmouthed bigot. Still, I’d dealt with a lot worse than him in the ER on a Saturday night. I wasn’t going anywhere.
“Can it, you moron,” I said. “You’re drunk. You’ll scare your son.” Probably not the best opening if I wanted him to cooperate, but the idiot was pissing me off.
He stared at me as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Then he opened his mouth to no doubt put me in my place, but I got there first, having spied car keys in his hand. “Don’t tell me you fucking drove here in that state.”
He blinked slowly, clearly thrown by the complexity of my question. “So?”
I shrugged. “Nothing. But if you intend driving home, you’ve got another thing coming. And Cory’s going nowhere with you, just so you know. I couldn’t give two shits if you kill yourself. But I won’t have you harming Cory, or any other poor bugger on the road.”
His gaze narrowed and turned threatening as he took a step forward, bridging the distance between us to nothing like comfortable. I stood my ground, unnerved as I was by an unwelcome surge of bullying memories. There was no denying this guy could do me some serious damage. He might be lean, but his muscles were tight and hard from hauling engines around.
He snarled in my face. “Who the fuck are you to tell me what I can and can’t do with my boy? And where’s Reuben?” He bunched my shirtfront in his fist and shoved me hard against the wall.
Jesus. I nearly passed out from the alcohol fumes alone, but I held his gaze even though my heart was slamming in my chest. Weighing my options, I decided none of them looked good. Even drunk, Craig would likely kick my arse. Taekwondo skills aside, the hall was too narrow to manoeuvre, and Cory was only metres away. Watching me lay into his father wasn’t something he needed to see.
The fact I might be in for a bit of damage didn’t soften my decision one iota. Craig could do whatever the fuck he liked to me, but the only way he was walking out of here with Cory was over my laid-out body. And if the explosive fury I saw brewing in his eyes was anything to go by, that was the likely scenario. May as well go out swinging, then.
“Who am I?” I hissed, pushing back on his chest enough to give me a few inches of breathing space. “I’m the fucking guy Reuben had to call to come look after your son so your brother could try out for the goddamn All Blacks. And all because his worthless piece-of-shit brother—that’s you, by the way—didn’t care enough to get here on time.”
Craig blanched, and some of the anger bled from his eyes. He took a step back and something surprisingly close to shame made a brief appearance, but it was too little, too late, dickhead.
I stepped back into him, jabbing a finger at his chest. “And when you do finally manage to get here, you turn up drunk off your arse and expect me to just let you take Cory and leave. You might be the kid’s sperm donor, but that doesn’t mean you’re anywhere near fit right now to look after that cute-as-hell little boy. He deserves a whole lot more than a dad who doesn’t appear to give two shits about killing his own son by driving while completely pissed off his tree.”
Craig said nothing, just stood swaying on his feet, one hand fisted at his side, the other still in my shirt. I figured things could go either way.
“Well, are you gonna hit me or what?” I taunted. It might have sounded brave, but my kick-arse attitude was unravelling fast and I just wanted him to get it over with so I could get the ice and deal.
A few seconds later, his hands relaxed and he let go. Thank fuck. I blew out the breath I’d been holding and sank into the wall.
Craig staggered against the opposite one. “That was tonight? Fuck.”
I snorted. “Yeah, arsehole. That is tonight. And don’t think I’m buying that you just forgot. What kind of shit brother forgets something like that?”
“I don’t give a fuck what you think,” he snapped. “I love my brother.”
I’m pretty sure my eyes rolled so far around they damn near fell out the back. Standing tall, I summoned my best charge-nurse, shit-kicking persona and stared him down. “Tell it to someone who gives a fuck,” I growled. “But you’re right. It doesn’t matter what I think. He’s your brother, and if you wanna screw up your relationship with the only guy who gives a shit about you, go ahead. But I’m telling you right now, if you try and take Cory one step out of this apartment, you won’t have to worry what Reuben thinks, because I’ll report your sorry arse to social services and your license plate to the police faster than you can blink an eye.”
He stood there ominously silent for what seemed an eternity, and I began to wonder if my medical insurance was gonna get a workout after all. Finally, he spoke. “You’ve got a fucking nerve, faggot.”
And with that I knew I had him. Thank Christ.<
br />
I tilted my chin up. “You’d better believe it, arsehole. And don’t be fooled by the makeup. I deal with bigger shitheads than you on a weekly basis. Oh, and don’t ever fucking call me that again.”
He lifted his hands unsteadily as the fight drained out of him. “Whatever.”
My knees nearly caved from relief. Truth was, if he’d actually forced the issue, I wasn’t sure I could’ve stopped him taking Cory, nor lived with the consequences if anything had happened to the boy. “Damn right.” I sounded way more cocky than I felt.
His shoulders slumped, and he looked at me sideways. “Did he make it? Reuben?”
I sighed. “No thanks to you.”
He nodded. “Good.” He stumbled against the wall and dropped his head to his chest. “That’s good.”
I didn’t want to feel sorry for the little shit, but the nurse in me was banging on my brain, reminding me that people inevitably were what they were for a reason. The guy was a total ignorant dick about his son, but he was Reuben’s brother, and you didn’t have to look too far to find the common denominator to both their issues. Cue the empathy, goddammit.
I reached out my hand, palm up, and waggled my fingers. “Hand them over.” Softer now.
He deposited the car keys in my hand, then ran a critical eye over my body, as if seeing me for the first time. Some ridiculous part of my brain was grateful I’d fixed my guyliner so the arsehole could witness its full, unadulterated impact. Must have worked, because by the time his eyes reached mine, his lip had curled back into a sneer and some of that piss and vinegar had returned.
“So, why’d Reuben call you? You two fucking?”
I barely looked at him as I pocketed his keys. “Don’t even, shithead. You wanna ask questions, you ask Reuben—once he’s done tearing you a new one. This conversation is over.”
I pushed myself off the wall and straightened my shirt. “I’d offer you a bed on the floor till he gets home, but you’ve pissed me off, and since it’s your garage below, you must have a key. I suggest you use it. Cory will be fine here with me. Now get out of here.”
“It’s on the ring.” He pointed to my pocket. “And don’t think you’ve heard the last of this.”
I pulled out the keychain and let him remove the garage key before repocketing what was left. “I don’t imagine I have.”
He turned to leave, taking a second to balance on his feet.
“By the way,” I said as he swayed to the front door, “with that tank of beer in your belly, you’ll be lucky to sober up before midday tomorrow, so don’t bother knocking till the morning. Reuben’s not gonna want to see your face, not after the shit you put him through tonight.”
“Fuck you, arsehole.” He slammed the door on his way out.
“You should be so lucky,” I huffed, falling back against the wall.
Chapter Twelve
Reuben
SWINGING INTO my carport, I barely registered the beaten-up Toyota parked sideways in my space in time before I slammed on the brakes. Craig. Fuck. I wasn’t sure I could trust myself in the same room with him yet. If he’d caused Cam any trouble….
I reversed into the street and sat in my car for a minute to gather my thoughts. The dull yellow glow emanating from my flat windows gave little clue as to the level of shitstorm that likely awaited me upstairs. My palm thumped the steering wheel. When I’d texted before leaving Eden Park, Cam had said nothing about my brother, so either Craig hadn’t been there at that point or Cam hadn’t wanted to worry me. I was betting on the latter.
The high I carried from the glowing feedback I’d received in training circled the drain to be sucked into the sewers. Goddammit. I was so over my brother’s bullshit. The selectors could’ve easily turned me away rather than allowing me a late arrival. It could then have been months till they even looked at me again. Without Cam….
Ugh. I was beyond furious. If Craig had done or said anything to that damn angel, I’d have his fucking head on a platter. I slammed the car door and headed up the stairs, ready to tackle Craig to the floor if necessary. But instead of my shit-for-brains brother, I found one sleepy-eyed and ever-so-adorable charge nurse holding the door for me.
“Hey, you.” He threw me a crooked grin. “Heard you pull in.”
“Hey, yourself.” Without thinking I brushed a lock of sleek black hair from his eyes, tucking it behind his ear. He returned a coy smile, and I stared my fill of him. The apartment was quiet and peaceful—no raised voices, no television, nothing but the sound of a yawn leaving those gorgeous lips poised in front of me. So different from the disaster I’d been expecting.
“You okay?” I asked.
He nodded, and most of the tension in my body instantly drained. “So, where is that damn brother of mine?” I peered over his shoulder.
“Hush.” He put a finger to those beautiful lips. “Cory’s asleep.” He took my hand and led me to the lounge door for a peak to see my nephew sprawled on his back on the couch under a blanket, sound asleep. Then he pulled me back into the kitchen, where he dropped my hand. Cool air replaced its warmth.
Reading the unspoken question in my eyes, he pointed to the floor. “He’s downstairs in the workshop, sleeping a major drunk off.”
Fuck. I hated that Cam had to deal with my arsehole of a brother. “You should’ve called,” I said. “I could’ve come home. You don’t deserve that shit. If it hadn’t been for you….” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Just… thank you.”
He regarded me fondly and shook his head. “I had it handled. He turned up about an hour ago, drunk off his face and wanting Cory. Let’s just say he wasn’t pleased to find me here, and even less pleased when I made it clear he wasn’t taking his son anywhere on my watch, not in that state.”
I snorted. “I can imagine. Did he give you any trouble?” The furrowed brow and slight hesitation was all I needed to know. “Tell me.”
He sighed and leaned back against the fridge, arms crossed over his chest. “He was pretty mouthy, nothing more.” He eyed me intently. “But he was really drunk, Reuben. Like shit-faced, bladdered, trashed-off-his-tree drunk.”
I closed my eyes, my head falling back against the cabinet. “Fuck.”
Cam continued. “If he’d taken Cory, God knows what might have happened. I didn’t have any choice but to stop him.”
My gaze drifted back to Cam, for the first time taking in how damn exhausted he looked. It hadn’t even occurred to me to ask about his day before I’d thrown Cory at him. I’d bet it was crap, if the tightness round his eyes was anything to go by. “Of course you didn’t.”
He levelled his stare. “I said if he tried to take Cory, I’d call the police and child welfare.”
I huffed and my heart filled. God, this man. “I bet that went down a treat.”
Cam grinned wickedly. “About how you’d imagine. I took his keys and sent him downstairs to sleep it off. Told him he’d best keep out of your way till morning. Hope I did the right thing.”
“One hundred percent. He nearly cost me my goddamn chance tonight.”
Cam grimaced. “I figured. He did seem a bit sheepish, like he’d just forgotten or something, but… well, you know your brother better than me.” He smiled warmly and my whole day improved. “Speaking of chances, did they measure you for that black jersey yet?”
I pushed off the bench and headed for the fridge. “Nah. But they said I’m playing really well—really well.” I opened the door, grabbed the jug of ice water I kept there, and poured myself a glass. “I need to load up. Want one?”
Cam shook his head, so I guzzled it while he waited. “What else did they say?” he asked.
“They said I need to work on my sprint speeds—particularly my off-the-block acceleration—and my tackling impact, but it was minor stuff. Overall, I’m on track, apparently.”
His eyes glittered. “So, that’s good news, right?”
I half grinned. “It is, but I’m still third string at best. Wiremu Ngata and Pe
ter Lampton are young and seriously skilled, and until something in those top two spots opens up, I’m just a promising possibility. Plenty of guys play out their whole careers as just that. Not everyone gets lucky.” I finished the water and wiped my hands.
“Hey.” Cam rapped his knuckles on the bench, and I frowned at his pissy tone. “You’ve had two training sessions with the freaking All Blacks,” he growled. “A cocky little wannabe gay farm boy from Whakamaru. And they liked you, they fucking liked you, you idiot.” He stepped forward and stabbed his finger my way. “So, one more comment about how you’re stuck in line behind two others—I repeat, only two others in the whole country—and I’ll bloody thump you myself.” His expression softened. “You’re nearly there, Reuben. Relax. It’ll happen.”
Standing right up in my face, golden eyes flashing under kohl rims, his chest all puffed out and indignant, he was just plain rattlesnake adorable. And since he had to tilt his head to look up at me, it was altogether too much for this country boy to resist any. Without a second thought, I cupped his face in my hands and took his lips in a kiss.
He froze at the first touch but didn’t pull away, and although it broke every rule we’d set between us, I was just done pretending I wanted anything less than everything with this gorgeous, frustrating man, even if I knew I couldn’t have it. And if my stupidity meant this taste might be my last—that I’d broken our friendship—then I’d have to live with that.
I kept our lips gently pressed together and waited him out, teasing my tongue along the crease of his, hoping against hope. I figured for sure he’d push me away, then go to town about me sailing all over our boundaries, so when I felt his lips part and he sighed into the kiss, I nearly dropped to my knees.
His taste slid like honey over my tongue as I stroked long and slow into his mouth. His hands remained at his sides, though, as if his body hadn’t caught up with the change in programme or wasn’t sure it approved. But as long as Cam’s mouth was issuing an invitation, I was gonna be all over that for as long as I could.