by E M Lindsey
‘Did you get his number?’ she demanded.
Basil pushed himself up from the table and snapped, ‘No,’ in her face before walking to the stove to peer into the pot. Chicken soup. Their mom’s recipe, probably, and it made him want to cry. After the long day, the obnoxious mother of the bride, and his strange draw to the tattooed guy, he needed something to comfort him.
Ama punched him on the shoulder to get his attention, and he turned, glaring at her. ‘Why didn’t you get his number? That’s like straight out of a rom-com.’
‘I hate rom-coms,’ he retorted before turning his back, a pointed gesture he knew would set her off. He felt her stomping behind him, but he ignored her in favor of getting a bowl from the top cabinet and filling it. He ate a few spoonfuls before finally turning around, and he tried not to laugh at the sight of her furious expression.
‘Asshole.’
He shrugged.
‘You have to stop shutting people out just because they slightly, and barely, resemble Chad. At this rate you’ve cut out hearing guys, blondes, guys with beards, and guys who wear shirts with collars.’
He shrugged again, eating a few more bites before putting his bowl down so he could address it properly. ‘If I was sure the guy was nothing like Chad, I’d give him a chance. But I’m not ready to trust anyone. Every time I think about him, I think about that night and I just don’t have it in me to take that risk.’
Ama’s face fell and she took a step forward, reaching for his shoulder to squeeze. ‘I’m sorry,’ she signed with her free hand, then pulled away. ‘I do understand, Basil, and I never want you to go through something like that again. I’m not asking you to put yourself at risk, I’m just asking you to remember that not everyone is like him.’
He appreciated that she didn’t mention what shit luck he’d had dating in the Deaf Community, either. He was starting to think the whole thing wasn’t other people—it was him. Someone far back in their family’s history had cursed the second-born sons named Basil or something, and he was doomed to suffer the consequences. Still, being single wasn’t the worst thing in the world. He hadn’t dated for three months and the loneliness was starting to ease. He was a happy guy, generally, and he enjoyed being on his own.
So naturally, he didn’t want to acknowledge the pressing absence he felt after Derek had left the vestibule, or how he had practiced shaping the letters of Derek’s name on his lips on the drive home. Or how the moment he slid into bed, his thumb tapped his phone screen to pull up the gallery.
And if—just if—he let himself click on the ‘buy now’ button sitting under the gorgeous octopus sketch, well, no one would be the wiser.
Chapter Two
“Oh no, no no no,” Derek groaned at the shrill ringing of his phone. His one open, bleary eye peered at his phone and saw it was just past six in the morning. Which meant he’d managed a solid three hours of sleep before this nonsense. If the name on the caller ID had been anyone but Sam, he would have thrown the phone across the room and let it shatter. “What the actual, ever-loving fuck do you want right now at six in the morning?”
“Beth just called.”
If there was a way to take him from dazed sleep to wide awake like he’d just downed a gallon of espresso, it was saying the phrase, Beth called. Because Beth was the social worker handling Maisy’s case. And Maisy happened to be Sam’s burn-out cousin’s daughter who had been taken by CPS, from the hospital, and bounced around the system for nine goddamn months before they managed to locate someone in her family to take her.
Sam immediately stepped forward to take care of the infant, but he’d been initially rejected on appearance alone. Sam was a lot like the twins—incredibly large and intimidating with bulging muscles from the sheer amount the guy worked out, most of his skin covered in ink, but the real kick in the balls was that he’d been officially turned away due to his disability. The original case-worker had rejected Sam’s petition to take the little girl in because she wasn’t convinced he would be capable of giving a baby the care she needed while also using a wheelchair.
For Sam, he’d been paralyzed for longer than he’d been walking. At fifteen, he and his friends had gone for a joy-ride in a truck, the driver having a little too much to drink. It ended with the truck rolling down an embankment and Sam waking up days later being told he’d never walk again.
He was thirty-six now, and ran a successful company providing classes for rehabilitation centers, private fitness lessons, and his absolute favorite, Wheelchair Zumba which he taught every Saturday before starting his late afternoon shift at Irons and Works. Sam was only a part time artist, but he was a full-time family member to each of them, and when they’d heard about his rejection, the entire studio banded together to ensure Sam would get this little girl.
Maisy had been living with him for three years now, and he was finally allowed to petition for her adoption since Sam’s cousin hadn’t come forward to claim her. Derek had not only been one of Sam’s closest confidants in the whole mess, but he’d been labeled unofficial babysitter since Maisy seemed to like him best of everyone. A badge he wore proudly—even if it did get his ass up out of bed at six in the goddamn morning.
“What do you need?” Derek asked, swinging his legs over the bed and scrubbing a hand down his face.
“Can May come stay at your place for a bit? They want to do another invasive inspection and I don’t want her here while they riffle through my shit and force me to take however many steps on my walker.”
Derek felt his teeth grin together, and he forced himself to take a few calming breaths. “Of course, man. I’ll come pick her up so you don’t have to worry about transport.” Standing up, he groaned at the unexpected tension in his limbs. He always felt like this after a panic attack, but he hadn’t realized how bad it would be that morning. “Shit.”
“Der?” Sam asked softly. “What happened?”
“God, it’s the longest story in the world,” he confessed, shuffling to his bathroom to dig around for his scope and tooth brush. “I’ll happily spill everything once this stupid song and dance is over.”
“How about I bring lunch when I come to pick up May-Day?” he offered. The phone went muffled, and Derek could just make out the sound of Sam cooing Maisy awake, which made him grin as he stuffed his toothbrush into his mouth and began to scrub.
“Whatever you get, make it good. And fried, preferably. That one deli over on ninth with the falafel I like? That place isn’t shit for you to get in and out of, right?”
“Nah, it’s good. Plus, it’ll give me a chance to go flirt with Abram. It’s been a while,” Sam said, a grin in his voice. “I’ll throw some frozen waffles into May’s bag so you don’t have to worry about her breakfast, alright? She’s…having a thing right now about cooked food.”
Derek chuckled softly. “Got it. Give me fifteen and I’ll be there.” He hung up without saying goodbye, then wriggled into his too-tight jeans and a ratty old t-shirt that was damn-near see-through from too many washes. It felt good though, comfortable, the way he should feel in his own skin. He glanced at his reflection and sighed, dragging a heavy hand through his hair in a vague attempt to order the mess.
He slipped into his work boots, leaving them untied, then hurried down the stairs to find his car. It was a little damp from the leftover rain, but he’d managed to remember getting all four windows closed, so he called that a small victory considering what a mess he’d been by the time he got home.
It was only ten minutes to Sam’s place, a little ground-floor townhouse in a neighborhood mostly filled with old, middle-class white couples who oddly enough loved the inked-up guy in the sporty wheelchair. It helped that Sam liked to take his dog out for a stroll every morning, and his obnoxiously sweet Schnauzer loved the attention from the old folk. It also helped that Sam was a freakishly good baker and tended to win the hearts of most people around him. He’d managed to amass a group of sweet little old grandmas for Maisy, so the girl was never with
out cheek-pinches, hard candies, and love.
Derek was always amazed that Sam hadn’t been snatched up already. Sam wasn’t a socially awkward, panicked mess the way he was. He was bright and gorgeous and made even the surliest strangers fall half in love. But then again, it was probably the fact that Sam had a schedule which didn’t compromise itself with anyone. Work, the shop, and Maisy—not in that order.
All the same, Derek was jealous. If he had even a fraction of Sam’s charm, he might have walked away with more than a vague memory of Basil’s hand on his chest, and the echo of his laughter, and the ghost of that intensely floral scent in his memory bank. He would have been brave and a little reckless and would have done more than just offer a quick sign of thanks before running off like a goddamn coward.
This was why he was going to die alone, surrounded by cats who probably wouldn’t want to eat him even if they were starving.
Chasing away his weird melancholy, Derek hauled himself out of the car and trudged up to the front door, tripping a little over the edge of the ramp but righting himself before he smashed into the door. It would be just his luck to break his nose right before trying to show he was a responsible caregiver and friend, and he straightened his shoulders in some pathetic attempt to look like he had his life together. Yes, I am fine, please trust me with your child.
He didn’t bother knocking—none of the family did—and he stepped into the foyer. He turned the first corner to find Sam sitting on the floor, packing up Maisy’s little Moana backpack as she played with her dollhouse a few feet away from him.
He glanced up when Derek entered and frowned. “Why do you look like someone just killed your fish?”
“First of all, I’ve only ever had a fish once in my life,” Derek said as he slid down to the floor next to Sam, “and Sage murdered them when he got stoned and decided to share his Oreos. Secondly…it’s been a really fucking bad twenty-four hours.”
Sam’s brows dipped low in a frown and he pushed his hands to the floor to adjust his position so he could face Derek a little better. “Your dad?”
Derek dragged a hand down his face. “That was part of it. But don’t tell Sage, okay? That old fuck has been leaving him out of it—I mean honestly, I’m not sure he even remembers there’s two of us, and I’d like to keep it that way.”
Sam pursed his lips, but he didn’t argue which Derek decided to take as a win. “The rest of it?”
“Oh, just your basic run of the mill bullshit. Wrenched my arm at the shop, some woman came in freaking out because she decided her tattoo was wrong six weeks after I finished it, then my dad called to tell me what a useless homo I am. Uh…and then I turned into disaster human last night after I got trapped in this ATM kiosk thing and had a claustrophobic meltdown.” He didn’t want to admit the whole story, but Sam knew him better than that.
“A vestibule? How the fuck did you get trapped in one?”
Derek leaned his head back against the sofa cushions, groaning. “I went in to make my deposit last night because I had a bunch of shit getting ready to clear, and I had almost all cash clients this week. Right after I got my receipt, lightning hits something nearby and the power just goes out. There’s some auto-lock mechanism on the door because it fucking locked me inside and shut everything down.”
At that, Sam reached for him like he couldn’t help it, his hand falling on Derek’s shoulder with a tight grip. “Why didn’t you call one of us?”
“I left my phone in the car,” Derek said with a sigh. “It was pissing rain and it was bad enough my entire everything got soaked. And anyway, if I had any idea that shit auto-locks I would have taken it with me.”
Sam didn’t look entirely convinced though and moved his hand down to Derek’s thigh. “Panic attack?”
Derek shrugged, glancing away, but he knew he couldn’t lie to him. He was never a great liar, and Sam was kind of like the shop’s human lie-detector anyway. “Yeah, bad one, but it was fine.” When Sam looked skeptical, Derek waved his hand. “Seriously. There was a guy in there and he helped me breathe through it. Once I had calmed down, we sat, and he kept my head busy so I couldn’t think about being stuck.”
Sam smirked at him and lowered his voice so Maisy wouldn’t hear. “I sure as hell hope you don’t mean the head of your dick, man. Those things have cameras. With back-up generators. Last thing you need is some kinky, tatted up douche bag sex tape going viral.”
Derek punched him in the arm. “My brain, fuck you very much. Communicating was a little difficult so it was like…you know when you give Pepper one of those puzzle balls to keep her from getting all worked up and bored?”
“Are you comparing yourself to my dog?” Sam asked with a huge grin.
“Oh, you know what,” Derek started, but Sam squeezed his thigh again, quieting him.
“I get it. So, what was he like?”
Hot like burning, sweet, amazing, and I’m torturing myself for letting him go, he let himself think. “Uh, he was really nice and helpful. He was also deaf, so we had to type on his phone, and it kept me distracted. I showed him my gallery.”
Sam’s grin spread further. “Yeah, I bet you did.”
“Jesus Christ,” Derek whispered. “I’m leaving before this can get any more absurd.” He started to push to his feet, but Sam’s hand caught his wrist and dragged him back down. He frowned at his friend. “Seriously, don’t you need me out of here?”
“Yes, I do,” Sam told him, “but I also need to know you’re okay.”
Derek licked his lips, then felt pretty good about the fact that he knew he could be honest. “I’m beat down, and I only got a couple of good hours last night, but I’m way better than I was the last time I had a break-down. Seriously, the guy really helped.”
“Okay,” Sam replied after a beat, then let him go. He finished packing up Maisy’s bag, then handed it over before reaching for his chair and using his arms to lift his lower half into it. “Come here, munchkin,” Sam called to her.
Maisy immediately dropped he doll and launched herself into Sam’s arms. It was in the moment, with the two of them together like that, Derek could see the intense familial resemblance between them. Maisy shared Sam’s dark brown hair, and high cheekbones—though hers were still hidden under a soft layer of baby fat—and the heart-shaped mouth. For all anyone might have guessed, she was his biological daughter. And for as much as Sam loved her, she may as well have been.
“You need to be good for uncle DeDe, okay?” Sam told her, stroking a few stray waves back away from her forehead. “I’m going to pick you up when I’m done, okay?”
Maisy appeared to consider this, looking between Derek and Sam, then nodded. “Yeah. I could behave.”
Sam kissed her forehead. “I know you will, sweetpea. I’ll see you in a little bit.”
Maisy slid off Sam’s lap, then marched up to Derek and held both arms up in a demand to be picked up. Derek obliged—generally unable to say no to her which was probably why he was her favorite—and he hitched her up on his hip. “Can we go in your twuck?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Uncle Sage has the truck today, so we’re going in the zoom car.” He drove a Mini which she found delightful—like some sort of old Roger Rabbit-style cartoon car kids couldn’t get enough of. “Is that okay?”
She thought about it, then nodded. “Okay. Can I bwing my oh-fant?”
Derek shrugged and let her slide to the floor so she could race to her room and collect the elephant she couldn’t live without. He caught Sam’s grin and he fought the urge to flip him off. “At least I get to give her back,” he snarked.
Sam shrugged. “Hey, I’m not complaining here. If I didn’t have you guys, I don’t know what the fuck I’d do.”
“But you do, so there’s no point in letting this freak you out,” Derek reminded him. “We’ve got this. All of us.”
Sam relaxed a fraction, and even managed a smile by the time Maisy came out of her room with her arms stuffed full of dolls and a
nimals. With a sigh, he unlocked the brake on his chair and rolled toward her. “One,” he said in a stern voice.
Her bottom lip poked out in a pout sad enough that Derek almost cut in on her behalf. “But…”
Sam shook his head. “You’re not going for very long, May. One doll. We talked about this.”
She looked furious, and in a fit of toddler rage let them all tumble to the ground at her feet. “Fine!” She turned on her heel and started running for the front door. It was Sam’s clever thinking and a lot of experience which had prompted him to have installed child-safety locks on all the doors, so neither of the men hurried to go after her.
“Want me to help tidy before I go?” Derek offered.
Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Nope. It’ll give me something to do before Beth gets here.”
Derek shrugged, then leaned in to give him a quick one-armed hug. He could hear Maisy stomping by the door and attempting to pull it open, so he grabbed her pack and elephant and headed after her in an attempt to stave off the toddler tantrum. She didn’t cry as he got her out the door and buckled into the seat, and by the time he had her zooming down the road, she’d calmed down almost completely.
For all that Derek wished he could have slept most of the day away, he was grateful for the call. Not just because it was one more step closer to Sam being able to finalize the adoption, but also because he was starting to realize that every time he stood still, he pictured Basil in his mind. He could still smell those flowers, still feel the warm weight of his hand pressing Derek’s to his chest. He could hear that laughter, and he could see his deep, rich eyes staring at him once the lights went back on.
Derek hadn’t felt this way in too damn long—frankly he wasn’t sure he’d ever felt like this before—and it was getting to him. They’d been ships passing in the night, nothing special, nothing destined. It would be a miracle if he ever saw the guy again.