When he got in the truck he wasn’t the least surprised to find Darren pretending to be asleep and Severo pouting. Laine grinned and winked at his lover, chuckling softly when Severo’s pout switch to a glower directed at him. Laine gave himself a moment to appreciate the handsome man in the front seat with him, Severo’s sharp cheek bones and full lips making Laine’s heart thud erratically. Damn, he loved this man!
Severo blinked then grinned at him, almost as if he’d read Laine’s thoughts. He probably had, Laine realized, or at least his expression. It wouldn’t have surprised him at all to find out he glowed when that rush of love filled him. It felt like it seeped out of his pores, so surely it must show in his eyes, his mouth as it tipped into a happy grin.
And if it didn’t, there was always a chance their friendly spirit, Conner, was sharing the info with Severo. Severo could, after all, converse with the dead, and Conner was never too far away. Laine’s hair was ruffled which answered the question—yes, Conner was here, and he must have been feeling playful which sometimes didn’t bode well for Laine. Conner didn’t always know when to quit.
Sure enough Laine felt a smack to the back of his head and Severo burst out in a fit of giggles. He stopped suddenly, the sound ending mid giggle. Laine looked at Severo and found his lover pale, his eyes wide and his stare distant. Laine’s stomach dipped and churned. Conner or some spirit was talking and Severo was listening, his lips moving, forming silent words. Then he spoke, and Laine shuddered at the single word, a name.
“Stefan.”
Stefan squealed with delight! It worked, it worked! Well, not as much as he’d hoped, but he’d gotten through! Something had drawn him to the sexy little dark-haired guy, and after hours of trying, Stefan had gotten the man to hear him! True, all he’d managed was his name, but still! It was more than he’d expected! Damn, he wished he could clap his hands! He could, sort of, but there was no noise and that just wasn’t the same.
A flicker of awareness in his consciousness—or whatever it was that made him believe he was alert, what did he know?—distracted Stefan from the joy of his new-found discovery. Someone was calling him. It scared him. No one knew his name now, no one besides the dark-haired guy and Darren. Maybe the big guy who terrified Stefan, because those silvery eyes were just… They saw too much. Stefan didn’t blame Darren for being afraid of the man. He didn’t seem physically dangerous, Stefan didn’t think, but he’d been wrong before and look at what that had got him! Dead, dead dead dead dead. Which wasn’t so bad, except it was, because he couldn’t talk to Darren.
Stefan tried to focus his vision, wanting to see Darren again. Even if he didn’t have a heart any more, just looking at Darren’s beautiful face made Stefan all…fluttery. Which was funny, actually. About all he could do was flutter, but this, the way Darren made him feel, it was different, more internal than—
Stefan’s rambling thoughts skittered to a halt. Someone was calling him. He had vague memories of movies about ghosts being vanished, sent back to…wherever. Could that really happen? He heard his name again and Stefan discovered that, dead or not, he could absolutely still be afraid of being hurt, even if he didn’t have a body.
Chapter Three
It was just after two in the morning when Lee Bausch took the key card from the motel clerk and thanked the man before leaving the office. God, he was so tired from driving, and he had to smell funky. Something about traveling always made him feel like he needed a long, hot shower, whether it was a few hours’ drive time or a short flight, it didn’t matter. He just felt dirty. But this time he really was. He’d driven for almost twenty-four hours straight, stopping only to fuel up or use the restroom.
Over a year of hard work, chasing down leads and begging favors of old friends had, hopefully, finally paid off. Illegally, of course, because Jerry Thatcher, a former Ranger buddy of Lee’s, had a cousin who worked as a detective and said cousin heard through the grapevine that the sheriff in McKinton had been asking around about a Darren Brown.
Lee hoped to hell it was the same Darren Brown he’d been trying to find, because he couldn’t keep doing this, couldn’t spend the rest of his life chasing a ghost. Granted, the guy wasn’t dead, but he might as well have been a ghost. Lee hadn’t found a legal trail for him anywhere, which was surprising. The guy had always been smart, from what Lee remembered.
Which wasn’t as much as he’d have liked. Lee opened the trunk to grab his luggage. There wasn’t much, just a single bag and a dop kit. He hadn’t had the opportunity or need for anything more. Once this ended, however it ended, he wanted to settle down somewhere and have a life. He’d rather have a measure of peace—closure, whatever—if possible, though. There’d always be a part of him missing, losing a brother he loved wasn’t something he’d ever recover from, but he hoped getting justice would help ease the loss. It wouldn’t make everything magically better, but it would help. It had to.
A cool breeze flipped his hair into his eyes when he slammed the trunk shut. Lee muttered and shoved at the thick chunk of hair, swearing to hack it all off, but the truth was, after six years in the military, growing his hair out was a simple pleasure. Lee hadn’t cut it once in the past year and a half but, as the wind whipped a strand across his eyes hard enough to make them sting, he decided he might be ready for another buzz cut about now.
As if in protest of the thought, a warm breeze kicked up. It teased and tugged at his hair and his shirt. The hem rippled and lifted almost to the middle of his stomach before fluttering back down only to float up again, as if invisible hands were manipulating the material. Lee’s mouth twisted in a smile, amused by the idea that the wind was playing with him.
It wasn’t until he’d closed the motel room door behind him that it occurred to Lee he hadn’t seen any of the trees or plants dotting the motel’s grounds swaying in the wind. That was odd, he was normally very observant. Lee shrugged it off. It was only the wind, and he was tired.
* * * *
Stefan was ecstatic, vibrating—if that was possible, he didn’t know—with pure joy. He was learning, finally, how to be a ghost—and Lee was here! It’d been so hard to choose who to watch over, but Lee was strong, stronger than anyone Stefan had ever known. He was, like, Superman, if Superman had been an Army Ranger. And blond.
Still, it was too bad all those people who’d thought he was dumb when he was alive couldn’t see this! Maybe people got smarter when they were dead—but wait. He was dead so he didn’t have a brain, right? His energy ebbed as he concluded that maybe he was dumb. Why else would he have been thinking about having a brain then?
But he could think, so that meant…something. Shit, he was confused. But still! Lee! Stefan did his best to wrap himself around the man, brushing over him, tousling his long sandy blond hair. He liked the long hair. The last time he’d seen Lee, his hair had been really, really short, so short Stefan could see his scalp. He…hadn’t really liked it, but he couldn’t have told Lee that. Lee was his hero after all, and if he thought he should keep his hair that short, who was Stefan to say otherwise?
No one, absolutely no one. Stefan had even worn his hair just like Lee’s because Lee was smart, super smart, and he was a bad ass in the Army—or he used to be. Now he was just lost, and hurt, and Stefan couldn’t stand it, just like he couldn’t stand to watch Darren, so afraid, so alone. Darren was strong, too, but he hadn’t handled it well when Stefan had died, blamed himself and thought he’d failed Stefan. And Darren’s mom had died just days before Stefan, so Darren had kind of already been broken then. Maybe Stefan could fix him.
Shit. Stefan stopped teasing Lee as suddenly as he’d started. Had he just jinxed everything, being all smug and stuff? God, he hoped not, but there’d been that voice, how had he forgotten? The one that had called his name and sent him running—floating?—away. Stefan hadn’t heard it again, but he’d been very, very careful ever since, even though he desperately wanted to get Darren’s attention again.
Think, think, think! S
tefan tried to gather his thoughts back into the important stuff he’d been trying to work out, but somehow he’d— Oh. No wonder he’d forgotten. He was worrying over whether or not his pride had screwed things up. No, he wouldn’t let it, or…that was pride again, wasn’t it? Shit. This was awfully complicated, and he’d never been good with complicated. And admitting that meant he wasn’t being prideful, didn’t it?
Stefan realized he was hovering or whatever it was he did outside the closed motel room door. The urge to go inside was almost overwhelming, but he didn’t. He wasn’t sure he could make himself leave if he did, not as long as Lee was in there. Instead he did his little vaporizing thing, as he called it, and set off to keep a watch over Darren.
* * * *
Inside the motel room, Lee stood by the bed and stared down at the picture in his hand. It was the last one his parents had sent him, and it made him smile even as it wrenched at his heart. Stefan and Darren. The two young men in the picture were smiling, arms over each other’s shoulders, eyes lit with happiness and, yes, love, although he suspected one of the boys seemed to be feeling something other than that best friend-type love.
Lee traced both faces with his fingertips then carefully set the picture on the dresser. He glanced around the room, really seeing it for the first time. A slightly musty odor clung in the air, but the beige carpeting looked clean and the surfaces were dust free, including those horrible red and orange flowered drapes that matched…
“Jesus.” Lee had to rub his eyes after looking at the comforter. It didn’t exactly match, just had the same pattern, and the colors were hot pink and neon yellow. Amazingly enough it didn’t clash with the walls, which someone had had the good sense to paint the same beige as the carpet. Not quite enough blah to counteract the LSD-trip-inspired comforter and blanket, but almost. Lee’s stomach growled, nagging him to eat and distracting him from the ugly decorating.
“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, stripping down as he walked to the bathroom. “Shower first, sleep, then food.” He started the water running then went back to grab his dop kit so he could shave and brush his teeth once he was cleaned up. A quick glance told him the mirror was not his friend. He looked tired and nappy and old and grumpy.
“Three outta four,” Lee said to his image then stepped in the shower and wondered how pathetic he was when talking to himself was the most frequent conversations he had on a regular basis.
* * * *
Riding in with Severo and Laine hadn’t been so bad, really, Darren mused as he served each of the men a hot cup of coffee. Severo had hopped out of the truck, as lively and talkative at four-thirty in the morning as he was any other time Darren had seen him. And he’d brought coffee, just like he’d promised, then Severo and Laine had both proceeded to help him feed the chickens and gather the eggs.
Red had taken one look at Severo and squawked like his feathers were on fire. Darren had been sort of stunned when the rooster had run off behind the coop, wings flapping with each step. He’d never seen Red run from anything. Severo had just laughed and Laine had grumbled something about not all chickens being dumber than a box of rocks, and that had been the end of most of the conversation. Darren hadn’t known what to say, anyway—it wasn’t as if he was interesting like either of the other men. He was just a guy who waited tables. There wasn’t anything exciting about that.
“Y’all ready to order?”
Darren didn’t bother to write it down. Laine and Severo weren’t fussy, both asking for the breakfast plate with an extra serving of bacon. “I’ll have it out to y’all in a few minutes,” Darren promised then topped off the coffee for everyone at table six before heading to the counter to place the order. He didn’t think much of it when he heard the bells on the door ring—that happened too frequently for him to look over every time someone entered or left during the breakfast rush—but he did notice when that uneasy sensation of being watched crawled over him again.
Darren shrugged it off. It was probably just customers checking out the damage to his face. The knot was about gone, but he still had some spectacular colors decorating his chin. He grabbed a fresh pot of coffee and turned around then very nearly dropped it when he saw the man sitting on a stool only a few feet away.
Despite the differences, Darren recognized Lee instantly. The longer hair only served to offset the man’s sculpted cheekbones, the firm line of his jaw. Mossy green eyes, wide and thickly lashed, the slightly uptilted outer corners—eyes so like Stefan’s, despite the fact Stefan’s eyes had been a pure sky blue, and the divot in the chin… Darren had spent many nights as a lovesick teen thinking about this man. It was almost as big a shock to realize he still carried a bit of that teenage crush as it was to see Stefan’s brother again.
There was a split second where Darren thought Lee looked as shocked as Darren felt, but it was so fleeting, and Lee’s expression was blank as the employment section of the corkboard hanging by the register.
“Darren.”
That was it, just his name said in a deep, gravelly voice, but it was enough to make Darren grateful for the apron covering him from waist to mid-thigh. He found a hidden reserve of calmness he didn’t really feel, especially not when his dick had hardened the instant Lee had spoken.
Darren tightened his grip on the coffee pot, nodded and prayed his voice wouldn’t squeak. “Lee.” Then he really didn’t know what else to say, except the one thing he wasn’t sure he could say. Darren was saved from having to even try when the cook yelled, “Order up!” He nodded again and knew he must look like a complete idiot for doing so. His cheeks burned with embarrassment as he set the coffee pot down on the counter. The walk around to pick up the orders seemed unnaturally long, and Darren didn’t know if it was paranoia or if he really was feeling Lee watching him as he hefted the plates.
Of course he’s watching me, stupid! There’s exactly zero chance Stefan’s brother just happened to show up in McKinton, over three hundred miles from his home in Jackson. Darren turned and walked back around the counter, trying his best to appear unaffected as his thoughts raced as fast as his pulse. There’s only one reason Lee would show up here. He was looking for me, and now he found me, and there’s nothing I can do but tell him it was my fault his brother died. The idea was terrifying and yet Darren found himself wanting to confess his failure, his guilt. Maybe if he did, he could find…not exactly peace, never that, but something close to it. Something that would make it a little easier for Darren to live with himself.
Decision made, he set the plates in front of Laine and Severo, avoiding both men’s eyes. He knew he wouldn’t be able to avoid their questions and Laine proved him right almost instantly.
“You know that guy at the counter?”
“Yes, sir,” Darren said. “I’ll be right back with your coffee—”
Darren froze when Laine grabbed his wrist. He shot a surprised glance at the man then immediately looked away.
“Darren, I saw you when you saw him. Do I need to get involved?”
Laine probably would no matter what Darren said but he tried anyway. “No, sir, he was my best friend’s brother. I just didn’t expect for him to show up here—but he isn’t a bad man, not at all.” He hoped. He hadn’t ever known Lee well—the man was almost ten years older than Darren, and he’d joined the military not long after Darren and Stefan had met.
“What do you mean, was?” Severo asked.
Darren cringed inwardly. He should have been more careful. Now he had to admit something that still turned him inside out to say. “I mean, he is, but Stefan, he was—he died,” Darren muttered, unable to explain any better. Those two words made him feel like something was ripping into his guts with fiery claws.
Severo hummed something under his breath as Laine squeezed Darren’s wrist, not hard enough to hurt, just enough to get his attention.
“And he just showed up here…why? Maybe I should just ask him that myself.”
“No,” Darren whispered, his teeth clenched to keep fr
om yelling the word. “He probably wants to talk to me and that’s fine. Lee was serving with the Rangers when Stefan passed, I don’t even know when he found out about—it.” Darren wasn’t able to bring himself to say ‘Stefan’s death’. He was already on edge, his eyes stinging. The last thing he wanted to do was break down in front of everyone. Anyone. “Just, please, let me see what he wants first. I don’t want you to make him leave.” Darren tugged against Laine’s hold but his relief was short lived when Laine pushed back his chair and stood up, looking at something over Darren’s shoulder.
Darren took a step back and felt a wave of heat from a body close to his own. He peered over his shoulder, unsurprised to find Lee behind him, his handsome face devoid of expression.
The hand on his hip, though, that surprised Darren so much he yelped. Instead of moving his hand, Lee merely tightened his grip as he asked, “Is there a problem here, Darren?”
The words were different from Laine’s question moments earlier, but not by much. And apparently Lee wasn’t the least bit intimidated by Laine’s dark scowl. “That’s what I was asking Darren. Maybe you should let him go.”
Darren felt like he was caught between two alpha wolfs vying over a prized meal. He didn’t relish getting caught in the middle. “It’s fine, Laine, really, he just surprised me, that’s all.” God, people were staring. Darren wanted to curl up into a ball and hide. He hated drawing everyone’s attention. “Can you please stop?” Darren begged quietly of Laine, “Please. Everyone is looking and I—” He stopped, his throat clicking as he swallowed. “Please.” He didn’t know why he was begging Laine instead of Lee but he was. If he were honest with himself, Lee’s hand felt really good where it was, warmth seeping through the layers of material to warm Darren’s skin. The fact that the hold was possessive didn’t escape Darren’s notice, and neither did the aching hardness pinned uncomfortably between his thigh and his jeans. That part of him really liked Lee’s touch.
Aftermath Page 3