Long Way (Adventures INK Book 2)

by Mercy Celeste

  Skip set a glass of filtered water in front of him. “Keep that down and I’ll give you plain toast.”

  Chad nodded and sipped the water. Skip leaned over the coffee maker, willing it to spurt out enough to fill a cup, even a half a cup. He wasn’t picky. “Why don’t you go take a nap?”

  “I did take a nap… in my office chair. Or I stared at nothing for three hours. My head is killing me.” He opened a cabinet and pulled out a bottle of Tylenol, swallowing two pills dry.

  His phone rang and he hit the side button to turn the sound off before checking to see who was calling.

  His heart jumped into his throat and he swiped to answer the call. “Sam? Hey? What’s going on?” Sam never called him. She’d send him an email if she needed to contact him. The only times she’d ever called him wasn’t just to say hi.

  “I’m sorry to call you. I know you’re probably up in the woods somewhere, doing whatever you do, that you think no one knows about…” Her words were rushed and agitated. “Skip, I think I did something bad. I can’t shake this feeling that I made things worse.”

  “What?” Skip felt her alarm as if she were sitting right across from him. “What did you do, Sam?”

  “Jillian called me yesterday morning. I didn’t think anything about it. I answered and we talked a little. She’s looking for Chad. He’s not answering his phone. She thought he’d be with us. She called us “you people,” Skip, like it’s an insult. You people with a sneer in her voice. I shouldn’t have said anything. I should have realized. I told her we laid Colt to rest and Chad went with you. She hung up on me.”

  “Oh God.” He had to clutch the island to stay on his feet. “Brian! Brian is at the house. Do you think she’d go to the house? To my house? Do you think she’d… how did she sound? Sam?”

  “I don’t know, Skip. I didn’t know her that well. I remember that she was quiet and would always give us this glare like we were puppy murders. But… she sounded… unhinged.” Sam sounded like she was on the verge of some kind of break. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t even know she had my number. I didn’t recognize the number. I shouldn’t have answered.”

  “It’s okay, Sam, it’s fine. I’m sure it’s fine. Thank you for letting me know.” Skip assured her. “Let me go. I need to call Brian to check on him and… Doc. What the hell is his husband’s name? I should know my own son-in-law’s name.”

  “You’d think?” Sam laughed like it was a joke. He heard the fake cheer. He felt it deep in his gut that this wasn’t good. “Okay. Love you. Be careful.”

  Skip disconnected, and looked up at Chad who held his phone to his ear. He looked strange. Too pale. There were smudges of purple beneath his eyes. His shoulders were rigid. He’d fallen back into his Marine stance. He disconnected and tried again. This time disconnecting quickly. “She’s not answering.”

  Skip turned off the coffee maker without pouring a cup. He didn’t need caffeine to wake him up anymore. He had enough fear-fueled adrenaline pumping through his veins to jump-start a whale. He hit Brian’s name in his call log and waited for it to go through. “Straight to voicemail. He turned off the ringer. He’s probably at work. I don’t even know what today is.”

  “Thursday.” Chad quipped, swallowing some of the water and two of the pain pills. “I think. Could be Friday.”

  “Okay.” Skip looked around the kitchen as if searching for the answers to life. “Okay. Time to go. You can stay if you want. I need to get home. I don’t know why. I don’t want Brian to be there alone if she shows up at Cliffside.”

  “He should be fine. She doesn’t know who he is. She won’t mess with someone she doesn’t know. Her grudges are personal.” Chad followed him to his office where Skip pulled out his computer bag and stuffed his manuscript and notes in with his laptop. The manuscript he was supposed to start working on a month ago. He spotted the picture of him and Brian on the beach that was taken last year before he’d retreated to the cabin to work on the new edits for the re-releases. He held the picture out to Chad. “He looks exactly like I did when I was in my twenties. He’s a dead ringer for me— the last time she saw me. You know her. What would she do if she thought her little boy was off with a man she was convinced had molested him?”

  “She’d go after him.” Chad turned on his heel and bolted up the stairs taking them three at a time. Skip put the picture down and set his case by the stairs before he followed him up to grab some clothes and a few essentials.

  Chad was pulling on a pair of fatigues when Skip entered their bedroom. He hadn’t unpacked from the trip up. Not entirely. His leather duffel bag was still sitting where he’d left it, full of clothes. He changed into clean clothes and grabbed his wallet and keys. Sunglasses. He patted his pockets. Phone. He pulled his phone out of the pocket he’d left it in.

  “Ready?” Chad came out of the bathroom smelling minty. Skip ran in and brushed quickly. He didn’t bother rinsing. When he came back out, Chad had his pack and a few shopping bags in one hand and Skip’s duffel in the other.

  “Ready.” He turned off all the lights on the way down the stairs and checked the front door with Chad following. He grabbed his computer bag and headed for the mudroom door.

  Chad stopped at the washer and glanced up at the top shelf. “You should take that.”

  Skip didn’t think twice. He grabbed the gun holster and put it in his computer bag.

  They loaded the Jeep while Skip tried to call Brian again. He called the office at the park only to find out Brian had taken the day off. He should have had someone go check on him. He should have called back when that thought occurred to him. He didn’t have time to think straight. He had another call to make.

  “It’s a long drive. I’m sure he’ll turn the phone on at some point,” Chad said to be helpful, while hiding that he was still trying to get through to his mother. “At least, what, like fifteen hours if traffic is good?”

  “Closer to twenty, but we’re not driving.” He headed down his mountain, taking the turns too fast and sped through town, stopping when he hit the parking lot in front of the local hangar. “Grab the gear. They’re gassing her up now. We should be there in a few hours.” He stopped as a thought occurred to him. “You will be okay in a small plane, right? Flying doesn’t trigger you?”

  Chad stared at him, jaw slack, before composing himself. “I… no. I’m fine in the air, unless someone starts shelling it from the ground.”

  “I’m not expecting any ground-to-air missiles today, but this is southern Oregon, anything could happen.” Skip grabbed his personal gear and went inside the little office. He handed his keys off to the attendant for Cat to pick up his Jeep and watched as his craft taxied out of the hangar.

  “You have a Cessna TTx… holy shit,” Chad said from behind him. “That’s… like… awesome. Why do you have a fucking airplane?”

  “Why else? Because I can.” Skip almost forgot that he had somewhere to be in a hurry. The look of pure awe on his lover’s face sent him into a tailspin. This… this man. This was what he wanted— A life spent putting that look on Chad’s face. The mechanic climbed out and walked around the plane signaling that he was ready. “Come on. We have a long way to go, and a short time to get there.”

  Chad followed him out; he stowed their gear in the back of the plane while Skip went through the checklist with his mechanic. Less than half an hour later, they were airborne and headed back to California with Chad humming a song from an old movie that sounded familiar but Skip couldn’t place it.

  “So, this is what the life of a bestselling author is like? Mountain retreats and million-dollar personal aircraft, an adventure park and a mansion on the California coast. And a bookstore.”

  “I have a penthouse in New York too. For when I have to meet with my editors in person. But… no, I haven’t even made a million dollars with my writing yet. I may never. Writing doesn’t pay as much as people think. I’ve done well in the last few years, but not enough to afford the life I’ve lived. That c
omes from my grandparents. The carnies on one side with the land, and the graft to set up shop in the shadow of a California land baron. And a mother who fell in love with the carnie’s son. Leaving me with all of it. Every damn square acre of old California land, and a fortune in the bank. So Saffron lives up to both sides. I’m a wandering gypsy, and a capitalist pig. Keeps people guessing.”

  Chad’s lips quirked into a smile that faded away quickly. “I’m sorry that your son might be in danger because of me.”

  “Meh, I’m not worried too much about Brian. He’s a smart kid. He’ll figure out something’s wrong. I’m more worried about bringing my boyfriend home to meet my son, if you want the truth.”

  “Emphasis on the boy part,” Chad said the light gone completely from his eyes now. “I remember what we talked about last night.”

  “You’re more of a man than any man I’ve ever met, Chad. Maybe even more of a man than I am. And if you remember, then you remember that I said I love you. I don’t toss those words around freely anymore. The only person I’ve said that to and meant it with my heart is my son. The unconditional love of a father. And that is not the love I’m feeling for you. I’ve never met anyone who makes my heart sing and ache at the same time. I didn’t know it was possible.”

  “Could be a relapse of the stomach flu,” Chad said, a smirk curling his lips.

  “Could be,” Skip replied. “Don’t puke in my plane.”

  “Yessir,” Chad answered, the smirk coming through in his voice now. Skip’s body reacted to the word. He tried to suppress a groan, but Chad heard him. “Keep your mind out of the gutter, Saffron, and your eyes on the road.”

  “I’m going to live to regret that, aren’t I?”

  “Probably,” Chad replied. “Sir.”

  Skip groaned again, and eyed the autopilot, long enough for Chad to laugh. God, he loved hearing Chad laugh. His laugh made Skip happy. He felt young again.

  And that thought gutted him.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The house wasn’t quite like Chad remembered. Skip drove around a winding driveway; the landscaping that had once been well-maintained seemed neglected. The house was a faded, pink-stucco Spanish monstrosity that looked abandoned.

  Skip parked in front of the courtyard leading to the front door. And was at the front door before Chad made it to the edge of the porch. The door opened, and Chad had to stop or fall over his own feet. The man standing in the doorway wasn’t exactly a dead-ringer for Skip, but there was a serious resemblance. Resemblance or not, the younger version of Skip was drop-dead gorgeous.

  “What the hell, Skip? You’re supposed to be off communing in the woods somewhere. At least call before you come rushing in like the feds are after you.” The younger version of Skip leaned against the door, grinning at his father. He was only wearing a towel and that shit-eating grin. Chad wondered if that was a family trait? Then then beauty in the doorway turned sultry green eyes on Chad and winked. “Hello, gorgeous! Skip, did you kidnap a Marine?”

  Chad didn’t feel a damned thing.

  Skip pushed the door wide open, and grabbed the younger man, pulling him into a hug. Brian flailed from loss of balance, and maybe from the fact that Skip wasn’t letting him go. When Skip finally released his son, he stepped back and wiped at the corner of an eye. He crossed his arms over his chest, much the same way his son did, and glared at him. “Turn your damned phone on, and I won’t have to come charging to the rescue.”

  Brian looked like he was about to say something smart, but changed his mind. “Oh. My phone is at the bottom of the Pacific somewhere. We went out on the boat last night and it fell in. You know, you could have called the house phone. Or the office.”

  “The house phone doesn’t work, and the office said you took the day off.” Skip wasn’t moving into the house, and he seemed to have forgotten Chad even existed.

  “Yeah, today was supposed to be Zack’s first day off since he started at the hospital. We were going to spend it…” he tossed a wicked glance in Chad’s direction. “Doing what you’ve obviously been doing. I swear, Skip, I did not know you went for the young dudes. I’m not sure I knew you went for dudes at all. So… are you just going to leave him standing out there looking mortified, or are you going to come inside and tell me what the fuck has you looking like you're being chased by one of those serial killers that you write about.”

  Skip went a weird shade of pink. His slightly orange-tinted freckles were even more orange. “This is Chad.” Skip glanced at Chad, a look of panic on his face. “I’m…” Chad thought he’d say something like sleeping with him, or just visiting him… but the pause was too long. “Thinking about asking him to marry me.”

  Swirling, violent, fluttering, torrents of oh my god washed through Chad’s entire body. “Then ask. I’ll say yes.”

  “Oh… wow. Okay. I’m getting a stepfather. So, that’s… not strange at all. And why are the police coming up our drive?” Brian’s mocking grin disappeared. Chad turned to see several police cars with lights flashing pulling in behind and in front of the Jeep. Chad’s blood ran ice cold.

  “She wouldn’t go that far?” Chad had no idea who he was speaking to… himself or Skip.

  “You didn’t bring home any of the good stuff did you, Skip?” Brian’s words were meant to tease, his tone, though, was anything but teasing.

  “I have no idea why you think I have a pot farm?” Skip wasn’t teasing either. They all stood very still and waited for the police to step out. They did. Guns drawn.

  “Which one of you is Skipper Simpson?” The officer-in-charge emerged from the lead car. His gun was not drawn. The look on his face was not welcoming.

  “There’s no one here by that name,” Brian said, and Chad wondered if he’d lost his goddamned mind. “Legally, anyway.”

  The lead cop’s gun came out and he aimed it toward Brian. “Get on your knees, all of you. Hands behind your heads. We’re looking for a man named Skipper Simpson; the man in the towel fits the description.”

  “He’s not Skip Simpson. I am. Skip is a nickname.” Skip kept his gaze on the cop closest to him. “This is my son, Brian O’Daly.”

  “Sorensen.” Brian added as he kept his eyes on the cop closest to them as well. “I… uh. I took Zack’s name. Hope you don’t mind.”

  “Why would I mind? I didn’t like O’Daly on you anyway,” Skip said to his son without taking his gaze off the cop, as if they were having a private conversation, and there weren’t eight cops pointing eight guns at them. Chad wasn’t exactly handling having weapons in his face well. “I should like to interject into this discussion that the Marine to my far left has just returned from a tour in Afghanistan. He has PTSD and I can feel his unease from here. We’re unarmed and not going anywhere, if it would be alright, I’d like to ask if the guns can be put away.”

  With the weapon pointed at him, Chad had to focus hard on the tile under his knees to keep the wave of panic from taking over.

  “Why are you looking for me?” Skip drew the man’s attention back. “You should have stated that long before now.”

  “You’re wanted for questioning in the disappearance of ten-year-old Chad Mayes. Last seen in your care. His mother says you took him without her consent. She’s filed charges.”

  Chad laughed. Oh god. The weapon wavered in and out of focus. Chad breathed hard, his nostrils flaring as he sucked in air. He wasn’t going to lose control. Not right now. It was a damned miracle they weren’t lying face down on the ground. Freaking the hell out wouldn’t accomplish a damned thing. He tried not to laugh again. He could sense that it was pissing the cop off. It had pissed him off when combatants had laughed at him when the roles had been reversed. “I’m Sergeant Chad Mayes, USMC. I’m not ten. I’m twenty-three. I haven’t been kidnapped. Skip is not a child molester. And my mother is off her meds. She’s bi-polar with a side-helping of paranoia delusion. My father passed away a few weeks ago, and I believe it triggered a mental break.”

 
The cop lowered his gun; at least it was out of Chad’s line of vision, if not completely holstered. “Identification. Now.”

  “Back pocket. I have a knife in my front pocket and my phone.” Chad didn’t put his hands down. They could pat him down. He wasn’t giving them a reason to shoot him now that he was getting married.

  The cop nodded to another cop who holstered his weapon, and stepped up to Chad. “On your feet. Keep your hands behind your head.”

  Chad rose to his feet in one fluid movement, fingers locked behind his head, feet apart, and submitted to the pat down. The cop took his knife and his wallet. He flipped it open, and handed it to the lead cop. Lead cop gave him the eye over his military ID and driver’s license. “How old are you?”

  “Twenty-three. I served four years. Two tours. My mother’s name is Jillian Calhoun. She changed back to her maiden name after my parents divorced when I was eleven. I was born in Van Nuys, California. My mother currently lives there. I have no current address. I moved into my father’s house in Virginia until he passed. I’m in California to lay him to rest. Skip helped me scatter his ashes upstate.”

  The lead cop closed his wallet, and nodded toward Skip and Brian. “Identification.”

  “Do I look like I have ID? Where would I put it? Tucked under my nutsack?” Brian sneered at the cop who walked toward him. “It’s inside. You’ll have to take my word. Not Skipper Simpson. Not Chad Mayes. Brian Sorensen. I really love saying that. Has a nice ring to it.”

  “Kid… anyone ever tell you that you’re a smart ass?” Skip rolled his eyes.

  “There’s a marked family resemblance,” Chad replied. “Like father, like son.” He felt the laugh bubble up and tried to stop it. He closed his mouth, but it came out his nose in a snort.

  “This isn’t funny.” Skip scolded him. He was on his feet being patted down. “I do not keep my wallet there either.” He winced as the cop patted him too hard between his legs. “The left cargo pocket. I swear, I’m seeing someone. Seriously.”