by J. M. Dabney
“Sorry, continue,” Troy huffed.
“I introduced them. Porter said some things and Brent kissed me, pretended to kiss me. It wasn’t real or anything, just part of the act.”
For Brent it was part of an act, but not for him. He’d savored that single act as the beginning of something, and then he’d come to his senses.
“My dad, Brent, tall, distinguished guy kissed you?”
“Yeah, I think I’d remember if the man of my dreams kissed me or not.”
“Wow, and what happened?”
Troy sounded interested, and he was thankful that they’d moved away from his jerk-off story.
“Nothing, we went home, and since it was early, we watched a movie and ate popcorn. Everything was normal.”
“Not everything is normal. I get my dad giving you a friendly peck—”
Miller blushed, and Troy gave a scandalized gasp.
“Tell me there wasn’t tongue,” Troy demanded.
“Maybe a little brief flirting of those appendages during said peck.”
“I’m dreaming right now, that’s what going on, just a weird nightmare.”
He was getting pissed at Troy’s dramatic gesturing. He’d loved everything about his best friend, but he was getting tired of his actions being questioned.
“Shut up, Troy, it wasn’t anything, it did its job of making Porter back off.”
“It’s a big thing, my dad…” Troy paused and took a deep breath. “Put his tongue in your mouth.”
“It was just to show I was off-limits. It was just tongue. It’s not like I dropped to my knees and sucked—” Miller stopped when Troy screamed.
“No, shut up, never say that ever again.”
His irritation morphed into amusement at his best friend having a tantrum. “You’re having a nervous breakdown, aren’t you, that’s what this craziness is about, right?”
“No, you sucking anything of my dad’s…” Troy gagged and shook himself changing the subject. “Then what was the other night at Flannigan’s about, huh? That was jealousy pure and simple.”
“You’re seeing things. He was protective and nothing else.”
“I’ve known my dad for thirty years, that stressed, angry man isn’t my laidback and go with the flow Dad. Something is going on, and it has to do with you.”
“So, just another thing that’s my fault,” Miller shouted.
The energy in the room changed as Win’s overwhelming presence barreled into his living room. “Hey, you two knock it off, you’re upsetting Bella. Have a seat, Troy.”
It amazed him when Troy sat down, and it hurt when his best friend wouldn’t look at him.
“Okay, shut up and let me talk…when I’m done, then you can speak.”
They nodded. Win might be abrasive, but he was one of those intensely silent men who was eyed warily when he did show emotion, especially anger.
“Brent’s been through a lot in the last three years. He was on the verge of death. Miller here was by his side every minute he could be, when you couldn’t be. He proved something to Brent, and maybe Brent realized that Miller could be someone he wanted. No.”
He started to protest but shut up when Win pointed first at him then at Troy and glared.
“What’s the big damn deal? So what there’s a twenty-year age difference? And why the hell does gender have to play a part? Race and gender shouldn’t matter when it comes to whom you fall for. Miller was there just as much as you. Do you want Brent to spend the next fifty years alone?”
“But it’s my dad and Miller…it’s creepy.”
“Why? I care about him. It’s not going to happen, I know that. I’ve accepted it, and that breaks my heart, but I can deal with it.”
“No, you’re my best friend, you’ll be my stepdad, and you know all my embarrassing secrets.”
“Like the way you lost your toy virginity to images of…” A hand slapped over his mouth.
“I hate you,” Troy hissed.
Miller snorted. “Yeah, but Win probably heard his name all the way across town.”
“What?” Win croaked the question.
“I hate you, and I’m going to kill you.”
“It would be worth it.”
Troy flopped down beside him on the couch and let out a heavy sigh. “We’re off topic here. Miller and my dad kissed, and now Dad’s being all jealous alpha male. We have to do something about this bullshit before it goes any further.”
“What do we do? Apparently, Brent has a thing for Miller, and he returns the feelings. It’s mutual and Miller’s well over eighteen. He can do what he wants.”
“What he wants is to sleep with my dad.”
“I want more than sleeping.” Miller glared at Troy until Troy closed his mouth with a click of his teeth. “I don’t just want sex, Troy. It was never about that. He makes me feel safe and wanted…that he’d never throw me away for being stupid or not being what he wants me to be.”
“You’re not stupid, Miller, never were, you just have horrible taste in men.”
Win gruffly laughed. “He dates ones that he’ll never have an emotional interest in since his heart is set on a certain hot Daddy.” Win offered his wisdom, and it made Troy cringe.
“Don’t call him Daddy. It’s bad enough Miller does it,” Troy protested and shuddered.
“Brent likes when I call him Daddy.”
“I’m going to shove ice picks in my ears and pray to forget this moment. We still haven’t figured out what to do.”
“Yes, we have. Miller is going to get on big boy clothes.”
Win shot a look at Miller’s extra baggy t-shirt and pajama bottoms—both stolen from Brent.
“And he’s going to go to Brent’s house, fix all this shit and make sure I have crews left to work. One more day of Brent growling, and I’m going to have no employees.”
Brent was sexy when he growled, but Miller kept quiet. “I’ll go straighten things out. All this is just speculation. Brent doesn’t want me, and he’ll be back to normal any day now.”
“I’m going to grab Bella. You two make up.” Win left the room to disappear back into the kitchen and left them alone.
“I’m sorry, Troy.”
They shared a quick hug and then leaned into each other. He’d noticed a change in their friendship when Troy married, and he hated it, but he’d have to get used to the dynamic.
“Me too, you’ve been my best friend since high school. We’ve done everything together, but you’ve seemed to pull away from me the past few years. I have to admit it hurt.”
“I was an asshole and jealous.”
“Jealous?”
“Yeah, you and Win, the two of you are so happy, and you have Bella. I didn’t feel like you needed me anymore. Except for the kid thing, I love Bella, but I prefer to be Papa.”
“I wonder why she calls you that?” Troy asked.
“She thinks Brent and him are her grandfathers. We talked about it before.” Win casually announced as he entered the room with Bella holding his hand.
“What?” Miller croaked.
“Bella thinks you and Brent are married like Troy and me.”
“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” Troy demanded
“I didn’t know how to explain it to her, so I just let it be.”
“That’s a pretty big thing to let be,” he said.
Win just shrugged.
“Okay, get out so I can go make up with Brent.”
The goodbyes were quick, and he changed into jeans and a t-shirt to head to Brent’s house.
Twenty minutes later, he stood on Brent’s porch, and he’d raised his hand to knock multiple times, but he chickened out each one. Miller had no idea what to say. Taking a deep breath, he pushed his fingers roughly through his hair and knocked before he lost his nerve. He could’ve used his key, but this wasn’t a just walk in conversation. Especially not after what happened at the batting cages between them.
The door opened, a disheveled Brent answ
ered with sweatpants low on his hips. He swallowed hard as he took in the deep V leading down to an area he wanted to get up close and personal with. Miller cleared his throat and opened his mouth.
Brent cut him off so quickly his teeth clicked. “What are you doing here, Miller?” Brent asked.
“I wanted to talk to—” A feminine giggle and a woman with a tousled head of dark blonde curls appeared from the living room. She wore one of Brent’s shirts around her and was headed for the kitchen. All he could see was her back.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Miller stepped back quickly and started to pivot on his toes.
“Miller, baby, what…” Brent reached out, and Miller jerked away before he could get his hand on him. Miller didn’t want to be touched.
“I’ll come back. I didn’t realize you were busy, I’m…” He bit back a sob. “I’m sorry.” Miller ran until he reached his car and hopped in. Brent called his name, and he caught sight of the big man coming toward him. He pulled away and didn’t bother looking back.
6
“Brent, who was that?” Brenda asked.
He turned to shake his head at Brenda who was walking down the hall with a cup of coffee. Well, that would explain it. Fuck, Miller thought he had some woman there for sex. Really, that was far from the truth. He dragged his fingers through his hair and threw his head back.
“Was that Miller?”
“Yes,” he answered.
“Oh shit. Should you go after him?”
“He won’t go home. He knows all my hiding places, yet hasn’t ever told me his.”
There was a lot Miller hadn't told him over the years. As open as the man was with him, the little man kept secrets, maybe more than him. He thought back to the night at the batting cages when Miller had lifted onto his toes, and those perfect, soft bow lips almost touched his and all he could think about was grabbing him. The strength of his need had made him harsh because all he'd wanted was to lift Miller off his feet and slam that trim body against the fence.
“If I can be honest, he’s adorable.”
He stared at the now empty space at the end of the driveway and slowly closed the door. “Yes, he is.”
“Didn’t you tell anyone I was coming to visit?”
“No, I didn’t think about it. It’s been kinda weird around here, and it slipped my mind until you showed up today.”
“Honey, that Miller more than likes you, you know that, right?”
“He sees me as a father figure, nothing more.”
He tasted the bitterness of his lie. In his gut, he'd always sensed that Miller's naturally flirtatious nature was more. He’d denied it so long he believed there was nothing between them.
“Bullshit, Brent, that was a man whose heart was breaking, and I barely saw him. To be honest, he fits you. Exactly the type of person I could see you settle down with. Delicate, cute, and definitely your type. He's the forever kind of guy. After all the stories I've heard, he hasn't made his attention secret.”
“Why did I ever date you if the delicate and cute thing was my type?”
Brenda was tall and slender, plus she had an overbearing personality and was always ready to take charge.
“We were both driven and understood that it wouldn’t last beyond college. Classic friends with benefits, we were never going to love each other romantically. You needed someone more domestic, free-spirited and who could handle being taken care of.”
“So you’re saying I needed a househusband?” He absently combed his fingers through his hair and enjoyed the odd warmth of thinking of Miller in the role as his lover, maybe husband.
“Definitely.” She grinned mischievously, an impish smile matching Troy’s.
He saw a lot of Brenda in their son.
“After this”—Brent motioned between them—“it’s not going to happen.”
“If you explain what I’m doing here and why, it might go a long way to soothing his feelings.”
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s best to just let it be…let him think…” He couldn't even finish that statement.
“Don’t be an asshole, Brent, you’re going to explain because that gorgeous man wants you, not the successful businessman or doting father, you, the man. You’ve always taken care of everyone, put yourself last, it’s about damn time you put yourself first. Go after what Brent Canter wants.”
“I don’t know how to date Miller. He's young and have we forgotten, Troy's best friend?”
“Um, I think it’s pretty much like dating anyone. You ask them to dinner or whatever. Food, conversation, kiss at the door, maybe more if you’re so inclined.”
“Is that how you got Linda?”
“Leave my wife out of this.” She glared.
Brenda and Linda married three years ago. They’d met at some medical conference, both successful surgeons.
“I have to go get ready for my meetings. I’ll be back late, and I better hear good news or loud moaning from your bedroom.”
“You’re a sick woman.”
“I have my moments.”
He sighed as he watched his ex-girlfriend head for the stairs. She was only there to consult on a case at the hospital and spend some time with Troy and Bella. Speaking of Bella, he was supposed to spend the weekend with her to give Win and Troy a mini-vacation, also a meal with Brenda while she was in town.
Miller would never talk to him again. He’d been an ass and then the whole Brenda thing. He was screwed. Padding barefoot to the living room, he fell back onto the couch and stared up at the ceiling. Closing his eyes, the stricken look on Miller’s face taunted him. He’d never seen that amount of misery on Miller’s face, not even when his parents kicked him out; Miller had put up a good front.
How was he supposed to fix it? Was there anything even to fix? Maybe he’d fucked up too badly this time. He’d ruined his chance with Miller—he’d seen that the night at the cages. Miller’s lips had been so close to his, the beautiful man’s breath fanned his lips and his jealousy and need made him push Miller away.
After his weekend with Bella, he’d call Miller, they needed to talk, and Brent needed to repair whatever damage he’d done. He wanted the man who’d become his friend back—he needed that more than anything, even more than the kiss he was dying to repeat.
The next night, Brent sat at the coffee table and colored with Bella. Her dark hair was a curtain around her pretty face as she carefully filled in the spaces between the lines. “Are you and Papa broke up?”
“What?” he asked confused.
She thought they were broken up? When did she start thinking they were together? Oh, now the whole Papa thing made sense. How did he explain that there wasn’t anything to be broken up? Not that he didn’t wish that there was. Having two dads made it easier to think she’d have two grandfathers too, not to mention the two grandmothers. He smiled to himself, but his smile fell as she asked him again.
“Are you and Papa broken up? He’s not here.” She pushed her hair back from her face and watched him with her huge blue eyes. “He’s not here to read me my story.”
“Oh, baby girl, it’s just the two of us, Grandpa and Bella time, remember? And Grandma Brenda will be here tomorrow when you wake up.”
“But he always reads me my story.” Her eyes were getting teary.
Oh shit, he hated when she cried.
“Why don’t I call Papa and see if he can come over? He might be working or something.”
Crayons and coloring book went flying when she jumped to her feet. “I’ll call,” she shouted, and as she ran through the house to the kitchen, he heard her tiny feet pounding on the hardwood floor. Then she reappeared with his phone in her hand.
Bella plopped down on the floor beside him, and he rolled his eyes as she swiped the screen, pulled up the number pad and hit speed dial two for Miller. For emergencies, he’d taught her 911 and the speed dial for Miller and also Miller’s number. They’d practiced until she remembered it. He put the phone on speaker. He hoped Miller would an
swer and not ignore the call. Brent hated to see his granddaughter unhappy.
“Hello,” a quiet voice, barely a whisper, answered.
“Papa,” she squealed.
“Oh, Baby Bella, how is my girl?”
Miller sounded relieved that it was Bella and not him, wasn’t that a punch in the nuts.
“You’re not here to read my story.”
“Are you spending the weekend at Grandpa’s house?”
“Yep and you’re not here.”
“I’m sorry. Do you want me to come over and read to you?”
Miller spoiled Bella as much as Brent and rarely told her no, especially when it was something as simple as a story or a cuddle session. He’d put aside whatever uncomfortable business there was between them to make her happy. That worked in his favor.
“Please, Grandpa doesn’t do the voices right.” Miller chuckled, and the beautiful sound preceded the rustling of sheets.
“We can’t have that now, can we? Tell Grandpa I’ll be there shortly.” Miller’s voice was hyper-cheerful, yet he could hear the edge of sadness in it. The younger man was putting on a good show for Bella.
“Grandpa, Papa’s coming, I have to get in my jamas. Come on,” she ordered. Brent barely disconnected the call before she jerked on his hand.
Bella got tired of waiting for him and took off for the steps. She loved Miller and spent as many weekends at Miller’s house as his. By the time he made it to his room, she’d already stripped and was pulling her pink gown over her head. “Brush your teeth, and I’ll brush your hair,” he suggested.
“No, Papa brushes it, don’t you ‘member. He reads and brushes my hair.”
“Okay, okay.” He smiled at her tiny eye roll and let her finish getting ready for bed. Brent observed as she laid her book and brush on the edge of the bed, climbed up to arrange the pillows just so. She was just leaning back against the pillows when Brent heard Miller’s soft footsteps on the stairs.
Brent frowned at the picture Miller made. He had heavy, dark circles under his eyes and the clothes he wore hung on him. He nearly smiled as he realized Miller wore a pair of his pajama bottoms and an old t-shirt. He’d wondered where they’d disappeared to.