Edward Unconditionally Common Powers 3 (10 page)

As he buttoned up the shirt, he stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He looked awful. Too pale, for one thing. He leaned closer to the mirror. Were those crow's feet at the corners of his eyes? When did
that
happen? Thirty had been bad enough, but thirty-five sucked.

What would his life be like at forty?

Too fucking depressing to think about.

He left the bathroom and went back to his room, thinking about his immediate problem.

If he didn't get that proof of vaccination, he might lose Winston. Edward slumped onto the bed. If that happened, he'd have no one. Well, no one who mattered. No one who'd love him just because he was Edward.

Happy when Edward got home, Winston always barked and raced around Edward's legs until he got the attention he demanded. Edward felt Winston's love in the boundless exuberance the little dog always greeted him with.

Through thick and thin, over the last six years, while lovers had promised him their love, had lied and cheated, or used him for his money like Derek, Winston had been there for him.

Winston never lied to him. Never promised him anything other than he'd always be happy to see him, always be waiting. He'd always been faithful and steadfast. As long as he had Winston, Edward wasn't really alone and unloved.

The room seemed emptier without the little dog. Edward missed feeling the weight of the dog near his feet and tucking his cold toes under Winston's warmth. He even missed Winston's snoring.

Crawling under the covers, Edward stroked the silk shirt over his belly, soothing himself. It was something he'd done since childhood whenever he'd been upset. He'd hidden the compulsive behavior from everyone, especially his father, as he moved into his teens, but he'd had the same velvet pillow for years. Alone at night, as his fears and worries loomed in the dark, he'd clutch it to his chest and pet it until he'd fallen asleep.

It was so quiet. He got out of bed, went to the light switch, and flicked on the overhead fan, just to have some noise to break the silence. His fears didn't cry out so loudly then. His mother's sighs of exasperation signaling her disappointment were muffled. His father's voice not near as sharp and ridiculing.

He could barely hear Jack whispering, “
I'm not gay, Edward. Leave me alone.
”

How could Edward have been so wrong? He'd thought he'd seen a heated flicker of interest in the police chief's sexy blue eyes. And Jack
had
touched his lips with his fingertip and had cupped his check. Edward was positive he'd felt those tender caresses, that they hadn't been in his head. Or had they?

No. A blast of sexual attraction and mutual desire
had
passed between them. He'd certainly felt that enough to recognize it. Too many times. And when Jack had thrown him against the door? Hell and damnation.

In Atlanta, the gay scene was filled with willing partners, just not filled with willing life partners. Edward had long since grown tired of casual or anonymous sex and had started looking for that special someone to share the rest of his life. Someone whom he loved and who would love him back.

Was that too much to ask?

It seemed to be.

Edward rolled over and closed his eyes. His body felt battered. Whatever had happened to him at Jack's left him feeling as if he'd been run over by a UPS truck, without the hunky driver in those cute shorts.

Okay, time to end the pity party. He only allowed just so many such thoughts per night, and he was over his quota. That's what had made those damn crow's feet around his eyes. Worry. Self-doubt. And not enough moisturizer.

Edward sighed. He had a bigger problem to deal with than the lack of a love life.

How was he going to heal his grandmother when he was too terrified to try his power again?

Edward woke the next morning after a restless night. None of his problems had been solved, and the rosy morning light streaming through the blinds on the window didn't make them look any better.

Since he doubted Hooterville had a gym, he decided to take his act on the road and go for a run.

He didn't bother with the shower, no point if he was going to come back all hot and sweaty, so he just pulled on his jockstrap, slipped into a pair of running shorts, a T-shirt, socks, and his trainers.

Olivia was having coffee at the table as he came into the kitchen.

“I'm going for a quick run, Meemaw. Do you mind?”

“Not at all, child. Go have your run. I'll have breakfast ready when you get back.” She smiled at him over what looked like the local paper. The Hooterville
Gazette
couldn't have been more than a dozen pages long.

“Don't go out of your way for me. I'm just a coffee and cereal kind of guy.”

“Cereal? I'm not sure I have any.” She frowned. “I can make you eggs and bacon, though.”

Oh God, that would be decadence itself. He rarely splurged on breakfast, and especially not bacon or sausage. He'd have to stop at that market again and pick up a box of Cheerios. He knew they wouldn't carry the organic cereal that he usually bought.

“Well, I suppose I could let you talk me into it.” He winked. “Just this once.”

“Watching your weight?” She eyed him up and down. “In my opinion, you could stand to gain a few pounds, Edward.”

Soaking wet, Edward didn't weight more than one hundred and sixty, and at five-ten, he kept most of it tight and taut. Most of his lovers had truly appreciated his efforts.

“What? And ruin this fabulous body?” He struck a few poses, showing off his muscles like a weight lifter.

She laughed at his antics and waved him off. “Get going. I'll see you when you get back.”

Edward gave her a kiss on the cheek and headed for the door.

Outside, he went through his stretches and then started jogging in place to warm up. Once he felt ready, he took off down the block.

Pounding down the pavement, Edward came to the main street and turned the corner. He passed all sorts of shops and stores that hadn't opened yet. The little town was still asleep. The morning was cool, traffic nonexistent, and clean country air filled his lungs. He loved running in the early morning when he could just let go of everything, concentrate on his feet hitting the concrete, his even breathing, and keeping his pace steady.

So unlike his wreck of a life.

He never took Winston running. The dog was just too short-legged and became too exhausted to go far. But Edward loved it, loved stretching his legs, loved doing short sprints toward the end, then slowing down as he finished and walked the last few blocks to cool down.

He'd focused on the sidewalk ahead of him and never noticed he was coming up to Smith's Garage until he was right on top of it.

“Hey, look who it is!” A voice called out. “Looking good, princess!”

Edward looked around, saw where he was, and stumbled. He went down, his knee hit the ground, and he threw his hands out to keep his head from hitting.

Laughter echoed in the empty street. After pushing up the garage doors, Phil and Jimmy slapped each other on the back as they whistled and catcalled at him.

Gritting his teeth against the pain and his anger, Edward checked his knee and wiped off the blood that ran from the deep cut with his T-shirt. His palms were scraped but not bleeding. His knee and his pride had taken the brunt of the fall. He pushed off the ground and brushed off his legs.

Jimmy started toward him, a sneer on his already greasy face. Did he come to work that way or did he apply the grease once there?

Edward stepped back and looked up and down the street. His knee screamed at him, but fear screamed louder. This was not the place or the time for a confrontation, and Jimmy had “gonna kick your fag ass” written all over him.

Edward turned and jogged away, praying Jimmy was too lazy or out of shape to follow.

“Hey, come back, princess! We've got your Prince Charming right here!” Only Jimmy's taunts chased him down the block. Edward didn't slow down until he'd gone three blocks, and then he came to a limping halt.

Bent over, he struggled to catch his breath. Blood ran down his shin and soaked his sock. Running home was out of the question. The few blocks he'd traveled had only aggravated the cut and made the bleeding worse.

If only his power worked for him. He could take away other people's pain but couldn't do a damn thing for himself. What kind of power was that?

Edward began walking. Actually, it was more of a step, limp, hop, step, limp, hop. It would take him forever to make it back to the house. There were still six blocks to go before he turned on Olivia's street and then another six blocks or so to her house.

He'd covered another block when a horn sounded and someone called his name. Edward dunked his head, as if whoever it was wouldn't recognize or see him, but since the guy had used his name, and since there was no way he could limp fast enough, he stopped.

A huge black truck pulled to the curb.

Instead of Jimmy or Phil, a handsome cowboy, complete with black cowboy hat, hung out the window. Edward glanced over at him. He didn't recognize him, but he wished he did. Then another man leaned over and waved.

“Mr. Beauregard? It's Brian Russell. From yesterday? I gave you a ride to pick up your car?” The big cop, dressed in a red T-shirt, smiled at him.

Edward limped over to the truck. “Hi. Fancy meeting you here.”

“I'd like to introduce my partner, Rush Weston. Rush, this is Edward Beauregard, from Atlanta. He's visiting Olivia.” They shook hands through the window of the cab.

“Nice to meet you.” Edward smiled at the happy couple. Lucky boys.

“What happened to your leg?” Rush asked, adjusting his Stetson.

Edward cast a glance down the street. “I was concentrating on my running and someone called out to me, and I tripped and fell.” He shrugged. He didn't intend to tell anyone about the men at the garage. That would only stir things up. Discretion was definitely the better part of valor here in homophobic Hooterville.

“It looks like you could use a ride home,” Rush drawled. “Hop in.” He jerked his head at other side of the truck.

Brian was already opening his door. “Get in here. I insist.”

“Okay. Thanks, I really appreciate it. I left Olivia thinking I'd only be gone for about a half hour. I don't want her worrying about me.” He climbed in as Brian scooted over next to Rush. Edward didn't miss Brian's claiming hand on Rush's leg, or the way Rush's arm wrapped around Brian's shoulders.

See, it did happen for some men. Why not him?

“Do you know where Olivia lives?” Edward asked Rush as he pulled away from the curb.

“Sure. Been here all my life, and she's been here longer. ‘Course, she used to live on the old ranch, but about fifteen years ago she moved into town.”

“I didn't know that, babe. I thought she'd been there forever.” Brian laughed. “I've only been here for about six months myself, Edward. Can I call you Edward?”

“Sure. As long as I can call you Brian and Rush.”

“It's a deal.” Brian nodded. “So, are you going to stay long?”

“For a while. I have to get Winston back. That should be on Monday; then I have to move to the hotel up on the interstate, and I still have some business to take care of with my grandmother.”

Rush turned to Brian. “Winston? That the dog that bit your boss?”

Brian chuckled. “Yes. Jack wanted to keep it quiet, but by the afternoon, thanks to Kristen, the story had spread to just about everyone on the force.”

Edward groaned and rubbed a hand over his face. “I didn't mean to cause Jack so much trouble. It's bad enough my dog bit him.”

“Jack, huh?” Rush raised an eyebrow. “Not Chief Whittaker?”

Edward blushed.

Brian told Rush, “Edward asked me if Jack was gay.”

The fire in Edward's face burned all the way to the roots of his hair. He had no idea what to say, so he just sat still and waited for the moment to pass and the topic of conversation to change.

“That's an interesting question, Edward.” Rush grinned. “Any reason why you'd think so?” The cowboy sure wasn't giving Edward any answers, just more questions.

Edward bit his bottom lip, unsure what to say.

The men waited.

“Okay. You know, when a guy looks at you like he wants to gobble you up? Like he hasn't eaten in days and you're bananas Foster?”

“Uh-huh,” Rush said.

“You got that look from
Jack
?” Brian asked as one eyebrow rose.

“I think so. When we first met on the side of the road. After my dog bit him. And again in his office, right before he threw me out.”

Rush let out a low whistle. “Well, I never knew it, that's for damn sure. Of course, I was pretty deep in the closet myself until I met Brian and found a damn good reason to come out. Maybe Jack's in there too. What do you think, darlin'? You work with him every day.”

“No way.” Brian shook his head. “I've never seen the man do or say anything that even hinted at being gay. Sorry, Edward.”

“That's okay. I must be nuts to think... ” Edward sighed.

“To think what?” Brian urged him to finish.

“To think a man like Jack Whittaker would want someone like me.” Edward ran his hand through his hair and stared out the window. It
was
nuts.

“What's wrong with you?” Rush asked. “From what I see, you've got a lot going for you. Especially that cute butt of yours.”

“Thanks.” Edward grinned as Brian elbowed his partner.

“You're not supposed to be checking out other men,” Brian growled.

“I'm all yours, darlin', but a man can still look.” Rush laughed and ruffled Brian's hair, then gave him a peck on the cheek.

Edward shrugged. “Thanks for noticing my ass. I just wish Jack had noticed it too. What I meant was, I'm nothing like Jack. He's all male and alpha and strict and sexy and... ” He exhaled. “Not gay. He told me so.”

“You asked?” Brian sat back.

“No.” Edward sighed. “This is so embarrassing. Please promise me you won't mention a word of this to anybody, especially Jack.”

Brian held up his hand as if taking the oath in court. “I promise.”