SafetyInNumbers-Final (28 page)

The ass he’d been abusing pushed toward him insistently and he was happy to reciprocate. Owen moaned his appreciation when Chris took him into his mouth, the sound vibrating along his length and making his eyes roll back in his head. Being with Owen was different on every level. It wasn’t the selfish experience of two bodies coming together for the sole purpose of getting off. This was about making each other feel loved and desired, and caring more about the other person’s pleasure.

Determined hands pushed his legs apart, making room as Owen licked his way down into his crease. Owen was relentless, working his way inside with his tongue and fingers until Chris was thrashing against on the pillow. He was barely holding on when two fingers swept over his prostate from the inside while a thumb massaged along his perineum. The double stimulation had him bucking up, nearly throwing Owen off completely. “What the…fuck…fuck…”

When they talked about switching, he wanted Owen to feel his own power in the relationship and to see that no matter who was on top or who was on bottom, they were both making it happen. Ultimately, he wanted Owen to see that it didn’t matter who appeared stronger or weaker because they were building a life together.

If ever there was a moment when Owen looked truly powerful, it was as he was repositioning himself between Chris’s widespread legs. The smug smile said he knew exactly how far he’d pushed and that he wasn’t done yet. As much as Chris wanted to watch him don the condom and slick his cock, he couldn’t look away from that face. This Owen often got trapped beneath fear and self-loathing, and Chris needed to find ways to coax him out to play more often.

“I love you.” Their echoed words, spoken as Owen nudged his way inside, were a promise of a future filled with moments like this. Even the burn and stretch was affirmation of their connection and, with Owen fully ensconced inside him, Chris pulled him down for a grateful kiss. There were so many feelings mingled with the lust and love, but gratitude was the one that encompassed them all. Owen made him matter, made him worthy and it was a gift he would cherish forever.

Before he could get lost in the tenderness of the moment, his lover pulled back with another sexy smirk and a saucy wink. They were both too close to the edge for slow and gentle, but if Owen had been suffering from performance anxiety, he had nothing to worry about. The long strokes and quick bursts all pushed Chris closer, then that talented thumb pressed against his perineum again to finish him off. Owen followed seconds later, his triumphant shout echoing in the room, before he collapsed on top of him.

“That was ridiculously hot.” The whisper teased across his sweat soaked skin, sending shivers racing down his spine. “I don’t ever want to move from this spot.”

“Hmm, okay.” That sounded just fine to Chris. Sure, they had to clean up, get dinner, and find the envelope that had prompted their lovemaking, but all of that could wait a few more minutes while they indulged in the moment.

♦

The ring of the phone had them both jerking in surprise and before Chris could get his bearings, Owen was pushing him back against the bed. “Oh shit, don’t move. I think we fell asleep and I’m still…the condom…Chris, stop laughing.”

He felt entirely too good to stop. So they’d have to change the sheets, big fucking deal? “That could go down as the best fifteen minute nap of my life.”

“Fifteen minutes?” Owen shook his head, the waves of ink black hair curled from sweat, and laughed. “I feel like I slept for fifteen hours. Seriously, don’t move.”

Chris remained dutifully still until Owen and his spent condom were on their way to the bathroom. Only after his ass disappeared from view did Chris remember what woke them in the first place. It had been almost two months since he gave up his silence, but it was still rare for anyone to call him and he didn’t recognize the number on the caller ID. He hadn’t given up his silence to talk to telemarketers and was just deciding to ignore it when the voicemail light flashed.

“Who was it? Did they leave a message?” Owen called from the bathroom.

That seemed like reason enough to dial into his mailbox and listen. He could always delete it if someone was trying to sell him on a cruise or life insurance—that was the marvel of voicemail.

“This is Director Hamilton from Lake Island Assisted Living Center in Sanford. I’m sorry to inform you that your mother passed away this afternoon. If you could call us back …”

“Chris?” That was Owen’s voice, though it sounded really far away. “Chris, you’re scaring me, what’s wrong?”

“My mom died.” He blinked and tried to focus. Once those green eyes came into view, everything else sharpened around him. Gentle hands eased the phone from his grip, then Owen was taking him in his arms and Chris held on as if his life depended on it. “My mom died.”

Repeating it didn’t change the hollow feeling. Martha was dead and with her, the last piece of his puzzle. Liam asked if knowing she was afraid of David made it better for him. The answer was no. His mother should have protected him, but she didn’t even try—not from David and not from prison. How could he care that she was dead now?

“We’ll get through this together. You’re not alone.” Owen’s emotional whisper said that he mattered, that he was worthy of someone’s love and comfort, and he let those feelings fill the void. “I love you, Chris.”

Martha may not have felt that way about her only son, but he did matter and the family he had now proved it.

Chapter 24

Billy

He was just a teenager when his father died, so he hadn’t been involved in more than the grieving process. The adult responsibilities of making arrangements and adhering to the deceased last wishes fell to someone else, as had the daunting task of packing up his belongings. Since his dad never remarried, despite a steady stream of girlfriends, he didn’t know who handled it and was too young to think to ask. This journey had them all thinking and the years had given him enough perspective to believe his own mother had stepped up to the task. Not for the man who left her, but for the son he’d left behind.

This wasn’t his responsibility either and he wasn’t sure what he could do, but this is where he belonged. Their strength was in their numbers and when one of their own was in danger of falling, the other three would be there to hold him up.

That was the only reason the four of them were standing in the parking lot staring at the stone façade of the Lake Island Assisted Living. It was welcoming enough, but none of them were feeling the hospitality, and after fifteen minutes of loitering, Billy figured they were going to have to make a move before someone called the cops. “It looks like a country club.”

“Club Q-Tip? The Blue Hair Club? The Geezer Group?” Liam snorted at his own jokes. “I can do this all day.”

On Liam’s other side, Chris cleared his throat. “Hey Billy, ever notice how bad my brother’s jokes are when he’s pissed?”

“Pissed? I’m not pissed. Who said I was pissed?” Liam jerked away from him to pace. Billy wanted to grab him up and protect him from whatever was waiting for them inside, but anger was fuel and Liam was pumped with it. Three turns later and he was back seeking sanctuary. It wouldn’t last, but Billy’s arms would always be ready when he returned. “I’m fucking livid.”

“Huh. I couldn’t tell.” Owen was on the far side of Chris and hadn’t said much on the drive up. Then again, Liam had kept up a four hour stream of venom that really didn’t leave a lot of room for the rest of them.

The unexpected sarcasm from the quietest of their group took the wind out Liam’s sails. Chris bumped against him and when that didn’t get a reaction, tugged on his hair. The juvenile antics were enough to have Liam switching embraces, and seeing the two brothers huddled together as they prepared to lay their final dragon to rest made Billy as angry as Liam had been. After everything he heard about Martha, she didn’t deserve this show of respect from her son, much less her step-son.

Yet, why else were they here? Martha’s attorney had reached out to Chris that morning to relay her last wishes and the details of her will, so there weren’t any arrangements to be made. Her body had already been transported to the crematory and after the minimum forty-eight hour waiting period, the last parent Chris or Liam knew would be no more. Neither one of them wanted to see the body, but Chris had been adamant that they collect her belongings. Billy couldn’t imagine that he would want a memento to remember her or David, so what was he hoping to find?

“We don’t have to do this,” he said after a few minutes.

Chris shook his head. “I have to know if she kept anything of ours.”

Owen glanced his way and suddenly Billy got it. The boys had nothing of their pasts—not a single photo of Chris’s real dad or Liam’s birth mom, not even their own birth certificates—and Martha was the last person with access to everything Bishop and Ellis related. Would Martha have kept those things? Maybe Chris’s, but Liam’s? This felt like setting themselves up for disappointment and the risk was too great to pin all their hopes on Martha. No, the boys had to see that if they found nothing inside, the memories would sustain them.

“When I was five, my parents were divorced so I only got to see my dad every other weekend. He’d pick me up on Friday afternoon, we’d grab a whole bunch of junk food from the grocery store, and then we’d stay up all night watching old horror movies.” Billy laughed at the memory. “Mom would have killed him if she knew, but I loved them because it was our thing.”

No one spoke for a while and Billy was starting to wonder if he made a mistake when Chris said, “My dad loved fishing. He had this ancient Sundowner complete with a ripped canopy, a rusted hull, and motor that always took three tries to turn over. Looking back on it, I don’t know why the thing never sank. We’d drive it out to the Glades every Sunday and just sit with our lures in the water. We never caught much, but his knowledge of the wild life would keep me captivated for hours. Some of our best conversations happened in that piece of crap.”

“Man, I haven’t been fishing in years.” Owen leaned back against this car, his face soft with fond memories. “This might come as a shock, but I’m not exactly a fan of fishing. Hooking the bait, touching the slimy, scaly fish…” He shivered at the thought. “Then we’d bring them home and Mom took over. Bella would run in the other direction, but Maddie was right there with her apron on, ready to learn how to clean the fish for dinner. Dad always said catching your own dinner made you appreciate the meal. I appreciated Mom more for getting rid of the eyes and turning their disgusting little bodies into something delicious.”

“My mom taught me how to play football.” Liam’s admission had them all looking at him in surprise. “It’s true. She was a diehard Marino fan and there were pictures of her holding me just hours after I was born, wrapped in a Miami Dolphins blanket. I can’t remember a time when there wasn’t football on. We watched every pro and college game, and when I was big enough, she signed me up for little league. She never missed a game and always brought drinks and snacks for the whole team. If we won, she was the first to volunteer to host the celebration. When she died, so many of my teammates told me that my mom was their best cheerleader.”

“Nothing we find in there can take those memories away.” Billy’s words seemed to bring them all to life, and without another word, they made their way to the doors. Owen hung back a couple of steps and Billy stayed with him as the brothers marched forward. He didn’t know if he’d helped or not, but forward was definitely better than standing still.

The suspicious looks weren’t a surprise, they had stood in the lot for close to an hour, but when Chris gave his name, everyone’s demeanor changed. The Director came out personally to walk them to Martha’s room, droning the entire way about his mother’s last days and how they did everything to make her comfortable. Billy supposed that was appropriate and Chris was too polite to cut her off.

“We know how hard this must be on you. Our staff went ahead and boxed up all of Martha’s personal effects so you wouldn’t have to.” The boxes were stacked up against one wall. Six nondescript file boxes to sum up one questionable woman’s life. Would they find what they were looking for inside?

Chris had been calm and communicative all day—now he looked shell shocked as he took in the room his mother died in. The barren room smelled of death and bleach, and Billy couldn’t believe they thought this was appropriate for the family to see. Owen had taken him aside that morning to express his concern that Chris would revert back to silence to deal with the pain, and if anything could do it, it was this room.

Billy couldn’t let that happen and needed to keep them moving. “Can we have a few minutes alone?”

“Of course.” Director Hamilton looked relieved to be dismissed. “Just let the receptionist know when you’re done.”

He followed her to the door and closed it with a decisive click. “This is what we’re gonna do.” All eyes turned his way in surprise and Billy forced himself to keep pushing. It had been a long time since he let himself take control of anything, never trusted himself enough to lead anyone, but right now he was going to step up for his family. “You don’t want all this stuff, so Owen and I are going to look through the boxes for you. If we find anything significant, we’ll set it aside and the rest of it will get left behind. I’m sure Lake Island has places they donate to.”

Owen only looked panicked for a moment before he squared his shoulders and nodded. He might not be the strongest or the most secure, but they were in this together and he wasn’t going to shy away from his part. “That’s a good idea. Let’s get this over with.”