The Rebuilding Year (13 page)

And then it was just heat. Different from what he remembered. Better, because there was less surprise, less holding back. Kissing a man was not the same as kissing a woman, but it wasn’t that different either. He tilted his head, changed the angle to make it hotter, deeper. And now finally,
finally,
John’s arms came around him and he was held in an unbreakable grip. He drove his tongue into John’s mouth, demanding, and John opened sweetly for him. And God, he had to breathe, but he didn’t want to stop.

He tilted his head back, looking up. John’s eyes were bright. He was breathing hard too, his lips a little reddened from Ryan’s mouth.
Kissable.
Ryan cupped the back of the man’s head and pulled him down. And for a long time, there was nothing else but the taste of John.

“Holy shit,” John whispered, minutes later. “When you decide to go for something, you don’t hold back.”

Ryan leaned back a little, enjoying the secure arms around him. “You get all the benefit of my years of experience.”

“With girls.”

“Well, yeah.”

“So now what?” John’s eyes were quizzical, but his hips pressing into Ryan made his interest pretty blatant. Except Ryan was more shaken than he’d thought, because he just wasn’t sure what he wanted.

He slid his hands to the small of John’s back, holding them together, and had to laugh. “I don’t know. I want more but…I don’t have a plan here.”

“We can go slow,” John offered.

“Oh really?” Ryan ground himself against John, feeling the hardness of their erections against each other.

John’s laugh was a groan. “Didn’t say it would be easy.”

Ryan opened his mouth to suggest less clothes, more bed, and was cut off by the ring of John’s cell phone in his pocket.

“Don’t worry,” John said. “That’s no particular ring tone. Let it go.”

Still they froze as the phone pinged a voice mail.

John leaned forward and brushed his lips lightly over Ryan’s. “So, where were we?”

The phone rang again, a different tone. “Damn,” John said. “That’s Marcus.” He pulled out the phone and flipped it open, stepping away from Ryan as he did so. Ryan tried not to feel insulted. Obviously, it would feel odd to talk to your son while holding your male…
what?
Lover?
He swallowed, listening with half an ear to John’s conversation. That became both ears when John snapped, “You’re
where?
” in tones of disbelief.

“No. No, I didn’t… She didn’t call… Yes, I’m sure. No that’s okay. Of course I’ll be there. As soon as I can. Yeah, see you soon.” He flipped the phone shut.

“What?” Ryan asked, his stomach dropping.

“The kids are at the airport.”

“They’re
where?
”

“That’s what I said. It seems like Cynthia had a change of plans, and decided to send them for the week before Christmas, instead of the week after.”

“Without asking you? Without
telling you?
”

“Mark said she sent me an e-mail.”

“Which you didn’t see because you haven’t been on the computer in two days,” Ryan realized. “Christ, doesn’t she know you well enough to know that’s not a good choice? She should have called.”

John sighed. “The me she knew in my corporate days checked my e-mail multiple times daily. I would never have missed seeing it. I guess she thought… I don’t know what she thought.”

“You have to go get them.”

“Yeah.” John’s face looked stricken. “Ryan, God, I don’t want to leave it like this.”

“No.” Ryan dug his hands into his pockets to keep from reaching for John. “Maybe this is good. You said it would be hard to go slow. This way we’ll have to.”

John whispered, “I’m scared you’ll change your mind.”

Ryan was too. He stepped to John and tilted his face up. “Promissory note.”

John kissed him, simply, keeping it light.

“I swear,” Ryan told him. “When the kids are gone…except, fuck, you said a week?”

“That’s what Marcus said.”

“I head home in five days.”

They stared at each other.

“You could share my bathroom instead of theirs,” John suggested.

“No. Not now. Not yet. So, okay, when the kids are gone
and
I get back from Christmas, I promise we’ll take up where we left off.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” John’s eyes were hot.

“I’m counting on it.”
 

Chapter Eight

“It looks different,” Torey said suspiciously, as they pulled into the drive in front of the house. John put the truck in park and turned off the engine.

“It’s too dark to see anything, moron,” her brother growled.

“I guess I see better than you do, stupid.”

“Jeez Louise,” John said. “Give it a rest, guys.” He figured several hours on their best behavior for the flight had burned out all their self-control, because they had been bickering non-stop for the whole hour-long drive.

“You cut down the swing!” Torey said. “I knew something was missing.”

“The swing?” He remembered. “That was two years ago, honey. Remember? The branch died and it wasn’t safe.”

“Told you.” Mark jumped out of the truck and headed for the back.

“Wait up,” John called. “Let me get that.” He cleared the cover off, and lifted down their suitcases. “Oof. Feels like you brought enough stuff.”

“Most of that’s Torey’s,” Mark said disdainfully. “She brought, like, everything in her closet.”

“Because my old stuff that I left here won’t fit. Because I’m growing. Unlike some people.”

John could visibly see that shot hit. Mark was still barely over five feet tall and sensitive about it.

“Wait till your brother hits his growth spurt,” he put in. “You might want to be nice to him now.”

Torey huffed. “Anyway, you brought your guitar, stupid.”

“I want to practice.”

“You want to show off.”

“Kids,” John said, letting his voice sharpen. “You want to stand here in the cold squabbling or get inside where it’s warm?” He picked up two bags and led the way inside.

Ryan was waiting in the kitchen, but he stood up and came into the hallway as they hung up coats and sorted bags. “Need any help bringing things in?”

John shook his head. “We got it.” He tried not to look at Ryan, not to pay attention to…ah, shit. He gave the guy a smile.

“So, Torey, Marcus, this is my roommate that I was telling you about. He’s staying in the spare room. Ryan, these are my kids.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Ryan said easily.

“Dad doesn’t talk about you much,” Marcus returned. “What do you do again? Are you a gardener too?”

John opened his mouth for a reprimand, startled by his son’s rudeness, but Ryan gave him a small headshake. “I’m a medical student,” he said calmly. “In three years, you can call me Dr. Ward, but for now it’s okay if you call me Ryan.”

“What happened to your leg?” Torey chimed in.

“I was a firefighter before I was a med student. Something fell during a fire and it damaged my knee. It didn’t heal right.”

“That sucks,” Torey said. “So is it ever going to, like, heal?”

“That was a year ago. So I think this is all the better it’s ever going to get.” After a moment’s silence, he added, “But hey, that’s okay. I mean, I want to be a doctor. So I need good hands, eyes, ears, a good brain. But knees, not so important.”

“I guess. But being a firefighter is cooler.”

John cleared his throat. “Why don’t you kids go on up to your rooms with some of this stuff. I’ll bring the rest. We can end up in the kitchen and have a hot drink or something.” When they hesitated, he made a shooing motion toward the stairs. “Go on.”

Under the cover of their footsteps clattering upstairs, he turned to Ryan. “I’m sorry, man. They’re not usually that rude. I don’t know what got into them.”

“I’m in their space,” Ryan said. “They got sent here on short notice, you weren’t expecting them, and there’s an intruder squatting in their house and taking some of their dad’s attention.”

“Not as much as I’d like,” John said softly.

“Stop that.” But Ryan smiled. “It figures that they might be a bit hostile. It’s probably good I’m just your roommate right now.”

“I guess so,” John said. “I just hope a little rest and food puts them in a better frame of mind, otherwise it’s going to be a very long week.” He scooped up the two biggest bags and headed upstairs.

Ryan was standing over the kettle, waiting for it to boil, when John got back down to the kitchen. John allowed himself a two-second fantasy of going over and kissing the back of his neck.
Stop. Don’t go there.
He needed to get his mind back into roommate mode or the kids were going to notice. He
really
needed to get his body back into roommate mode.

“Coffee?” he asked.

“And hot chocolate. What do you think the kids would like?”

“We have hot chocolate?”

“I made a quick grocery run while you were at the airport. We were pretty low on everything.”

Torey clattered down the stairs and into the kitchen. “Dad, do I have to use that old princess comforter? Don’t you have anything less dorky?”

“You picked that one out,” John told her.

“Well, yeah, when I was, like, ten. Dad, I’m not ten anymore. It’s so juvenile.”

“I’ll trade with you,” Ryan suggested. “I’ve got plain green, if you like that better.”

Torey gave him a look. “Like you’d use the princesses.”

“Hey,” Ryan said, spreading his hands. “I’m secure in my masculinity.” John coughed and drew a glare from those green eyes.

“I have an old red plaid in the closet,” he told Torey. “We can get it later. And then maybe next week we can buy you something better.”

“Well, okay.” She sniffed the air. “What smells good?”

Ryan raised his cup. “Hot chocolate.” He pointed at John’s mug. “And coffee. Want some?”

“Coffee?” John could see that Torey was pleased at being asked.

Ryan shrugged. “Either one.”

“I might try some coffee,” she said consideringly.

Ryan nodded. “Your dad makes it pretty strong. It’s better with some milk and sugar in it, for those of us who still have a stomach lining.” He gave John a mock sneer. “Or you could put a little coffee into some hot chocolate. Like a mocha.”

“Mocha, I guess,” Torey said.

“Coming right up.” Ryan took down another mug and began concocting.

Upstairs, the sound of a guitar started up. Ryan looked up as he handed Torey her drink. “That your brother?”

“Yeah. He plays that stupid thing all the time.” She took a cautious sip. “Hey. This isn’t bad.”

Ryan gave her his best smile. “Thank you, my lady.” He looked at John, with a nod to the stairs. “The boy’s pretty good on that thing.”

John tried to remember the last time he’d heard Mark play. It hadn’t sounded like this. “I didn’t realize.”

“He wants to be in a real band,” Torey said. “I tell him not in a million years.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Ryan said. “He’s better than some I’ve heard playing for money.”

“Yeah.” Torey smiled wickedly, showing a dimple. “But I’m not going to tell
him
that.”

Ryan laughed. “I have two older brothers. They need to be kept in their place.”

“Exactly.” Torey eyed him with more approval. “So, are you really living here?”

“Upstairs. Spare room. Check it out.”

“Like, I could go in there? You wouldn’t care?”

“If you want.” Ryan shrugged. “Pretty boring though. Mostly books, books and more books. A couple of free weights. Actually, the princess comforter might improve it.”

“Why are you living here?”

“I needed a room. Your dad needed money to support you and your brother in the manner to which you have become accustomed. And he hates to do dishes. So it’s a win all around.”

“You pay rent?”

“He wouldn’t take green stamps.”

“Huh?” Torey said.

Ryan smiled at John. “Never mind. Old-people joke.”

John returned the smile, feeling warmth flooding through him. It was going to work out.

Ryan struggled to shut the zipper on his suitcase on top of the bed, feeling frustrated. Which had been pretty much his standard state for the last five days. Frustrated and horny, and yet content underneath it.

The kids turned out to be pretty human, once the effects of the long flight wore off. They had picked out a big Christmas tree, and spent a nice Sunday afternoon decorating it. The kids had argued about which ornaments went where, of course, but it had been more like habit than serious.

Torey was a cute kid, bright and fun, trying so hard to grow up fast. Ryan was amused to see how often John had to bite his tongue, wanting to keep her a child. It probably wasn’t as funny from a father’s point of view. But there was no harm in her pining for the clothes and music of her peers. Ryan secretly agreed that Cynthia’s refusal to let Torey get her ears pierced until she was sixteen was overprotective. Although out loud he and John had backed his ex-wife up, for solidarity.