“And the parents are staying?” Jack asked.
“Uh-huh,” she said. She very deliberately placed her Kindle on her bedside table, which was something she usually entered into great negotiations about, and lay down. “I’ll let you both think about it.”
Jack came over and pressed a kiss to her forehead before leaving the room with a flurry of I love yous and good nights. Then it was Riley’s turn. He kissed her and ruffled her hair, wondering if it was getting too long and whether they should be getting it cut, then considered that Eden would be the one who would tell them if they were fucking up something as simple as haircuts.
“Love you, Daddy,” she whispered in the dark once he turned off the light.
And there it was, the biggest weapon in her arsenal, the simple addition of –dy to Dad.
“Love you, pumpkin.” He pulled the door shut and walked into Jack, who hadn’t gone far.
“She used the eyes and the daddy word,” Jack whispered.
“She knows how to manipulate us both.”
“I’ll call Mary-Ann’s dad, make sure it’s all sorted out on their end.”
“You have his number? You friends with him now?” Mary-Ann’s dad was a Hollywood A-lister, and people would probably kill for his number.
“Remember? We shared the hell of Bring Your Daddy to School day. We’re like blood brothers or something.”
Riley made coffee, rooted out the latest cookie supply, and took everything into the good room. He stopped at the threshold and looked in on the one room in the house they tried to keep tidy and pretty much kid-free. The TV was tiny compared to what it could be, but they never really watched TV; there was no flashy sound system, no cinema screen, no expensive leather sofas, no chrome or black. This was their sitting room, their kids were asleep upstairs, and he loved Jack.
Jack came to a halt behind him. “What’s wrong?” he asked. He sounded curious more than worried. Riley didn’t really have an answer for him. How did he sum up that his life was perfect, that he loved where he was and who he was, and that he’d never been happier in just a few words?
“I love you,” Riley said. He couldn’t help how serious he sounded when he said it. There was just so much information he wanted to convey in the three little words.
Jack took the coffee from Riley, levered the box of cookies from under his arm, and pulled him into a close hug. Riley inhaled the scent of his husband and buried his face in Jack’s neck. The gentle scrape of stubble against Riley’s skin was directly hardwired to his libido.
“And you know I love you,” Jack whispered. “You’ll always know, because I’ll show you every day.”
* * * * *
Liam was in the backseat of the Land Rover with Marcus. They’d held hands all the way from the ranch, and the touch of his boyfriend was reassuring. With the other hand, he stroked the leather of the interior and contemplated just how new this SUV was. He desperately wanted to talk about everything, but at the same time, how could he? Especially in the car with Jack driving and Robbie sitting next to him.
How could they possibly understand why he felt so negative about the whole thing when they were being so supportive of him? They wanted justice for Liam—a guilty verdict against Hank Castille for what he had done not only to Liam but also to at least three other boys—and possibly financial reward for what he had been through. That was the point of this whole journey, the point of the whole legal system. Hank had money; he would use it to buy his way out of this and be forced to give some of his money to Liam and the others. Like shifting a balance sheet would somehow make this all okay.
Liam would feel like justice had been served then.
Right?
Liam looked out the window and watched the world pass by. I-35 was long and straight and boring, and heading in this direction was making him more and more anxious with each mile marker they passed. He’d vowed to never go back, but leaving had neither solved the issue nor healed the festering sore that was inside his head.
“Stopping for coffee and something to eat,” Jack announced as he signaled, then pulled off into the parking lot of a random McDonald’s in the middle of nowhere.
Robbie muttered his approval, and Marcus squeezed Liam’s hand; then, before he could even think about saying he wanted to stay in the car, Marcus was tugging him out. He followed, and Marcus held his hand again. Not even self-preservation made Liam pull away. After all, they were with Jack and Robbie who looked all kind of in charge and in control. No one would fuck with Liam and Marcus for holding hands.
Sitting at the table closest to the window, they devoured the burgers and fries. Or rather, Jack and Robbie did. Marcus seemed hungry, but he was openly checking on Liam every so often, which slowed him down, and Liam wasn’t hungry at all. In fact, he felt nauseous.
Finally Marcus spoke. “Everything will be okay.”
So many people had said that to him. Riley had said it with a swift hug and bone-breaking pats on the back. Carol had said it with a kiss to the top of his head as he sat at the table last night. Even Hayley had sought him out to tell him the same damn thing, slipping a tiny teddy into his pocket and saying it would give him luck. Add in Jack and Robbie and their whole right is right crusade, and Liam was convinced that fate would deal him exactly the opposite.
Talk about glass half-empty, you idiot, he berated himself.
“So you said,” Liam found himself saying. He bit his lip. Why did he say that? He should have just agreed with everything anyone said to him. Once the floodgates were opened, Liam couldn’t stop himself. “Everyone says that to me, but what if I get there and I’m sitting on that witness stand and I just lose it?”
“You won’t—”
“How do you know?” Liam stood abruptly and knocked the table, which sent Jack’s coffee cup spilling onto Marcus’s fries. Frustrated, Liam pointed at the spreading liquid. “See? I’m a mess.” Then before anyone could give him platitudes, he left the air-conditioned restaurant and stumbled out into the Texas heat. Liam sensed someone following him, so Marcus wasn’t far behind. Liam stopped at the car and turned to face Marcus, only it wasn’t his boyfriend who had tracked out into the parking lot.
Jack had on his patented understanding look, the one that said, you can fuck up, but we’ll always be here to catch you.
“I said Marcus should give you some space,” Jack said. His tone was gentle and matched his supportive expression. “He’s worried about you.”
“I’m not a kid,” Liam defended. “You don’t need to tell me he’s worried.”
“He loves you.”
“I know that,” Liam blurted out.
“And we’re all here for you.”
“What did I do to deserve this? How come you and Riley are so nice, how come Robbie is here? I’m just a kid who fucks things up, and you can’t want to get involved in that.”
“You need to stop saying that. You’re not a kid, Liam, you’re a man who had a childhood stolen from him by adults, and you’re strong.”
Liam slumped against the car. “Everyone keeps saying that to me, like if they say it enough I’ll believe it’s actually true.”
Jack joined him in leaning on the car. He’d parked it in what little shade there was, but it was still heated metal against their jeans.
“What is worrying you at this very moment?”
“That I spilled coffee in the fries,” Liam admitted.
Jack laughed. “I meant about the case.”
“The questions, and me being twisted in knots I can’t find myself a way out of.”
“Did it hurt?” Jack asked. “Were you humiliated?”
Liam glanced at his boss. “What?”
“When Hank raped you?”
Liam’s mouth fell open. He didn’t want to talk about that with the man he owed his living to. Fuck, that was way out of his comfort zone. What did he do? Did he answer Jack, who was still looking at him, or did he tell Jack to leave it alone? Would he lose his job over saying what he thought?