Secrets in Edgewood: The Complete Series

by Kate Hawthorne

  The faster he could put his father in the ground and get out of Edgewood the better. Even if out of Edgewood meant away from Graham and Calvin. He rubbed his temples with the pads of his fingers.

  “Has anyone called my mother?” he asked.

  “Why would we call her?” Mr. Carson looked confused.

  “Because my father is dead.”

  “She’s your mother, Emory.”

  “You’re kidding, right? You called Peterson and not my mother? I haven’t seen or heard from her in years, I don’t know how to get a hold of her.”

  “Did you not know they’d divorced?” Mr. Carson removed his glasses and folded them in his hand.

  “They’re separated,” Emory corrected.

  “They were. At first. But they did divorce, Emory.”

  The air whooshed out of Emory’s lungs and he blinked back tears. “I didn’t…”

  “You knew she wasn’t going to come back. She told you as much.” Mr. Carson sounded almost apologetic at this point, and Emory hated his tone.

  “I didn’t think she would come back for him,” Emory agreed, hinting at the hope he’d always held onto that she would come back for him. “I always figured once I turned eighteen…”

  “Emory,” Mr. Carson sighed and fingered through the papers in front of him. He pulled out a few sheets that were stapled together in the corner and handed them to Emory. “I thought you knew. She signed away her parental rights as part of the settlement with your father.”

  A tear slipped down his cheek and he swiped at it. Another fell down the same track and he did it again, but he knew it was no use. It was obvious what was happening. His chest was flayed apart and his heart was breaking in front of their eyes.

  “She said he wouldn’t let her see me,” Emory whispered.

  “You can contact her if you like, Emory. I have her last known address.”

  “No.” Emory swallowed. “That’s all right.”

  “I just need you to sign two things and we can regroup before the weekend with David and go over the rest.” Mr. Carson shuffled the papers and passed Emory a pen.

  “How much did he give her?”

  “Pardon?” Mr. Carson slid two pieces of paper across the desk.

  “My mother,” Emory croaked. “The settlement.”

  “Emory, this top paper reflects that you’re now responsible for the Edgewood estate and you’re approving me to act on your behalf for legal matters,” Mr. Carson advised him, ignoring his question.

  Emory signed it without reading it and shoved it back across the desk.

  “This next one is the same thing but for Peterson.”

  Emory signed it and dropped the pen, leaning back in the chair and taking the ornate armrests into his grip.

  “Five million.” Mr. Carson stood and organized all of his papers before tucking them into a leather folio.

  “Sorry?” Emory blinked up at him.

  “Your mother. He gave her five million with the understanding all ties be severed. Permanently.” Mr. Carson tipped his head and walked out of the room, leaving the door open behind him.

  The house was silent. The police and paramedics must have gone. Emory was cold, the room feeling like a mausoleum designed to pay homage to the empire his father had built. He needed to get out, but unlike his normal lifetime of escapes, he now had nowhere to go.

  He was still dressed in his clothes from work, and he stood, working loose the knot of his tie. The silky material tightened around his fingers and he let out a muffled curse, kicking the door to the study the rest of the way open.

  Calvin and Graham were still there.

  They were sitting together on the second to last stair, and Emory collapsed. A strangled cry ripped free from his chest and his knees crumpled. Calvin and Graham both jumped up and ran to him, catching him before he landed. Together, they scooped him up, cradling him between their bodies.

  “What do you need?” Calvin whispered into his ear.

  Emory shook his head, not sure how to answer.

  “I know what he needs,” Graham’s answer was rough. He stroked Emory’s hair away from his face. “Where is your bathroom?”

  “Upstairs, third door on the left,” he mumbled.

  “Come on, then.” Graham said, leading him and Calvin both toward the stairs.

  “Do you want me to carry you?” Calvin asked.

  Emory chortled and shook himself loose of Calvin’s arms. “I’m not a child.”

  He thought about when he was a child, and the price tag his mother had put on him. Five million dollars to walk away from him without a look back. He clenched his jaw and started up the stairs.

  “I didn’t think you were,” Calvin soothed.

  “I know.” Emory shook his head. “I’m sorry. I’m just upset.”

  “It’s hard to lose a parent,” Graham sympathized.

  “I don’t care about my father. I’m shocked about him. I found out he paid off my mother to abandon me when I was a kid. It stings a little.”

  “Emory,” Graham’s breath rushed out on a pained exhale.

  “It’s fine,” Emory waved him off and headed down the hallway. He opened the bathroom door and flipped the light on, choosing to not think about his mother. “Here it is.”

  “Come here then,” Graham tugged Emory’s arm and their chests bumped. Graham reached up and finished loosening the knot of Emory’s tie, sliding the silk out from beneath his collar.

  “Bath or shower?” Calvin asked from beside the tub.

  Graham looked at Emory.

  “Bath,” he answered.

  Calvin turned the water on and the tub filled.

  “Can I?” Graham took the lapels of Emory’s jacket in his fingers and paused. Emory nodded, and Graham slipped it down his arms, tossing it on the counter. His thick fingers popped open all the buttons on Emory’s shirt and he pulled the tails out of his slacks.

  His shirt landed on his jacket, followed by his belt. Graham knelt and untied Emory’s shoes and removed his socks, then stood back to his full height and pushed Emory’s slacks into a puddle on the floor.

  Calvin turned the water off and sat on the closed lid of the toilet. Graham hooked his fingers into the elastic waistband of Emory’s briefs, and a small smile flashed across Emory’s mouth.

  “Here we are again,” he teased.

  “Not like this, baby.” Graham’s eyes widened after the endearment tumbled out of his mouth. Emory smiled and patted Graham on the chest reassuringly.

  “You’re fine, tiger.”

  “Let’s get you in the bath then,” Graham pushed Emory’s underwear to his ankles, and Emory turned, taking Calvin’s outstretched hand and stepping into the warm bath.

  He eased himself into the water and groaned, not having realized how tight his muscles were. He closed his eyes and slipped lower, until his chin danced across the surface of the water.

  “You’re up,” Graham said.

  Emory opened one eye and watched Graham pass Calvin a washcloth that had been hanging on the towel hook and a bar of soap from the sink.

  “Is this alright?” Calvin was the one checking in now. He swished the washcloth beneath the surface of the water.

  In reply, Emory closed his eyes and stretched his arm in Calvin’s direction.

  Thirteen

  Calvin

  Calvin washed Emory, paying careful attention to the puffiness around his eyes and around his nose, then helped him out of the bath. Graham wrapped him in a towel and patted him dry.

  “Let’s get you into bed.”

  Emory pointed to a door across the hall, and Graham opened it, ushering them all inside. A king size sleigh bed was centered beneath a window on the far wall, its pale gray bedding strewn about. The rest of the room was decidedly unremarkable, not much more than some dark wood furniture and boring beige carpet.

  The room was entirely not Emory.

  Graham unfolded the towel from Emory’s shoulders and arranged the blankets so
Emory could crawl into bed. He leaned down and stroked the damp hair out of Emory’s eyes and Calvin’s eyes watered. It was an affection that he had once been so familiar with, but was now foreign to him. When was the last time Graham looked at him the way he was looking at Emory?

  Calvin closed his eyes.

  “Don’t go,” Emory whispered. “Please.”

  Calvin looked up and found Emory’s pale arm stretched out from beneath the blankets, reaching for Graham. Calvin turned and stepped toward the door.

  “Where are you going?” Emory’s voice was louder and aimed at Calvin’s back. He stopped in his tracks and braced himself.

  “I was going to go,” he answered.

  “Please stay. Please, both of you stay.”

  Calvin looked over his shoulder at Graham, whose mouth was turned into a half frown. He looked down at Emory. “Are you sure?”

  “I haven’t forgotten what the two of you did, but I don’t want to be alone right now.” Emory curled into himself and closed his eyes.

  “Cal?”

  Calvin puffed out a breath and kicked his shoes off. His feet sank into the thick carpet as he approached the bed and slipped on top of the blankets, his chest to Emory’s back. Graham removed his shoes and tucked himself in to the other side, Emory’s face practically burrowed into his broad chest.

  Calvin’s heart twisted, and he propped himself up with an elbow on the pillow so he didn’t fall asleep. He watched Graham watch Emory, every fond blink and glimmer of a smile a nail in the coffin of his marriage.

  “I can feel you thinking,” Graham whispered, eyes flicking up to meet Calvin’s.

  Emory snored softly.

  “Is he asleep?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You like him,” Calvin stated, not asking.

  “So do you.”

  Calvin sat up, crossing his legs gently as to not rustle the bed and wake Emory. He did like Emory, but he loved Graham. He’d wondered what it would be like to be with someone else, but worried the ghost of his life with Graham would always hang over his head. Being in Emory’s bed with Graham feet away was the physical manifestation of his greatest fears. Making an incredulous sound in his throat, he rubbed the heels of his hands over his eyes.

  “I haven’t seen that look on your face in a lifetime,” Calvin whispered, smoothing his eyebrows and leveling a look at Graham.

  “What look?” As he said it, Graham glanced down at Emory and smiled.

  “That one,” Calvin lamented. “The one where you look at someone like they’re your world and you’ll do anything to keep them safe.”

  “I look at you that way, Cal.”

  “No.” He shook his head. “And you haven’t for a long time.”

  Graham looked ashamed, the apples of his cheeks pink in the dim light of the bedroom. He pulled his lips between his teeth and nodded, looking down at Emory before replying.

  “I don’t mean to not look at you that way,” he admitted, looking up at Calvin with glassy eyes. “I still feel all of those things for you…I don’t know when I forgot how to show you, though.”

  “Graham,” Calvin sighed.

  Graham gestured for Calvin to stop talking, then quickly wiped at his eyes. “I love you so much, Cal. I don’t know how to get us back there.”

  “I didn’t think you wanted to anymore.”

  Graham’s eyes widened and his lips parted, a horrified sound filling the space where Emory slept between them.

  “You’re the one who wanted to see other people.”

  “I wanted someone to look at me like that.” Calvin gestured to Graham’s face. “The way you used to look at me. The way you look at him.”

  Graham’s hand shot out, his fingers wrapping around Calvin’s hand and stilling him. A tear slipped down Calvin’s cheek. He reached up to wipe it away and Graham was there, his fingertips brushing softly across the lines of his cheekbone.

  A tremor wracked through Calvin’s whole body and he fought himself to not whimper. He was acting like an attention-starved child, but Graham’s touch was so welcome, so familiar…so home.

  Graham studied Calvin’s face and his eyes softened, the lines smoothing around his eyes and his lips relaxing. A spark of something Calvin hadn’t seen in months existed between them in this fragile and fleeting moment.

  “Like this?” Graham rasped, his voice deep and trembling.

  Calvin swallowed and nodded.

  All it took was a gentle tug on his hands—he hadn’t even realized Graham was still holding him there—and they were nose to nose, leaning in over Emory’s sleeping body.

  “Like that.” He whispered the confirmation, and Graham closed the distance between them, his lips hot as fire against Calvin’s parched mouth. He could have sobbed with the relief of it all, but instead he nearly died when Graham’s tongue darted out to moisten his lips for him before returning to dip into his mouth.

  Calvin shook his hand free from Graham and reached for his face, cupping his stubbled jaw in his hands and yielding to Graham’s pursuit. Graham’s hands framed Calvin’s face, pads pressed tight against his cheeks below his eyes, even slick with Calvin’s now unstoppable tears. He yearned to cry out with relief, for this feeling of completion that had been lacking for so long in his heart.

  Calvin raised his body, pushing further over Emory’s body to get a better feel of Graham. He slid his hands down Graham’s face to his neck, his shoulders. He held on tight and parted his lips. Graham slowed the kiss and Calvin took over, his tongue pushing into his mouth with a hot demand. Graham growled against him, his hands sliding to the back of Calvin’s head and tangling into his hair. Even as Calvin led the kiss, Graham led Calvin, as their way had always been.

  Graham pulled away, separating their mouths and pushing their foreheads together. Calvin could smell the liquor from earlier on Graham’s breath as clearly as he tasted it on his own tongue. He breathed in the same air as his husband and allowed his eyes to close—a moment of rest before his world crashed around him.

  “What was that?” Calvin managed to ask. He reached up to the side of his head and covered Graham’s hand with his own.

  “I…” Graham started to answer, but was cut off.

  “That was hot, is what that is.” Emory’s scratchy and sleepy voice beneath them came unexpectedly, and Calvin jumped back, covering his face with his hands. His fingers grazed across his swollen lips, across his stubble scratched cheeks.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled, unable to meet Emory’s attentive stare. “That was uncalled for.”

  “I disagree, boss.” Emory snaked his hand out of the blankets and reached up, swatting Calvin’s hands away from his face. His fingers dragged lightly across Calvin’s puffy mouth. “That was beautiful.”

  “You’re not thinking clearly.” Calvin shook his head, but didn’t push Emory’s hand away.

  “I’m thinking very clearly,” he corrected. “I’ve had a nice bath and I’ve been tucked into bed. I had a nap. Everything is in perspective for me now.”

  Emory rolled onto his back and stretched out, an erection apparent between his legs. With the hand not on Calvin’s face, he reached down, fisting the sheets and his cock in a tight grip.

  “The two of you belong together,” Emory continued, stroking himself from above the sheet.

  They both tried to protest, but Emory arched off the bed, a small moan silencing their protests. “You belong together, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want you both.”

  “Definitely not thinking clearly,” Graham interjected.

  “Disagree. I’m seeing this clearly for the first time.” Emory rolled over to face Graham, his arm still stretched back to touch Calvin. “You’re so sad about Calvin. About not being with him. You won’t be able to be with anyone else until you’ve finally put things with him to bed.”

  “I don’t want to!” Graham protested, eyes darting between Emory’s sleepy face and Calvin’s shocked stare.

  “I know,” Emory agreed, turn
ing back toward Calvin. “And you just want the same things as me.”

  “What things?” Calvin croaked.

  Emory shifted his weight and raised up so he was kneeling between them. The sheet fell, pooling around his erection, exposing a well-maintained thatch of pale blond curls.

  “That look he has when he thinks you’re not looking. The one that oozes love. The way he was looking at you when I asked you not to go.” Emory cupped Calvin’s face in his hands and forced his attention. “Who wouldn’t want that?”

  Calvin squeezed his eyes closed. He was at war with himself. Unable to differentiate the new and churning feelings of want that bloomed in his chest for Emory from the desire for the comfortable love and commitment he had with Graham. Though wasn’t that what he didn’t want? That comfort? That familiarity. He yearned for the shiny new feelings Emory evoked, but he wanted to have them for his husband, not a stranger.

  “He just needs someone to help him remember how to look at you that way,” Emory whispered. “He wants to look at you like that. I know that for a fact.”

  “I do,” Graham agreed, his voice barely a whisper from behind Emory’s back.

  “That’s the problem.”

  “I can help you.”

  Calvin blinked his eyes open, blinked Emory back into focus. “Are you a marriage counselor now?”

  Emory scoffed and leaned closer. “That’s not my end goal.”

  “What is your end goal, then?”

  Closer.

  “I want what the two of you have. I want it for myself.”

  “What does that even mean?” But as Calvin asked the question, he knew the answer. The fun little game he and Emory had talked about playing wasn’t a game anymore. It was so very real.

  “There you go,” Emory praised softly, a light smile tugging at his lips.

  “We’re married. Remember? You were mad. You left us.” Calvin’s voice cracked on the last word. It was the truth, though. Emory had left when he found out, and he hadn’t just left Calvin, he’d left Graham as well.

  “I was caught off-guard.” Emory chewed the corner of his lip into his mouth and plopped onto his ass. He arranged the sheets around him, his erection barely visible now beneath the pool of fabric, but undoubtedly still there. “Eleven years is a long time.”