North on Drummond

by K. C. Burn

  “Why not? You said he was gay.” Kyle’s voice rose excitedly.

  “Shut the fuck up, Kyle.” Whispers took less effort, but it was definitely harder to convey how much he wanted Kyle to stop talking about Cliff. At least while he was still within earshot.

  “He’s gay; he’s hot… Is he single? You need to find out. This is opportunity knocking.”

  Drew heaved in a breath. “I can’t. Rob and Wyatt hate him, and the feeling is mutual. He probably hates me by association.”

  Kyle rolled his eyes. “Like you’d be the first couple whose family didn’t approve. That won’t matter one bit. I tell you, if that opportunity came knocking at my door? Anything and anyone else could go to hell.”

  “Yes, I get it. Stop beating that metaphor to death.” Frowning, Drew squinted at Cliff. Whatever the phone call was, it wasn’t good news. Drew waved a hand toward the door. “What’s wrong, do you suppose?”

  “Wrong? What’s wrong is you! Did that concussion knock the gay out of you? If you don’t ask him out, I will.”

  That got Drew’s attention. “You wouldn’t.”

  Kyle shook his head. “Of course I wouldn’t. But so help me, you’d better do something.”

  Past the doorway, Cliff pocketed his phone with stiff, deliberate movements. He turned back to the room, and his tightly compressed lips and clenched jaw were immediately apparent, as was his wooden posture. Cliff might have filled out from boy to man since Drew had seen him last, but observing Cliff had practically been an Olympic sport when Drew had been fourteen, and he would have won all the medals. Cliff was furious, like Drew had only seen during clashes with his brothers.

  Oh fuck. What had they done now, and was Cliff going to hate him because of it?

  Cliff stomped back into the room. “You’ll have to excuse me, Drew. Something has come up. I hope you feel better soon.”

  Kyle poked Drew’s arm, and although sorely tempted to flip him the bird, Drew ignored him. From somewhere in the dregs of morphine numbing his mind and emotions, Drew found the courage to speak.

  “Is everything okay?” Not the question Kyle was hoping he’d ask, but even if he and the mighty morphine cobbled together enough courage to ask Cliff on a date, he wasn’t going to do it while Cliff was in this sort of mood. Not a fucking chance.

  For a moment, Cliff paused, and Drew was certain he was going to get a meaningless platitude, but inexplicably, Cliff sank into the chair Kyle wasn’t sitting in.

  “Apparently there was a mix-up at the motel I’m staying at. I paid for a month, but they called to tell me they can’t accommodate me. They need me to check out today.” Cliff glanced at his watch. “In two hours.”

  Earlier, Drew had been too blinded by shock and Cliff’s incredible looks to register how tired the guy looked. Had he been up all night because of Drew’s accident?

  “The big motel on the highway?” Kyle asked. “They couldn’t just give you another room?”

  “The manager said he was booked solid because of the Haunt Fest.”

  “But that’s not right.” Drew swallowed the rest of his words. He almost asked if Cliff thought it was some sort of discrimination, but despite his inside info about which team Cliff played on, he didn’t know if Cliff was out, and it wasn’t a topic he could easily broach with a near stranger.

  Cliff sighed and scrubbed his face with his hands.

  “Can’t you just stay with your mom?” Drew put the blame squarely on the morphine for letting him say that. So far, Cliff hadn’t said anything about having grown up in Sandy Bottom Bay or his childhood altercations with Drew’s brothers. There was no good reason for Drew to know who the hell he was. Way to spill the beans about his stupid infatuation.

  Cliff froze for a split second before he lowered his hands and peered at Drew. “Does everyone know I used to live here? The town isn’t that fucking small.”

  A shocked look followed as he clamped his lips together. Kyle smothered a laugh, and Drew smiled. It was more than obvious that if Cliff swore much at all, he hadn’t intended to do so then, but fatigue made his lips as traitorous as morphine made Drew’s.

  Still, Drew had to respond and not let the morphine make him admit to anything he’d regret later. “No, but everyone in town knows your mom, and I recognized you from school.”

  An assessing, calculating look crept into Cliff’s eyes. “So we did go to school together. At the time, I wasn’t even sure I knew that the evil…uh…that Rob and Wyatt had any siblings. And I feel like I would have remembered that hair, at least.”

  The morphine was doing a number on Drew, because he would swear up and down that Cliff’s tone had been admiring when talking about Drew’s hair.

  “My hair was a lot more blond back then. It got really red after you left.” Drew wrinkled his nose. What a stupid thing to say. Usually he was much better with words. Like Cliff would care.

  “Right. Well…” Cliff looked confused more than anything else. “My return is probably common knowledge by now, but I didn’t exactly tell my mother I was moving back. I had planned to stay at the motel until…until I found an apartment in town.”

  He didn’t tell his mother? Bizarre, but that explained why Helen hadn’t mentioned her son’s impending return during their last reading.

  “So, are you going to move back in with your mom now?” Kyle sounded far too interested in the answer, which made Drew a tiny bit nervous.

  Cliff’s expression said it all. He didn’t want to, and Drew didn’t know why. Sure, Cliff had never come back to visit Sandy Bottom Bay after he left, but Helen had never mentioned any sort of estrangement. She hadn’t even hinted at anything of the sort during their sessions.

  “No. There’s got to be a hotel or motel around here that has a room available until I can find somewhere to live.”

  “I don’t know.” Kyle’s voice was full of doubt. “It’s horrible that they’re kicking you out, but the Haunt Fest has grown bigger each year. You might have some difficulty finding a room until it’s over.”

  If anything, the tension in Cliff’s jaw got tighter. “Perhaps. I’ll figure something out.” Cliff rose to his feet, transforming from frustrated man to robotic cop in the blink of an eye. “I shouldn’t take up any more of your time.”

  “Wait, you could stay with Drew.”

  Shock squeezed the breath from Drew’s lungs. If Kyle’s words hadn’t killed Drew, he was doing a fine imitation of a fish out of water. As was Cliff, for that matter. And if Drew survived Kyle’s clumsy matchmaking attempt, he was going to kill his best friend.

  Cliff stared at him, and Drew could only stare back. The silence lengthened, broken only by the normal bustle and beeps of a busy hospital.

  Then Kyle spoke again, his voice bright and innocent. Only Drew knew that was the sound of Kyle trying to get his own way, but the guy usually succeeded. Drew still hadn’t found enough breath to cut him off, which meant whatever crazy brain child Kyle was cooking was about to be presented to Cliff, of all people.

  “No, really, you’d be doing him a favor.”

  Cliff was still looking at Drew and found the muscle control to lift an eyebrow as though asking Drew to confirm this assertion. If Drew could have spoken at all, he’d likely have gibbered, so he remained silent.

  “A favor? How so?” Cliff sounded as doubtful about it as Drew felt. What the hell was Kyle doing? Couldn’t the matchmaking wait until Drew could at least hobble around on his own and without puking?

  “They’re going to want someone to help Drew, at least for the next few days. You don’t want to leave him to his brothers’ care, do you?”

  “But…but…” Drew stuttered. “I thought you…” Kyle was supposed to be helping him, dammit. Not his brothers and not the guy he’d been crushing on for eight fucking years.

  “Of course, normally I would do it, but I’m going to be away this weekend. And we want you better for the festival. Your business depends on those tourists.”

  An indefina
ble expression crossed Cliff’s face at the mention of Drew’s business, but Drew was too busy trying to unscramble his brain.

  “You’re going away? Why didn’t you tell me?” He tore his gaze away from Cliff to stare at his friend.

  “I did tell you. You must have forgotten.” With a rueful smile, Kyle wiggled his fingers by his forehead.

  It was true there were a number of gaps in his memory. Was Kyle telling the truth? He didn’t want to confront his friend in front of Cliff, though. If Cliff hadn’t realized he’d been the star of Drew’s fantasies for years, there wasn’t any point in making him realize it.

  Cliff cleared his throat. “So your brothers would be taking care of you once you leave here?”

  Drew lifted a shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. If Kyle really wasn’t going to be around, then yeah, his brothers would have to do it. Which he was going to hate. It wasn’t the first time he’d been hurt or ill. His brothers cared about him, but they were shitty nursemaids. Mostly because they were far too solicitous, hanging about and asking him a million questions; then they’d forget about him for long stretches of time, each thinking the other was taking care of him. Feast or famine, and he sure as shit didn’t want to deal with that, because Kyle was right—he needed to be better in time for the festival, or he’d be in danger of losing his business and livelihood.

  “What about your parents?”

  Not wanting to see Cliff’s reaction, Drew shifted his gaze to one of the plain white walls. There was some sort of brownish stain coming up through the paint. He really hoped it was the result of water damage and not blood or something else that had splattered that far up the wall. He reined in his fractious mind to answer the question Cliff asked.

  “Mom died seven years ago, cirrhosis from too much alcohol, and Dad’s in Everglades Correctional doing fifteen to twenty for manslaughter. He was sent up six years ago. Rob and Wyatt took care of me while I was still a minor, with my grandma helping out.”

  “Well, what about your grandma?”

  Drew squeezed his eyes shut so he wouldn’t start crying. Cliff had already seen him at his worst; no need to compound that with tears.

  “She died a couple of years ago.”

  A soft gasp from Cliff dared Drew to look at the man. There was only sympathy. “I’m sorry, Drew.”

  Cliff bit his lip before speaking again. “This town is full of Drummonds. Aren’t most of them related to you? Couldn’t one of them help?”

  “Oh, please, Officer.” Kyle finally spoke again, breaking into the odd connection that had formed between Drew and Cliff. “You couldn’t even suppress the hint of distaste when you said their name. Would you seriously want one of them to be responsible for Drew’s well-being? You’d hate yourself if something happened to him.”

  Sensing Cliff was about to capitulate, Drew threw out a frantic attempt to stop this train wreck Kyle was determined to see through to the bitter end.

  “Where would he sleep? My place is tiny.”

  “Oh, this head wound has done quite a number on you, hasn’t it?” Oddly enough, Kyle’s words were tender and every bit as mother hen-ish as Drew had come to expect. And for some reason, Mother Kyle thought he knew best in this case and was going to make sure his vision came about. At least Drew could be sure it wouldn’t be at the expense of his health; Kyle would never be able to forgive himself.

  “If there’s no room…” Cliff said after a silence that was likely only a second or two but seemed a lot longer.

  “There’s that minifuton in your bedroom, Drew.” Kyle’s sunny smile didn’t have an ounce of guile. He’d clearly been hanging out with the Drummonds too long.

  “Uh, yeah, there’s that.” Drew hadn’t forgotten about the single-bed futon that folded up into a chair. With it opened, there wasn’t a lot of room in the bedroom, but Kyle had slept on it more than once. But Drew hadn’t ever lusted after Kyle. Having Cliff in the same room would be agony. No matter how tortuous—and how potentially embarrassing—Kyle was right about Drew needing help. The doctor had been adamant he have someone who could at least check on him regularly for the next few days, or he wasn’t going to get released. Rob and Wyatt would find a way to pay his medical bills somehow, but Drew wasn’t going to stay here any longer than he had to.

  With the added bonus of maybe finding out if Cliff was a boxers or briefs man, perhaps this wasn’t the absolute worst idea Kyle had ever had.

  “I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

  “Oh, Officer, you’d be doing both of us a favor.” Kyle wisely held back on vamping it up, as he so easily could have, although he did let loose a couple of eyelash flutters.

  Cliff looked up at the ceiling, the granite cut of his jaw smoothing out as he considered—considered!—staying with Drew. A hot, gay cop who was also one of the most honorable guys Drew had ever known was thinking about sleeping in his bedroom for a few days. Maybe all this was nothing more than a hallucination, courtesy of Drew’s scrambled brains. Then again, if this was truly a product of his fantasies, Cliff would be promising a whole lot of hot and heavy sex. Surely Drew wasn’t repressed enough that he was fantasizing about sharing a bedroom with Cliff like they were teens at sleepaway camp.

  Cliff dropped his gaze, and Drew got sucked into deep, dark brown eyes so hypnotic he almost forgot about his pain.

  “Are you okay with that? I’ll find something else next week if I’m in your way too much.”

  No. He should say no. No was smart. No would let him hold on to his pathetic crush a little longer. But the thought of spending time with Cliff, however platonic, overrode every sensible and logical thought that swam in his murky mind.

  “Uh, sure.”

  Kyle spoke at the same time with an enthusiastic, “Of course he’s okay with it.”

  Cliff didn’t look happy, although he did look relieved. His tiny, almost mischievous smile made Drew want to do some eyelash fluttering of his own. Swooning. This was what grandma’s romance heroines must have felt right before swooning.

  “Then I’d better get my stuff.” A faint frown pulled at Cliff’s brow. “Wait. I heard the nurse say the doctor was probably going to release you as soon as the doctor sees you one last time. I don’t know how long that will be, but maybe I should wait. Surely you’ll be released before my checkout time.”

  Kyle flapped his hands. “Don’t be ridiculous. Go do what you need to do. I can get Drew home if he gets released before you get back. We can get you settled at his place after.”

  “What’s your address?” Cliff pulled out his phone, ready to tap in the information.

  “Give it here.” Kyle reached out an imperious hand, and for some reason, Cliff obeyed the command. Taking Drew’s phone too, Kyle fiddled with them while Cliff smiled benevolently at Drew. Drew found himself smiling back. However goofy and besotted he might appear, at least he could look his fill and blame it on the morphine later.

  “There you go, Officer. Contact info exchanged. We’ll text you when we’re leaving here.”

  Cliff shook his head. “Good, but could you just call me Cliff? I’d feel a little less like I was taking advantage by bunking down with Drew.”

  “Certainly, Cliff.”

  Drew wasn’t fond of the flirtatious lilt Kyle put on Cliff’s name, but he appreciated Cliff’s attempts to be friendly.

  “Well, I’ll see you later. Kyle. Drew.”

  If Drew squinted his eyes and imagined really hard, he was sure Cliff had said his name differently than Kyle’s. Warmer, friendlier, and with a bigger smile. Wishful thinking, no doubt, but as far as Drew was concerned, it was yet another side-effect of the morphine.

  They both watched Cliff’s spectacular ass as he walked away.

  Once he was well out of sight, Drew heaved in a breath. “What the fuck, Kyle?”

  “You’re welcome.” Kyle’s reply was unbearably smug.

  All of Drew’s ire left, and he deflated back into the bed. “It’s not going to work out how you hope.”
<
br />   Kyle snickered. “How I hope? I don’t have a horse in this race. But here’s a chance to get to know him. I mean, not only has it been eight years since you’ve seen him, but it’s not like you even talked to him when we were kids. Maybe you’ll hate him. Maybe you’ll realize your crush was justified. Maybe there won’t be a spark. But this at least gives you both a chance to get to know one another.”

  With an irritated but gentle tap at the puffy bandage on his head, Drew said, “These are hardly ideal circumstances to get to know one another. He’ll see me at my worst. How could I possibly entice him that way?”

  He didn’t bother to tell Kyle about the number of times he’d watched Cliff at school, although Kyle was aware of some of them. Nor did he remind Kyle that he’d been getting inside information from Cliff’s mother for the past two years. It wasn’t perfect, but Drew already knew a lot about what kind of man Cliff was, and none of it had served to lessen his infatuation any.

  “I beg to differ. He’s already seen you at your worst, when you were puking on him. That didn’t scare him off.”

  This time, the embarrassment broke through Drew’s medicated haze—must be time for another dose—and the sudden influx of blood to his face reminded him of the dull ache in his head.

  The mother hen clicked back on, and Kyle rubbed his arm. “Hey. Listen to me. You at your worst is better than ninety-nine percent of guys at their best. Trust me. If he doesn’t fall for you, he’s either taken, straight, or lobotomized.”

  Kyle’s comment surprised a laugh out of Drew, which immediately turned into a groan.

  “Sorry, sorry.” Kyle rubbed his arm a little more before he stood. “Let me see if we can either spring you or get you some more meds.”

  A good idea or not, Drew had to accept he was sharing a room with Cliff Garcia for at least the next few days. Instead of wasting energy wishing Kyle hadn’t put him in this position, he’d better save his strength for figuring out how to hide his infatuation.