Love Brewing (Love Brothers #3)

by Liz Crowe

  The boy pointed toward the sliding-glass door without a word. Anton got up. “I’m taking Jace outside.”

  Dom got up along with everyone else while the boy led his grandfather out the door, gripping his finger. Lindsay flopped onto the couch with a loud exhalation, fanning her face with a magazine. “Well, now I’ll declare that was not what I expected.”

  Kent took a deep breath. “I’m gonna go.”

  Cara stepped forward. “Wait, Kent.” She shot Kieran a glare, who transferred it over to Dominic.

  “I’ll walk you out,” Dom muttered under his breath.

  He followed Kent to his car and waited, taking in the other man’s reduced stature, his throat clogged with words he didn’t know how to say. “I’m sorry,” he whispered in lieu of anything else.

  “Not your fault. I acted like an idiot after you left and wouldn’t talk to me. I’m a grown man. I made stupid choices.” He wiped his brow. “I loved you.” He faced the car.

  Dom touched his shoulder. Kent shook him off. “No, no, don’t. I don’t want you to think you owe me anything.” He opened the door and slid behind the wheel. Dom crouched down and knocked on the window. After a few seconds, it lowered, but Kent kept his gaze on the windshield. “I’ve gotta go. Time to break the news to my folks.” He took a long breath. “It’s the sarcoma, you know. Once I had a few spots and got the diagnosis, it metastasized so fast…too fast….” His voice broke and he pressed his forehead on the steering wheel. “I’m dying, okay? Dying of fucking cancer. I’m ate up with it, as my grannie would say. And the best part is, I did it to myself. I put the gun to my head and pulled the trigger, all because of you.”

  The man’s voice was so rough and miserable, it flayed what remained of Dominic’s nerves. He opened the door and tried to reach in and provide some kind of comfort, but Kent slammed it, nearly catching Dom’s fingers.

  “We’re done. I brought you your son. You don’t have to do anything more to thank me than to be a good father to him.” Kent’s square jaw clenched in profile. “I’m sorry I said that. It’s not because of you. You never loved me. You were just screwing around, trying something new, whatever. My bad, falling for you for real.”

  Kent drove away, leaving Dom rubbing his fingers from the near-miss injury before he headed inside.

  The vision of his father sitting with the blond kid—his son—on his lap in one of the uncovered pool chairs shocked him. The boy had his face against Anton’s neck and the man’s lips were moving as if he were talking to him. Something propelled Dom forward, if for no other reason than to witness the bizarre scene—Anton Love, to the best of Dom’s knowledge, had about a pinky-toenail’s worth of nurturing in him. He left that to Lindsay, who overdid it to compensate.

  Anton didn’t seem to notice him at first, so intent was he on his conversation with Jace, which gave Dominic some time to observe the boy’s skinny legs, huge feet, his too-long hair. Finally, Anton peeled Jace off his chest and dipped his head down to meet his eyes.

  Dom moved to the left so Jace wouldn’t spot him. The kid shook his head so hard it sent droplets of snot and whatever else flying into the air. Anton gripped his shoulders and his words floated across the lawn, lodging in Dom’s brain like a nail.

  “It will be all right, Jace. I promise. I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again. And I’m a man of my word, you’ll come to know that soon enough.”

  Dom’s chest filled with something he couldn’t explain and he marched up to the two of them, his father and his son, and crouched down in front of them. “Daddy, I, um, I could use the apartment, you know, so I have a place for…us.”

  His father stiffened and glanced over Dom’s shoulder to the spot where Kent’s car had been a few minutes earlier.

  “Jace.” Dom put a hand on the boy’s bony shoulder. “Son, uh, why don’t we go inside and see what Mama…I mean…uh, your Grammie has fixed for lunch.” The kid frowned at him through his shaggy bangs and Dom came face-to-face with his own pissed-off boyhood expression. He tried not to be afraid, but suddenly that’s exactly how he felt about the whole thing.

  “Where’d Kent go?” Jace’s voice sounded impossibly tiny. Dom narrowed his eyes, and caught his first, nauseating glimpse of the scars, one that marred his left cheek, the other one near his right eye, another stretching down his neck and disappearing into his too-big T-shirt. Repressing a thrill of rage at the thought of what the boy—his son—had been through, Dom touched his lower lip, which had stuck out even farther under Dom’s scrutiny.

  “He’s gone to see his mama and daddy.”

  “Want to go with him. Don’t want to be here.” He shoved Dom away and barnacled onto Anton, hiding once more in the man’s shirt. Dom leaned back on his heels, feeling out of place, of no use, and boiling with rage he couldn’t explain.

  Anton got up with Jace still clinging to him. “Let’s go on inside now, boy. Your Grammie wants to feed you. Do you like fried chicken? No? How about mashed ’taters?”

  Dom sat, frozen, as his father carried his son into the house where Dom had grown up angry, and had rejected multiple times, only to circle back to it over and over again. The man’s voice wafted across the lawn to him even as they went into the lower basement patio door.

  “It’s fine, Jace. I won’t let anyone take you anywhere you don’t wanna go.”

  Dom ground his teeth, torn between wanting his son to hang onto him like he’d done to Anton and jumping on his bike and racing after Kent. He blew out a breath, then spotted Diana in the doorway. She smiled and crooked her finger, so he trudged across the grass.

  “He hates me.”

  “No, honey, he’s just a confused little kid. I think it’s nice he latched on to your daddy.”

  “Well, maybe…but I don’t know what in the hell I’m supposed to do with him now. I think I can get the apartment back, but it’s so small. I have a feeling that kid needs more…room.” He kissed her cheek. “Thanks for coming with me.”

  “Sure thing. But I’m gonna go now.”

  He held onto her a second, desperate for her presence, but unable to express how much the fact of her separation from him once and for all yawned like a veritable, emotional Grand Canyon.

  She grinned. “Y’all will be fine. Bring him out to the farm if you want. Maybe he’d like to see the animals or something. I don’t know. I’m not exactly the mama-type.”

  She walked over the berm next to the pool, leaving him breathless with dismay.

  “Dominic!” His mother called. “Time to eat.”

  When he got to the dining room, his family was arranged around the big table, extended to its full length like for a holiday meal. But there was no sign of Jace or his father.

  “Where’d they go?” He took his usual spot to his mother’s left, directly across from Kieran.

  “Here we are,” his father announced, walking in with Jace, who clutched a bottle of Dom’s patented Love Brewing root beer. “Sit right here beside me.” Anton took his place at the far end of the table and patted the kitchen chair next to him. “Lindsay, we’re gonna have to get a bigger table.”

  The whole group watched as the kid blinked fast, then looked up at his grandfather, clueless, it seemed, about how to proceed. He finally slid into his seat, still holding the bottle, his gaze never leaving Anton’s. When everyone joined hands for the blessing, Jace accepted Anton’s, but shook his head at the one outstretched to his left.

  Once thanks were given to the Lord for His bountiful blessings and the addition of a fine young man to the Love family circle, dishes began circulating. Jace kept hold of the root beer, his eyes widening as his plate piled up. But he didn’t pick up his fork. As the conversation volume increased, the boy seemed to sink deeper into his chair as if he wished he could disappear. At one point, he met Dom’s gaze and his eyes narrowed.

  “He’ll be all right,” Lindsay declared, patting Dom’s arm. He hadn’t started eating either, he was so transfixed by the amazing reality of his son. His
stomach rumbled, reminding him he hadn’t had food since noon the day before.

  “I’m so happy to have you here, Jace.” Lindsay beamed down the table at him.

  “Want Kent,” the kid mumbled.

  “What’s that?” Anton leaned in close.

  “Want Kent! Want to go home!”

  Dom jumped to his feet, somehow anticipating what was about to happen just as Jace picked up his plate full of food and threw it onto the hardwood, sending chicken, potatoes, and green beans mixed with shards of ceramic scattering across the floor. He did the same with the root beer, filling the room with its distinct, licorice aroma.

  Antony pushed his chair back and lunged for the kid as he raced behind that side of the table. Kieran tried next. Dom did a quick sidestep and blocked his exit down the stairs. He tried on his best Dad-voice. “Son, that is bad behavior” he said as he reached down to pick Jace up.

  “No,” the boy screamed at the top of his lungs. “Bad Jace! No bad Jace.”

  Dom grabbed him, but a small fist whacked his nose, then his cheek, which didn’t hurt too much. The knee in his balls made him curse. Unwilling to be bested in front of his whole family, Dom pinned the boy’s flailing arms at his sides. He would swear the kid might start foaming at the mouth any second.

  “Calm down,” he grunted with the effort of containment. “Just calm…ow! Fuck!” He let go and grabbed his nose, shocked.

  “Fuck!” The boy yelped before he took off down the steps and out the sliding-glass door. Legs and feet passed Dom as he sat, blinded with pain for a few seconds.

  “Little fucker bit me,” he muttered. His mother crouched down next to him while Aiden ran out the lower door, returning with an armful of growling, spitting, blond-haired little boy who turned the air blue with his foul language. “God, Mama, what am I supposed to do with him?”

  They both stood to get out of Aiden’s way. “Take him to the shower,” Anton called out. “I’ll be up there in a minute.”

  Margot and Rosie cleaned up the mess, insisting Cara stay seated, while Kieran and Antony observed him, both wearing bemused smiles. Jace’s shrieks of shocking profanity echoed down the hall. Lindsay patted his arm.

  “What you do is love him, son. Pure and simple.”

  “He might be rabid.” He felt his nose again. “I can’t do this.”

  “Don’t have a choice about it, now do ya?” His father wiped his mouth and headed toward the sounds of Jace’s fury.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Five months later

  Dominic shot a few baskets in the heat of a Sunday afternoon, waiting for his siblings to show up for their weekly game. Kieran had begged off at first, claiming his infant son had drained him of all the energy in the immediate universe. But Dom expected him to show, knowing Cara would likely boot him out the door. Aiden and Antony arrived together, followed by Anton and Jace.

  Dominic shook his head, determined not to feel like a failure because the kid still refused to move in with him, preferring instead Dominic’s boyhood room at the Love family house and the near-constant company of his grandfather. Jace had on a new pair of high tops, shorts, and an old Lucasville basketball T-shirt Lindsay must have located in her various treasure troves of little boy clothing.

  His light blond hair was trimmed nicely, belying the extreme trauma of the actual haircut experience. Dom still had bruises on his arms and thighs from hanging on to the wild-ass kid while the barber did his level best.

  The one time he’d convinced his own father to let go of the boy long enough for him to visit Dom’s small, reclaimed apartment above the old Love Brewing facility downtown had been an unmitigated disaster. Complete with tantrums and broken dishes the likes of which Dominic had never experienced.

  “He’s so very much you, in his face and temperament, if you’d been allowed to run completely wild your first seven years or so,” his mother had declared the morning after a sleepless night spent trying to placate his son with anything he wanted. “He does require a firm hand, but a loving one.” It defied logic to Dom.

  They’d ended up eating an entire gallon of chocolate ice cream for dinner, sitting on the kitchen floor, passing it between them without words like a couple of drunks with a brown-bagged bottle of hooch. Jace had fallen asleep at one end of his couch, clutching the video game controller, the television still blaring the sounds of the most violent game Dominic owned—which he’d had demanded by name once the ice cream had been consumed.

  The Jace sleepover hangover had not been one Dom wanted to repeat. So he hadn’t. Besides, the kid seemed perfectly content to live in his old bedroom, eat Lindsay’s food—like a horse—and follow Anton like a tiny, stubborn, shadow.

  Kieran did show up, finally. He heaved his ball toward the court before pulling some kind of contraption out of his trunk, assembling it with Antony’s help before laying baby Frankie inside it.

  He straightened up with a groan. “I think this is the first time he’s been asleep in about four days, no lie.”

  Jace ran over to the mini crib-like thing and pointed into it. “There’s a baby in there,” he declared to Kieran, who patted his head. Jace sidestepped him. He preferred not to be touched by anyone but his grandparents Dom had learned the hard way. Anton pulled the blanket away from Frankie’s face so Jace could see him better.

  “So help me, Daddy, if you wake that kid I’m sending him home with you for the next week.”

  “I’m not gonna wake him, Francis. Look here, Jace. It’s your cousin, Frankie.”

  “Why is his hair pink?”

  Anton chuckled. “‘Cause his Mama and Daddy’s hair is the same color. And I’d call it more orange than pink.”

  Jace frowned up at his redheaded uncle then focused down on the sleeping infant, reaching over the canvas railing.

  “No, Jace, don’t.” Dom tried to reach for the kid. But Anton held out an arm. .

  “He’s not hurtin’ anything.” He crouched down next to Jace. “Babies are very soft so you have to be real careful with them.”

  Dom had gotten close enough to see Jace leaning into the portable crib and brushing Frankie’s nose and cheeks, before running a fingertip across the light scattering of orange-tinted hair. Everyone froze when Frankie screwed up his mouth. But he settled again, his lips pursed. A spit bubbled formed, then popped, making Jace giggle. Dom blinked, realizing that in the last five months since he’d met his son, he had ever once heard the boy laugh.

  “I like it,” he declared, standing with one arm draped over the rail, his stance and expression one of fierce protectiveness.

  “Cool.” Kieran gave Dom a nudge. “Tell ya what, Jace—you stand there and watch him for me, okay? If he starts crying, wave at me.”

  “Okay,” the boy stated solemnly, focused down on the sleeping baby.

  “Let’s play already,” Aiden insisted. “I’ve got a ton of edits to do still today. I shouldn’t even be here screwing around with you assholes.”

  “Assholes,” Jace repeated, tenderly, still gazing down at his baby cousin.

  Anton poked the boy’s shoulder. Jace rolled his eyes and pulled a coin out of his pocket, placing it in his grandfather’s outstretched palm. Dom grinned, then focused on the game, a small bit of him thinking—hoping—that maybe this colossal mess might end up all right.

  An hour later, little Frankie had woken and started squalling. The men limped off the court, the usual thrown elbows, and fists, and knees having done their weekly damage. Dom’s hair dripped with sweat. He took a full bottle of water and dumped it over his head, shaking like a dog, hoping to make some kind of impression on Jace. But the kid seemed mesmerized by Kieran with the baby up on his shoulder.

  “You’ve got him the rest of the day, right?” Kieran nodded toward Jace as Frankie’s yowling subsided.

  “Yeah.” Dom frowned, wondering how he’d keep Jace entertained and how he might get out of the sleepover part of the arrangement.

  “Bring him over. I’ll make b
urgers. He seems to be fixated enough, maybe we can give Mama and Daddy a break.”

  Dom opened his mouth to answer when the phone he’d finally agreed to start carrying again rang over by his gym bag. A strange, local number appeared on the screen sending his heart lurching into his chest.

  “Dominic?” Kent’s mother said when he answered. “Kent wanted me to call you.” She sounded like a shell of the intimidating woman he remembered from Kent’s aborted wedding to Cara.

  “Okay.” He sat before he fell down. Kent had totally avoided him for the past few months, paying him back, Dom figured. It had not set well with Jace, whose repeated demands to see Kent had to go unmet.

  “Can you come? To the hospital I mean? He wants to see you.”

  He nodded like a dunce, rendered speechless by how his life had imploded yet again just when he’d dared have some faith in a positive, if convoluted, outcome.

  “You still there?” She sucked in a breath. “Listen, it’s…not good. And he wants to talk to you, I guess. I’m trying to get his father to … oh, never mind.”

  Jace grabbed Anton’s leg and looked straight at Dom, as if he sensed something bad looming on the horizon.

  “I’ll be there,” he finally croaked out, focused on his son’s face.

  He sat clutching the device.

  “What’s up?” Kieran walked over him, cradling the baby to his neck.

  “It’s Kent. I have to go…um…to the hospital.”

  “Oh, okay. I should let Cara know, too.”

  “I don’t know what I’m gonna do with….” He gestured at Jace, who merely gazed at him, his expression eerily calm. When he glanced over at Anton, Dom noted that the man did seem exhausted and much older than he had a few months ago.

  “You want to come home with me, Jace? Me and baby Frankie?” Kieran didn’t try to touch the kid. But Jace let go of Anton’s hand and sidled over to Kieran. “Good, that’s settled then. Daddy, will you grab his seat out of your truck?”