by BA Tortuga
“I’m just making sure you’re okay, baby girl.” Lord, tears stung his eyes at the idea that he’d made her so unhappy.
“I’m fine. I’m married, I’m on my honeymoon, and I’m… I’m great. Mom’s not, FYI. She’s losing her mind.”
“I haven’t seen her yet. I will after breakfast. I’m sorry, Stevie.” He was abject. He would grovel.
“I— No one was into this wedding, you know? It wasn’t going to be the day I dreamed about, so I talked to Jesse, and we decided to just make it our day.”
“I’m glad you did it your way, kiddo. I wanted to be there. I did. But you needed to have something you could look back on and not want to kick people, so I’m tickled.”
“Thanks.” She sniffed. “Will you do a party with me when we get home?”
“Fuck, yes. I’ll come to you, and we’ll do it up. Anything you want.”
“Tell Mom she can kiss my ass, though. I don’t need her shit.”
“I’ll tell her.” Yeah, right. He was totally going to tell his mother that. “I love you, hon. Turn off your phone and enjoy your honeymoon.”
“I love you. I’ll call in a few weeks.” She hung up, and he felt better. Not good, but better. At least she wasn’t going to freeze him out.
Now, his folks? Ouch.
He didn’t have anything to do with it, but he’d catch the blame. He was the one who was here.
He went to the bathroom, and Michael was sitting on the side of the bed once he came back, rubbing his face and yawning.
“Morning. I—I ordered breakfast, if that’s okay.”
“Oh, well, thank you.” God, look at that smile. It threatened to blind him, to burn him to the ground.
He hummed, his fingers twitching, wanting his guitar. Michael made music want to come out of him.
“The girls will love you forever.”
“Tiny said he knew their favorites.” He hoped that was true or he’d be a zero, not a hero.
“Oh, I have one spicy child and a sweet one.”
So, he’d done good.
“They’re adorable.” Last night was a little fuzzy, but he did remember the ice cream sundae.
“That’s what they tell me.” Michael’s grin was more than a little goofy. “They’re good kids. I intend to keep them.”
“I—so, Rhi…?” How fucking awkward. How did your wife die?
“She died of a blood clot, basically right after the twins were born. It was totally unexpected. No warning. She was there one second, gone the next.”
“Jesus.” He held out his hand, wanting Michael to know how sorry he was, but not wanting to spout stupid platitudes.
“Yeah. It was a shock.” Michael said the words like he’d repeated them, over and over.
“I bet.” When Michael took his hand, he squeezed. “But you’re doing a good job, I can tell.”
“I have to. They are my whole life.”
God, that was sad. “No one else?” That was even sadder, that he would ask that. Simon felt like an asshole.
“No. I mean, a couple of not-even-one-nighters, but that’s it. I’ve been busy.”
“Looks like it.” Accountant school. Kids. A beagle. Life went on.
“It’s not exciting world tours, but it’s the basic shit that makes the world go round, right?”
“World tours can be cool, but yeah. A little thing can make the world so much brighter.”
“There you go. And I have two huge things.”
“Yeah.” He had, uh, hit records and awards, which were great, but they didn’t keep you company or really keep you on your toes…
“So, what’s your favorite place? I mean, you must go and go.” Michael sat next to him, head tilting as the door opened.
“Daddy! Haley’s in! We’re playing in the yard.”
“Okay. I’ll holler when breakfast comes.” Michael nudged him with one shoulder, being painfully careful. “Favorite place?”
“Huh?” He wasn’t following, but he’d been watching that sweet mouth move.
“What’s your favorite place, man? You’ve been all over the world.”
“Oh! Uh.” He pondered that. “I love Rome. It’s got this light… And Jackson Hole is amazing.” He stole a glance. “So…you’re not in Texas anymore.”
It wasn’t really a question.
“No. No, I have a place in Carbondale. We moved there when Rhi found out she was pregnant.”
“Yeah? That’s not far, right? Over by Glenwood?”
“In between Aspen and Glenwood, yes. You would have passed right by.”
“Wow. It’s a gorgeous area.” He meant it. The mountains were just wow.
“It is. It’s a good place to raise kids.”
“Yeah.” He sat there, wanting to touch, to see if Michael still felt the same. “I’ll never forget our time together, you know.”
“No. I won’t either. I couldn’t. It’s burned into my brain.”
“Yeah? I didn’t know if—I mean, I guess it doesn’t matter.” Simon smiled. “I appreciate all the help, though.”
Michael watched him for a second, then a light dimmed in the pretty eyes. “Of course. Anytime.”
“Hey.” He reached out again, not willing to lose that. “Hey, don’t go away wherever you went.”
“Oh, I’m just… It’s easy to forget that you’re a rock star.”
“That’s good, though.” He rubbed his thumb over the back of Michael’s hand.
“It is. Is it?” Michael’s eyes closed, like he was focused on nothing but Simon’s touch.
“Uh-huh. I like being…well, I know you’re not here because of it.” He had to lean forward, angling toward Michael’s lips.
“No. I was the one hired to—” Michael moaned softly, moving like they were drawn by gravity.
“Daddy! Daddy, breakfast is on the way!”
“Yay!” Michael pulled back, eyes open and full of regret. “Come help me set up the table.”
“Be out in a few,” Simon murmured.
“You’re still one of my best fantasies.” The words dropped between them like turds in the punchbowl as Michael left.
He sat there, stunned for a long moment. Then he eased up to get more clothes on, his whole body feeling more alive than it had only moments ago. He’d been called a fantasy a lot, but this one—it mattered.
When he got to the main room, the kids were busy clearing up the table, concentrating hard.
They were beautiful, both of them—these angels with hair like dark halos. Just the prettiest little girls, and smart and kind like their dad, dramatic and sweet and emotional like their mom.
They were singing, the three of them, in a lovely harmony. It was amazing, making his breath catch a little. He stood in the doorway, watching, knowing this song wasn’t for him to sing.
He didn’t recognize it either, the whole thing sweet, warm. Maybe Michael had written it. Lovely, either way. He wanted to join in.
He hummed, but the song ended too soon. Breakfast smelled good.
“Are you ready to eat?” Michael’s voice was like honeyed whiskey.
“I am, yeah. I hope you lovely ladies like what I got you.” He winked broadly before sitting at the table.
“If we don’t, we’ll eat it, ’cause we’ve been raised right.” Lord, that little girl was practical as anything.
“Well, that’s how I was brought up too.”
“Cool.”
The other twin—the one with wings—squealed as she opened the cloche. “Happy face pancake!”
“Your favorite!” Michael had the kindness to act surprised.
“What did you get, Mickey?” Michael asked, and Simon could see her, steeling her face against what she would find.
Then when she saw the spicy eggs, her entire body relaxed. “Oh. Wow. Thank you.”
“Not a problem at all.”
“Did you get Daddy a pecan waffle?” Chloe asked.
“I am batting a thousand. I did indeed.” And he would t
ry one himself too. He honestly couldn’t remember eating with Michael and Rhiannon. They had probably ordered pizza and fast food. This he would savor.
“Cool!” Mickey beamed at him. “Good job, Mr. Simon. Very good job.”
“Thank you.” He gave her a little bow. Let someone think he was magic, at least for a few minutes.
“Yes, very good job, thank you.” Eyes twinkling at him, Michael sat down to eat.
He syruped and buttered, then dug in, a happy noise escaping him. Oh, that was good.
“The pecans make it, right? Cuts the sweetness.” Michael beamed at him, a drop of syrup shining on his lip.
He wanted to lick it off so bad his body actually hurt physically. “Yeah. They’re, like, crunchy and a touch bitter, so it’s perfect.”
Jesus, he remembered how yielding Michael was, how gentle and nervous, yet fascinated. Rhiannon had been the one who brought them together.
She’d been fire to his black ice, to Michael’s flowing water. He suddenly missed her, but in that distant way, that fond memory way. How did Michael feel?
He had to burn with it sometimes. Simon hoped he didn’t hurt all day every day anymore.
It hadn’t been all that long after they’d had their time together, had it? Had she been pregnant already? Had she known? That was both a sweet thought and kinda weird, so he pushed it aside.
“You okay?” Chloe asked him. “You look sad.”
“I’m woolgathering. That’s all.” Get it together. This was not the time or place. “What are you two going to do today?”
Chloe bounced in her seat, almost toppling herself over. Simon couldn’t help but admire the way Michael caught her without even looking. “Well, since there’s no wedding, Daddy says we still get to stay ’til Tuesday. So we’re going to play outside, and Mr. Stoney said he was having a scavenger hunt.”
“Oh wow. That sounds so cool.”
“You could be on my team,” Chloe said.
“I bet Mr. Simon has a ton of important things to do today, honey. He’s a very important man.”
“I am?” He blinked. “My parents will want to yell at me, sure, but if it’s okay…” He looked at Michael.
“If you’re on Chloe’s team, I’ll be on Mickey’s.” Michael winked at him, even as Mickey turned her focus on him.
“Were you bad? Did you lie or something?”
“No.” He bent down to lower his voice. “I mean, I kinda was, but so were they, and we hurt my sister’s feelings, so they’ll yell at me instead of apologizing.” She seemed like a kid who could keep a guy’s secrets.
“Oh, sort of like when I hurt Chloe’s feelings and I snarl at Daddy?”
“Yes, ma’am. Sometimes we all get a little ahead of ourselves.”
That seemed something she could understand, because she nodded before munching away at her huevos.
“You didn’t cause this, you know. She was just very stressed. Your sister, I mean.” Michael was still such a peacemaker. Simon found himself wanting to rile him up a little.
“Well, if I had managed not to wreck my car into your truck, she would have been happier…”
“Yes, well… I’m going to have to get a rental until they tell me whether they can fix it.”
“I’ll help, I swear.” Now he felt like a heel again.
“We have insurance, so do you. No worries.” Michael offered him a smile. “You were the one that got hurt.”
“Do you feel better?” Chloe asked, pausing with her fork halfway to her mouth.
“I do. Thank you. I’m still sore, but it’s better.” Simon moved a little, just to prove it, his body creaking.
“Ohgoo.” She said that around her pancake, and Michael flicked her nose with the tip of his finger.
“Don’t talk with your mouth full, baby girl.”
“Sowwy.”
Mickey started giggling softly at her sister.
Michael rolled his eyes, and Simon hid behind his coffee mug. Lord, he would bet these two were a handful.
“Lord save me from girl children,” Michael intoned.
“Amen.” They had this twin thing down, speaking perfectly in time.
Simon sputtered, his belly aching while he laughed. No one ever made him laugh any more than Michael and his girls.
For a wild second, they were all sharing a moment—a simple, easy, painfully normal moment together. Simon soaked it in even as the mirth died down and they all ate, because soon enough he would have to face the music in the form of his folks. Family politics were always hard, even as easy as his parents really were.
The girls finished up, then cleared their plates. “May we go outside, Daddy? It’s so pretty, and Haley is still in the run.”
“Yep. You stay out of the way, though, okay? This is still a working ranch.”
“We’ll stay in the playhouse,” Mickey said very seriously.
Michael nodded, a warm grin on his face. “They love that thing. Stoney always puts us in the cabin with the playhouse. It’ll break my heart when they’re too big for it.”
“By then they’ll have something else for you to adore, man.” That was what his mom had always said. That they grew up too fast, but she could always find something new to love about her kids. Had that changed? He needed to talk to her, damn it.
But he wanted to hold this time with Michael a little while longer. He reached out to touch the back of Michael’s hand, needing the contact.
Michael turned his hand over, offering him more. Those pretty blue eyes dragged over him like a physical touch. “You look amazing, you know.”
“You think so? I was just thinking that about you. I feel older.” He curled his fingers around Michael’s, holding on.
“I know I look older.” Michael snorted, the sound rough and raw and charming as hell. “I look back at pictures and think, who was that guy?”
“Right?” He shook his head. “My manager keeps telling me I need a nip here and a tuck there. So far I’ve held her off by telling her it would change my voice.” He grinned a little. He wasn’t the plastic surgery type.
“Bullshit. You’re beautiful.” Michael’s words hit him like a hammer.
“Thank you.” Fire lit in the pit of his belly. He tugged Michael’s hand, wanting them to be closer together. “You feel good.”
“I feel like a dad.”
No. No, it didn’t have to be that way. “Honey, you’re amazing. You always have been. Let me show you?” He didn’t let himself think. He just pushed them back from the table so he could flow right into Michael’s lap to press his lips to Michael’s, which opened on a gasp of surprise.
Oh hell yeah. He pushed his fingers through Michael’s short hair, tilting them so the kiss could go from zero to sixty in seconds. Simon pushed his tongue into Michael’s mouth, the flavor of pecan waffle and Michael making him moan.
Michael’s body surged under his like they’d been zapped with electricity. Wild. Fucking wild. They were already rubbing together like they were cooking with gas, and his cock was hard as a rock in his pants.
“Look at you.” He groaned the words against Michael’s lips. “I want you.”
Michael nodded, hands loose on his hips.
They kissed again, then again, and Simon tried to push a hand into Michael’s loose pants.
“Have you seen—” He heard his mother’s voice through the open window. “Good Lord, who do you two belong to?”
“We don’t talk to strangers.”
“Daddy…”
“Shit.” He and Michael sprang apart, and at least he didn’t have to worry about his cock going down. His mom being there did it all for him.
“No fair,” Michael whispered before he opened the cabin door. “Can I help you, ma’am?”
“Are these your daughters?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Well, they’re lovely.” His mom peered past Michael. “Simon! There you are.” Now she frowned. “What on earth are you doing here?”
�
�Michael and I are old friends, Mom.” It was a lie, but only partially.
“Oh.” She wrung her hands a little. “I was looking for you.”
“He let me stay here last night so I wouldn’t be alone.” God, that sounded pervy.
“Oh.” His mom was really good at making that sound. “Um. When you get ready, I’d like to sit and have coffee and chat.” Her gaze flicked back and forth from him to Michael.
“I guess I—”
“It’s okay, Simon. We’ll see you later.”
“Yes, for the scavenger hunt. I remember.” He wouldn’t miss it.
“Are you sure? I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Mom actually looked sorry. Weirdo.
“No, I’m okay. Just—let me get my stuff.” He felt oddly like he was getting kicked out of heaven, but that was him being a drama llama.
“I’ll clean up from breakfast and all, man. Thank you.” Michael offered him a bittersweet smile.
“Can we talk a little later?” He knew Michael would be here a bit.
“I’m here until Tuesday at the earliest, man. We so can.”
“Good. Good. It’s so damn good to see you.” He headed for the bedroom then, to grab his stuff, and sure enough, his mom was still waiting when he made it outside.
“Good morning, son. What the hell happened out here? Do you know?”
He sighed. “Can we go sit? My ribs ache. Where’s Dad?”
“Of course. Your father is eating. He was starving and grumpy.” She lowered her voice. “I think he’s on third breakfast.”
“Is that bad?” he teased. He knew it was. His dad had a few heart problems, and Mom worried. Simon nagged Dad too, but he tried to keep it light with Mom.
“It’s just your father. You know how he is.” She looped her arm in Simon’s. “Oh, honey. It’s good to see you. I miss your face.”
He stopped to hug her, groaning a little when she squeezed. “I miss you guys too. We’ll get a cup of coffee and trade sordid tales.”
“Of course. Where’s your cabin? We’re in the one right next to the main house. It’s a lovely space, and they’re very kind.”
“They are. They’ve been super good to me. I’m the one a little ways back from everyone else. There.” He would go get a cup of coffee and munch a little more—his second breakfast, he guessed.
“The couches in the front room are soft and easy. I’ll grab our coffees. You sit.” She smiled at him, and he had a flare of true guilt. Mom could be strident and worried, but she wasn’t a damn harpy.
