Andrew’s throat tightened. “It’s all right. I’m here now.”
“I’m sorry I lost my way, Boston. Andrew. Whatever the hell you’re calling yourself these days.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, call me Boston if you want. I just kept Andrew because Mom used to call me that. I miss her. She made the name Andrew feel like it stood for something wonderful and I—”
“I miss her too. I miss her so goddamned much.” Reese nodded. He wiped his face with a napkin and glanced away.
“We’re starting over from right now.” Andrew cleared his throat. “I’ll even watch a Red Sox game with you if you want. When is baseball season?”
“Don’t strain yourself, son.” Reese cuffed Andrew’s upper arm lightly. “It’s baseball season now. That’s why they call it ‘spring training.’”
“Oh, yeah. They’re the boys of summer, right? It ends with the October classic.”
Reese stared at him. “Right.”
“Got it.” Andrew laughed. “I don’t pay attention to sports, but in the spirit of camaraderie, I’ll start cheering for the Boston Red Sox. I’ll Google the standings tonight.”
“How can you even be my son?”
“The face doesn’t lie, old man.”
“No.” Reese sighed happily. “It doesn’t, does it?”
“You have a half year’s work ahead of you in there.”
“I know.”
“Are you going to do it?”
“I am. I’ll put Pam on speed dial. Are you going to help?”
Andrew searched his face for clues. “Do you want my help?”
“Yes. I do. I’m asking for it.” Reese swallowed. “Will you help me clean up the house?”
Andrew grinned happily. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Reese grinned back. “You and me both.”
They sat in cozy silence until Eddie opened the slider and came out to join them. “Chicken’s on. Dinner is about fifteen minutes away.”
“Salad, Dad?” Andrew offered his father some salad and then scooped some onto Eddie’s plate. It was fresh crisp greens and grape tomatoes, bits of carrot, and broccoli and sliced cucumbers.
Reese said, “I can’t remember the last time anyone cooked in our kitchen. Smells good.”
“It’s just chicken and rice. Don’t tell my mother, but I take a lot of shortcuts. Her chicken and rice takes hours.”
“You two must be exhausted.” Reese poured a glass of wine for each of them, and they raised their glasses in silent appreciation.
“I am tired. I have to be ready for my ducklings tomorrow. The roots of education are bitter, but the fruit is sweet.”
Reese smiled. “Aristotle.”
Eddie met Andrew’s gaze. “Eat your salad.”
Andrew winked and picked up his fork. Together, the three of them polished off the salad, and when Eddie brought the main dish out to the patio, they made short work of that too.
When they returned the plates to the house, Eddie and Andrew would have started the dishes, but Reese stopped them.
“I remember how to wash dishes.” He pushed the younger men aside. “I need to turn over a new leaf here. There’s only a pot and a couple of plates. You two run along.”
“Are you going to be okay here?” Andrew asked, glancing around once again. “We made up the bed in the dining room, but if you’re not comfortable there, or it gets too hot in the morning—”
“I’ll be fine, Andrew,” Reese assured him. “I’ll be more comfortable there than I’ve been in a long time.”
“We could put up blinds instead of the sheers.”
“I’ll be fine.” Reese ushered Andrew and Eddie to the sliding door. “You’ll still have to go out through the yard, I’m afraid.”
“It’s early days,” said Eddie.
Reese’s brows drew together. “Thank you again, Eddie. For everything.”
“You’re welcome, Reese.” Eddie held his hand out, and Reese used it to pull him into a bear hug.
“Don’t be an idiot. We’re a hugging family.”
“All right.” Eddie let go with a light laugh. “I’ll remember that.”
“Night, Dad.” Andrew pulled his father into a warm hug. “I’ll talk to you during the week.”
“Call anytime.” Reese waved as they made their way to the side yard and out through the gate.
Andrew was uncharacteristically silent as Eddie walked him to his car. “You okay?”
“I wish we didn’t have two cars.”
“Are you all right to drive?”
“Sure. One glass of wine with dinner is fine. I sipped.”
“Then—”
“I want you to come home with me.”
“Sure.” Eddie thumbed Andrew’s lower lip. “No problem.”
“Follow me in your car?”
“Happy to.” Eddie held the door open for him, but Andrew didn’t get in right away. “What?”
“We did everything exactly right.”
“What do you mean?”
“My dad was so happy. Did you see?” Andrew’s eyes glittered in the glow of the streetlight. “That was amazing.”
“Yeah, it was.”
“Without you, I’d have done everything wrong. Without you, I’d have ruined things between us, maybe for good.”
“That’s not true. I’m sure it’s not. He loves you. He just needs time to work through some things.”
“I just want you to know how glad I am you’re in my life, Eddie Vasquez.” Andrew gripped his lapels and pulled him down for a scorching, passionate kiss. “Follow me home?”
“Anywhere.” Eddie took Andrew’s face between his hands. His touch felt featherlight—sensuous and caring. He placed delicate kisses on the corners of Andrew’s lips, the ridges of his cheekbones, the underside of his jaw, his earlobes.
“See you at my place?”
“Sure. You know, in my neighborhood someone would have whistled at us by now or thrown a shoe, but here in Reese’s buttoned-up cul-de-sac, it’s eerily quiet.”
"Don't you feel all those eyes watching from behind people’s blinds?”
Eddie glanced around. “Reese’s neighbors sure are nosy.”
“Kiss me like that again.” Andrew’s smile was lazy and sweet. “Let’s give them something to talk about.”
Once they got to Andrew’s house, by mutual, unspoken agreement, Eddie and Andrew headed for the shower together.
Eddie had a change of clothes with him, so he dropped his sweaty work clothes onto the floor by Andrew’s hamper. Andrew climbed into the tub/shower combo first to adjust the water temperature.
Steam billowed out from behind the silky shower curtain. Eddie could see the silhouette of Andrew’s body behind it. His heart did a cheerful flip when Andrew pulled the curtain aside and invited him in with a crook of his finger.
Eddie stepped over the side of the tub and maneuvered up behind Andrew. Once again he marveled at the man’s perfection—he was lean and well muscled, exactly the right size.
Eddie rubbed his rough chin over the soft silk of Andrew’s damp hair and said so. “You fit me perfectly.”
Andrew turned in his arms. “C’mere, you.”
Happily, Eddie leaned in for a kiss. Andrew wound his arms around Eddie’s neck, and Eddie tightened his around Andrew’s waist. They devoured each other beneath the spray.
Andrew’s thickening erection bumped and nuzzled a greeting as it hardened against Eddie’s thigh. Eddie was only vaguely aware of the air chilling his damp skin as he plundered Andrew’s mouth. He led Andrew in a half-conscious dance under the spray while they took turns scrubbing each other’s skin pink.
They rinsed, kissed, and rinsed some more. Eddie stumbled out onto the bath mat, so turned on he could hardly breathe. Andrew’s hands snaked around him from behind. His cock insinuated itself between Eddie’s thighs.
“Oh yeah,” Eddie whispered, holding still for him. “How do you want me?”
“Any way you wan
t.” Andrew’s light laughter ghosted over Eddie’s back. “Every way.”
Eddie grabbed a towel and turned around, looping it over Andrew’s shoulders to catch him. “Gotcha.”
“Yes, you’ve got me.” Andrew’s eyes held a mischievous twinkle. “Exactly where I want you.”
“Where’s that?” Eddie asked. “Tell me what you need.”
“It’s true.” Andrew searched his expression. “You only lead on the dance floor.”
“I guess.” Eddie’s face heated. “Is that going to be a problem?”
“Hardly.” Andrew led Eddie to his bedroom and pushed him down on the bed.
Heart thundering, Eddie rolled over and drew his knees up, presenting his tight ass for Andrew’s inspection. Andrew did better than just look at him; he thumbed Eddie’s ass cheeks apart and tickled the delicate skin with a barrage of quick little kisses. He lapped and sucked, driving his tongue into Eddie’s tight heat while Eddie flailed and warbled helplessly into the pillow.
A quick grab for lube and condoms, a brief time-out for preparation, and then Andrew pushed his cock deep inside Eddie’s clenching heat. He spread his hands on Eddie’s rosy, passion-stained back, tracing his muscles, his sheer goddamn perfection with eager fingers.
Eddie pushed back, as eager as a boy with his first lover. He held himself taut against the rigid invasion, shivering every time Andrew’s cock grazed his sweet spot. Pleasure so piercingly sweet he could hardly bear it consumed him. He was all opposites: hot and cold, giving and taking, weak and strong.
Fearless and apprehensive.
Andrew gave him too much. He was too perfect. Nothing this good could last, and yet, he wouldn’t trade it, not ever, not for anything in the world.
Spots of color danced behind Eddie’s eyelids as tension built in his gut. A searing ball of bliss erupted from his loins, blazing like fire, shooting thick, hot ribbons of cum from his cock, spattering the sheets, his thighs, his abs. A jolt of pure pleasure rolled through him, weakening his muscles enough to drop him like a marionette whose strings had been cut.
He lay beneath Andrew, thoroughly fucked, thoroughly exhausted, and still he met each of Andrew’s thrusts with thrilling anticipation.
Yours, yours, yours.
I was made for this, Eddie thought. Made to give just one man all the pleasure he can bear—and the man I choose is B. Andrew Daley.
Eddie thanked his stars, his ancestors, his God for what he’d found with Andrew.
Yours, yours, yours.
“God, sweetheart.” Andrew gripped Eddie’s shoulders with both hands and froze, rigid in his extremity, sobbing his pleasure out loud. “Eddie. God, Eddie.”
Eddie felt each tremble of Andrew’s muscles over him, each pulse of his quickening cock inside him like a roll of thunder.
“God.” Andrew collapsed over him, sticky with sweat. His bristly chin rubbed between Eddie’s shoulder blades. Andrew’s heart thudded against Eddie’s back, a deep, rhythmic, slowing pace as he regained control. It went from the boom-boom-boom of timpani to the gentle thud, thud of simple human connection.
“I love you,” Eddie said simply. “I suppose next to the poems and plays and masterpieces of fiction I could quote, that’s not saying much. I suppose—”
“Hush.” Andrew covered Eddie’s mouth with his fingers and then his lips. After a long, slow kiss, he whispered, “I love you too.”
Chapter 29
Eddie tapped lightly on the door. “Mrs. Henderson?” He called her name softly in case she was asleep.
“Come in.” Mrs. Henderson sounded lucid. Eddie hoped they’d come on one of her good days. He opened the door and poked his head into the room.
“Hi, Mrs. H.”
She sat on her bed, crocheting automatically while she watched Wheel of Fortune on the tiny television mounted on the wall. She was dressed in some kind of blue cotton housecoat. It looked modest enough, but Eddie still asked if she felt up to visitors.
Her hands went still. “Visitors?”
“I brought a friend of mine.” Eddie leaned over and kissed her cheek, then waved Reese into Mrs. Henderson’s small room. “How are you feeling today?”
“I feel quite well, thank you, Mr. Vasquez. How are Lourdes and the children?”
“I’m Eddie. Remember?” He saw this confused her, so he didn’t press the issue.
“Do I know you?” she asked Reese.
“Uh, no.” Reese put down the box of books he was carrying and offered his hand. “I’m Reese Daley, ma’am. I’m a friend of—”
Eddie interrupted. “Reese’s son is a teacher at Taft.”
“Your son is a teacher? How lovely.” She picked up the remote and turned the television off. “I work at Taft. Mr. Vasquez’s son is one of my students.”
“I know,” said Reese. “Eddie told me you’re his favorite teacher.”
“Eddie owes Mrs. H. everything,” Eddie said quietly.
“Oh, now.” She laughed that off. “It’s easy to teach such a smart boy. Do you know if Phil is coming? I should pack my things. I need to get back to work. I don’t know what people must think.”
“I haven’t heard anything about that,” Eddie said uncomfortably.
“Do you like books, Mrs. Henderson?” Reese picked up his box and stepped forward.
“Yes, I do.” Her smile was a little lopsided. It quavered on her lips as she spoke. “Very much.”
“I used to have a bookstore, but I had to close it down when the economy went south.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Eddie—Mr. Vasquez told me this place has a lending library? I thought maybe the owner would like some donations.”
“That’s very thoughtful. There’s hardly a library here. Just a shelf or two of loaner books in the television room, but I’m sure they can always use new titles. Most of the books out there are romances.”
“Could you show us?” Eddie asked. “We could put these out there on the shelf.”
Mrs. H. rose from her bed and shuffled out into the hallway. The group home where Bill Laurence had placed her was simply a very large house in a nice neighborhood. It had been remodeled so the three bedrooms downstairs formed six tiny private rooms with twin beds and visitor chairs. The living room had six recliners facing a large flat-screen television.
The residents ate in the dining room at a table like a family or sometimes off TV trays in the living room. A smaller recreation room contained easels and card tables for painting, crafts, and games.
Eddie had met the owner, who lived upstairs. There was also an office up there, and a break room for staff.
All six residents—men and women—had varying memory disorders. Some, like Mrs. H., seemed lucid and interacted with visitors and staff, and some sat staring into space.
Eddie had gotten the idea to bring them books while he, Reese, and Andrew worked to pare down Reese’s massive collection. He knew Mrs. H. would appreciate them. She might even enjoy a visit from Reese every so often, and God knew Reese needed to stop isolating himself in such an unhealthy way. Eddie figured asking Reese to focus on helping someone else might get his mind off his own troubles for a while.
Seeing Mrs. Henderson might also put his problems into perspective.
Reese put the box down by the half-empty bookshelves Mrs. Henderson showed him. The books there were mostly battered paperbacks. Some were falling apart. “Reese brought mysteries this time, but if there are other books you think you’d like, I’ll bet he can get anything. Classics, horror, cookbooks…”
“I love mysteries.” She watched Reese open the box like a child waiting for a Christmas present. “What did you bring?”
“I think I have some Agatha Christie in here, some Ruth Rendell, and P.D. James. Oh, here’s The Maltese Falcon.”
“Dashiell Hammett refers to Sam Spade as a blond Satan.” Mrs. H. reached out for the book. “My Phil used to have blond hair.”
“I’ve never read that one,” Eddie said. “I
saw the movie though. Humphrey Bogart, right?”
“Yes.” She held the book in both hands like a baby bird.
“I’ll just put these on the shelves.” Reese went to work, organizing. Once a bookseller, always a bookseller.
Mrs. H.’s gaze didn’t lift. “I wish I had my reading glasses.”
“You don’t?” Eddie asked. “Didn’t Bill bring them for you?”
“I’ll be fine once Phil comes to get me. I only wear the cheap half-glasses you buy at the drugstore. I crochet by feel but to read, I need glasses or mile-long arms.”
“I can go get you some,” Eddie offered. “Do you know what strength?”
“What strength?” She frowned at that.
“I’ll just get a few and keep the receipt, and you can see which ones work.”
She seemed surprised by this. “You’d do that for me?”
“Of course. I can do that right now, if you like, so you can get started on your book.”
“Mr. Vasquez! You’re very kind. No wonder Eddie is such a good boy.”
“I’d be happy to read your book aloud while we’re waiting, Mrs. Henderson,” said Reese. “I haven’t read Hammett in years.”
Eddie turned to Reese, surprised. “Really?”
“It will be my pleasure. Though I can’t promise I’ll do the book justice.”
“I’d be delighted to hear you read, Reese.” Mrs. Henderson’s surprise turned to pleasure. “I like to listen to people read aloud and I’m sure you’ll read wonderfully.”
“I hate to miss this.” Eddie turned to Reese. “But if you’re sure you’ll be all right here for a bit.”
Reese pulled a chair up next to one of the recliners. “We’ll be fine here, won’t we, Mrs. Henderson?”
“Call me Dot, for heaven’s sake.”
Reese smiled. “Dot and I will be fine.”
“Is there anything you’d like me to bring you besides the reading glasses?” asked Eddie. “Is there anything else you need from the store?”
“I would very much like to have a manicure kit. I’ve been neglecting my nails. Phil will think I’ve been digging in the garden here.”
“Got it,” Eddie spoke into his phone. “Manicure kit.”
Eddie: Grime Doesn't Pay (The Brothers Grime Book 2) Page 23
