Safe House

by Charley Descoteaux

  They passed through a pretty but not overdone sunroom, or maybe it would be called a four-season porch, and into the cozy kitchen. Done in medium maple and rich, sunny yellow, the kitchen probably would have felt warm and welcoming in any other circumstances. Minnie stopped near a breakfast nook—two wooden benches padded with a yellow patterned fabric—but before she’d completely turned to them, Bran stalked to the counter. He stared at an empty bottle of wine for a few seconds before lifting it from the counter.

  “I thought this was reserved for a special occasion?”

  Kyle wasn’t a big wine drinker, but the label looked old and pretentious enough that he believed Minnie might have been saving it for a long time.

  Bran turned a little green, obviously thinking he knew what the occasion had been.

  “Sit, and we can discuss it.”

  That didn’t improve Bran’s color or his expression, but he carefully placed the bottle back on the counter and sat where Minnie indicated. When he’d scooted in to sit at the window, Minnie gestured for Kyle to sit beside him. Kyle wasn’t sure he wanted to be between Bran and his escape route, but wasn’t about to argue. Finally, Minnie had Ken sit across from Bran and sat beside him.

  “Thank you, gentlemen.”

  She shot a look toward Bran that Kyle interpreted as gratitude wrapped in a warning, but it had been a long time since he’d seen a mom giving a look, so he could have been wrong.

  “Ken offered to drive me home, so of course I invited him inside. We got to talking….”

  “And Minnie graciously offered me her spare bedroom for the night to keep me off the road after we enjoyed the lovely bottle of wine.” Ken gazed fondly at Minnie, but Kyle didn’t see any heat there. He hoped Bran got the same idea.

  Kyle watched as Bran looked back and forth between Minnie and Ken. He went from angry to confused. “So no occasion, then?”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t say that, sweetheart.” Minnie looked between Brandon and Kyle, and her smile might have turned a bit misty.

  “Mom.” Bran sounded like a fifteen-year-old, and it made both Kyle and his father smile. Kyle tried to keep his own on the subdued side, but Ken made no such effort.

  “Don’t you think I’m allowed to be happy for my own son?”

  “Sure, Mom. Thanks….”

  “Don’t look so surprised. What do you think we were talking about all day and half the night?” Minnie leaned her shoulder against Ken’s, and he wrapped an arm around her.

  Bran stiffened, but when Ken only kissed her forehead in a decidedly brotherly manner and then pulled away, he relaxed. He gazed out the window until Minnie spoke again, and then he politely gave her his attention.

  “I’ve heard so much about you, Kyle, but I didn’t want to interfere. So I monopolized your father instead.”

  Kyle had no response for that. He stared dumbly until Bran nudged him with his knee. “Um, heard from whom?”

  Minnie nodded her approval. “Paulie. He’s such a lovely young man, volunteering at the senior center. He always has something good to say, and when he doesn’t, he says nothing at all.”

  Ken cleared his throat, and Kyle tried to brace himself, but he really didn’t know what else he could possibly say that would make the day any more tense. “We discussed our estates, to be sure you would be provided for in the event—”

  “Dad.” Kyle was so surprised when Ken quieted that it took him a moment to continue. “Dad, please. You promised you’d stop talking about that kind of thing. You’re retiring, that’s it.”

  Minnie huffed. “That’s it? It’s a big step. I think he’s earned the right to discuss it with his own son.”

  “Yes. I apologize. I only meant that he keeps talking like….”

  “And that bothers you. Of course it does. Ken, have a heart. Don’t talk about that now.” She glanced at Ken and then studied Kyle for a long moment. “I see what you mean.”

  Kyle didn’t want to know, so he was grateful when Ken rudely checked his watch. “It’s getting late.”

  Minnie giggled—a lovely sound. It took Kyle by surprise. “You two slept in much later than we’d anticipated.”

  She winked, and Bran blushed. Kyle moved his thigh against Bran’s, and his blush deepened. Kyle realized they were engaged in a very strange conversation, but for the most part he was relieved it hadn’t gone sour. He wasn’t sure how he would have felt if his dad and Bran’s mom had done more than drink wine and talk.

  God, I’m glad I wasn’t a fly on the wall for that.

  “And it’s about time too. Both of you have been lonely for too long.”

  Kyle only kept from choking on his next breath because he couldn’t get his lungs to work. “What—what is it getting late for, Dad?”

  “Dinner at Buchanan House. I’ll drive Minnie down, and you two can have a few more minutes to yourselves. We—”

  “There’s no dinner planned for tonight.”

  “Yes, there is.” Ken sounded so smug it threatened to start Kyle laughing. It might not have been completely inappropriate, but he feared if he started, he wouldn’t be able to stop.

  Minnie and Ken looked at each other like two mischievous kids, grinning and snickering under their breath. Ken dipped his chin, and Minnie took her cue.

  “It’s another chef potluck, but all of your favorites. Both of you. If you two had still insisted on being stubborn, that would have been another way to get you into the same room. To push you together. I’m not clear on all the details, but Paulie assured us it wouldn’t be necessary in the end, and he was correct.”

  If Paulie had been in the room, Kyle would have hugged him. Kyle had never been so happy that his friends ignored what he said in favor of helping him get what he wanted. He wasn’t sure exactly when he had gone from a vague feeling of hope to the impression he’d won some sort of prize, but Kyle was inclined to trust the feeling. Maybe because Paulie seemed so sure, or maybe he wanted to be settled down so badly he was seeing things that weren’t really there.

  Only one way to find out, though, and that’s to give it an honest shot at succeeding. Looks like I’m in.

  Minnie stood and said she would get her wrap, but instead she moved closer to Kyle. She rested a hand on his shoulder and looked into his eyes. “I’m glad you were both able to put aside whatever it was that got in the way before. Do everyone in this room a favor and don’t let it get in the way anymore.” She touched his cheek and then bent to kiss it softly. Her lips felt dry and warm, and when she brushed her thumb across his cheekbone, in what had to be an automatic gesture since she wasn’t even wearing any lipstick, he teared up. Such a motherly thing to do.

  All Kyle could do was nod. She smiled and then left the kitchen. Bran scooted toward him, and it took a second for Kyle to realize he wanted to stand. He considered keeping Bran trapped against the window until their parents had a chance to leave, but only for a moment. Bran and Ken had to face each other sooner or later, so Kyle stood and gave them the space to do so without the table—or Minnie—between them.

  Ken didn’t hesitate—he stepped up to Bran and extended his hand.

  Oh, God, they’re the same height. Get out of my head, Sigmund.

  “I’m so pleased to finally meet you properly, Brandon.”

  They shook, and Bran nodded. He mumbled something that could have been a greeting but seemed completely at a loss for words until Minnie and Ken had left.

  “Do you believe that?” Bran laughed. “It’s like they were separated at birth.” He grabbed Kyle into his embrace.

  “Yeah. I think we’re in a little trouble with those two.”

  “I can handle it if you can.”

  Sooner than he would have expected—sooner than he would have chosen—Bran let him go. “Sit with me a moment?”

  “Okay.”

  Bran slid into the seat and leaned his back against the wall. When Kyle sat, Bran rested one arm on the back of the bench seat behind him and took his hand. He might have been about to speak
, but Kyle stole a kiss before he could. Kyle meant it to be quick and chaste, but it quickly deepened to sweet and hot. If they hadn’t had somewhere to be, it would have been the start of something much hotter.

  Kyle had to come up for air, but Bran didn’t seem to have that problem. Bran kissed Kyle’s neck, then moved his shirt aside to nibble on the skin over his collarbone. “Did you grow up in this house?”

  Bran snickered, his lips against Kyle’s skin. Goose bumps rose along Kyle’s arms, and he had to grip Bran tighter to keep from sliding off the bench and onto the floor.

  “Stay with me tonight?”

  “At the safe house? Are you working in the morning?” Kyle shuddered and groaned when Bran ran a hand down his side, gripped his hip, and pulled him closer. He clearly felt Bran’s nod. “I’ll have to leave early, but yeah.”

  “Oh—do you have a class tomorrow?” Bran pulled away far enough to look into Kyle’s eyes and frowned lightly.

  “Yeah, but not until one. I’ll see if Dad minds staying over another night. Something tells me he won’t.” Kyle grinned and was both sad and relieved when his dick relaxed a bit.

  “It’s okay if—”

  “I want to. If I didn’t have school, I probably wouldn’t go back at all.” Kyle slid his palm along Bran’s jaw. He didn’t have a beard, not exactly, but it was more than scruff. Damn sexy.

  “Damn….” Bran sighed and straightened, putting a little distance between them. He took a couple of slow, deep breaths, which didn’t help Kyle’s libido calm down. “I wish I wasn’t so hungry. I’d rather go back to the safe house than to the camp.”

  Kyle didn’t want to walk into the dining room at Buchanan House fully erect, and he didn’t think they had time to take care of it beforehand, so he tried to concentrate on food. “So what will be waiting when we get there? Besides some spicy chili.”

  “Kung pao something.”

  “Sounds good. We can work it off later.” Kyle grinned and slid backward out of his seat.

  Chapter Fifteen

  BRAN’S DAY had started with the routine that had formed while he and Kyle took care of the business of their separate lives—a sweet conversation as they both prepared for their day—but his pleasure at talking about everything and nothing with the lovely and brilliant man he’d fallen for was short-lived.

  A few hours later, Bran raced up the hill and braked hard in front of his mother’s house. He threw the car in park, killed the engine, and tossed the keys onto the passenger seat. For a long few minutes, he sat looking straight ahead out the front windshield but seeing something else entirely. Something he wanted to unsee but knew he never would. He had been in the same situation before—parked in front of his mother’s driveway, struggling to compose himself before going inside and letting her do what she could to help. Each time he’d vowed not to do it again, not to bring his turmoil to her doorstep. She never voiced a word of complaint—and he knew she never would—but she’d earned a little peace, and he intended to allow her to enjoy it.

  A soft knock on the passenger window startled a shout from him, but Minnie didn’t flinch. She mimed rolling down the window. After a moment, Bran retrieved the keys and rolled the window down.

  “Please come inside.”

  “Give me a minute.” Bran tried his best not to bark the words out, but he didn’t think he managed very well.

  “No. Come inside.” Her expression said she’d already heard about what had happened on the highway. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise—she was bound to hear about it sooner or later—but he’d underestimated the speed of her network. Minnie nodded and went back inside.

  Bran tried to take a deep, calming breath, but instead of relaxing, he felt like he was about to throw up. He slowly got out of the car and closed the driver’s door, catching sight of himself in the side window. His hair was too long, wild, and matted with drying blood, his eyes wide in his pale face. It surprised him that his uniform shirt was barely speckled with dark red drops. He felt coated in blood and gore and grime.

  He unbuttoned his shirt as he walked up the driveway, each step more difficult than the one before. The thought of curling up on the porch for a good long while skittered through his brain, but he couldn’t grab on to it. All he could focus on was the accident.

  Minnie met him in her tiny foyer. “I’ve left some of your grubbies in the bathroom. Have a shower and meet me in the kitchen.”

  Bran watched her go. He took off his shoes and socks and stopped in her spare bedroom on his way to the bathroom. She used the room for her sewing machine and other assorted craft supplies, and Bran found a box of trash bags in the closet. He dropped the shoes in, and as he stripped off his uniform, he stuffed it in the bag as well. His badge, radio, and service weapon had already been returned to the department.

  The water turned cold, but he still didn’t feel clean. He remained beneath the cold spray until his jaw started throbbing from all the shivering. When the towel he used to dry his hair only came away wet and not red, he breathed a sigh of relief that ended with him sitting on the closed lid of the toilet with his head between his knees. He stayed that way until he was reasonably sure his legs would support his weight, then pulled on the jeans and T-shirt his mother had left for him and slowly left the bathroom.

  Minnie looked up from where she was sitting at the nook but didn’t stand or speak. In front of her was a pot of tea and a bottle of whisky. The crown-shaped bottle sat with its purple velvet pouch pooled around it like a pair of trousers puddled around a man’s ankles. Bran shook his head but sat across from her. He watched as she poured two shots and slid one in front of him.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Mom.”

  “Suit yourself.” Minnie downed her own shot in a quick, practiced motion and regarded him across the table.

  “I did it. I retired.”

  “Yes, I heard.” She poured a cup of tea and stirred a bit of local honey in before pushing it toward him. “I’m sorry you had to be there for that, honey. I wish you hadn’t had to see—”

  “It’s okay, Mom. I’ll be fine.”

  “You’re not, and the longer you insist on lying about it, the worse you’re bound to feel.” Minnie moved to the bench beside Bran and rubbed his shoulder.

  He didn’t want to give in to everything he was feeling, so he resisted the urge to lean into her touch.

  “Sweetheart.” Minnie tucked a piece of hair behind Bran’s ear and gently turned his head so he faced her. “I spoke to Roger, and the family are all expected to live. I know that won’t erase—”

  “Honestly?” Bran’s body began to shake even more violently than when he’d been under the cold water. When Minnie wrapped her arms around him, he leaned against her as much as he dared. Before he realized it would happen, a few tears trickled down his cheeks.

  “Yes. The father and the two children in the car, as well as the little boy who ran into the street. Everyone will be fine.”

  “That’s good. Those kids, they shouldn’t have had to see….”

  “I agree. It’s a horrible trauma for them to have to live with. But it could have ended in tragedy. If help had been farther away….”

  “I’m not going back.”

  “No, that’s right, you’re not. It’s done. The rest of your life belongs to you, Brandon.”

  Bran straightened and looked out the kitchen window. All he saw was his own fear—fear of an uncertain future, of letting someone down by not being there when he could have helped them. Fear of time. That he had too much, and that he wouldn’t have enough.

  The sound of a heavy glass sliding across the table brought Bran’s attention back to the present, to what was happening right in front of him. Minnie lifted the shot glass she’d poured for him and sipped. He looked from her to the bottle.

  “No, you’re right, you don’t need that. Take a little time to collect yourself, and then drive into Portland. Go see Kyle.”

  The mention of his name made Bran�
��s scalp tingle. It had been almost two weeks since they’d been able to see each other, and he felt the lack of Kyle’s touch like an illness.

  “You’ve been talking?”

  “Yes. Two or three times a day.” Bran felt a little grin tickle at the corner of his mouth while his cheeks heated. “He’s in class all day today.”

  “By the time you get out there, it should be suppertime. He has to eat sometime. So do you. You should do it together.”

  “I don’t want to bring this to Kyle. It’s not fair.”

  Minnie frowned and sipped again from the shot glass. “Life isn’t fair. At his age, I doubt he still expects it to be any more than you do.”

  “His mother was killed in a car accident.”

  “Yes, that was a tragedy. Ken told me about it and about her. Don’t sell Kyle short. Don’t you think he wants to help you through this? Don’t you think he will be glad to learn you’ve retired and won’t be putting yourself in danger every day?”

  “Mom. It’s not dangerous here.”

  “It was dangerous for you today.” Minnie tossed back the last of the whisky and slammed the glass down onto the table. Gingerly, she pushed it away, but the determined set of her mouth didn’t change. “Frankly I’m surprised you kept with it this long. I expected you to—”

  “To quit?”

  “No, dear. I expected you to realize the job didn’t suit you well and become an educator as you’d planned.” Minnie sighed, looped her arm through Bran’s, and rested her head on his shoulder. “Even as a little boy, you wanted to teach. The other boys played war or cowboys or whatever it was, and you held classes for your stuffed animals and action figures. Your father would have hated the idea of you going into law enforcement.”

  Bran sighed. “I know. I almost didn’t, for that reason.”

  “Don’t misunderstand me. He would be proud.” Minnie squeezed his arm and leaned against him a little more heavily. “You’ve done so much good, helped so many people—but largely at your own expense. It doesn’t have to be that way. You can give to others without shortchanging yourself, sweetheart.”