Nobody’s Hero (11 page)

“It was a couple of drinks with the guys, no big deal. Besides, Mamá is sound asleep. Since when did you care about underage drinking? It’s not like you haven’t tossed a few back now and then.”

“Yeah, but I’ve never driven home after.” Danny stared pointedly at the keys still clutched in Ray’s hand. “Obviously, you did. I can’t believe you’d be so dumb.”

“It was only a few beers. I’m fine.”

“Whatever.” Danny shifted his backpack more securely over one shoulder. “I’m not in the mood to do this tonight.”

Ray grabbed his arm before he got more than a few steps.

“Hold up,” Ray said, “I wanted to talk to you.”

“About what?” He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest, suddenly tired, the events of the day and the hours in the Jeep catching up with him.

“I wanted to warn you. Don’t get too attached to the new guy.”

“His name is Brad. And why do you care? Are you worried he’ll break my heart? It’s very sweet of you, but I’m a big boy. I can handle my own love life.” He could practically taste the venom dripping off his tongue. Everything about his brother rubbed him the wrong way lately. The last thing Danny wanted was Ray’s input about his love life, especially after the scene with Rob.

“No, but you don’t want to get too close to him. There’s been talk on the job. Tools are going missing, and folks are pretty sure he’s to blame.”

“If you’re talking about the finishing nailer—”

“It’s not only the nailer,” Ray interrupted. “There have been other tools too, and they’re all from sites where he’s working.”

“That doesn’t mean anything. There are a lot of people working the same sites as Brad. You and me and Jesús.”

“Are you trying to tell me you’re stealing tools? Or Jesús, who’s been working with Papá for over a decade, suddenly decided to collect random—and extremely pawnable—tools?”

No, Jesús wouldn’t have taken anything. He’d cut off his own hand before betraying Danny’s father. “That doesn’t mean it’s Brad.”

“Have you seen his jeans?”

“What do his jeans have to do with anything?”

“He wears two-hundred-dollar jeans, yet the guy can’t afford a pair of safety glasses? Are you kidding me?”

Danny had never paid attention to Brad’s jeans, but if they were worth a couple of bills, Ray would know, the clothes whore. But still. Brad seemed too...wholesome to steal from Danny’s father.

“I don’t buy it,” Danny said. “You don’t know Brad. If you did, you’d know something like that is totally not his style. You better not be spreading any rumors.”

“I don’t have to spread it around. People are already thinking it. Papá is going to talk to Brad one of these days, you can bet on it.”

This is so not good.
Ignoring the icy sludge creeping through his intestines, Danny tried to sound casual. “Whatever. Just go don’t telling tales. Papá will figure it out, and you’ll be the douche who was wrong.”

Chapter Fourteen

He was a fucking moron. A pansy-assed pussy. Every name and slur he’d been called during his two years at Norton Academy raced through his mind and gave him a metaphorical kick to the balls of his pride. Brad turned up the volume of his iPod and increased his running speed. If the music didn’t drown out the poisonous thoughts in his head, hopefully the burning of his lungs and muscles would distract him from them.

He’d woken that morning to blinding sunlight and the humiliating memories of the previous night. First he’d had some kind of ridiculous fit and then he’d gotten all pitiful and woe-is-me and shit. No wonder Danny had told him to get over himself.
Not cool
,
Greene
,
not cool at all.
Did he have to dump all of his emotional baggage on Danny in one day? Halting at a four-way stop sign, Brad bent at the waist and tried to catch his breath while a bakery van crossed the intersection. As soon as the way was clear, he took off at the same breakneck speed as before. By his rough estimation, he’d made it about a mile and a half when the endorphins kicked in. With the chemical rush came the calmness and clear-headedness he’d been hoping for.

Danny had been exactly right. Brad could get over himself and the issues of his past, or he could let them define him. Did he want to live like a recluse, never getting close to anyone? Sure, he couldn’t be hurt that way, but would he experience any kind of happiness? He thought back through the last two years. He’d practically been a robot. He’d done what needed to be done—no more, no less—and kept to himself. The only person he’d interacted with in anything like a social way was Mr. Cavanaugh, and that had been a student-teacher thing.

Mr. Cavanaugh had tried, Brad realized. He couldn’t count the times Mr. Cavanaugh had attempted to get him to open up, to get involved. He’d thought it had been because, as Brad’s advisor, it had been Mr. Cavanaugh’s job. But maybe there had been real compassion in his eyes and voice. He’d missed it because he’d barricaded himself away from the scorn and ridicule of the students and instructors alike.

It had been Mr. Cavanaugh who had introduced him to running, which had become Brad’s escape, his ammunition against the depression that crept closer each month under the disdain and blame from his parents and the overwhelming guilt over Carson’s attack. The instructor had also introduced him to the satisfaction he could get from building something, from planning and completing a project. Hell, he might need to send Mr. Cavanaugh a thank-you note for making his years at Norton bearable.

The Ortegas were a lot like Mr. Cavanaugh, only bolder and brighter in their approach. They didn’t suggest or encourage Brad to be social and be part of the group. They pulled him in and practically made him part of the family. A family that wanted him. A family that actually
liked
him. It was fucking amazing.

Danny was right. It was time to get over himself and stop letting his past fuck up his future. Brad was smart enough to recognize it wouldn’t be easy. It wasn’t as though he could suddenly erase years of habits and survivor’s instincts. But he could start with little things. He could start with Danny. Danny’d been open about his interest from the beginning. Maybe Brad could try dating the guy. Well, that might be jumping the gun.
One step at a time.
Inviting him to hang out was a good start.

His plan set, Brad slowed his pace to an easy jog. He arrived at the Ortegas’ in time to see Mrs. Ortega trying to hold three bakery boxes in one arm while trying to open the back door of her minivan with the other. Her jumbo-sized purse slid off her shoulder, shifting the stack of boxes. The top box started to slide and Brad jumped forward, catching it before it could slip off the pile.

“Let me get that for you, Mrs. Ortega,” he said, reaching around her and opening the door. She set the boxes on the back seat and pulled the purse off her arm and set it in the foot well behind the driver’s seat.

“Thank you, Bradley.” She straightened up, the top of her head barely reaching his chin. She patted his cheek and he could smell cinnamon and maple on her hands.

“Where are you headed? And what’s in the boxes? It smells fantastic.”

“These are muffins and coffee cakes for church. There’s a gathering after the service.” Brad’s stomach growled and she grinned at him. She opened the top box and showed Brad rows of muffins inside. One looked like a standard blueberry, but the other had some kind of crumble on top. She picked out a muffin by its paper wrapper and handed it to him.

“Oh no, ma’am, that’s for your church.” Brad clasped his hands behind his back.

“Do not be silly,” she said. “Besides, it’s a new recipe. A French toast muffin. You can tell me if it is good.”

“I know it’s good,” he said, giving in and taking it from her. “I can smell how good it is.” He took a bite and groaned. “Oh, man, is there
bacon
in there? Mrs. Ortega, you are a culinary genius.”

“Good.” She looked at him for a minute. “Why are you up and running this early? You look tired.”

Brad swallowed the bite of muffin, groaning at the fabulous flavors, and leaned against the car. “I woke up early and needed to run. It helps sometimes when I have something on my mind.”

“Well, get some rest today. And eat something. You are too skinny.” She patted him on the cheek again before shutting the back door and opening the front. She slid into the minivan and waved.

Yeah, he thought as he finished the muffin, the Ortegas were something special, all right. They accepted him, and that was a gift he’d treasure.

Three hours and two loads of laundry later, Brad hauled a basket of clean clothes out of his truck. Danny sat on the bottom step of the stairs leading to Brad’s apartment with a backpack sitting next to him. He stood up, grabbed his bag and preceded Brad up the stairs to the door. “Laundromat?” Danny asked.

“I figured I might as well, since I had the time.” Brad shifted the basket to his hip so he could dig the key out of his pocket.

“You know Mamá would let you use the washer and dryer in the house.” Danny slung his backpack over one shoulder before taking the basket from Brad.

With both hands free, Brad unlocked and opened the door. He took the basket back from Danny, leading the way into his apartment.

“No way. I already feel like I’m taking advantage of you guys. There’s no reason I can’t do my laundry at City Suds.”

Danny shrugged. “Have it your way. At least you didn’t go to the one by the campus. People call it the Slosh and Wash. It’s a liquor store/laundromat combo. Ends up with some very strange people, let me tell you.”

“What’s in your bag?” Brad asked, setting his laundry on his bed. He pulled the towels off the top and set them on the little shelf in the bathroom.

“Entertainment.” Danny pulled three smallish boxes out and offered them to Brad.

Brad dumped an armful of rolled socks into a drawer and crossed the room. “DVDs?
Lord of the Rings?
” he asked, staring at the gold embossed covers.

“The extended editions,” Danny confirmed. “It’s supposed to storm this afternoon, and nothing is better on a rainy day than a movie marathon.”

Brad picked up the first box and opened it to reveal the discs and illustrated map of Middle Earth. “That’s like twelve hours of movies.”

“I know, which means we need to get started right away.”

“But I don’t have a television.”

“Ah, but you have a laptop. It’ll play movies, right?”

Brad smiled. “I guess it does. But what makes you think I would like these?”

“Don’t even try it.” Danny walked to the desk and pointed to a worn collection of Tolkien’s novels. “Books don’t look like that unless you read them a lot. And, unless you’re a purist, if you like the books, you’ll like the movies.”

“Okay, I’ll give you that.”

“Excellent. I’m going to pop some popcorn while you finish putting your clothes away, since I know there’s no way you’re going to leave the laundry on the bed until later.”

While Brad finished his laundry, Danny tossed the popcorn into the microwave and, while it did its thing, he pushed the coffee table a little farther from the couch. He set the laptop in the middle of the table, plugged it in at a nearby outlet and turned it on. He proceeded to pull the couch cushions off the couch and set them on the floor in front of the coffee table.

“What are you doing?” Brad asked, setting the laundry basket in a corner next to the bed.

“If we’re going to watch a movie on a laptop monitor, we’re going to want to be a little closer to it. It won’t work if we’re sitting on the couch. This way we can sit on the floor without our butts getting numb, and the couch itself will give us a backrest.” The microwave dinged and Danny dashed to the kitchenette to grab the popcorn.

“Want something to drink before we get started?” Brad offered. “Of course, I only have milk and water.”

“I’ve got that covered.” Danny reached into the backpack again and withdrew two cans of soda.

“I know you don’t usually do pop, but I figured this would be an exception. You’ll need a bit of caffeine to sit through twelve hours of movies.”

Danny settled onto one of the cushions and slipped the first DVD into Brad’s laptop. Brad took one look at the greasy popcorn and cold sodas and grabbed a roll of paper towels from the top of the fridge/microwave combo. He sat on the other cushion and folded two paper towels into smaller squares to act as coasters for the sodas and laid the roll of towels behind the monitor.

Danny acted like nothing had happened the night before. If he could play it cool, Brad certainly could, but it seemed wrong somehow to ignore it completely. He watched the opening scene on the monitor without really seeing it. “I wanted to apologize.”

“You don’t—”

Brad continued before Danny could complete the objection. “And to thank you. You didn’t have to bring me back last night. It never occurred to you not to...so, thanks.”

They watched Hobbit party preparations in silence. Danny grabbed Brad’s hand under the coffee table and squeezed. “You’re welcome.” He didn’t say anything else, but he didn’t release Brad’s hand, either.

Brad smiled and settled in more comfortably to watch the movie.

Chapter Fifteen

Straddling the line between “just friends” and “maybe more” with Brad was going to kill Danny. He stood up and stretched. Four hours sitting on the floor, even with the padding of a couch cushion, had knotted every muscle in his back. Watching movies had seemed like such a good idea. Low-pressure. Yeah, right. He’d spent more time watching Brad than the movie, and he was pretty sure he’d given himself whiplash jerking his head back to the computer monitor when Brad had almost caught him staring. The movie wasn’t cutting it. He needed a distraction. His stomach growled.

Brad looked up from where he was slipping the disc back into its cardboard packaging. “Hey, why don’t we order pizza? I said I’d take you out tonight, but since we’re spending the day in, let me treat for lunch.” He looked at the time on the bottom of his computer monitor. “Or lupper,” he corrected.

“Lupper?”

“Yeah, it’s what you get when you combine lunch and supper. Lupper.”

It was such a cutesy thing to say, especially for I-make-my-bed-every-morning Bradley Greene, that Danny couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, pizza sounds good. You don’t have to treat, though. I can get it or we can split it.”

“No. I’m good. With my paycheck last week I got the gear I needed and still have enough left to pick up a pizza. Unless you have another
gift card
you need to use?”

Danny rolled his eyes at the reminder of his less-than-subtle handling of their dinner out when Brad had first shown up. “No gift cards this time. But, seriously, man. I live with my parents and scholarships pay for most of my tuition. I know you’re trying to save money and I can spare a pizza or two here and there.”

Brad stood and headed for his desk where he picked up his cell phone. “You call. You know what’s around and what’s good.”

Danny nearly lost his footing when Brad pressed his phone into Danny’s hand and then pulled him close for a hard, smacking kiss. “I appreciate the thought, but I got this,” he said after he’d broken away.

Danny blinked down at the phone, trying to make his eyes and brain cooperate. It took a minute, though, since his head was reeling and his lips were tingling. Brad had kissed him. And it had been casual, natural. Danny shook his head and dialed the phone. “What do you want on it?”

“I’m easy.”

He couldn’t be sure, but Danny thought Brad might have been smirking before he turned away and entered the little bathroom.

“If only,” Danny muttered.

“Excuse me?” There was a voice on the line. The pizza place must have answered the call while he was daydreaming.

“Oh, sorry.” Danny ordered a sausage and onion pizza. While he waited for Brad to finish in the bathroom, Danny picked up the empty soda cans and the paper towel coasters. Brad’s neat-freak tendencies should have driven him crazy, but instead he found them cute.

“You’ve got it so bad, Danny,” he said to himself. In the dining area he found a garbage can and a brown paper bag Brad obviously used to hold recyclables. He threw the paper towels into the trash and the cans into the bag. When he was finished, Brad had come back and was sitting cross-legged on the cushionless couch, staring at the idle computer.

“I’ve been meaning to say something to you,” Brad said, looking up at Danny.

“Yeah?” He settled onto the opposite side of the couch and mirrored Brad’s position.

“You were right.”

Not what I was expecting.
Danny forced a casual shrug. “Yeah, I know. I usually am.” He winked, hoping if he played it off, Brad wouldn’t notice how turned around he was. “But, for clarity’s sake, about what?”

“Last night. When you told me to man up and stop feeling sorry for myself.”

“That’s not what I said!”

Brad shifted to wrap his arms around his knees. “Close enough. I thought about it, and realized you said it because I needed to hear it. You’re a good friend.”

Friend.
Ouch.

“You remember when I said I wasn’t in a position to start something with someone?” Brad scooted close, near enough the two of them almost touched toes.

Danny swallowed and tried to concentrate past the rapid flow of blood that fled out of his head, paused to pound furiously in his chest, then dropped straight to his crotch. Brad leaned forward and Danny flinched when a hand landed on his knees. “Yes.” His voice cracked, so Danny tried again. “Yeah, I remember.”

“I take it back.” It was the only warning before Brad shifted to his knees and captured Danny’s mouth. Danny was helpless to do anything but lie back and experience. Good Lord, Brad could kiss. He wanted to stay like this forever. His leg had other ideas, though. He didn’t know how long they’d been at it when his right calf—still folded in front of him and covered by Brad’s weight—started to cramp.

“Ouch, ouch.” Danny pulled back and tried to unwind his legs. Stretching one leg out between Brad’s body and the back of the couch, his other foot found the floor. The movement caused their bodies to realign in incredible and excruciating ways.

“Oh, Christ,” Danny hissed when he and Brad were suddenly plastered against each other, chest-to-chest and groin-to-groin. Danny had no doubts Brad was happy to be exactly where he was, doing exactly what they were doing. He also had no doubts Brad now knew Danny was just as happy. Their eyes met and Danny did his damnedest not to move. He was afraid any movement he made would start something he wouldn’t be able to stop and he didn’t want to scare Brad away. He had no idea where this new...enthusiasm had come from, but Danny sure as hell didn’t want to ruin it.

The honk of a car in the driveway broke through the tension. With visible reluctance Danny was more than a little pleased to see, Brad pushed himself up and off the couch. His breaths came in ragged pants and he ran his hand over his face then through his light brown hair, making it stand in tufts. “Pizza.” He looked around blankly for a minute before rushing to the desk and grabbing his wallet. “I’ll get the pizza.”

When the door closed behind Brad, Danny still could only formulate a single word.
Intense.
That had been fucking intense.

Brad stopped to lean against the door as soon as it latched behind him. Holy Christ, that had been...more than he’d expected. Part of him, the one he was determined to repress, still worried getting close to Danny was a mistake. His body—stupid hormones—wanted to tell that part of him to shut the fuck up so they could get back to what they were doing.

“Hey, you order a pizza?” A guy in his early twenties stood at the door of a rusted out sedan with a pizza logo displayed on the roof.

The tangy scents of tomato sauce and oregano made his stomach growl. Brad tried to calculate an appropriate tip, but his brain was still fogged by the make-out session with Danny. Giving up on the complications of percentages and dollars, he grabbed a twenty and a five from his wallet and shoved them at the driver. “Thanks,” he said as he took the box.

“Hey, Brad!”

Brad turned at Ray’s voice. The older guy let the screen door slam behind him and sauntered toward Brad.

Something about the way Ray looked at him, as though examining him and finding him lacking, made Brad’s muscles tense in a knee-jerk fight-or-flight preparation. The air was thick with the incoming storm, heavy and cloying. There was no reason for the chills racing over Brad’s arms.

“Danny up there?” Ray nodded to the garage apartment.

“We’re watching movies,” Brad said, edging toward the steps.

“Bet that isn’t all you’ve been doing.”

The pizza jerked in Brad’s hands. “Excuse me?”

“What? You don’t think I can’t tell what you’ve been up to? Dude, your hair’s a mess and your mouth is swollen. It’s pretty obvious you two were going at it. Watching a movie, my ass.”

Brad closed his eyes and tried to gain some of his military school composure. “Ray, it’s none of your business.” Proud he managed to keep his voice cool and not betray the nerves throwing a party in his guts, Brad said, “Was there something else you wanted?”

“Yeah.” Ray moved closer until only the pizza box separated them. “I want you to leave Danny alone. He’s a good kid and doesn’t need someone like you messing with him.”

“Someone like me?” Brad’s heart lodged in his throat. This was exactly the kind of conversation he could imagine Nolan having with some guy taking advantage of Brad. With his brother, the confrontation had led to violence. Was Ray going to threaten him?

“You’re a rich kid slumming. You wear two-hundred-dollar jeans and three-hundred-dollar running shoes. I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, working construction and living like a broke dude, but you need to leave Danny out of it. He deserves someone better than that.”

He could have explained that his parents provided his wardrobe while he attended Norton, but it really wasn’t any of Ray’s business. Besides, he was done with that life. Instead he said, “Deserves better? That’s funny, coming from you. Aren’t you the one who tried to set him up with Rob of the roving hands and inability to understand the word
no?
”

There was something in Ray’s eyes that said his comment had hit home. If Ray was so protective of his little brother, why had he tried to hook him up with someone who was so obviously a douche?

“Whatever.” With an irritated shrug, Ray shoved the pizza box at Brad before stalking back into the house.

“What took you so long?” Danny asked when Brad brought the pizza into the apartment. While Brad had been gone grabbing the pizza, Danny had set the coffee table up for their “lupper.” Two plates, two glasses of ice water and two paper towels sat next to the computer. The cushions had been put back onto the couch. Danny was pulling the first disc of the second movie out of its case.

“Your brother was outside and we chatted for a minute.”

Danny stilled, his eyes darting to Brad’s. “What did he want?”

“He wanted to know what we were up to. What do you think he wanted?”

“Oh, nothing.” Danny busied himself with the DVD and angling the monitor just so.

The dude couldn’t lie for anything. “You don’t play poker, do you?”

“Poker?”

“Yeah, poker. Let me tell you, don’t ever try bluffing. You don’t have a poker face at all.” Brad considered pushing for more information, but his stomach growled and he decided it could wait.

By the time the pizza was eaten and the dishes put away—and washed, much to Danny’s amusement—the movie had been playing for an hour and Brad wasn’t altogether sure he knew what was going on. His mind—and his body—was distracted by the mere proximity of Danny. An hour later, they had somehow ended up lying on the couch, Danny’s slim body tucked in front of Brad’s. The couch wasn’t wide enough, but Brad wouldn’t have moved for the world. Though they were both facing the monitor and the action on the screen, Brad couldn’t even pretend to watch the movie any longer.

Every inhale pressed his chest against Danny’s shoulder blades. With every exhale, Danny tightened his hand over Brad’s, which rested against Danny’s abs. The battles of Hobbits, men and elves waged on the screen, but Viggo Mortensen could have donned a sparkly pink tutu and Brad wouldn’t have noticed a thing except the heat of Danny’s skin under his T-shirt.

“Are you still watching the movie?” Voice husky, Danny turned until he faced Brad, scooting up until they were eye to eye.

Before the word
no
could form on Brad’s lips, Danny murmured “good” and closed the distance between their mouths.

Brad’s world became roving hands, gasping breaths and incoherent words. He broke away long enough to tug at the hem of Danny’s T-shirt. Dark eyes sparkling, mouth swollen, Danny lifted enough to pull the shirt over his head. The movement was too much for the narrow couch and sagging cushions. With a surprised “oh,” Danny rolled off the couch and landed in the space in front of the coffee table, orange shirt covering his face.

Brad tried to suppress the laughter bubbling up inside him. His whole body seized with the effort. He leaned over the edge of the couch. “You okay?” he managed while he tried to catch his breath.

Danny finally got the shirt over his head, then grinned up at Brad. “Think it’s funny, do you?” he asked, tossing the shirt behind him.

Snickering, Brad held a hand out to help Danny up. “Well, yeah.”

Danny clasped the offered hand. Instead of using it to pull himself up, though, he yanked Brad off the couch and onto Danny where he landed with an
oomph.

There wasn’t a lot of room in the space between the couch and the coffee table, so Brad had to struggle to find purchase. His body was pretty sure it wanted to stay right where it was. Gravity pressed him and Danny as close as was physically possible with clothes on. Danny’s chuckles rocked him while he searched for a place to put his hands.

“You wouldn’t find it funny if my knee had landed on your balls,” Brad said, finally planting his hands on either side of Danny’s head, levering his upper body away to see the other boy clearly.

Danny slid his hands up along Brad’s sides. “Yeah, maybe I didn’t think it through very well. But, hey, I like the way it turned out.” Danny’s mischievous grin and tousled hair reminded Brad of the toddler with Einstein hair in a photo in Mr. Ortega’s office. Brad spoke before he had a chance to censor himself. “You make me happy.”

The leer on Danny’s face disappeared. “I’m glad.” He gripped Brad’s T-shirt in his fists and drew Brad closer. Brad lowered his head and met him halfway for a soft, sweet kiss.

Brad couldn’t remember enjoying kissing this much before. He broke away and took a deep breath. “I think we should continue this on the bed.”

Danny’s eyes were intent as he searched Brad’s face. Something he saw must have reassured him. “Okay.”

Somehow the bed, made with military precision, splashed a bit of cool reality on Danny’s overheated senses. It wasn’t that Danny didn’t want to, but he suspected Brad was only caught up in the moment. The Brad he’d spent the day with—and God, hadn’t it been an awesome day—was different from the Brad he’d gotten to know over the last couple of weeks.

He wiped his suddenly sweaty hands on his khaki shorts, then sat on the edge of the bed next to Brad. “Are you sure about this?”