Promise Rock 03 - Living Promises (MM) (37 page)

“Oh, honey, Deacon adores you.”
“How in the hell would you know that?”
“Crick told me so. He speaks fluent Deacon—him and Jon are

about the only two people on the planet who can!”

That reassurance was what Collin had needed to make The Pulpit the first of his calls that afternoon, and now, he could hear Deacon as he got out of the truck and started walking down the pathway that led between the condo buildings.

“I'm not wearing that!” he snapped, and Collin peered out the window over the sink to see him stalking away from the truck. Crick had been holding a breathing mask out the window, but at Deacon's words he snatched it back and said something that Collin couldn't make out.

Deacon turned around and scowled. “I'm fine, Carrick James. Now park the goddamned truck around back before Jeff's neighbors call the cops with a redneck alert!”

“Can you be a gay redneck?” Collin asked, opening the door, and Deacon grinned. God, was he pretty. Collin got how Jeff could totally ogle the guy without ever really falling for him. He was pretty like angels were pretty—all of that glory was meant for his god, and Deacon's god was Jeff's rangy, smart-assed best friend.

“I hope so,” Deacon replied as he walked in and wiped his boots on the entry rug. “Otherwise I'm going to have to grow my hair longer or use a whole lot more sun block.”

He looked good, Collin thought critically. A little like Collin in that he was thin and pale, but he moved with vigor, and there wasn't even the slightest sign of the breathing trouble or the blueness around the lips or the fingernails. Collin was glad—so glad—that Jeff's friend was going to make it. It seemed like a good omen, like a symbol that all the worst shit was behind them and the best shit waited in the wings.

Collin laughed and invited him in, and was shortly overwhelmed by
everybody
arriving at once, most of them with food.
“So,” Benny said, setting up two casserole dishes and turning on the stove for Amy's biscuits, “you invited him for dinner, but you didn't tell him that the house would be full of gay people?”
Collin grinned diabolically. “And their sisters and best friends and nieces.”
Benny turned and grinned back. “God, you're good. You're going to fit right in. So, what does Jeff think about all this?”
“We'll find out when he gets here—let's hope Shane and Mikhail get here with Martin first.”
They did, and it was a good thing Collin had straightened up, because people were sitting on the floor and on the counters and on the beds. It was a madhouse, but it was also a Christmas party, and people were talking gaily and chatting like they did at The Pulpit or at his mother's house. Joanna and Amy seemed to be getting along swimmingly, and Collin's mother immediately went into the bedroom to watch a video on Jeff's smaller television with all five of the little girls— it really was like home.
Martin walked in, Shane and Mikhail at his heels, obviously surprised by the masses. “What in the hell?”
Collin squirmed, hoping for the first time that Martin enjoyed being the center of this much attention. “Your, uhm, dad stopped by this afternoon. He wanted to take you home. I, uhm, told him you were going home after Christmas, you know?”
Martin's smile was blinding. “And you wanted to show him that he's not the only one with the family card, right?”
Collin flushed. “I'm not a good grown-up role model,” he assured the kid. “You really shouldn't copy your behavior after me at all.”
Martin cackled. “No, no—I think you're doing fine! Holy God—is that
food
?” And that was the end of the conversation—he shot into the kitchen like a bullet and started laying waste to all before him, but just like Thanksgiving, there was more than enough.
Mikhail watched him with a rather bemused expression. “You could feed my entire apartment complex in St. Petersburg for a week with what that boy eats in one day. Where does all of that food go?”
Collin thought about it. “You would not be
lieve
how much toilet paper we go through in a week.”
Mikhail's eyes grew to the size of soccer balls, and over his shoulder Shane turned red and fell back against Jeff's wall in the effort not to laugh.
“Stop it, you irritating man!” Mikhail snapped, blinking, but Shane was too busy laughing.
“Oh Christ, Mickey, he's just like Jeff!”
Mikhail eyed Collin sourly. “Yes, except Jeff is funny,” he sniffed, and then flounced off.
Shane grinned at Collin. “You just took him down a peg or two, that's all. Don't worry, he likes you fine.”
“I hope so,” Collin replied, somewhat absentmindedly. He'd just seen Jeff's car flash by through the kitchen window. “I'm going to be around for a while.”
Suddenly Mikhail's big boyfriend caught his attention with a hand on the shoulder. “You have no idea how glad we are to hear that,” he said quietly. “You're so good for him.”
Collin grimaced. “Let's see how good he thinks I am when he sees I invited his entire family without telling him.”
“Why in the hell would you do that?”
Collin started to shift from foot to foot before he reminded himself that the whole point here was that he was a damned grown-up. “He really needs this,” he said quietly. “This time with Martin, it's been… it's like resolution, stitches and bandaging for this big open wound he's been carrying around, pretending it doesn't exist. He deserves that healing, Shane, you know? I don't want him to give it up before he's ready.”
He thought he sounded lame, but Shane nodded his head like Collin was really speaking his language. “I hear you. Well, sometimes healing is ripping off the bandage—and here comes the patient now.”
Jeff looked entirely bemused as he walked in his own front door. “Where are the cats?” he asked, ever practical, and Collin was glad he had an answer for that one.
“Locked in your bathroom. What's that in your hand?” Collin made a grab for the festive bag of what looked to be sweets in Jeff's hand.
“Soy-fudge from Margie,” Jeff muttered, looking dazed as he realized that his entire family was in his smallish apartment. The living space at Deacon and Crick's house was really much larger.
“Awesome, how's she doing?” Collin had heard a lot about Margie since he and Jeff had started dating, and now he grabbed the bag and reached inside, pulling out a piece of sheer perfection and popping it in his mouth before Jeff could lecture him on eating healthy. They'd already pretty much both given up smoking completely—a guy got some soy-fudge. “Mmmmm…” he sighed. “God, it's almost better than real fudge. I didn't think that was possible!”
“She'll never be a supermodel, but she's healthy,” Jeff said, answering his first question and looking around his apartment in a complete daze. “Collin, why is the entire fucking free world in my living room?”
“Mmm… God!” Collin closed his eyes and experienced another chocolate-gasm. “I think I love her in a totally sexual way that has nothing to do with her as a person and everything to do with this fudge!”
“You're stalling!”
“Yeah… mmm….” Collin shuddered in true sensual delight. “But not because I want to.”
“Seriously!” Jeff hissed, probably because Mikhail had just walked by twice and rolled his eyes, and Collin knew it was time to get serious.
“Okay, seriously, Kevin's father is coming to get Martin, and I didn't want to let him go until after Christmas.”
Jeff blinked, obviously stunned. “He's coming to get—”
“He already came, actually. He's huge. Jesus, I thought Martin was big—you can't see it in the picture, but Kevin must have been built like a… a—”
“A Panzer tank, yeah,” Jeff supplied. His voice was calm, but his hands kept going from his hips, to crossed in front of his chest, to carving invisible shapes in the air between the two of them. “So why is the world in my living room again?”
They were still in the dark of the hall, and Collin took advantage of it by leaning into Jeff until he backed up against the wall. Then he took Jeff's bag of heaven in one hand and put the other one on Jeff's bony, skinny hip. Gently, he bumped his nose up against Jeff's cheek until Jeff turned into his kiss. Jeff's lips parted reluctantly, but Collin moved his hand up, framing Jeff's face and holding him steady as Collin dove in and plundered the resistance and the attitude right out of him. He didn't come up for breath until he felt Jeff relax, and that was when Collin relaxed into him, straddling his feet and pushing his lower body in contact—not for the sexual arousal, per se, but mostly for the full touch between the two of them.
“They're here for the same reason I am,” Collin told him firmly. “Because we love you, and we want you to have this Christmas with Martin so you can say goodbye to Kevin, and you can move into a stunningly happy new life with your insatiable young lover who will never let you down.”
Jeff opened his mouth to say something snarky—Collin could see it in his eyes—but then he stopped himself and sobered, swallowed, and took everything Collin was offering at face value. His smile changed then, from wicked to soft, and he nodded.
“That sounds like the best plan ever,” he said softly. “But I need to go change and take a leak and pet the babies first, okay?”
“You need to go sniffle in the bathroom like the big emotional queen I know and love and then pull your shit together for the family,” Collin interpreted, and Jeff rolled his (dewy) eyes and wiped them with the back of his hand.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah… you say po-tay-to—”
“I say go get changed and entertain these people.”
“Well get off me, Sparky, because there's a Panzer tank who's about to plow down my door in T-minus-five minutes!” Jeff planted both hands on Collin's chest then and shoved, and Collin let him go.
He moved into the living room and sat down next to Deacon, satisfied that the party/rescue mission could go on without him for a moment. Deacon was eyeing the plate of steamed spinach and lemon chicken in front of him with a resigned air.
“You know what I
really
want for Christmas?” he muttered to himself.
“What?” Collin asked cheekily, and Deacon grimaced and slanted his eyes sideways.
“A steak dinner. How's Jeff?”
“Quietly panicking in the bathroom,” Collin said confidently, and Deacon nodded sagely.
“Excellent. Why aren't you in there with him?”
Collin looked at him in horror. “Freaking out like this is something Jeff really would rather do alone. Once he's found his backbone and done what he needs to, that's when I get to pick up the pieces.”
Deacon
hmm
-ed appreciatively. “Sounds like a good system. I couldn't do it, but good for you.”
“You couldn't let Crick freak out on his own?”
Deacon shook his head. “Nope. We did plenty of freaking out alone when he was in Iraq. I'd just as soon freak out together if we've got the chance.” He took a tentative bite of the chicken and looked at his plate a little more favorably. “But then, Crick doesn't really freak out a lot.”
That's because you didn't see him while you were in surgery.
Collin thought it but didn't say it. Besides, even then, Crick seemed to have had most of his emotions under control, and Collin thought, not for the first time, how much Carrick Francis had grown from the kid Collin had admired in high school. And then it occurred to him that he had grown, too, and he was just feeling damned proud of himself when there was a solid knock at the door.
He'd gotten comfortable and had to struggle to his feet, and that was unfortunate, because Mikhail was the one who answered.
The living room grew absolutely quiet as the thundering voice of Martin's father filled the room. “Are you Jeff Beachum?”
“No. Holy God, are you Martin's father?”
“Yes, and I'm here to get my son!”
Collin was just rounding the corner at that point, and he watched Mikhail's eyes get really large. Without even bothering to answer the man, he turned on his heels and went running toward the kitchen, shouting, “Shane! Shane! You must keep the boy from eating any more! You have no idea what will happen!”
Collin was face to face with Martin's father then, and they both heard Martin say, “You stay away from my eats, little man, or I will
end
you!”
“You need to put that down, Martin, or you will
never
fit through another door!”
Martin's laugh was strained, and Collin looked over his shoulder through the door that connected the kitchen to the entryway in time to see Martin pat Mikhail on the outraged head. “That's just my pops, Mikhail—no worries. He won't be here long.” Martin put his plate on the counter then and came into the hallway through the kitchen.
“Will you, Dad?” he asked seriously.
“Martin, enough of this bullshit. Go get your bags and we can go.”
“No.” Martin took a deep breath and was obviously going to follow that up with something, but his father interrupted him.
“No? What do you mean „no'? Boy, haven't you caused enough goddamned trouble as it is? Now go get your stuff and get your ass out to the car so I can get you home to your mother. She is worried sick!”
“She didn't have no cause to be!” Martin replied, obviously upset. “I called you both, I told you where I was, I told you why I was here, and I even told you when I was coming home. You just don't want me here because you don't like the people I'm with—”
“You're damned right I don't!”
“Mr. Turner?” Both men, the older and the younger, turned toward the hallway going back to the bedroom. There was motion from the other side of the hallway. Collin, who was feeling damned superfluous by this point, turned to see Jeff, wearing high-end sweats and a long-sleeved fuzzy shirt, padding down the hall in his own moccasins.
Kevin Turner's father turned his head and widened his eyes. “Who in the hell are you?”
Jeff swallowed, and Collin would have run to him and sheltered him and shored him up, except Collin knew he didn't need it. He'd seen Jeff in action, and he knew Jeff would do just fine.
“Mr. Turner, I'm Jeff Beachum. I knew Kevin.”