Tipping the Balance (54 page)

Spring
had a firm grip on the Sacramento Valley, although unsettled weather was possible even that late into April. But Drew didn’t care. There might’ve been dark clouds on the horizon, but for him, the clouds were mostly gone, the storms of the winter departing, the waters calming.

Only two real problems remained in his life, the unsettled fate of the Bayard House and Brad. Emily had taken over all aspects of the project six weeks ago, and to his surprise, he was happy for her to do so. He’d had too much on his plate as it was with just returning to health and some semblance of life as he’d known it before the assault. The Bayard renovation had been pie in the sky, and he presumed she was in the process of winding it down and would contact him for signatures in due time. Sure, losing a dream hurt, but his therapist worked with him in accepting it.

And Brad. He surprised himself with how much he still ached for the man. Brad had worked his way in deep, and getting over the big jackass would apparently take time. He tried to tell himself he’d never really seen anything in Brad, that it had just been lust, but in his quiet moments late at night, he knew the truth.

But that night wasn’t a night to whine or bemoan his fate. He wanted to celebrate. While his psychological wounds would only clear over time, his doctors and physical therapists just that morning cleared him to return to full physical activity. He planned to celebrate tomorrow by going for a walk, since he’d have to build back up to running.

Tonight, he’d insisted on treating Nick and Morgan to a good dinner out. He knew that on student budgets, even with parents as affluent as Morgan’s, dinners out were a rare treat. He wanted to show his gratitude for all their help during his recovery in some way, as well as make it clear that as much as losing Brad hurt, he was over Nick’s role in the miscommunication.

Drew rose to greet them, hugging first Nick and then Morgan. All three men wore suits, and if Drew’s hung a little loosely, no one mentioned it.

“Wow, this place is pretty fancy,” Nick said, looking around. It was kind of adorable how uncomfortable he looked in a suit and an upmarket restaurant.

“How come you never took me places like this when we were dating?” Morgan said. For his part, he looked born to wear designer suits like the one his parents had bought him at Christmas. Too bad he was destined for the classroom, because he and Nick wouldn’t be able to afford them until they both finished grad school.

Nick looked hurt. “You’ve seen my bank balance. You know I would if I could.”

“I meant him,” Morgan said with a twinkle in his eye and nod of his head. “You took me to some stupid crepe place on that faux date Nick put you up to. Who knows, maybe if you’d taken me here, things would’ve worked out differently. Maybe I might’ve fallen for you, Drew.”

Drew and Nick exchanged amused looks. “Highly unlikely,” Drew said, shaking his head. He remembered well just how much Morgan had wanted Nick, and their relationship had only increased in intensity.

Still, Drew was pleased that Morgan had gotten over his hurt and forgiven him for his part in that ridiculous charade. “So tell me about San Diego? How was the Crew Classic?”

“Fantastic! They missed a win in the men’s varsity by a mere second,” Nick said.

“Yeah, but we got creamed in the men’s open,” Morgan muttered.

“Which is full of ex-Olympians,” Nick said.

“Which is cold comfort when boats walk by you,” Morgan said.

Drew shook his head. Things would be better for them once Nick didn’t coach Morgan. “But are you glad you went?”

Morgan nodded. “Yeah, but I sure wish Stuart hadn’t—”

But interruption came in the form of a reporter for the local birdcage liner and her pet photographer. “Excuse me, Drew St. Charles?”

“Yes?”

“I’m with the Sacramento Picayune. Now that the Bayard House is nearly completed, and given the cost over-runs inevitable in any building project, plus the problems associated with the fire, how is it you’re back on schedule but haven’t run afoul of union rules? Is it true you have ties to the mob?”

Drew tried not to let his shock show on his face. “As even you must know, I’ve been in the hospital and then in intensive rehabilitation. I’m only just getting back up to full speed. I’ll have to defer all those questions to my foreman, Brad Sundstrom.” He signaled the maître-d’. “These reporters were just leaving. Can you point them toward the door?”

“Immediately, sir, and please accept my apologies. They should never have been allowed to disturb you in the first place,” she said, positioning herself between them and the reporters. “If you’d be so good as to follow me?” she asked in a tone that implied that if they weren’t good she’d summon the police.

“What the hell was she talking about?” Drew muttered as the maître-d’ and two stout busboys made sure the journalists departed post haste.

“I can’t imagine,” Morgan said blandly, ignoring Nick’s pointed look.

“Anyway, guys, thank you. You’ve done so much for me while I’m recovering. Visiting me in the hospital, and in Nick’s case, haunting my PT appointments—”

“Even if he does have another motive,” Morgan said.

“I mean, you guys have even been taking care of my yard, and I know you don’t have the time to do that,” Drew said. “Even with the Bayard fiasco, I’m getting back into the swing of things and can take over again.”

Nick and Morgan exchanged a freighted look.

“What’s that look mean?” Drew asked.

“We haven’t been mowing your lawn,” Nick said.

“I wish we could say it was us,” Morgan said, “but the reality is, we’re just too busy this semester.”

“If not you, then… who?” Drew said, baffled. “Because otherwise it’s kind of creepy.”

Morgan shrugged. “I think you should do what you told that reporter to do and call Brad.”

“Did he do it? Or are you two both just so stubborn that neither of you will give an inch?” Drew demanded.

Nick looked at him with pity. He hated that. “I know he hurt you and that you hurt him.”

“And we know he’s tried to get ahold of you,” Morgan said.

“Not for a while,” Drew mumbled.

“If you’ve been keeping him dangling on purpose…,” Nick warned.

Drew crossed his arms. He knew it made him look like a petulant child. “But what about what he did to me?”

“What is this,
Queen for a Day
? A contest to see who’s the most aggrieved party?” Morgan snapped. “Grow up.”

“Ouch,” Drew said. “Unfair.”

Morgan glowered at him. “I’ve been listening to the two of you for months. Get your shit together, or I’ll take steps.”

“And just what does that mean?” Drew demanded. Honestly, where did this boy of Nick’s get off?

“You probably don’t want to know,” Nick said. “I sure don’t. Just call him.”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” Drew said, picking up his menu and hiding behind it.

“Of course you don’t, sweetie. Admitting you’re wrong is haaard,” Morgan whined.

Drew put his menu down. “It’s just… it’s gone on so long. He hasn’t tried calling in a while.”

“Leaving aside the fact that you knew he’d called,” Nick said, “yes, it is hard, and no, you have to do it. The Drew I know was never one to duck his responsibilities.”

“One thing I’ve learned during my convalescence is that not doing anything is a lot easier,” Drew said. Then a sharp, stabbing pain lit up one shin. “Ow! That was my good leg.”

Morgan leveled a straight stare at him. “Next time, it’ll be your bad one.”

“Oh, all right, I’ll call him,” Drew muttered.

“There, now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Morgan said, patting his hand.

Drew
went home and did was he was told. The talk with Brad had to be one of the most strained, awkward conversations he had ever had with anyone in his entire life. Long silences throbbed with the words they didn’t or couldn’t say to each other. But they finally established that Brad would pick him up at three o’clock the next afternoon.

Drew looked out his front window at 2:55 and saw a strange SUV pull into his driveway. But out jumped Brad. Drew thought he looked different somehow. Maybe a bit trimmer, but more confident somehow. He had to admit, it looked sexy as hell on the big lug. His big lug.

Drew twitched the curtain closed and acted like he wasn’t standing right behind the door by counting to twenty before opening it when Brad rang the bell.

“Hi,” Brad said quietly. He waved shyly.

“Hi,” Drew said back, drinking Brad in with his eyes.

They stood there for a moment, lost in each other’s gaze. Brad broke the spell. “Are you ready? Have your hardhat?”

Drew held it up. “Yep, let’s go.”

Brad waited for him to lock the door and then hurried past him to open his car door for him.

“Thank you,” Drew said, unsure just what was going on. “New car?”

Brad shook his head. “No, I rented it. I wasn’t sure how your leg was, but I figured you wouldn’t have to bend too much to get into something like this.”

“You rented a car. To take me to the Bayard House. Last night,” Drew said.

Brad scratched the closely cropped hair at the back of his head. He was red from his neck to his scalp. “Uh… yeah.”

“Thank you,” Drew said. He had to admit, Brad sure seemed to be making an effort. Despite his reservations, it charmed him.

“No sweat,” Brad mumbled, looking at the ground.

But Drew knew perfectly well that as late as their call had been, renting a car most likely involved a great deal of effort, at the very least a trip out to the airport, and whether it was last night or this morning, the airport was still out there to hell and gone.