Chapter Twelve
Brad
Brad collected all the paperwork he’d put into different folders to take to his family home for the monthly meeting with the accountant, aka his mom.
Since Dad had stepped down—in essence, just not in reality—he continued to keep his finger on the pulse.
These monthly meetings were a part of that, where Brad brought with him the accounts and all work schedules that were ongoing.
Dad trusted him, Brad knew this, except it appeared tough for his old man to let go fully, though the meetings at least were no longer weekly. Brad was working up to suggesting they go quarterly today. Except his mind had been more on what Lionel was up to.
Mid-morning he’d got a sense of unease, so he’d rung the mobile number Lionel had given him to see if things were okay, only for it to go to voicemail.
Brad hated talking to a machine, so he’d not left a message, his intention was to ring back.
Only that hadn’t happened when one of their subcontractors for the electrical wiring of the basement had not checked the circuit board to determine maximum voltage capacity and had blown the electrics in the entire building.
Morty had a meltdown with his ovens not working.
Not pleasant to witness when he had to attempt to keep him calm as Niall was busy meeting with someone about marketing off-site, and the café was full of lunchtime customers, so Toby couldn’t help.
This had made everything take a back seat, and of course, Dad had then rung to remind him about tonight and ask what he wanted for dinner.
Caught off guard, Brad hadn’t mentioned Lionel, and now he considered whether he should have invited his mate along. Except it really was a business meeting, and Brad was sure Lionel wouldn’t be interested in listening to him talk about building projects.
You should have asked him.
Out the door of his home, barely having taken the time to shower and change, Brad huffed, pressing the fob to open his truck, climbing in and stacking the files on the passenger seat.
You want to bore our mate to death? Because that’s what would happen when Dad starts waxing lyrical about building materials and comparative prices.
He's our mate, he’d love it.
You’re delusional.
He drove, humming along to the country music radio station.
Would Lionel be up for a late visitor? They hadn’t mentioned seeing each other tonight.
Brad knew it was possibly his fault as he’d gotten distracted, then was in a rush to get to work.
Did mates automatically spend all their free time together?
Absentmindedly, he rubbed at the low thrumming ache he’d had in the center of his chest since he’d left Lionel. He’d been conscious of it all day, just there, a reminder that something was missing. Only it wasn’t missing… more letting him know he was different.
He should have asked Morty how he and Hector had worked things out. Tomorrow, he was going to do that.
Just ask Lionel.
It’s not that simple.
Seriously, how can you and I be connected? Of course, it’s that simple.
He pretended not to hear the snort, and he made a rude noise while pulling up into the driveway of his childhood home.
The place sat back on a couple of acres of land Dad had bought when he’d met Mom, his mate.
The house had expanded over the years. Dad brought home his work and used their home to try out different things that were new in the building trade, which gave them a house that was wood, concrete, glass, and lots of different sections.
To the eye, it was a hodge-podge, but to Brad, it was home.
The door opened before he was barely out of the truck to reveal Dad.
Bushy hair hung around a craggy face that revealed his love of being outdoors.
He stood over six feet and had an impressive stature that belied his age.
Dressed in his old corduroy trousers that were worn at the knees and ass and a checked shirt also worn in places, Brad grinned at the familiarity of it.
“Mom hasn’t managed to get those clothes into the trash bag yet? ”
Booming laughter came with a gleam of teeth in the full beard Dad grew in the winter. “She might get them in there, but I’m wily, son and know her game, so I root them right back out.”
Brad chuckled as he retrieved the stack of files, using his backside to close the door, then headed up the Monoblock drive. “She’ll manage it one day, Dad.”
He shrugged his massive shoulders, wearing an unrepentant smile, and reached for what Brad held. His nose twitched, and Brad knew the millisecond Dad twigged he’d found his mate.
Shrewd eyes narrowed on the collar of Brad’s jacket where the bite mark remained hidden. Brad couldn’t say why he’d done that. “Why… what’s this?” Dad's gaze travelled back to the empty truck, and a frown furrowed his brow. “You’ve a mate, where are they?”
“Mate… what am I missing?” Mom appeared wide-eyed at Dad’s side. There was nothing wrong with her hearing despite how often Dad complained she couldn’t hear him.
Selective was what Mom was.
“I… yes,” Brad blushed at how both parents were staring at him. “I haven’t mentioned it to anyone else before you start, and it only happened last night.” Did he sound defensive?
Brad wasn’t sure if Lionel wanted him to go telling folks, beyond his parents, when he’d mentioned his mother was traveling. Would he want Brad telling all and sundry without Lionel telling his family first? No one liked to hear something second or third-hand, did they?
Brad surely didn’t want that for his parents, and Dad remained connected to the crews who worked with Brad.
So, for him, it was understandable to say nothing until he’d spoken with his parents.
And why he’d chosen to ignore the pointed looks he’d gotten all day from his crew.
His scent would have alerted them to the change.
He’d worn a high-neck T-shirt that hid his mate mark so no one could openly question him.
He handed off the files when Dad remained staring at him, hand outstretched. “If you let me through the door, I’ll answer all your questions, okay.”
Mom was the first to react, and Brad became worried about how Dad was acting. “Where did you meet your mate?” She took his elbow and guided him past Dad, who clutched the files he’d taken.
Brad glanced back over his shoulder and didn’t miss that Dad hadn’t moved.
“Charlie, shut the door, you’re letting all the hot air out.”
There was the sound of the door closing as Brad reached the kitchen and he was guided to a seat at the center aisle he’d fitted when they’d renovated the kitchen the year before.
The marble gleamed in the overhead copper lights.
The scent of fresh herbs brought back childhood memories of the many experiments Mom loved to do with herbs in meals. Some more successful than others.
Today, he caught rosemary and basil, which meant one thing: they were having the crusted lamb he loved and suggested for dinner when he’d spoken to Dad earlier.
His mouth watered in anticipation despite the ball of anxiety growing in the pit of his stomach when Dad didn’t appear while Mom fussed around, getting him a beer.
“Your dad is just worried for you,” she murmured quietly as she placed the beer next to the glass that was laid next to his place setting.
“He has no reason to be,” Brad replied, feeling a little exasperated. “I’m a grown man who runs a successful business, can’t he see that?” It wasn’t the first time he’d asked this question.
“He sees his little boy and your teacup poodle.” She gave a wistful smile.
“He thinks we’re defenseless, and though it’s frustrating as heck, it comes with how protective he is of us.
Why, I can still see his expression when they placed you in his arms for the first time.
So tiny, and he was so careful not to hurt you.
” She sniffed and wiped her eyes with the edge of her apron.
Brad groaned. “I hope I’m not like that when we have children.”
“C-children,” Dad blustered as he came in at the end of the conversation, slamming the files on the countertop and making the cutlery bounce. “How can you be pregnant if you only”—a blush highlighted his embarrassment—“mated last night?”
“Hold your horses, Dad.” Brad roared with laughter, rocking back and nearly toppling off the seat. He had to grab the counter to keep seated. “I was talking about how overprotective you are,” he managed to say between snorts when he got himself back under control.
“I’m not,” Dad insisted, a glint in his eyes that suggested arguing was pointless.
“Whatever, Lionel and I haven’t… gotten to that stage yet. ”
“Why ever not?” Dad demanded, shouting.
“Charlie, we’re not deaf, and that is none of our business. What Brad does or doesn’t do with his mate is his business, you hear me?”
Brad took off his jacket when he could see Dad was about to argue. He threw it onto the back of the seat in his haste to prevent Dad and Mom getting into it, tugging at the neck of the collar of his T-shirt. “Mated in the genuine sense, Dad. We’ll do the other stuff when we’re ready.”
I was ready last night, chimed his poodle side.
That may be so, but you aren’t the one who’s going to have to…
Dad’s eyes lingered on the claiming bite. “So where is this… Lionel? Why didn’t he come with you to meet us?”
“This is a business meeting, Dad, as well you know. Why would I bring my mate so we can bore him with figures, building plans, and projections of delivery dates for supplies? I’m sure he’d be riveted,” Brad added sarcastically.
He didn’t bring up that he’d never considered asking Lionel in the first place.
Now he was here, he wasn’t sure he should have mentioned it and given Lionel the opportunity to choose, despite the disasters of the day.
“Don’t you take that tone with me,” Dad growled with enough snap to give Brad a reprimand.
“Sorry,” he muttered, sinking into his seat and letting go of the collar he still held. “We can arrange for me to bring him when we aren’t discussing business. How does that sound?”
“That would be lovely,” Mom answered, giving Dad a hard stare that rivaled Dad’s. “Now, are we eating first or getting the business out of the way?”
“Business,” Brad said.
“Business,” Dad replied at the same time. He grinned at Brad, and Brad gave him an answering smile, the tension in the room disappearing. “There seems to be several extra files in the bundle you gave me this month.” He tapped the pile before moving the cutlery to pull them closer to him.
“There are, we got the bid for the new sports center development.”
Brad rocked in his seat as Dad gave him a backslap, beaming with pride. “Good job, so how will that fit with everything else?”
And they were off.