Matt
MATT
Pushing through his back door, he started kicking off his shoes before he’d even closed the door behind him. “I’m home!”
Silence met his call, and he cocked his head to listen for signs of life. The familiar whisper of worry crawled at the back of his head, but he pushed it away before it could wrap around his heart. Stepping out of the entryway, he mounted the steps into the kitchen. The bags crinkled softly as he sat them on the counter and looked into the dining room.
Nothing.
Sighing, he absentmindedly tapped the electric kettle on the counter, finding it almost hot. The light in the dining room was on but low. He frowned at the albums on the tablecloth, one open to show a large picture. A beaming woman with black hair and wicked green eyes stood beside a quietly smiling man, hair almost as dark as his wife’s, though his eyes were brown. They held a tiny baby swaddled tightly between them, wisps of black hair sticking up from his head.
“Oh dear,” murmured, running a hand over the page before closing it.
He stepped past the front door they never used, glancing up the stairs that led to the second floor. It was dark, but he could see a faint light from the living room. Stepping past the comfortable, if worn, couch, the plush armchair had hunted down, and toward the back, he found his father.
Wrapped in a blanket and sat at the small desk, the elder Howell was hunched forward, chin on his chest. Soft snores bubbled up from the cocoon he’d made for himself, a cup of rapidly cooling tea before him. leaned forward, nudging the book on his father’s lap so he could grab it and set it aside.
“Quantum Story,” he murmured, reading the title aloud. “No wonder you fell asleep.”
His voice stirred the older man, who tilted his head back and peered around the room owlishly. For a moment, there was a fogginess in his father’s eyes that wrapped a vice around ’s chest. Then the man’s dark eyes settled on ’s face, brightened, and a fond smile spread slowly over his features.
“hew,” Calvin Howell murmured, pushing the blanket away from his chin.
“Hey, Dad, having yourself a nap?” asked, stepping back.
“Oh, wanted to have a bit of tea with my light reading,” his father said, pulling the blanket off. “I guess I got a little too comfortable and dozed off.”
Light reading. The phrase made smile. Once upon a time, Calvin Howell had been a forerunner in the field of physics, particularly quantum physics. His work had been published worldwide, and ’s early years had been spent with his father away at some convention, discussion, and who knew what else. Even then, though, his father had always made sure to be home frequently, and couldn’t remember a major event in his life where his father wasn’t around.
“Do you want to just go to bed and have a nap?” asked.
His father tossed the blanket over a nearby chair, frowning. “I think not. Already slept quite enough as it is. Sometimes I swear all I do anymore is sleep. How was your shopping?”
smiled, even as he felt a pang in his chest. It appeared this was one of his father’s better days, and he was going to miss it because of work. For all his father’s brilliance, it hadn’t been enough to save him from pure happenstance. All it took was one stormy night to take ’s mother from him and leave his father altered for life.
“Peaceful, if you can believe it,” told him, retreating to the front of the living room.
“I have a hard time believing it. Used to be this was a quiet neighborhood, now it just seems like it’s filled with noise constantly,” his father huffed, pushing out of the chair. “Ah, my tea is cold.”
“I’ll get you some more, the pot is still warm,” told him, turning toward the curtains. “And noisy out there or not, we should open these curtains and let some sunlight in. You need it.”
“I’m not a houseplant, hew.”
“People need light too, Dad. Especially if they’re going to be reading fascinating books all day.”
“Smart aleck. You can’t stand my books.”
smiled at him. “I can’t under stand your books. There’s a difference. You might have given me your good looks, but sadly, you didn’t give me the brains to keep up with you.”
That earned him a dirty look. “You’re no fool, hew. You know I hate when you talk about yourself like that. Remember what I told you?”
smiled. “I remember. Stay there while I make you a fresh cup. I think I’ve figured out how to make it just right after all this time.”
He left his father grumbling as he walked out to the kitchen, flipping on the kettle just to make sure the water was hot. What he’d said was true, he’d never had the mind for his father’s work. Yet, Calvin was happy to have a son, and most of all, he was overjoyed to have . Both he and ’s mother had so desperately wanted a child despite the difficulties of some medical condition his mother had.
Growing up, there were times when felt he was left behind by his father’s work, as though he were somehow not living up to the standard. His father had never been one to keep his opinion to himself, and the first time had ever shown signs of worry about it, his father had taken him in hand and walked him around the city.
“Do you see that man there?” his father had asked, looking down at .
His father had seemed so tall, so impossibly more than anything could ever remember. couldn’t have been much older than seven then, and his parents were everything.
He’d looked where his father had indicated and found himself smiling. “Harold.”
“Indeed,” his father had said. “And you know that he’s not like a lot of other people.”
That was true. He sold flowers from a stand with his mother, a plump woman with a huge smile, for anyone who stopped by. Harold spoke differently and wasn’t very good at counting.
“James from down the street says he’s retarded,” young had informed his father with all the bald-faced brutality of a child.
And how his father had frowned. “Did he?”
“Yeah, said he wasn’t very smart.”
His father crouched before him, taking ’s hand. “That is a word people once used for people like Harold. It meant something different back then, but now it’s used to make fun of them.”
That had thrown for a minute. James wasn’t mean, he’d always been nice to everyone. He wasn’t anything like his grumpy dad, who liked to bark and yell more than talk.
“But why?” had finally asked.
“Because people aren’t always nice, and sometimes they use words without knowing how mean they can be,” his father had explained. “And it’s true, Harold can’t always do the things we can, or at least not in the same way. Do you think that means he should be made fun of?”
“No,” had answered immediately. He liked Harold’s smile and the way he sniffed all the flowers he gave to customers.
His father had smiled gently at him then. “Do you think you should act differently around him? Treat him differently?”
“I’m nice to him. He’s nice to me,” had proclaimed.
“Good. Harold may not be able to do math like you can, and he might not be able to spell like you or remember some of the things you can. But he has a good heart, a kind heart. And those are more important than any brains.”
accepted it instantly. “He’s good.”
His father squeezed his shoulder then. “Just like you are. Just like your mother. You’re good . And no matter what people might say about you, never let them make you bad. Never let them make you into a bad person. You’re a good boy, hew, and you’ll grow into a good man if I have any say in the matter.”
“Can we,” had asked, glancing nervously toward the stand, “get some flowers for Mom? She always likes the ones he picks out for her.”
And they had, his hand in his father’s. Harold had given them his magnificent smile when he spotted , and he laughed when they asked for flowers for ’s mother. He remembered her. Of course he did. He always remembered the people who came by the stand.
was jerked back to the present by the hiss of the kettle. Shaking himself free from memory lane, he poured the water into the cup, added sugar, stirred, and threw the tea bags into the mix. By the time he returned to the living room, his father was in the plush chair had bought, the one he loved above all others, his book in hand.
His father looked up, smiling. “Ah, I was afraid you got lost somewhere.”
“No,” promised, setting the cup on the table beside him. “Just started zoning out a little, is all.”
“A break from thinking is good for the mind,” his father informed him immediately.
“Mmm, I remember you telling me that quite often when I zoned out,” said, grabbing the blanket his father had left behind and setting it on the back of the armchair just in case.
“Because it’s the truth.”
“I believe you.”
“I think you’re agreeing with an old man who’s lost his mind.”
’s smile felt brittle but he hoped it was warm. “You haven’t lost your mind, Dad.”
“Not today, but the day is young yet,” Calvin said with a bravado envied.
A soft sound filled the air and he recognized it instantly. “That would be the nurse.”
“As though I need one.”
“Having her here when I can’t be makes me feel better.”
His father grunted, either unwilling or unable to refute that. “Working today, are you?”
“Yeah, one of the guys is out for the weekend. So I’ve got some extra shifts this week.”
“You work too hard, hew. I wish you would take some time for yourself. Find yourself a nice boy.”
gave him a crooked smile. “I think at my age, they’re not really boys anymore.”
“Bah, at my age, you’re all boys.”
“I have no choice but to bow before your experience and wisdom,” said, making a show of bowing before his father, grinning.
Calvin waved at him, scowling. “Begone with you then. Go save some lives and waste away your precious years. On your head be it.”
turned, winking at the young woman coming into the living room. “He’s all yours. I got him all nice and worked up for you.”
* * *
By the time he reached the station, he was late. Even worse, everyone was assembled in the garage, including Chief Irons.
“You’re late, Howell,” the chief grunted at him.
“Sorry, got caught up at home.”
Chief Irons glanced at him and grunted again. “Everything alright?”
“It’s fine, nothing to worry about,” assured him.
“Ain’t worried. Just don’t be doing it again. I didn’t put you on the shift for no good reason.”
“Of course.”
Chief Irons shot him a suspicious look but only blinked back innocently. There was an understanding in Station 231 that Chief Irons was a hardass son of a bitch who didn’t brook any bullshit but had the greatest fondness for the men under his charge. Of course, everyone also understood that they would never call him out on it and never publicly acknowledge it.
Instead, turned to Cade. “What’s everyone standing around for?”
Cade glanced at him. “Keith called ahead. Said he was bringing his brother by. Chief Irons said we were supposed to come out and say hi.”
Another point on the sap factor for their hardass chief. “Oh?”
“I guess the guy is some former Marine, a vet. Got injured or something.”
“Oh,” said with a frown. “Is it bad?”
It was Davis who spoke up. “No, well, not like losing anything important. But it was enough that he’d never be able to serve on the frontline again. So they gave him the choice of desk or discharge. He chose the second.”
“I didn’t know Keith had a brother,” said.
Davis looked at him uncomfortably. “He, uh, doesn’t share anything about himself to...people he’s not big on.”
Cade snorted. “You suck dick, , you don’t get to know a thing about our best friend, Keith.”
Davis frowned, but Cade either didn’t care or didn’t see. could only shrug. Keith had never been a big fan of his, and could live with that. He’d worked with the man before, and while on a personal level, he wasn’t ready to shake the man’s hand and make nice, Keith never let his personal feelings get in the way of his work. So long as Keith wasn’t willing to let his feelings endanger others, which he didn’t, then was willing to ignore the man’s less-than-attractive qualities.
“Jesus, is that them?” Elias asked at the sound of a door slamming closed.
“Ha,” Cade grunted. “His little brother is bigger than him. That’s hilarious.”
strained to catch a good view of the two men walking toward them. He could see the similarities, the strong jaw, the dark blond hair, and even the same broad shoulders, though the unnamed brother was notably thicker.
“Oh shit,” Cade chuckled.
“What?” asked.
Cade looked between Elias and the unnamed brother and then over at . “Oh, nothing.”
“Behave,” Elias hissed, elbowing his boyfriend.
Cade said nothing, but didn’t think he had to. Even at a glance, this brother of Keith’s was a prime candidate for ’s taste in men. The worst part was even couldn’t deny it. As the two approached, he realized the man, who was both tall, darker in complexion than Keith’s normally ruddy appearance, and built bigger, also had the most brilliant hazel eyes.
“Oh shit is right,” muttered.
Keith looked them over, beaming. “Guys, this is my brother, Ethan.”