Chapter 6
ANDREW
After work, Andrew entered his house to the smell of—Biang Biang noodles? He could tell from the way his nose hairs wanted to burn away. His mother had always made the dish especially spicy, and he and Steven had been trying to outdo each other to get the recipe right ever since she passed away.
He also entered to the sounds of instrumental jazz on his record player—again.
“There you are,” Steven said as he came into view from the kitchen, carrying the delicious smelling noodles with potholders that he set on the dining room table.
There were also vegetables and even some bao, though those looked store-bought, and a beer at each of their usual place settings. “You’re late.”
Bitterness tinged the back of Andrew’s throat, and he fought to keep his hands from tightening into fists like they had when he saw Olivia.
His ex and his brother should not create such similar feelings in him, yet with both he felt like they trampled forward without any care that he might be underfoot.
“Hard to be late for something in my own home,” he said stiffly. “Pretty sure we didn’t confirm family dinner for this week.”
Family dinner was a staple, even with their father moved halfway across the country for his retirement—and to not be as readily reminded of the loss of their mother by staying in the city—but that didn’t give Steven permission to just come over.
Andrew had gotten caught up in work for other clients after the alley. He’d called Kevin, who’d left Avalon after looking over Dalton’s research, and they decided to reconnect on Monday. He hadn’t had the chance to come home yet and shower.
Ford’s scent must be all over him.
“When we don’t confirm, at least one of us still makes sure it happens,” Steven said, taking his seat and staring expectantly at Andrew to join him, who hadn’t moved from the entryway.
“You know I hate the records without singing.”
“Your bad taste is beside the point, but if you hate them so much, why not let me have them?”
Never. They’d split the records evenly, what Dad hadn’t taken for himself, and that’s how things were going to stay.
“Come on, quit being a brat. What would Dad say if he heard we skipped a week?”
Low blow, but at least he hadn’t evoked Mom.
“Forgive me if I don’t like people breaking into my house,” Andrew said, which made him blush when he passed by the sofa, remembering Ford’s presence there as well.
He’d Febrezed it multiple times since Christmas, but he still worried he smelled like Ford—like salt and sweat and sandalwood from his cologne.
Cautiously, Andrew moved into the dining room and sat down, praying Steven wouldn’t notice and thankful for the beer that he took a long pull from.
“You didn’t have to cook,” he said, grabbing the tongs for the noodles.
“Before you dish up half the pan without asking…” Steven looked at him accusingly.
“I just…” Andrew halted with the tongs about to release over his plate and promptly returned everything to the serving dish. Once again, he felt twelve years old in his brother’s presence just from a look and his tone. “I am a heathen with no manners, sorry.”
“They need to cool. Grab a meat bun,” Steven said, doing so himself and taking a swig from his own beer.
Andrew bit into a bao with relish. Store bought or not, it was still delicious. “Learn anything new on the Avalon case?”
“If I had, I’d tell you. I was going to ask you the same thing.”
“You’ll be the first to know,” Andrew mimicked his evasiveness.
They munched and drank and filled their plates with vegetables until Steven finally said, “The noodles should be fine now. Let’s dish up,” grabbing for the tongs first this time.
“You made too many,” Andrew said, eyeing the mound Steven added to his plate, and taking just as much himself, but there was still a ton left over.
“Mom’s recipe serves four. They don’t turn out right if I half it.” There was a flick of his eyes to the two empty chairs at Andrew’s table, and a quiet moment passed between them.
“Mom would say we could fix that if we each had a date,” Andrew said, and they shared a rare, commiserating chuckle.
Steven rarely dated, and he’d said good riddance when Andrew dumped Olivia. He was married to the force, which Mom had always given him a hard time for, since he was older and could have given her grandchildren by now.
Which weirdly made Andrew think of Dalton, and just… no.
“Must have been working hard on a Saturday to be out so late,” Steven said. “I was hoping we’d throw the hockey game on after dinner.”
“We can do that,” Andrew said. There were times when he and Steven could just be and not butt heads, and he tried to cherish those moments. “This job is a big one. Success and an endorsement from Avalon could really help make some headway for me.”
“That’s good. Really. I know I can be a dick sometimes,” he said earnestly, which made Andrew look at him in surprise, “but I just want what’s best for you.”
“You sound like Dad.” Andrew smirked at him.
“Now, who’s being a dick?”
They laughed again, but the mirth was interrupted by Andrew’s phone buzzing. He pulled it from his pocket to check the text, but all he saw was that it was from Dalton before Steven snatched it from his hand.
“Hey!”
“No cell phones at the dinner table. You know the rules.” He might not have meant to look at Andrew’s screen, but his eyes drifted there anyway, and he saw the name, pulling the phone closer rather than setting it aside. “You’re getting texts from Wellesley?”
“He’s my friend, remember?” Andrew tried to grab it back from him. “Don’t—”
“And what does he mean by this?” He turned the phone toward Andrew, and he could finally see the message.
Thanks again for today and for being so cool about working with my dad.
“Who’s his dad?”
Andrew had no way around this but the truth, and he stared at his plate of noodles in longing as he let his hands drop back to his lap. “Isaac Ford.”
“What?”
“We’re working on this job together.”
“Are you kidding me? That kid is Ford’s son?”
“Steve—”
“At what point were you going to tell me that we have two obvious suspects in front of our faces?”
“It wasn’t either of them.” Andrew jerked forward. “Dalton checked out, and Ford would not do that to his son.”
A nasty huff left Steven in disbelief. “You ever stop to think they might have planned this together?”
“They are helping me with the case.”
“Or maybe you’re just putting blind faith in a man who should be back in prison.”
“You helped him cut a deal.”
“For the greater good. That doesn’t mean he’s reformed.”
“So what would? Immaculate conception?”
He saw the steam about to pour from Steven’s ears and rushed on to keep the upper hand.
“Vallancourt is in on this too. You want to berate her next?”
“She trusts Ford?”
“She trusts Dalton. And me. It’s a shame you never do.”
Silence settled over the table, the brief respite of good will that had existed between them long since squashed.
Steven was the first to break the quiet. “I thought we didn’t keep secrets in this family.”
“We don’t. I wasn’t…” Andrew trailed off when he had to admit that he had been keeping secrets, and he had a lot more he hoped his brother never learn about. “I was trying to protect a friend.”
“Who? Wellesley? Or Ford? He’d still be in jail if you hadn’t gone easy on him.”
“Easy? I did everything I could to prove the rest of those thefts were his, but the classifieds weren’t enough, and you know it.”
“Then why defend him now? He’s your competition. You can’t tell me that wasn’t purposeful, and now you’re working with him?”
Andrew bit back his next retort. He’d always assumed it was purposeful too, but he didn’t believe that anymore.
Ford had changed—for Dalton—and security was the only thing that made sense for him.
“He’s different. And you met Dalton. He’s a good kid.
If you saw them together, you’d understand.
You’d want to give Ford another chance too. ”
“You really believe that?”
“I do.”
“Then you won’t have a problem inviting them over for dinner.”
“What?” The combative adrenaline drained from Andrew’s body.
“If Ford’s so worthy of a second chance, you should feel comfortable having him under this roof. Or is that not true?”
Technically, Andrew had had Ford under this roof—by the fireplace.
And on the sofa.
“It… is,” Andrew said hesitantly. “I am comfortable. It’s just..
. there’s one small problem—and this is not me backtracking.
I trust Ford. There’s just something you should know.
” Collapsing back into his seat, Andrew tried to tell himself that keeping this between only a handful of people was never going to pan out anyway.
“Dalton thinks Ford and I used to date.”
Steven looked in desperate need of another beer.
“Which we didn’t. It was the first thing that came to mind when Dalton asked how we knew each other.
Ford doesn’t want his son involved in his past or his current security business, so he didn’t want to admit I was his arresting officer.
We sort of blanked on the obvious competitor’s angle.
So, for Ford’s sake—for Dalton’s sake—I went with it. ”
“Do the lies just take on a life of their own with you?”
“Ford started it! I just…” Andrew did not want to tumble back into being confrontational. “I trust him. I trust Dalton. I will invite them over to prove to you that I’m right about Ford. He’s a good man deep down. Mostly. Now he’s trying to be a good dad.”
Silence settled over the table again. They’d need to reheat the noodles at this rate, and that was sacrilege.
“Fine,” Steven conceded. “Invite them. I mean it. Whole family affair. Kevin and Candace included. I want their opinions on Ford and son too.”
Ford and son. For family dinner.
When Candace didn’t know any of this.
Ford was going to be so pissed.
“And since when do you wear such woodsy cologne?”
Andrew took a bite of noodles to keep from answering.