Chapter 25
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
The house Steven pulled up in front of was so not-Myles he half thought he had the wrong address.
He glanced at the text from Stephanie again, then at the brass number plate next to the black double front doors.
It was the right place according to her note.
But it didn’t seem like the right place for Myles.
“Says who?” he asked himself. “You’ve known him so long you know all his tastes?” He couldn’t say he did, but that didn’t mean he could see Myles living in this gigantic cookie-cutter house, either.
He was still staring through the windshield at the blindingly white brick and fake black shutters when one of the doors opened. So used to seeing houses independently invite people in, the appearance of a compact pixie-haired person surprised him.
They stepped out onto the wide cement veranda, then cursed as MJ ran between their legs, yapping like the tyrant he was and dashing towards the car.
Steven quickly opened his door and scooped MJ up before he could run into the street. Not that it was a particularly busy street at the end of the cul-de-sac, but still. Better safe than sorry.
MJ licked his face and hands manically as Steven closed the car door.
The person on the porch approached, a speculative look on their face. “Please,” they said, “tell me you’re Steven.”
“Mr. Steven!” Shelly’s shrill excitement overrode Steven’s reply, and he had to hastily hand the dog off in order to catch Shelly mid-flight off the front veranda.
“Why, hello, Miss Shelly.”
She wrapped both arms around his neck and giggled. “Auntie Pat, this is Mr. Steven. He loves my Uncle My-my.”
“Does he, now?” Pat said, still eyeing him, but with a softly interested expression.
Despite the blush heating his cheeks, Steven nodded. “He does.”
“I expect one wouldn’t drive across the country for just anyone,” Pat said. “I know I wouldn’t.”
“Right.” Steven set Shelly on her feet. “Well, I did.”
Pat nodded. “Best come inside, then.”
“Should I leave the car in the drive?”
“Actually.” Pat’s eyes twinkled suddenly. “Let’s put it in the garage. I’ll go open the door. Shelly.” She held out a hand. “Come on. Let’s put on a pot of coffee.”
When the garage door opened with a remarkably quiet glide of wheels and gears, Steven inched the car inside, paranoid he’d knock off a side-view mirror in the process.
Of course, the garage was more than big enough to accommodate even Myles’s boat of a car.
By the time he’d parked again, retrieved his duffel from the back seat, and got out, Pat and Shelly were standing at the inside door to the kitchen waiting for him.
“You might as well come inside to wait,” Pat informed him.
“Wait?”
“We have cookies.” Shelly pointed at a stack of tins on the counter.
“Myles is out with Jet, but I expect they’ll be back soon. In the meantime, you can tell me all about how you came to be returning his car instead of your… sister?”
“Yes.” Steven stepped into the immaculate, pine-scented kitchen. While the decor didn’t seem to fit Myles, the spotlessness did.
“Did your uncle makes those cookies?” Steven asked.
Shelly made a face. “Don’t be silly, Mr. Steven.”
“No, of course he didn’t. I don’t expect he’s reached baker level yet.”
“He made KD last night.” Her expression of distaste deepened. “The cheese powder was all glommy and the noodles were crunchy.” She lifted her chin. “But I ate it anyway, so he didn’t feel bad.”
“Mighty brave of you.”
“I know. But I love him, so…” She shrugged a shoulder, took his hand, and led him from the kitchen to the living room, kicking the door between the spaces when it started to swing shut on her. “Stop it, dumb-dumb.”
“Shelly,” Pat said.
“Well, it’s a dumb house.”
“Houses have feelings too,” Steven reminded her.
“Oh, I know. This one is grumpy, like, all the time.” She looked up at him. “I like yours. It likes us.”
“That it does.”
They were chuckling about the kitten discovery, with Shelly’s instant and riveted attention to his story, when the front door opened. From where he sat on the couch, Steven could look over his shoulder and see first Jet, then Myles step into the wide foyer.
Jet’s grin was instant.
Myles stared, an expression of shock on his face.
He had to be hallucinating. The pain from his hip was messing with his head, because he was looking at Steven, sitting casually on his sofa, arm across the back, a grin on his face and hair in his eyes.
“Hey!” Jet scooted across the foyer to the living room and executed an elaborate fist-bumping hand-shake ritual with the hallucination. “What the hell you doing here?”
Steven grinned. “Delivering your uncle’s car.”
“I thought Stephanie was doing that.” Jet stepped back and, without even looking at her, caught Shelly when she jumped off the sofa arm towards him.
“Change of plans.” Steven turned to look at Myles. “Hi?”
“You’re here.” Myles limped over the hard tile, ignoring that he still had his damp boots on when he stepped onto the hardwood.
Steven nodded.
“You, um.” He blinked, a long, slow blink, his breath caught in a tight chest, but when he opened his eyes, Steven was still standing there. Jarred into motion, he tossed his cane towards the couch and scooped Steven into a hug. “Shit. You’re really real.”
Steven grunted out a chuckle. “Last time I checked.”
Myles squeezed him tighter. “How are you here?”
“Hey. You’re trembling.” Steven gripped the sides of Myles’s face and pulled him into a firm, grounding kiss. It was too short a kiss, but it was very, very real. “Okay?” Steven asked, gazing at him intently.
Myles nodded. “Maybe?” He swayed slightly, his hip fading out on him, so he had to grip Steven hard around the waist to stay on his feet.
“Sit down, Uncle Myles,” Jet ordered, setting Shelly down.
She immediately ran for his cane and wedged it under his hand.
Pat pushed Myles at the couch. “I’ll get more coffee. Jet.” She waved at him. “Help me, please.”
“Right.” Jet took Shelly’s hand, and the three of them trooped into the kitchen.
The door closed decisively behind them.
Steven guided Myles to the couch, even helping him pull off his boots and taking them to the rack by the door. They both sat, facing each other.
Myles touched Steven’s cheek, tucked a bit of hair behind his ear, and a grin spread over his face. “You’re here.”
“I’m surprised Tris didn’t give it away while I was on the road.”
Ozzy’s uncharacteristic sharpness with his boyfriend over their last phone call suddenly made sense. “Are there actual kittens?” he asked. Because that was most relevant thing to find out.
“Six of them. Tris has been dying to facetime you so Shelly can pick hers before he finds homes for the rest. Marcus and Eli want two of them. One for the diner, and one for their apartment.”
“Can you keep a cat in a diner? How are you here? I thought Stephanie and Bob… Your house. Shit. Are you okay?”
“Breathe.” Steven leaned close to touch their foreheads together, running fingers along Myles’s jaw and finding his hand to hang onto. “Take a breath, babe.”
“I’m breathing.” But his chest still felt tight, and his head swam.
“You’re hyperventilating, and I’d kiss you to make it better, but I’m afraid you might pass out of I do.”
“Kiss me,” Myles demanded, because that usually did make things better.
“Bossy.”
“Yes.”
“Fine, but only because you appear to need it desperately.”
“I do.”
And he was right. Steven’s kiss calmed his circling thoughts and eased the pounding of his heart. His smell, soap and dusty books and optimism, surrounded Myles, and suddenly he could breathe. He could think. He closed his eyes and let the world pause around them.
“Okay?” Steven asked when he’d pulled away.
Myles managed to refrain from whining about the end of the kiss. “I am now, yeah.”
“Okay.” Steven sat back, but he kept Myles’s hand in his. “Now you can ask your questions.”
This time, he got the order right. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“But your house?”
“Is sick.” Steven’s jaw clenched momentarily, but he shook it off, tossing his hair out of his eyes. “Ozzy has it in hand, and I found it easier to not be there while it was going on.”
“He said there was a leak?”
“There’s… a lot. Turns out there’s more to home ownership than just living in a house.” His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Who knew. But Ozzy is on it, and I’m sure Eddie will be just fine once he’s done.”
“Eddie?”
“Edwina. I found some plaques Dad had made before he… well. You know the bells in the kitchen? Dad had some brass plaques engraved to label them. “Edwina’s Alert System” and one for the Residence—by which he meant the upstairs, for the Labyrinth, and for the Shop.
He never got a chance to install them. I didn’t even know they existed until I started cleaning out his office. ”
“Edwina.”
Steven shrugged. “I was never going to guess that name. Good thing Dad wrote it down.”
Myles said nothing, studying Steven’s stiff shoulders and preoccupied expression.
“Why are you staring at me?” Steven asked after a few minutes.
“You’re worried.”
“I’m okay.” He held up his phone and wiggled it.
“Therapist on speed-dial and all.” He let out a breath, and this time when he smiled, it looked more real.
“Steph and Bob are looking after the house, and between them and Jake, the shop will be fine. If they need help, we have a couple of high schoolers who cover for us occasionally, and there might be some of Lucky’s kids who can take a shift. ”
“You dropped your entire life to bring me my car.”
“Like I said, it’s easier for me to not stress out over it all if I’m not in the middle of it every day. Once I go back…”
“When will that be?” Myles asked gently, trying to stay neutral. He could deal if Steven was going to turn around and fly home tomorrow, but he hoped there would be a visit.
Steven met his gaze. “Playing that by ear.”
“So you’ll stay a while?” He managed not to hold his breath, but he couldn’t help but feel hopeful anyway.
“I hoped that would be okay.”
“More than.”