Chapter 24
Chapter twenty-four
Grady
The next week drags on, like watching paint dry.
Late nights at work are a thing of the past with Riley at home.
I try to leave at a reasonable time to make him dinner and be there so that he knows I’m not abandoning him.
He’s gone on a few wedding errands with me and at least pretended to be interested.
We’ve learned a lot about each other without Lake as the bridge that connects us, and his voice to fill the silence.
Neither of us talks much, so it took a few days before we had a proper conversation.
He’s still a brat with a smart mouth and a chip on his shoulder the size of the country, but he uses his manners, listens properly, and can follow instructions.
He’s a smart kid, he just needs to learn to use it for good, not for stealing shit.
He’s allergic to chickpeas, which is an allergy I’ve never encountered before and an easy one to avoid.
He likes sweet potatoes, hates peas—a weird dislike, but okay.
He’s great at math, even likes it, which I don’t understand at all, though he’d be happy without English.
He’s already mentioned that he doesn’t like his school, and given that he’s changed districts now, again, he has the choice to move if he wants to. I’ll wait until Lake is home before speaking to him; it’s a decision we should all make together.
It’s been a long week, one both uneventful and yet filled with activity. I just want Lake home, back in my arms. He still couldn’t give me even a rough estimate last night, and it’s been almost three weeks since he left. Three weeks too long.
To distract myself, I decided to do some DIY. It feels like a spur-of-the-moment choice that Lake would make—has made—and it makes me feel closer to him.
Except for the part where it’s going tremendously badly.
The spanner slips, and I smack my hand, pain reverberating through my thumb and palm.
“Motherfucker!”
“Such language.”
I jerk, surprised, hitting my head on the underside of the new sink. Rubbing where it throbs, I glare at the man standing in the bathroom doorway.
“What the hell are you doing here?” He’s like some evil entity that appears if you’re having a bad day, just to make it that much worse.
Sebastian leans against the doorframe, eyeing the mess surrounding me. “Quinn was worried, sent me.”
Of fucking course, he did. “He was too busy to come himself?” I ask sarcastically. Sometimes I can’t decide if my partner likes me or hates me. Most days it’s probably both. There’s no need to sic the lawyer on me, though.
“Thought you’d like a friendly face.”
That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.
“Why’d he send you, then?” On that note— “How did you even get in?” Hades isn’t here to be my guard dog since he’s with Riley at Lake’s parents.
They embraced him straightaway, like he was a long-lost grandson.
Something about them puts Riley at ease in a way he doesn’t feel around me, not yet.
“You know how Quinn is really good at locks?”
From his delinquent days, running around with Sebastian all those years ago?
“Yes.” The fuck does that— “Did you just admit to breaking into a cop’s house?
” Is our lock really that easy to pick? I’m getting a new one.
Deadbolt. Cameras. Fucking rocket launchers to shoot at any trespassers, like that weird place on the movie Lake made me watch.
With the little yellow things that look like Tic Tacs.
“I didn’t say that.”
“It’s what you meant.”
“Implications mean nothing without proof.”
Picking up the spanner, I lean back in to finish installing the new sink. I’ve spent the last few days going back and forth between here and Bunnings, getting everything I need to create Lake’s bathroom for him. Maybe if I get it done, he’ll come home.
Ridiculous thought. He’ll come home when they’re done; it’s not like he’s gone forever.
“Your hallway looks like an ad for a home improvement series.”
Whatever that means. “Is this your idea of cheering me up?”
He comes further into the room, carefully walking over and around all the tools and shit that I have strewn all over the floor. It’s a fucking mess, and it feels like I haven’t made any progress at all.
“I could sing you a song if you want. I know a few good bouncy ones.” He crouches next to me, looking under the sink. “Is this a midlife crisis thing or about Lake?”
“Am I getting charged for this therapy session?” I ask sarcastically.
He shrugs, doesn’t answer. He picks up a shower curtain packet that I bought from Spotlight.
Along with five others because I wasn’t quite sure what Lake would want; the picture he shared doesn’t have one.
I didn’t get a standing bath, instead just updating the bath and shower that’s already here.
I replaced the glass sliding door and redid the tiles.
Replacing the entire thing would be a job that’s more than I can handle.
If Lake really wants to, we’ll hire someone to do it.
“It’s alright to struggle while he isn’t here.”
“Thanks for your permission.”
He hands me the spanner back. “Heard you got a new family member,” he says, changing the subject. I’m not going to thank him for that. I didn’t ask him to come here.
“We’ve had the dog for ages.”
“Does everyone really call him Mini-Riley?”
“I don’t.” And I’d never say “Big-Riley” in front of my boss either. The fact that it’s gotten all the way to Sebastian through the grapevine is terrifying. Quinn wouldn’t have told him.
“Is he here?”
“No, he’s staying the night with Lake’s parents.” I have a feeling he already knew that, the wanker. “Right now he’s probably eating his weight in sugar.” It’s what grandparents do, isn’t it? I never met mine.
“Nice.” He grins and then sits down on the clean spot on the floor, crossing his legs. He looks fucking ridiculous in his fancy suit, trying to make himself small so he doesn’t get dust on it. He shouldn’t have come in here, then.
Ignoring him, I go back to hooking up the pipe and getting everything in place.
“Tell me what you need, and I’ll get it for you,” he says, clearly trying to be helpful.
“What if I want you to leave?”
“That’s not on the menu.”
How’d I know he’d say something to that effect? If he went to the trouble to break into my house, he’s not going to just leave when I ask nicely. When I ask.
The front door opens, and this time I hear it, as I’m not buried under the sink and concentrating. Who the fuck is it now?
“Honey, I’m home.”
Quinn. “Is everyone coming over?” I grumble. Fuck, I hope not. I’m not in the mood for the we’re so in love with each other group of men. One is too many.
He appears in the doorway, a bag of takeaway food hanging from his hand. “What are you doing?” he asks, looking around. It’s a weird role reversal from the time I found Lake in here.
“What does it look like?” I snap, tired beyond words.
Quinn nods thoughtfully. “Why don’t you take a break and have some food, and then we can, uh… sort whatever this is out.”
“Renovation,” Sebastian helpfully supplies.
“Right. Sure.”
I hate them both.
I don’t hate the food that Quinn brought. Steak burgers and thick beer-battered chips, and some berry smoothies. It’d be a great meal if they didn’t keep staring at me like they’re waiting for me to break down or something.
“Just say it already,” I grouse halfway through.
“We don’t have anything to say,” Sebastian says as if there’s been a single day in his life that he hasn’t had an insufferable opinion he has to share with the world.
“I thought you’d like some company.”
“You think I can’t handle spending a night alone?” I ask, glaring. I’m not so pathetic that I can’t handle this. Yeah, it’s hard, but I’m dealing with it. It’s temporary, and I just have to get through it.
“I know you can,” Quinn says gently. “Does that mean we can’t visit?”
“Not when you have some ulterior motive.”
“There’s no motive.”
I hate the rational tone he has. I hear it all the time when he uses it on witnesses, suspects, and anyone else that we come into contact with each day. I don’t appreciate it being used on me.
“Look, if you want to offer your unpaid labour, then be my guest. I have plenty of heavy lifting for you to do.”
“If that’s what you need.”
For fuck’s sake.
Sebastian gathers the rubbish and dumps it into the bin and then heads for the cabinet on the other side of the room that holds my alcohol.
“What are you doing?”
“I’ve heard things about your stash, and I want to see it.”
Fantastic. “Grab whatever you want.” Anything in there is worth drinking. I don’t allow swill in my house.
Sebastian winks at me, and in no time we’re holding glasses of whisky, standing around the kitchen counter. It warms me up from the inside out, going smoothly down my throat. Of course, the lawyer picked the best whisky of the bunch.
“The house just feels empty without him,” I admit into the strangely comforting silence that surrounds us. The house feels so full and filled with life when he’s here. It gets harder every day to come home when I know he’s not here.
“We do get it,” Quinn says. “Jericho doesn’t leave often, but there are times where his expertise is needed, and there isn’t anyone else.
It’s usually only a few days or a week, but the longest he’s been gone is almost a month.
He can’t communicate while he’s gone, and sometimes when he’s not there, we’re climbing the walls, worrying about him. ”
I have to be grateful I can at least talk to Lake once a day even if it’s only for a minute or two. Not knowing where he is and not being able to hear from him? Fuck that.
“We’re here for you.” Quinn holds out his glass, and I tap it with my own. I know he is. He always has been. I’ve never had a partner at work that I trust to watch my back more than him.
It’s not so bad having them over for dinner and a drink. But I’m still getting them to help me with the bathroom. They offered, and they aren’t getting out of it now.