Chapter 8
EIGHT
DYLAN
The past week had me on edge. Between craptastic shifts, Mikey’s potty training, the BS with my parents, all while feeling guilty for pulling Cass into this mountain of drama when he was finishing up the season, I wanted nothing more than to disappear into a bottle of Jack.
Since that wasn’t possible, I didn’t stop bouncing my knee, even though the action pissed me off.
A bouncing knee was better than me losing my shit.
“I’m here.”
I jolted out of the seat when Cass barreled through the waiting room door of the lawyer’s reception area.
“The traffic was a nightmare. Whoever thought it was a great idea to start all this roadwork now must have been a sadistic genius. I bet for shits and giggles they simply thought, ‘You know what’d be hilarious? Closing every major road, at the same time, and seeing how long it takes for drivers to lose their shit.’ Like, I get the need to fix gigantic potholes, but man, they had to pick the moment I was in the city.
I reckon they have an evil underground network of roadworkers monitoring our schedules, and when it’s going to piss folks off more, they’re like ‘Bam, move, move, move, Cass has a meeting. Let’s lock that shit down. ’”
I didn’t have time to respond before Cass was in my space and had his arms folded around me. As always, I sighed into the touch, hugging him back.
Was I touch deprived? Quite possibly. Being a single dad didn’t give me much opportunity to get up close and personal with another adult. Nor did it have a lot of my old friends hanging around.
These days, the most physical contact I got—beyond cuddles with Mikey—was when I was wrestling an asshole to the ground who was resisting arrest. It was not a kink I was a fan of.
Plus, this was Cass. I craved his touch more than I craved a quiet shift.
“Thanks for coming.” I pulled away, a real smile finally forming.
God, it was good to see him. Last week when I’d spiraled and reacted, I’d been in full-on panic mode.
The news from my mom came at the worst time.
That day I’d been involved in a situation with Maryann, a social worker I saw more often than I liked—especially considering how small our town was—removing two kids from a home.
Sure, it had been the right thing to do, but the kids’ mom had been jacked up at the time and hadn’t allowed her kids to go quietly.
And I got it. Fuck, did I get it. But between the screaming, the devastated kids, the mom who I had to convince to calm down as I didn’t want to arrest her, and my own mom’s shitty phone call, in that moment, I’d needed Cass.
My rock.
My sanity.
And he’d come through, because of course he did. He was the king of managing shit in an emergency, and he also took organization to a level that Marie Kondo would be envious of.
“As if I wouldn’t be here.” He rolled his eyes at me before angling to look around the reception area. “Let’s get this bullshit nipped in the bud.” With a wink, he sauntered up to the desk, and I just knew he had that ridiculously sexy smirk on his face.
The man had a talent. He could woo men and women alike with that butter-wouldn’t-melt-unless-I-licked-it-off-you smile he directed their way. I’d seen him in action more times than I’d written a speeding ticket.
“Hey there, beautiful Miranda. The old man in?”
Miranda, the middle-aged receptionist, blushed even as she rolled her eyes.
“Mr. Lisle is waiting for you in conference room three. Do you need a bitter coffee to tamp down all that sweetness?” She arched a brow, and I snorted.
Just how much time did Cass spend in this office for her to know how much shade to throw his way?
“Uff da, Miranda.” Cass clutched his chest in that ridiculous way he did when being dramatic and hoping for a laugh. “You wound me.”
I shook my head at his drawl. Since we were both Minnesota boys, born and bred, his thickening up his accent didn’t take too much work.
“Uh-huh. I’ll bring your coffee right on in.” Miranda turned her attention to me, an amused, almost fond smile on her lips. “Would you like a drink, Sergeant Turner?”
I returned her smile. “A water would be great, thanks.”
“In that case, you both can head on in. I put fresh water out five minutes ago.” She focused on Cass. “Off you go before you’re any later.” With that, she walked away—I assumed to go get Cass a coffee.
“Jesus, Cass. Just how often do you come here?”
“What?” Wide-eyed, he turned to me and shrugged. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about. I’m the motherducking picture of virtue and innocence.” He fell into step beside me, and just like that, the tight coil of fear that had been wrapped around me all week snapped.
Cass never failed to break through my walls, obliterating tension and fear like my very being was made out of putty or something, just waiting to be molded by him.
Grinning, I peered at him, angling up to catch his gaze. “Virtue and innocence, huh?”
“Yeah. You know it. Dictionary definitions that include examples have my handsome mugshot right there under it.”
“Picture book dictionaries… sounds legit.”
With twitching lips, Cass’s gaze roamed my face. I knew damn well what he was searching for. We’d spoken every day this week, and he’d managed a quick visit. Just like he could tear through my worry, he was the only person in the world who could read me like a book.
He knew my tells. Knew my heart. Well, most of it. There was the slightest sliver that I kept to myself.
“I’m okay,” I promised, responding to his silent question.
“Yeah, you are. How could you not be when I’m the best fucking friend ever? It means you’re always okay.” He nudged me, shooting me a wink.
“Yeah, because I’m nothing without you and you complete me or something, right?”
Smirking at me, Cass paused at a closed door. “And that is why you’ll always be okay. Your acceptance matters.” He wiped at a pretend tear and sniffed ridiculously. “You make me so proud.”
I shook my head. There was no point calling bullshit. Not only because he was right—which I’d never admit as his ego was already giant-sized—but because this was Cassius. In all his full-on, unapologetic, in-your-face glory.
And damn if I didn’t love him for it. I never wanted him to change.
I didn’t get the chance to respond before he was pushing open the door and entering the room.
“Granger.” Cass walked in with a big grin and a loud voice. “Good to see you again.”
Granger Lisle was up out of his chair and shaking Cass’s hand before they patted at each other’s backs like they were old-time friends. I scrunched my brow, wondering if that was the case, how come I’d never heard Cass mention the man before.
“Good to see you, Cassius.” Granger pulled away, all six-foot slickness and ridiculously handsome.
The lawyer also had probably twenty years on us, and since I was fairly sure none of Cass’s conquests had been an older guy—and Granger screamed daddy—something in my chest loosened.
“And you must be Sergeant Turner.” He shot me a bright, genuine smile. “It’s good to meet you.”
Shaking his hand, appreciating his firm, friendly grip, I finally smiled. “Thanks, and it’s Dylan.”
“Right. Dylan it is.” Granger stepped away and indicated toward the table. “Shall we take a seat?”
“Sounds good, thanks,” I responded, sitting down and settling even more when Cass sat next to me.
“You take in the game last night?” Smugness filled Cass’s tone. They’d obliterated the Wolverines, so the smugness was warranted.
“You know it. Good game.” Granger flicked his gaze to me. “Perhaps we can talk B-ball after this meeting.” His tone turned serious, but his expression remained open.
Cass must have noticed, too, as he straightened in his chair. For all his shit-stirring ways, Cass was levelheaded and could step up. It was something I was sure not many people knew about him.
When I nodded and Cass bobbed his head, giving his go-ahead, Granger picked up a file from next to his laptop.
“I’ve been in contact with Mr. and Mrs. Turner’s lawyer.”
Surprise rippled through me. Nothing had come through the mail. I’d received no official petition. Heck, I wasn’t even sure if they still used the same law firm from when I was a kid.
“It wasn’t hard to track down who their regular lawyer is.”
“It wasn’t?” I asked.
“Cassius told me something of your history.”
I bobbed my head, more than okay with that. The more information Granger had, the better. Especially if he could shut down this nonsense.
“Grandparents do have rights here in Minnesota. They have a case to file for visitation rights at the minimum.”
While I knew that, it was something I’d been actively ignoring. My parents made it easier by not even trying to get access to Mikey before.
“They’ve never even met him. Not once.” My throat felt scratchy, emotion catching my voice.
“That has to prevent them from getting access, right?” Cass asked, tone hard. “Why the hell do they want to see Mikey now?”
Exactly what I was thinking.
“That they haven’t seen Mikey before or even tried for access is good for you. The law surrounding this is very clear with the focus being on the best interests of the child.”
“So this is case closed, then, right?” Cass asked.
Thank Christ he responded because my mind was reeling.
“They’re the shittiest parents in the state of Minnesota.
Hell, they tried to send Dylan to conversion therapy when he was seventeen fucking years old.
” Venom all but dripped from his tone. It always did whenever he spoke about my parents and the time when he’d appeared at my door, his car still running, to take me in and get my belongings.
Granger angled his head, gaze on mine. “Is that true?”
I nodded. “Yeah. My folks didn’t much appreciate having a gay son.”