Page 31 of Stolen By the Hit Man
“It’s been like that for years. Ever since they set up shop in Darling Creek, things have been weird. But you wouldn’t know what it was like because you’ve never visited.”
“You know why I’ve never visited you here,” says the older man. “And planes and roads work both ways, you know.”
The very expensive-looking coffee machine makes a gentle humming sound as the hot liquid begins to fill the waiting pot.
“And you are equally aware why I can’t come to see you. I don’t need my enemies making a list of people I care about.”
A heavy sigh from the older man is followed by the scrape of a kitchen chair on the tile.
Although the two men are having some kind of disagreement, the long history and genuine love and concern is evident in the tones they use with each other.
“It’s time for you to be honest with yourself. You can’t continue down this road. Whatever this career is, it’s killing your soul, Joaquin.”
Joaquin scoffs and mutters, “Soul.” He pours coffee into a waiting mug and hands it to Grady.
“Fine,” says Grady. “Let’s not go down that philosophical road. The fact is, this revenge mindset won’t bring your parents back. And it’s not honoring the dead.”
“But it makes the world safer for the living.”
“Not safer for your family. For the people you push away.”
Joaquin takes a seat across the table from Grady and folds his hands on the table. I watch in wonder as he seems to take on the posture of a nine-year-old kid. His feet fidget under the table, and he shifts in the chair, as if trying and failing to get comfortable.
“Are you hearing me, son?”
I don’t know Grady, but he has the kind of firm but gentle energy I would never push away. If choosing a father or grandfather were a thing, I’d choose Grady, based on eavesdropping on this conversation alone.
“He hasn’t pushed me away,” I say before I can stop myself.
And suddenly I’m standing at the entrance to the kitchen, unable to keep myself out of this conversation. And away from the plate of brownies that neither of these men has touched.
Both men have turned toward me. Grady with a surprised look on his face and Joaquin…something else.
My lover’s eyes rake over my bare legs, taking in the fact that I’m wearing one of his hoodies I found in the closet, along with a pair of drawstring shorts that I’ve had to cinch up so much that the strings hang down past the middle of my thighs. But there’s more to the expression than just approval of the way I look in his clothes. It’s an expression that says he’s been expecting me,and now that I’m here, something that went wrong has been set right. Something empty has been filled.
It’s love.
Plain and simple.
Even if I don’t want to admit it. Even if that’s crazy after having known him for a day.
“Well, hello there!” Grady turns to Joaquin. “You didn’t tell me you had company.”
Joaquin makes a move toward me, but I sidestep him and reach out to Grady. “I’m Jasmyn. And before you ask, yes, I was eavesdropping. But mostly I want a brownie.
Grady’s craggy face breaks into a warm smile, and he sandwiches my hand in both of his. “Nice to meet you. I’m Grady. Joaquin’s…adopted…dad.”
The pause before “dad” is telling, as is the way he cuts his eyes toward Joaquin.
Joaquin turns to me with a sly grin and uses his foot to push out a third chair, indicating he wants me to sit next to him. “Grady is super paranoid about erasing the memory of my biological parents. But he’s just my dad. No qualifiers necessary.”
The older man lets go of my hand and arches an eyebrow at Joaquin. “Why don’t you just let me be me, kid?” Grady says with a smile that tells me this is a frequent topic of conversation between them, and neither of them is going to budge. But not in a way that gets either of them too riled up.
“Why don’t you just take credit for being in my life longer than any other adult?” Joaquin retorts. I slide into the offered seat, and his arm naturally curls around my shoulders.
I pick up a brownie and take a bite.
Grady smiles with cautious approval.
