Page 2 of His Surrender
“I can pencil you in. Right between the bartender and the fitness trainer.”
“You serious?” he asked with a shake of his head. “Damn, Foley. You haven’t changed a bit.”
I winked and opened my car door before sliding inside and starting the heater. The bartender had been a joke, but I had every intention of meeting up with the hot fitness instructor later that night.
“You haven’t changed a bit.”
No, but you have, I’d almost told him.
We used to fuck like rabbits and pick up guys together for threesomes, sometimes foursomes. It’d been a wild time after his divorce when he’d finally embraced the sexuality he’d denied for close to twenty years. I missed those days with him, but the Emery Cross I knew now was happier than the miserable and oftentimes angry one I’d known back then.
And so, I welcomed that change, knowing Emery was better because of it.
That evening, I got to his place five minutes before seven. I grabbed the bottle of wine I’d purchased before driving over and walked toward the front porch. Through the open blinds of the living room window, I saw Cason and Emery embracing. Cason’s laugh reached me on the steps. The thing that really warmed my heart was the sound of Emery’s answering chuckle.
Yeah.Happywas a good look for my friend.
I knocked on the door. “Police. Open up.”
Seconds later, the door swung open and I was greeted by Cason’s wide grin. “Hey, pretty boy.”
“Hey yourself, childling.”
I heard Emery mumble in the background, “Goddamn you, Jay.”
Cason laughed and stepped aside so I could go in.
Emery was the tidiest person I’d ever met in my life. Everything in the house was perfectly organized and cleaned. Couch pillows were fluffed and evenly spaced out, the rug was vacuumed, and the place smelled fresh—probably one of those scented wall plug-ins he loved fromBath & Body Works. His office at work was the same way. So I was a bit surprised—and amused—to almost trip over a pair of shoes in the floor.
“Sorry!” Cason rushed over and grabbed them. “Forgot to put these away after my jog earlier.”
Emery shook his head but reached for Cason as he passed by, giving the boy a kiss on the temple before allowing him to continue down the hall.
“Teenagers and their messes, right?” I asked. At his scowl, I put my hands up. “I yield.”
“Speaking of teenagers, how’s your nephew doing?”
My brother, Ivan, and his son had moved to Arkansas late last year. Before that, they’d lived in North Carolina. When Ivan’s marriage went south, he and Foster decided to start over in a new place. I had told Emery about Foster’s troubles since moving to Fort Smith—the kid was introverted as hell and struggling with making friends.
“He’s doing okay,” I answered. “School is still hard for him, but he’s in band now and really enjoys it.”
“That’s good. Music is a great outlet.”
“Football is too,” Cason said, coming down the hall.
“Not sure Foster would be good at sports.” I pictured the fourteen-year-old with his long, lanky arms, glasses, and mousy brown hair. He preferred to stay indoors reading a book rather than playing in the sun. “Band is more his style.”
Cason led us into the kitchen where he told us to sit at the table while he finished making dinner.
“Wine?” I asked Emery, holding up the bottle.
“Please,” he said, smiling. “You even grabbed my favorite kind.”
“I’m good like that, Cross. And don’t you forget it.”
“Can I have some?” Cason asked, checking the steaks he was cooking on the small grill on the counter. “I usually don’t drink, but a nice glass of wine sounds good.”
I looked at Emery and raised a brow. “What do you say, Daddy? Can your boy have some wine?”
