Page 38 of A Box of Wishes
Ben couldn’t hold back his grin. “You do that. I’ll head off to work.” He gathered his jacket and found his boots, not surprised when Ryan joined him before he could sneak out.
“You weren’t going without saying goodbye, were you?”
“Actually, I was. You were talking to your cousin, and I didn’t want to interrupt.” He caught Ryan’s disbelieving glare and shrugged. “I was going to call you later.”
“You’re not interrupting.” Ryan twined his arms around Ben’s neck. “You’re heading to work. The least I can do is—”
Ben pecked him on the cheek before he could finish. “Hold that thought, or we’ll scandalise your sister.”
“Not my cousin?”
“I can’t see much getting a rise out of him.”
Ryan chuckled. “Maybe not. Did you have a good evening? I’m sorry if I’m—”
“I had a lovely, relaxing dinner, and an illuminating chat with your sister, thank you.” He wanted to stay. Wanted to curl up on the sofa with Ryan in easy reach and listen to the three of them trade news and insults. They were comfortable with each other, and they’d drawn him into their circle as if he belonged there.
Ben saw his wish mirrored in Ryan’s eyes. “I’d love to do this again when I’m not working the night shift,” he said, and tasted sake on Ryan’s lips when he kissed him goodbye.
At Odds
“Can you even sleep?” Ryan’s voice wove in and out as he walked from room to room, the phone signal weaker in parts of his flat. It was just past eight on Sunday evening, and Ben was ready for bed.
“Sure. It’s hardly my first night shift.” Ben lay on the sofa, Morris on his lap. The remains of his dinner sat on a corner of the coffee table, along with a half-empty bottle of red wine. “I didn’t go to bed when I came home this morning, and I’ve been to the gym. I’ll be out like a light in a few, and back to my normal schedule by tomorrow morning.”
He’d be tired tomorrow, and probably the day after, but he’d deal. “What about you?”
They’d not seen each other since Ben had picked up Morris on the morning of January 2nd. Ryan had been busy with family commitments while the coffeehouse was closed, and Ben had worked nights for the rest of the week. In the afternoons he’d continued sorting through his bookshelves, content to be at home with Morris.
He hadn’t tried to set up another date. Now Ryan’s laugh felt like fingers brushing down his spine, and Ben couldn’t wait to see him again.
“Worked with my da in the restaurant, restocked the freezer in the cafe. And I had lunch with Alastair today.”
“What’s the matter with him?”
“How do you mean?”
Ben hesitated. Alastair Donohue had set all his professional alarm bells ringing. He reminded Ben of someone standing on a ledge. “Does he always drink as if drowning isn’t optional?”
“No. Yes. I mean, he’s Irish and we like our whisky.”
“But thereissomething wrong with him is what I’m hearing?”
Ryan sighed. “You’re good. Or it’s so bad that you’re picking up on it when you’ve only just met him.”
“I’m that good,” Ben chuckled. “I’m also trained to notice potential dangers. Though he doesn’t come across as a brawler.”
“God, no. Not like that. When something bothers him, he drinks. Quietly. By himself. Which is how Cara and I realised that something is wrong.”
“And he won’t tell you what it is? Better watch him.”
“Thanks, Ben. I have an idea what bugs him, sort of, but we’ll keep at him until we find out for sure.”
Ben heard the sound of the kettle turning on and smiled, knowing what was coming. He wasn’t wrong.
“Get yourself to bed, so you won’t be late for your tea tomorrow morning. And don’t forget to bring Morris.”
Ben had forgotten how many things he needed to catch up on after a week of night shifts. He’d breezed into work on Monday morning intent on picking up where he’d left off… only to hit a wall of virtual and actual paperwork.
