Page 73 of Forbidden

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Or maybe not.

“We’re checking you’re not dead, old man,” Lane says from beside me, and I don’t have to look at him to know he’s smirking.

Doug scowls at him. “Fuck off.”

“Doug,” I say, pulling his attention to me. “We’re worried about you.”

His glare softens for a split second before hardening once more. “You don’t need to worry about me. I’m fine.”

“If you’re fine,” Joy says, folding her arms. “Why haven’t you been to practice?”

Doug’s teeth grit. “I’m grieving. I’m allowed to grieve.”

My heart twists in my chest. “I’m sorry. We didn’t know.”

His eyes narrow and he looks at Lane, but Joy jumps in.

“Lane told us you’d gone back to the UK for a family emergency. He didn’t give us any details. He said it was up to you to tell us if you wanted to.”

There’s no hiding the surprise on Doug’s face.

“Fuck, man,” Lane says on a sigh. “You really don’t give me any credit, do you? Now are you going to let us in or are we going to have to stand out here freezing our nuts off because you’re being a miserable fuck?”

Doug grumbles something under his breath and steps back, opening the door wide enough to let us in. Lane ushers Joy in first, then me, as though I might turn and run if left until last.

When he shuts the door, it becomes clear we definitely dragged him out of bed. Dressed in plaid sleep pants and a long-sleeved gray t-shirt, he doesn’t say a word before padding with bare feet across the living room and into the kitchen.

“I’m sorry you lost someone,” Joy says, as we follow him in. “You don’t have to talk about it, but we still want to know that you’re okay.”

Doug huffs, opening cupboards with his back to us. “How many coffees am I making?”

“Four,” Lane answers for us. “Want me to tell them?”

Still facing away, he shrugs as he pulls four mugs down from a cupboard. Lane frowns at him, then leans against the counter and folds his arms.

“Doug’s grandmother died,” he says. “She meant a lot to him.”

My heart dips into my stomach. Doug told me about her once when we were lying in bed. She was the closest family member he had. Before I can think better of it, I cross the small kitchen and grip Doug’s shoulder, turning him around and folding him into a hug. Part of me expects him to push me away, but he just stiffens, then gives in, relaxing against me. The scrape of his full beard is rough against my neck, and he smells like sweat and sleep, but the firm expanse of his chest against mine is warm and familiar in a way that has me holding him tighter. All too soon, he pulls away.

“I’m sorry, Doug,” Joy says softly. “I know you won’t because you’re stubborn as hell, but we’re here if you need anything.”

Doug grunts again, bracing himself against the counter as the sounds of his coffee maker fills the silence.

“Take your coffee and go grab a shower,” Lane says. “We’re taking you out. Fresh air will do you good.”

Doug’s head hangs and I watch his broad shoulders heave with a sigh. “I should never have opened the bloody door.”

“We have a picnic,” Joy says, moving to the counter beside him and leaning into his line of sight.

“And beer,” Lane adds.

Doug lifts the half-filled jug of coffee off and pours a cup, the drips hissing loudly as they continue falling, before he shoves it back. “You should have led with the beer.”

Twenty minutes later, as I’m washing up the coffee mugs, Doug reappears. Dressed in dark blue jeans, a green pullover, and a heavy black coat, he still hasn’t shaved. But honestly, I’m quite digging the longer beard. It could do with a bit of tidying so it’s more ‘mountain man’ than ‘homeless man’, but it suits him.

“Let’s get this shit show on the road, then,” he says, grabbing a scarf from beside the door.

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