“Is it foryou?”
She blinks, and then settles. A slow, sad smile forms as she steps forward and closes the distance between them. She tilts her head at that exact mother-angle he’s seen from his own mom so many times. “I don’t think you’ve noticed,” she says, smiling a little wider, “since you’ve been so distracted, but all of us – all of us, Matt and Will and everyone – have been watching the two of you dance around each other likethemost frustrating episode ofThe Bachelorever.”
Luke opens his mouth and…leaves it open, gaping stupidly.
“Hal told me once, right after he started working for us – it was rainy and miserable out; Matt had a cold and Hal had to practically drag him home so I could force his germy behind into bed. Hal came down to the kitchen, and I had a bowl of soup all ready for him. Poor thing looked like a big old muscly drowned rat, and I said, ‘We’ve got to find you a wife to make you soup at home.’ And he got this look on his face.” She mimics it: wistful, pained. “I said, ‘Who is she?’ And he said, ‘There’s…no. No she.’ And I said, ‘Ah, who’she’?”
She smiles again. “He looked so scared, and that’s when I knew for sure, and I said, ‘Honey, love is love.’ And he said, shaking like a leaf, ‘I ruined it with him. I ruined it, and I can’t tell him now. He’ll never listen.’ He didn’t say who, but when he started talking about you, about what a hell of a writer you are, and how funny, and what a smartass.” She flashes him a beautiful, bright grin. “Then I knew. You should see the way he looks at you.”
He attempts to swallow. His voice comes out raw, and this time it has nothing to do with smoke inhalation. “That’s what Tara said.”
“Love is love,” she repeats, quietly, prayerful. She leans in and kisses his forehead, hands gentle, but skin rough from housework against his face. “We want you boys to be happy.”
And then she pulls away and slips out, leaving the quiet notes of her perfume behind.
~*~
He just means to close his eyes a minute, but the bed is a dream and the opiates dull his pain to a manageable ache. The next thing he knows, a hand’s running down his leg and he’s battling his own eyelids. From the deep, black sleep of the drugs, he launches into unsteady awareness, heartbeat in his throat. It slows, though, when he sees Hal sitting on the edge of the bed. Hal would never let anything happen to him.
“Sorry.” Hal passes his hand down Luke’s leg again, smoothing the thin fabric of his sweats. “Dinner’s ready, if you think you can eat. I can bring something up to you if you don’t feel like going downstairs.”
Luke struggles to sit up, scowling at his own shakiness. “I can walk. I’m not a fucking cripple.” But he has to lean against Hal’s shoulder.
“Of course not,” Hal says, patronizing him. He cups his head briefly and drops a kiss into his hair. “Want help?”
Luke grunts his displeasure – he’s starting to sound like Will, Jesus. But says, “Yes, please.”
It’s embarrassing how weak he is, the way his knees buckle and his insides squirm. The meds have worn off, and he hurts, he hurtsso bad. He hisses through his teeth and leans into Hal, into the strength of the arm wrapped around his waist that hauls him out of bed and onto his feet. Shame heats his face. “Sorry, sorry,” he mutters.
“I’ve got you,” Hal assures, and kisses him again, on the temple. “You need an extra sweater?”
Luke shakes his head and bites his lip. The shame is turning to tears. A lifelong friendship, three years apart, and finally they’ve made their confessions…and Luke can’t even be a good boyfriend. Can’t hook his legs around Hal’s waist and drag him down into bed, where they both belong. Can’t stand up on his own two feet, smirk at his guy, kiss him the way he’s always ached to kiss him.
Hal helps him down the stairs at a slow shuffle, never hurrying him, asking every few feet if he’s okay. The long plank table in the kitchen is set for a crowd. Diego sits at one end, mopping bits of sauce off his plate with a roll. He pops the last bite in his mouth as they enter and nudges Mitch, who’s still slurping noodles.
“Come on, back to work,” he says, and both men get to their feet.
“Boys,” Sandy laments, bringing more bread and a bottle of white wine to the table. “Don’t rush off.”
“Just shifting out, ma’am,” Mitch says. “It was delicious.” They put their plates by the sink and head out of the room.
The family comes in, all of them, plus Lee, big as a mountain, smile splitting his wide face as he sniffs the air appreciatively. “Smells good.”
“Alfredo,” Sandy says with a smile. “And there’s plenty.”
Hal sets Luke down, gentle, like he’s a baby bird, on the end of one of the benches and sits next to him, close enough for Luke to lean against if he wants.
“Here, sweetie.” Sandy hands Hal the big pasta bowl, and he serves up portions for both of them, way more than Luke can stomach.
“Gosh, I’m starving,” Maddie says. She shoots Hal a small, covert look, not remorse, just a look. He isn’t suddenly less handsome, but she’s respecting that he’s spoken for.
Luke catches Tara’s gaze across the table. She wears no makeup. Her hair’s tied back in a bun, and her Georgetown University hoodie looks more comfy than stylish. She looks young, and sweet, like the kid that she is.
“Everything looks great,” Matt says as he settles beside his wife. He leans over and kisses her cheek. A quick, automatic gesture.
Loopy, head full of cotton, Luke lets his eyes wander around the table, settling on faces, flicking over the movement of hands as everyone passes serving platters and heaps their plates with pasta, and bread, and vegetables. A small thread of tension runs through their group. There’s a bomber out there, not yet caught by police, and there’s crushing public opinion all over the place, the judgment of the media, of the government, of other nations who should have no say-so in what happens on American soil – all of it one press of a button away, on the other side of the black TV screen. But they are happy, in their own small ways. Happy because they are a family, and because they love one another, even Will, smiling because he thinks so one’s looking at him. A family that has welcomed him into their home, and treated him like one of their own. Who encouraged Hal when he was doubting, and hurting.
Luke ducks his head, stares at his plate, the rich steaming Alfredo sauce full of chicken and black pepper.
