"Relax. He's fine."
Before Kieran can protest, the lady behind the desk—was it Claire?—calls for Dawson.
“I might as well give you this now.” She pushes a sealed plastic bag across the desk. “Mr Reeves had these on him when he was brought in.”
Dawson takes the bag, scanning the contents. Cal's wallet, his phone—which now has a smashed screen—and his Rolex, which seems to have made it out without a scratch.
And a ring identical to Dawson's.
“Thanks,” he mumbles, making a mental note to have the phone repaired before Cal wakes up and asks for it.
“Does it make you wonder what the car must look like?” Kieran asks, sounding dismayed.
“Not really.” He saw the one his parents were in. That will do for one lifetime. “Let's get out of here.”
“I’ll wait for you in the lobby,” Ellis informs him when Kieran parks in front of the apartment building, probably still salty that Dawson convinced him to ride with them.
“Okay. I won’t be long.”
“You sure you don’t want me to stay over?” Kieran asks after Ellis is gone.
Dawson shakes his head with a smile. “You’ve been a huge help already. And you have work tomorrow.”
“I can call in sick.”
“It’s okay. I promise.”
“Okay,” Kieran relents after a moment. He points a finger at Dawson. “I’ll be checking in with you though. Assholery runs in the family.”
Dawson rolls his eyes, though he appreciates the concern, as misplaced as it is. “Okay, Dad.”
“Shut up, brat.” Kieran slaps the back of his head, but his mock-scowl softens immediately. “I love you.”
“Love you too.” They hug it out and Dawson has to extract himself from the embrace since Kieran seems determined to lock him inside and drive away with him.
“Don’t forget your suitcase.”
Ah, shit. He forgot about that in all the mayhem. He fetches it from the trunk, coming to a halt when it hits him that he can’t take it upstairs with him unless he wants Ellis to ask questions. He makes a quick run to the garage and leaves the suitcase in his car. He rushes to the lobby where Ellis is already waiting for him, arms folded across his chest and an irritated look on his face.
“Sorry,” Dawson says, sheepish. He waves in the general direction of the street. “Kieran gets overprotective.”
“That’s…nice,” Ellis says, as if the concept of caring for someone is foreign to him. Hell, maybe it is. Although he was plenty concerned about his brother who he doesn’t seem to even like.
Dawson presses the lift button and the door opens right away. They step inside, standing as close to the opposite walls as possible.
“How was your flight?” Dawson asks, cringing. He’s terrible at small talk.
Ellis gives him a long-suffering look. “We don’t have to do this, you know?”
Well, that’s a relief. Even if it’s awkward. “Right. Sorry.”
Ellis lets out a groan. “No, I’m sorry. I’m grumpy when I’m tired.”
Dawson snorts. “Only when you’re tired?” He wants to take the words back just as they leave his mouth. He shoots Ellis a skittish glance, but to his shock he doesn’t look pissed, only a little amused.
“Fair point.”
“You never told me how you got my number.”
