Twice Shy Page 11

  “I didn’t mean to eat too much syrup,” Rory said, his sad eyes piercing Ollie.

  “I know sweetheart, it’s okay. It doesn’t matter.” He grabbed Rory’s sponge and started to wash him all over. “Me getting cross with you was way worse. I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s okay.”

  Tears pricked Ollie’s eyes, and to hide them he leaned over the bath and kissed Rory’s hair. “I love you,” he said, feeling water seep through his t-shirt where he was pressed against the side of the tub. “I love you more than anything on earth, Rory. Even when I get cross.”

  “I love you more than anything on Mars,” Rory said.

  Ollie laughed, wiping at his eyes. “Really? Wow. Well, I love you more than anything on Jupiter.”

  “I love you more than anything on Mars and Jupiter and Neptune.”

  Luis toddled in then, eyes lighting up at the sight of the bath, and Ollie had to keep him from climbing in with all his clothes on—which made Rory laugh, and his laughter lifted Ollie’s battered spirits higher than anything in the world.

  The boys splashed about in the bath together for a few minutes, while Ollie tried to clean them up, and then from outside the bathroom door he heard footsteps and Joel’s voice. “Hey—I’m gonna run out to the grocery store. Okay if I take your keys?”

  Ollie winced. He didn’t have a lot in the refrigerator and had been meaning to hit the grocery store tomorrow, but now he had no car… “Yeah, but you really don’t need to—”

  “You like bacon? No allergies to anything?”

  “Uh, no allergies. And I love bacon. But—”

  “Back in a few minutes,” Joel called, and Ollie heard his footsteps run down the stairs to the front door.

  “Ollie, why’s Mr. Morgan here?” Rory said.

  “He’s, uh— Well, we’re friends. Is that okay?”

  “But why are you friends?”

  Good question. “Because— Because I like him. Why are you friends with Mateo?”

  “Because we play Star Wars together.”

  “Okay, well. It’s kind of the same.”

  “Do you play Star Wars with Mr. Morgan?”

  Ollie laughed. “No. Come on, out you get. Time for bed.”

  Once he had Rory wrapped in a towel, he pulled Luis out of the tub, wrapped him up, and took them both into the bedroom to get into their PJs. Then it was milk (none for Rory tonight), teeth brushed, and into bed for a story.

  Luis still slept in his crib, although he was getting big for it now and Ollie would need to get him a bed soon. How he’d manage that now he had to find money to fix his car… Anxiety flared in his chest and he tried to push it aside. He couldn’t deal with it now. One thing at a time. Sitting on the floor between Rory’s bed and Luis’s crib, his back against the wall and legs stretched out, he began to read them a story each. Luis liked Ten Little Fingers and Ten Little Toes, which Ollie read twice through, and then he moved on to the next chapter of Knights and Bikes for Rory.

  Halfway through the second telling of Ten Little Fingers and Ten Little Toes he’d heard Joel come back in, and by the time he finished chapter four of Knights and Bikes he could smell something delicious and savory cooking in the kitchen. His stomach growled. He’d intended to grab lunch after his visit to see Luca Moretti, but of course that hadn’t happened. He’d ended up stuck for a couple hours by the road, talking to the police and waiting for the tow truck.

  Part of him, a superstitious irrational part that he tried his best to ignore, suggested that the accident was one almighty sign to back the hell away from Luca. Blocked from even reaching the hotel? That felt like an omen.

  Which was ridiculous. In what universe was he so important that God or fate would take direct action to keep him from making an ass of himself? But as irrational as he knew it was, he couldn’t help trying to read the signs. And this sign was bright flashing neon.

  Danger. Do not pass. Stop.

  Luis was already asleep when Ollie finally put the book down, but Rory was still awake, watching him through heavy-lidded eyes. Ollie kneeled next to his bed and kissed his forehead, brushing back his soft hair. “Sleep tight, sweetheart,” he whispered. “I love you. Mommy loves you. Daddy loves you. And Grandma and Grandpa love you, too.”

  “I love you, Ollie,” Rory murmured, and Ollie’s heart filled as it always did when he heard those words. And promptly sank at the memory of his failure at school today. Repressing a sigh, he turned off the bedside lamp and quietly left the room, leaving the door ajar and taking one final look at the boys—his boys—before he emerged, blinking into the bright light coming from the kitchen.

  Blinking, too, at the sight of Joel Morgan standing at his stove, stirring something in a frying pan. Two grocery bags sat on the dining table, a packet of Tylenol had been set out with a glass of water next to them. “Hey,” Ollie said quietly, keeping his voice low.

  Joel glanced over his shoulder and smiled. “Hey, they asleep?”

  “Nearly.” He gestured at the bags and the cooking food. “You didn’t need to do all this.”

  “I’m happy to. I—” He shrugged, and Ollie noticed a little color rise in his cheeks. “If I went home, I’d just be cooking alone. It’s no trouble to cook for two, if you don’t mind the company.”

  “I don’t mind the company. Although I’m not sure I’ll be such great company tonight. I’m shattered.”

  “How’s the head? I got some Tylenol, if you need it.”

  “I saw. Thanks. The head’s a little better, but—” He winced, and prodded at his ribs. “Yeah, I think I got some bruises coming up. The cop said I’d probably feel it over the next few days.”

  Joel’s expression turned serious. “Are you sure you don’t need to see a doctor?”

  “I’m sure.” He sighed, looking down at the floor. “I feel a lot worse about what happened at the school.”

  He heard the muted clunk of a wooden utensil against a pan, the click of the burner being switched off. “You mean when you were upset?” Joel opened a cupboard door, closed it, and opened another. “Where do you keep your plates?”

  “I mean how I spoke to Rory. Plates are here.” He pulled out a couple of dinner plates from the overhead cupboard—plain white, four for three dollars.

  Joel took them. “There’s not a parent in the world who’s never lost their temper with their kids, Ollie. Not one.”

  “It wasn’t even his fault. He hadn’t done anything wrong. I was just—”

  “Stressed out? Distressed? In shock?”

  Ollie’s lips curved into a smile that he didn’t really feel. “Not good enough, though, is it? Not when you have kids. You have to be better.”

  Joel set the plates on the counter, turned to the stove and tipped a saucepan full of penne into the frying pan, stirring it into a fragrant tomato and bacon sauce. While he worked, he said, “You’re only human. A friend—well, actually she’s my therapist—once told me that trying to be perfect only ends in failure. All you need to be is good enough.” He looked over and smiled. He had such a nice smile. “And you’re more than good enough, Ollie.”

  “Didn’t feel it today.”

  “You’re allowed to make mistakes,” Joel said, handing him a loaded plate. “Kids understand mistakes. Come on, let’s eat.”

  They sat at the glass dining table, Luis’s highchair pushed off to one side. It didn’t normally feel small when it was just Ollie and the kids, but Joel somehow took up more space. Not that he was especially large, more that Ollie was very aware of him: the proximity of their knees and elbows, the faint scent of his soap or shampoo, the unusual presence of another—a tall, masculine other—in his space. He liked it, he’d missed it, but wasn’t sure how to square it with the two small children sleeping in the room next door.

  The meal Joel had made tasted fresh and flavorful and was exactly what Ollie needed. He made an appreciative noise when he took his first mouthful.

  Joel watched him intently. “Good?”
<
br />   “So good,” he said between mouthfuls. “I’m starving.”

  Food eased his headache away and the Tylenol helped with the rest of his aches and pains. Joel had brought a couple beers, and it felt stupidly thrilling when he flipped off the lid and handed Ollie a bottle. This adult life was so at odds with the kid-centered existence he’d led for the past two years that he felt strangely at sea. Could he really still have this? A beer with a handsome guy, a guy who maybe wanted more than just a beer…?

  “This is really great,” Ollie said, scraping up the last of his pasta. “You like to cook, huh?”

  “I do. I find it relaxing.”

  “Relaxing?” He laughed. “I hate cooking. I usually just finish off whatever the kids are eating.”

  Joel gave him an old-fashioned look. “Figures.”

  “Uh-oh, what does that mean?”

  “Only that you take better care of the boys than you do of yourself.”

  “Well, they need more taking care of, don’t they?”

  Joel didn’t answer, setting down his beer instead. It left a damp circle of condensation on the glass table and Joel trailed his fingertip through it as he spoke. “I’ve left my car keys on the kitchen counter. You can borrow it for as long as you need.”

  Ollie stared. “I can— What?”

  “You can use my car until you’ve got things sorted out with your own. It’s no problem.”

  God, that would make things so much easier. But it was too generous. “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well— Don’t you need it?”

  “Not really. I prefer to cycle, and I certainly don’t have kids to ferry around.”

  “But, Joel, it’s too much—”

  “It’s a simple favor, Ollie. I’d—” He looked down at his plate, fiddling with his knife and fork. “I’d like to think we’re becoming friends.”

  I’d like to think we’re becoming more than friends.

  But when he searched Joel’s cool gray eyes, he saw only concern and kindness—everything else was locked away. “You really are the good Samaritan,” Ollie said, standing up to clear the plates into the kitchen. “No, stay there, I’ll do it. Or go sit on the sofa, it’s more comfortable. I’ll grab us a couple more beers.”

  After he’d dumped the dishes into the sink, squirted detergent over them all and left them to soak, he snagged two more beers from the fridge and headed into the living room. Joel was not on the sofa but standing next to the low table that held the TV, gazing at the framed photo sitting there. “Is this your sister and her husband?” he said when Ollie came to stand next to him.

  “Yeah, Jules and Ellis.”

  “It’s a great picture. She was a beautiful woman.”

  “She was.” He offered Joel a beer and he took it with a smile of thanks.

  “Do you mind me asking what happened?”

  Ollie’s gaze slid past him to the photo. “I don’t mind. She and Ellis had been out for the evening—date night, you know? It was only the second time they’d been out since Luis was born. They were driving home on I-495 when a truck swerved out of its lane and hit them head on. They both died at the scene.” He swallowed a mouthful of beer, tasting the bitterness. “The driver was distracted by his phone. Texting.”

  “Jesus. I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah.”

  “And you became Rory and Luis’s guardian?”

  He nodded. “Jules and Ellis had both named me in their wills. I mean, we’d talked about it in the abstract, but obviously none of us imagined…” He cleared his throat, the familiar ache returning. “Ellis’s parents contested it in court. Truth is, they don’t like that I’m gay. But in court they said I was too young. Flighty, irresponsible, financially unstable—you get the picture. But in the end the judge ruled in my favor because it’s what Jules and Ellis wanted.”

  “A lot of people your age wouldn’t have taken it on.” He was studying Ollie carefully, that cool assessing gaze seeming to see right through him. “It’s admirable that you did.”

  “Is it? I made a promise to my sister.” It was as simple as that. “I was never not going to be there for the boys.”

  “Doesn’t make it any less admirable.”

  After a pause, Ollie said, “So what about you?” He led them over to the two-person sofa. “You’ve mentioned your wife…?”

  “Ex-wife.”

  Ollie inclined his head in acknowledgment and took another sip of beer as he folded himself into one corner of the sofa. Joel arranged himself carefully in the other. Everything about him was careful and precise. It made Ollie want to ruffle him up, see what he looked like undone.

  “Her name was Helen. Is Helen. We married young and…” He spread his hands. “Short version is that, in the end, we weren’t…compatible.”

  “You mentioned before that she didn’t want kids…”

  Joel took a long swallow of beer, pressed his lips delicately to the back of his hand. “That was part of it. But in fact it turned out that she didn’t want kids with me. When she found herself pregnant by someone else…? That’s when she left.”

  Ollie grimaced. “I’m sorry.”

  “Yes, well. Turned out there were some…things about me she couldn’t live with. So what else could she do?”

  “Not cheat on you?”

  Joel’s mouth twisted into a humorless smile. “I can’t pretend it didn’t hurt. To be honest, it…” He cast an uncertain look at Ollie. “It broke me for a while. I loved her a lot. I really did. And finding out she didn’t feel the same— Well, it’s left a mark.”

  “I’ll bet.” And there weren’t many men, Ollie thought, who’d confess as much out loud. “When did it happen?”

  “Four years ago, now. It’s why I moved here. To get away from that whole…world, I guess.” He ran a hand through his hair, the slick strands falling back a little askew. “We both worked in banking. Helen still does, so does her new husband.” A wry grimace. “My former boss.”

  “Ouch.”

  He shrugged, pasting on an unconvincing smile. “Anyway, here I am. New life. New low-stress job—”

  “You think teaching’s low stress?”

  His smile grew more genuine, brightening his eyes. “Compared with my old job, yes. But it’s meaningful, too. It’s uplifting even when it’s difficult.”

  “You enjoy it.” That was obvious, and the way he lit up just talking about it made Ollie smile.

  “I do. I love children. They’re so…optimistic. You can’t be cynical around children.”

  “That is very true. Seeing things through Rory’s eyes—simple things like, oh, a crab on the beach—feels like seeing them for the first time.” He laughed, cringing at his own sentimentality. “God that sounds like a cliché.”

  “No, I know exactly what you mean.” Joel smiled again and Ollie smiled back, right into those intense gray eyes. They looked blue in this light, a deep sea-blue.

  God, he was attractive. That silky dark hair, a little ruffled from where he’d run his fingers through it, fell forward over his forehead, and he was watching Ollie with such focus. Such interest. When Ollie licked his lips Joel tracked the movement, his eyes dipping to Ollie’s mouth. His eyelashes were long and lush, mouth very slightly parted. Almost in invitation.

  Ollie wanted to kiss him. More than that, he wanted to be in his arms. He wanted those strong arms around him, holding him. It was probably a reaction to the accident, some atavistic need for comfort. Whatever the reason, he ached for it.

  And he thought Joel felt the same, could see the flush in his cheeks and the rapid rise and fall of his chest. But despite his intent gaze, Joel held himself back. Restraint was written in every muscle, and yet those eyes watched him with such focus it looked like nothing less than longing. Ollie shifted on the small sofa, moving so that his bent knee pressed encouragingly against Joel’s thigh. His pulse kicked at the flare of heat and Joel’s eyelids flickered, lips parting.

  Neither of them mo
ved. Neither of them looked away. Neither of them breathed.

  “Ollieeeeeeeee…”

  Ollie was off the sofa and running for the bedroom in a flash. He barely managed to get the bowl under Rory’s chin in time. Kneeling on the floor, holding Rory’s hair back with one hand and the bowl with the other, his heart thundered with adrenaline, frustration, and fading arousal. Damn. Damn, damn, damn.

  “It’s okay,” he said softly, stroking Rory’s hair. “You’ll feel better soon, sweetheart.”

  By the time Rory was settled and dozing off again, and Ollie had cleaned everything up, Joel had tidied the kitchen and done the dishes. He stood hovering near the top of the stairs with his jacket on when Ollie left the bathroom. “How is he?” Joel said.

  “Okay. I hope that was the last of it.”

  Joel’s hands plunged deep into his pockets and his gaze landed shy of Ollie’s. If he’d had reversing lights, they’d have been on. “I left the car key on the counter,” he said. “And I mean it—use it for as long as you need. Alfie’s Autos has a charging point. Or you’re welcome to…to charge it at my house. Just let me know.”

  Ollie nodded, too tired to argue and, in truth, in no position to refuse. Without Joel’s generosity he’d be in deep trouble. “Thank you,” he said, with as much dignity as he could muster. “I appreciate it, everything you’ve done.”

  “You don’t need—” Whatever else he’d been about to say, Joel changed his mind. “I guess I’ll see you at the Fall Festival? I think Jackie wants us back on the grill.”

  “Sure,” Ollie said. “I’ll be there.”

  Another awkward, lengthy hesitation followed before Joel nodded, apparently having reached a decision, and started down the stairs. “I hope Rory’s feeling better tomorrow,” he called over his shoulder. “And you’ve got my number if…if you need anything.”

  Ollie did have his number. But what he needed tonight didn’t seem to be on offer, may never be on offer, and he listened to the front door close with a gloomy sense of opportunities missed.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Fall Festival, Saturday November 16th