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“It’s like watching Master in our kitchen at home,” Macklin chuckled. “It means Cam and I are doing our jobs.”
Cam must’ve heard us from the den, because we heard him holler, “Owner, do you need help?”
Lucian certainly did, but our boy needed to rest. He’d definitely picked up a bug in Winchester.
“We have it covered, baby!” I called back.
“Unfortunately, I was useless in the kitchen even before Cam saved the day,” Lucian admitted.
“We all know Noa and I take the prize there,” I said. “I’ve just forced myself to learn how to reheat takeout.”
“Then why don’t you have a microwave, Sir?” Macklin asked. “People who don’t belong in a kitchen tend to nuke everything.”
“Cameron threw it out!” Noa answered. “Daddy and Uncle Lucian used to have one.”
It’d ended up being a great decision. Food tasted much better when it came out of an actual oven.
“Another reason we adore Cam.” Macklin smiled and ruffled Noa’s hair. “I gotta get home to Master, but I’ll see you all on Saturday?”
“Absolutely. Thank you again for the food, pet.” Lucian pulled Macklin in for a one-armed hug and kissed his temple. “Thank you for talking to Penelope as well.”
“My pleasure, Sir. As long as you take this seriously,” Macklin replied. “We want you around for a long time.”
I swallowed and pushed past mental images of how things could’ve gone. Worst-case scenarios. Finding him dead on the floor, hearing a doctor say they couldn’t save him…
Goddammit.
* * *
What could I say?
The wrong set of parents had died.
Not only had Lucian lost his mom a decade ago to some virus that attacked her brain, but now he’d lost his dad to cancer that he’d been battling for years.
It shouldn’t be Mr. Leroux in the grave we’d left earlier. He’d been nice, supportive, and funny.
I remembered the first time Lucian had brought me home, and Mr. Leroux had been all, “Oh, is this your boyfriend, son?”
Like, what the fuck? How could someone be so open and accepting?
Meanwhile, I couldn’t even bring Lucian home with me as a friend, ’cause my folks knew he was gay.
They should be in that fucking grave.
I cleared my throat and loosened my tie, pausing in the doorway to the living room. Some family members were leaving the memorial. I’d probably eaten too many finger sandwiches and whatever those cheese snacks were, but I didn’t know what the fuck else to do at a memorial. What I really wanted was to kidnap Lucian and take him someplace he didn’t have to hear another person go, “I’m so sorry for your loss, dear boy.”
I felt so fucking bad for Lucian. I had to be there for him somehow, ’cause he was always a good buddy to me.
He was different. He wasn’t like any of my other friends, especially those on the team. With Lucian, I could be more myself.
I glanced over to where Lucian was talking to three women—if I remembered correctly, one was an aunt. And he didn’t look like he was holding up well. So, fuck it, I could at least do something here.
I walked across the living room and then tapped him on the shoulder. “Hey, we need you in the kitchen.”
“Oh.” He furrowed his brow and turned to the others. “Sorry, I’ll be right back.”
No, you won’t, dude. You need a break.
