Page 48 of Backward Motion

“You’re most welcome,” Sam replied, a tingle shooting down his spine. “You look great.” He tilted his chin, and Connor captured Sam’s mouth with a rumble of pleasure.

“How late is it?” Connor murmured against his lips.

Sam gave a soft chuckle, and his hand slipped to the buckle of Connor’s belt. “We have time.”

When Connor’s mother opened the front door, her eyebrows shot up, and she stepped back to take him in. “You look so handsome, honey!”

Sam had done an amazing job trawling through his wardrobe and selecting the perfect outfit for the ceremony. Not too formal, but a considerable departure from his utility pants and work boots. He recalled the look on Sam’s face when he’d donned the suit, as though he himself had been surprised at the outcome. Then Sam had proven just as fastidious at getting Connor out of it.

Connor tried not to linger over the memory of Sam kneeling before him. Connor had slid his fingers through the man’s silky hair, and his toes had curled in pleasure at the little noises Sam made as he drew Connor in and out of his mouth. After emerging from the blissful haze of his release, he’d practically fallen over himself in his rush to return the favor.

“Thanks, Mom,” he said, stepping past her into the hall. “You guys almost ready?” Connor had offered to pick up his parents that evening so they could all head over to city hall together.

His mother frowned. “I am, but your father needs some convincing.” She strode down the hallway to the living room, where his father sat scowling in his easy chair. He wore slacks and a white button-down shirt, but his suit jacket and tie remained on the hanger hooked over the curtain rail.

“Need a hand with your jacket, Dad?” Connor thought he’d given himself plenty of time but hadn’t counted on his dad dragging his feet. He wondered if it was his father’s way of boycotting the whole thing.

“I’m not an invalid,” his dad retorted with a huff.

“Okay.” Connor removed the tie and jacket from the hanger and passed the tie to his father. “Then let’s get on with it. We need to be there by seven.”

His father grumbled, taking the tie from him and looping it around his neck. Connor tried not to look away as the man clumsily tucked it under his collar, even though the sight of him struggling with such a simple task was painful to witness. Once, he’d stood back in awe while his dad worked on a live circuit without so much as a tremor. Now it took all of Connor’s self-control not to step in and tie the damn thing for him.

His mother possessed no such restraint. She clicked over in her heels, wrangled the tie from his dad’s uncertain grip, and made quick work of the knot. “There,” she said in a no-nonsense tone. “Connor will help you into your jacket, and we can get moving. I don’t want to be late for his big night.”

Connor draped the jacket over his arm, masking his discomfort. “It’s not my night, and chances are I won’t end up winning anything.”

“That’s what I was telling her,” his father said. “But she’s convinced you’re nominated for the goddamn Oscars.”

“There’s nothing wrong with celebrating our son’s success,” his mom said curtly. “Now, up you get.”

His dad gave a grunt then reached for his walker and pulled himself to his feet.

“The chair’s still in the trunk. It’s probably easier if we take our car,” his mother said as she went to get her coat.

Connor held out the jacket for his father to slide one arm and then the other through the sleeves. The balance and coordination required proved challenging, and he felt a twinge of concern. When they first got the diagnosis, the doctor had reassured them that his dad was still a long way off from having to rely on a wheelchair. But his father had defied expectations and proven the outlier to those odds.

“You don’t have to come,” Connor said quietly as he straightened the shoulders of the jacket. “I can tell Mom you’re not feeling up to it.” His motives were self-serving. He figured it would give his dad away out while also keeping him from ruining the event for everyone else.

But his father lurched away from him, the legs of his walker tapping defiantly against the floor. “Nonsense. I’m fine.”

Connor stood and watched as his father made his way down the hall, the man’s body stiff with denial.

Chapter Twenty-Three

The large council chamber at city hall had been transformed into a makeshift ballroom. A portable stage stood against the far wall with a podium in the center and a banner hanging above that read, “Welcome to the 56th Annual Oakdale Business Awards.” The rest of the room was dotted with decorated tables covered in red velour, and at each seat, a tiny place card had been laid down with the names of the finalists and their supporters.

Sam’s mom tugged at his sleeve as they took their seats at their assigned table. “There’s Johnny Ingram; he’s the head of the local chamber of commerce. And that’s his wife, Angela.”

She gave a little wave, like they were on the red carpet at an awards ceremony. Sam couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. While he’d given Connor grief for making him bring his mom, Sam was secretly happy she was there. She’d always been his biggest supporter and loved special occasions and the chance to catch up on town gossip. Tonight promised to deliver on all three.

Sam glanced around for Connor, hoping he hadn’t lost his nerve. Connor had told him he was picking up his parents first before heading over. Maybe they’d been held up. Or Ian had changed his mind about coming.

Then Sam saw him. Connor appeared at the entrance doors, pushing his father in a wheelchair while his mom walked alongside. Sam waved them over. There was a flurry of movement as he and hismother stood to greet everyone and help make room for Ian’s chair at the end of the table.

“Maureen, look at you!” his mom exclaimed, giving her friend a hug. Connor’s mother was wearing a stylish floral dress and heels.

Maureen gave a modest flick of her hand. “Finally, an occasion to dress up.”