Page 29 of See My Words

“Sure, I’d like that. How’s your omelet game?”

Scott smirked at him. “Strong as fuck. Veggies?”

“And lots of cheese.” Rylan smacked his lips.

“You got it.” Scott gave him a last nuzzle and then pushed him away, getting to his feet.

Rylan sat at the kitchen island with his laptop while Scott busied himself at the stove, the coffeemaker burbling in the background and filling the room with a homey scent.

“Hey,” Rylan said. “Based on what we talked about last night, I’m thinking of emailing the boys about you. Is that all right?”

Scott carefully flipped the omelet in the pan and put the spatula down before leaning against the counter. “Yeah.” He bit his lip. “You really think they’d want to hear from me after all this time?”

“I know they would,” Rylan said quietly. “You left a hole in all our lives, Scott, that never quite closed.” He gave a helpless gesture. “Of course I can’t guarantee how they’ll react, but it won’t hurt to let them know where you are and give them the option of contacting you.”

“Okay. Do it.”

Rylan’s fingers flew over the keys. “I’m giving them your cell number, so they can text or call if they want.”

Scott nodded, turning back to the stove to slide the finished omelet onto a plate. He carried it over and set it down next to Rylan before whipping up a soft scrambled egg for himself.

By the time he was done, Rylan was reading over what he’d written, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

“Did you tell them what I’m doing? I mean for a living?” Scott asked tightly as he walked over to the island, and Rylan glanced at him, eyebrows raised.

“No. Not because I think you should be ashamed of it, but only because any personal details about your life should come from you, not me. I’m telling them I ran into you here in Phoenix by chance a little over a month ago, and that you’re doing fine. That you’d like to hear from them, but you’re leaving that decision totally up to them.”

Scott blew out a breath. “Okay.” He sat down next to Rylan with his plate, surprised when Rylan put his hand on his knee.

“It’ll be all right. Even if it turns out to just be closure for you all, well, that’s not a bad thing.” The smile he gave Scott was a little shaky, and Scott knew he was thinking about his mom.

He reached down and squeezed Rylan’s hand, threading their fingers together. “You’re right. Go ahead and send it.”

He watched as Rylan clicked the Send button, listening to the little swoosh sound as the email disappeared into the ether of cyberspace.

They didn’t say anything more, just sat there and ate their breakfast, still holding hands.

* * *

“Oh my gawd. You’re back and gorgeous as ever.”

Rylan smiled as Sheer Blyss threw herself into Scott’s arms.

Scott laughed. “My face is finally out of its cage,” he teased. “Almost good as new.”

She kissed his cheek. “You’ve been missed, babycakes.”

With a pert wave, she flitted off to resume her duties as cocktail server for Spectrum’s lunchtime crowd. Rylan looked around. The restaurant was bustling, the covered patio seating almost at capacity. It was hot outside, but thin overhead pipes rained down a fine mist from above that kept everyone cool.

The boisterous clientele was an eclectic mix of businessmen, hipsters, straight couples, and groups of women. House go-go boys, clad in tight logo tank tops and jeans, worked behind the bar, flirting and laughing with the patrons gathered there, the whole vibe sexy, fun, and cosmopolitan.

“Every time I come here,” Rylan remarked, “there’s something new to be amazed about. I mean, it’s noon on a Thursday, and the place is packed.”

Scott smiled, crossing his arms over his chest. “Corey is the smartest motherfucker alive, hiring a five-star chef so we can attract the sophisticated dining crowd during off-peak hours.”

“It’s incredible.”

“He has so many plans,” Scott went on. “Like the satellite club in Scottsdale. He wants the doctors and lawyers, trust-fund kids, you know, the big money demographic. Here we get a lot of the ASU students who take the light-rail over from Tempe, the frat boys, out-of-town bar hoppers. But there—”