Page 58 of Oddly Fine

“Uh, what just happened?” Jackson asked.

“Sorry! My cat tried to kill Hayes. Love you guys too, and all that shit! Merry Christmas! Hurray! Baby! Catch you later!” Beckett spoke rapidly, holding in his laughter, while Hayes dug his fingers into the couch fighting for control.

When the call ended, so did the buzzing. Hayes’ grip loosened and he took a deep, calming breath.

“You’re a sociopath!” Hayes accused with a glare.

“Yes, yes—tell me more about how you hated it,” Beckett said, one eyebrow raised daringly and smiling broadly.

Hayes ignored him pointedly.

“Guess we know now what Jackson was calling about earlier,” Hayes said as he wiggled around, desperately seeking a way to dislodge the toy that was pressing against his prostate.

“It wasn’t him,” Beckett said, shaking his head. “Franklin called, not Jackson.”

“Franklin?” Hayes was puzzled, since Franklin rarely called. Jackson regularly called to talk with his youngest brother. So did Maggie. But Franklin? To his knowledge, the last time he’d called was to remind them of the store opening many weeks ago.

Beckett shrugged and nodded.

“Did you call back?” Hayes was extremely curious about what would have motivated Franklin to call.

“Nope,” Beckett said, shaking his head. “If it’s important, he’ll call back,” he said dismissively, which was not his normal attitude. Beckett usually answered each and every call—regardless of who it was, or what time of day.

Hayes recalled that Beckett had once told him that he didn’t have enough friends to ignore any calls. But today he’d decided to ignore two of his own brother’s calls. It didn’t sit quite right with Hayes, but he didn’t think he should intervene. If Beckett didn’t feel like sharing, then Hayes would respect that and not push the issue.

“Now—about that plug—” Beckett said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Hayes never gave Franklin’s call another thought. He didn’t care, not one iota, what Beckett’s least likeable sibling had to say.

He didn’t care, right up until the moment it bit him right in the ass.

Chapter 10

They were no strangers to middle-of-the-night calls. Their boss was famous for calling them at all hours of the day and night. Their phones were never set on silent. They had to be ready to go, always. But this time it was a completely different ring tone. It wasn’t Gill’s. That fact alone put Hayes on high alert as Beckett picked up the call, bleary-eyed and gravelly-voiced.

“Thérault,” he answered while rubbing his eyes.

Hayes didn’t hear who spoke on the other end, but he could tell that something bad had happened. His partner went from relaxed and sleepy to rigid and alert, like someone was threatening his life—no, something worse, because Beckett didn’t care about his own safety nearly as much as that of his loved ones.

“That’s not possible!” he declared, alarm in his voice and eyes at he turned towards Hayes. They were wide with panic and distress. Automatically, Hayes jumped up, gathered some travel clothes and their go bags, ears straining to catch Beckett’s side of the conversation.

“Maman, non. C’est pas logique—non—”

At least he knew now that Beckett was speaking to his mother.

“Alright,” he finally said, sounding choked up. “Of course I’ll come. I’ll be on the first flight out. Moi aussi je t’aime,” he said and ended the call. His lashes were wet with unshed tears as he cleared his throat, looking very distressed.

“I have our passports,” Hayes said, for lack of anything better to say as he held them aloft.

“My brother’s dead,” he declared in stunned disbelief.

His brother? Jackson? They’d seen him at Christmas on a FaceTime call, and he was as healthy as a horse. So, it had to be an accident. Car or—

“Franklin jumped off a goddamned bridge,” Beckett said, cutting off Hayes’ train of thought. “My brother’s dead.”

Everything was a big blur after that. The car ride to the airport. The phone call to their boss. Getting their tickets and boarding passes. Making it through security. Getting on a flight. Landing in Montreal on the first day of January—of all fucking days to end up in Canada. All of it went by in a flash of disbelief and confusion. Beckett functioned on automatic pilot, following Hayes blindly while he struggled to cope with the tragic news. He kept checking his phone, re-reading the few texts that he and Franklin had exchanged over the last year. He scoured Franklin’s social media platforms, searching for even a hint of depression or—

Nothing. His frantic digging revealed a vast array of nothingness. His brother hadn’t left any hints that he was having problems. Then again—when was the last time Beckett had cared enough to ask? To even take the time to fucking call!