Page 65 of Oddly Fine

“Fun?!” Jackson replied, outraged. Then he gave Hayes a pleading look and asked, “You know I’m not homophobic right? Like—I wouldn’t, you know, bang a dude, but I think it’s great that you do.”

And if that wasn’t the clumsiest show of support Hayes had ever witnessed he didn’t know what was.

“Don’t worry, Jack—we know you’re just a regular moron, not a close-minded one,” Beckett reassured his older brother with a playful smirk.

Jackson opened his mouth to argue, but his mother put a hand on his forearm to get his attention.

“Katerina was looking for you,” she said, and whether it was true, or just a way of distracting him, Jackson responded quickly. He shot Beckett the middle finger, stuck out his tongue at him, and raced out of the room to go find his wife.

“Don’t mess with your brother like that,” she censured mildly, as if she’d said it a thousand times before.

Hayes couldn’t tell from where he was standing, but he was certain that Beckett had just rolled his eyes at her.

She paused to scrutinize them and then smiled thoughtfully. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it before.”

For a moment, Hayes thought she might be talking about Franklin, but there weren’t any traces of sadness. So she had to be talking about him and Beckett.

“It seems obvious now,” she remarked with a nod and then gave a sigh of contentment.

“Ah, Ma, please don’t embarrass me,” Beckett pleaded, distinctly uncomfortable to be the center of attention regarding his relationship with Hayes.

“Shush,” she replied, ignoring his request. “I’m just saying your love is obvious,” she pointed out, matter-of-factly.

Beckett shivered with disgust as she expressed her views, which made Hayes hold him that much tighter. Hayes understood why his emotion-averse boyfriend found her views cringe-worthy, but personally—as someone who’d been accused of having no emotions far too often—to be told his love was obvious meant more than she could possibly know.

“I feel a little daft now, honestly. I should have known you two were head over heels in love when you were here at Christmas last year.” Although she was addressing both of them, her gaze was steadily fixed on Hayes.

“We weren’t officially together that Christmas,” Beckett said.

“Maybe—but he already loved you,” she said, and there was no mistaking which “he” she was talking about.

Surprisingly enough, Beckett didn’t offer any clever rejoinders. Instead, he just looked up at Hayes with eyes narrowed speculatively, not entirely sure his mother was correct on that point.

Hayes remained silent, simply nodding his acknowledgement of the truth of her observation as he tightened his hold on Beckett.

“Well—I didn’t come in here to embarrass you. Dinner’s ready,” she announced with a wink and left the room.

“Sometimes—I think I’m pretty cool, calm, and collected. But then she pulls this shit,” Beckett whined and snuggled closer.

Hayes laughed and gave him a quick kiss before pulling him towards the dining room, holding his hand the whole way.

The family gathered at the dinner table, sitting in their usual spots. At times, grief would make itself known when someone made a reference to Franklin or the cops, but it wasn’t as soul-crushing as it had been earlier in the day. Beckett and Hayes did their best to steer the conversation into lighter territory and keep everyone entertained with stories about some of their wilder moments, both on and off the job. The babysitting gig and Operation Raccoon Roundup were the highlights of the evening.

Chapter 11

Ma Thérault insisted that alllll of them needed to go coffin shopping the next day and, so far, it was the most harrowing experience of Beckett’s life. He was trying. Really, but it was—eh, not going well.

Jackson had cried at least twice, Maggie kept changing her mind about what Franklin would have liked, and his mother looked like one of those demented women in game shows who couldn’t make up their minds to save their lives. The only sane person in the room was his father, who simply nodded whenever he was asked a question.

Beckett supposed he wasn’t helping. He’d tried. He had, but when his mom had turned to him, asking what he thought of the red mahogany coffin in comparison to the black lacquered one, he’d shrugged and said, “It’s a box—does it matter?” They hadn’t asked for his opinion about anything after that.

They moved on to the subject of the burial ceremony. Beckett was doing his best to stay calm and sit still. Normally, he’d channel his energy into being an absolute nuisance, but his family couldn’t quite handle him at his worst, and he’d left Hayes in charge of finding two suits for the funeral service so—

“Jesus, can you stop for a second?” Jackson frowned in annoyance. They were sitting in the funeral director’s office, waiting for the director to come back with a detailed list of options and prices.

“I don’t remember that line from the Bible,” Beckett replied, before he could stop himself.

Jackson shot him a look of utter disapproval and, with a hand on Beckett’s thigh, rendered his leg immobile and pushed his leg down firmly so his foot rested squarely on the floor. It was a move that Hayes would have used, although he’d have pressed gently on his leg, and not been so constraining. Forcing his leg to remain still only made Beckett more antsy.