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Jack smiled to Ed as Gene led them inside. He inched nearer and whispered close to Ed’s ear, “You do have good hands.”
Ed’s brow arched with a promise. God, Jack wanted to grab him into a kiss. “Did you doubt me?”
Ed jumped, surprised Gene was still there, holding the door open for them. With another step, Ed put decent space between them.
Gene frowned at Ed’s move, gaze sweeping between the two of them. Jack felt like sinking into the ground, but somehow managed to plaster on an innocent smile.
Emily appeared with a hop in her step. “Wash up. Dinner’s almost ready.”
After washing up, they moved to the kitchen.
“Where’s Becky?” Ed asked his mom.
“Her room, she’ll be down.”
“Maybe you should text her,” Ed joked, earning a swat with a hand towel.
“Don’t encourage her.” She handed Jack a bowl of potatoes, giving the green beans to Ed. “Put these on the table and sit.”
Jack spared a glance at Gene, who was cutting the meat, roast beef if his sense of smell hadn’t failed him. His stomach clenched, and his hands trembled around the bowl. He knew what happened next.
They sat and joked around the table. Then Mom and Dad fought over what island they were going to sail to the next day. Jack made a halfhearted effort to get them to stay home and go surfing. They agreed to each do their own thing. After lunch the next day, the last thing Jack heard as they headed out into the gray afternoon was a “You’re missing out, kid,” trailing down the hall.
The room started to spin, and bile lurched toward his mouth. Unable to control it, tears stung his eyes. Ed carefully took the bowl, dropped it on the table, and turned back to him.
“Jack?” Warm hands were on his shoulders, but Jack couldn’t stop shaking. “Are you okay?”
Those last three words shattered his fragile control. “Excuse me.” Jack fled toward the front door.
Ignoring Ed’s urgent call of his name, he made it as far as the front stoop before tears blurred his vision. Plunking down on the steps, he covered his face with a hand, trying to breathe.
“Jack?” Ed sat next to him. “What happened?”
Memories flooded his thoughts. Fuck. He couldn’t stop the sobs. Somewhere in the background, he felt the Knowleses hovering, watching.
Bearing down, he willed himself to get control. A sniff later, he wished he could leave. He swallowed twice, then exhaled. “The night before my parents died, we had a big dinner just like this. It….” Wiping his eyes, he sniffed again. “It suddenly felt just like that night.”
He struggled to breathe again. Tried to ignore the pain of knowing he’d never get to bring anyone home to meet his parents. Just like Harper had said.
“God.” He refused to look at Ed. “I’m so sorry. Wonderful first impression I’m giving your family. Tell them your friend has issues.”
Feet shuffled behind him. Great, they heard even that.
“It’s okay,” Ed said quietly. “They think you’re great.”
“We should go in.” Jack stood up, wiping his face with his hands. “Dinner’s gonna get cold.”
Bad enough he lost it in front of everyone. He didn’t want to add ruining their dinner to the list of stupid things he did today.
Ed pushed to his feet, concern pinched between his brow. He rocked on his feet like he wanted to embrace Jack again. He stuffed his thumbs into his belt loops instead. “You sure you’re okay?”
His vigorous nod was as much for himself as Ed. “One part of me wants to leave, but the rest of me needs to stay. If you still want me to?”
Ed rocked on the balls of his feet again, this time tugging Jack against his chest. Warm hands held his waist and the back of his neck. Ed’s thumb moved in circles at the edge of his hair.
They were alone at the front door, but this time no creaky step would keep them from being discovered.
Breath shuddering, Ed leaned in and lightly kissed Jack. “I want you to stay.”
Chapter Twelve
“Marcus didn’t come home till two in the morning?” Brittany pulled an onion out of her sandwich and set the thin white strand on the paper wrapping.
“Yeah, and when I asked him where he’d been, he said he’d been studying,”
“Studying? That late on a Saturday?”
Jack finished chewing and put his hoagie down. “Right? Even he isn’t that bad.”
“Do you think he’s jealous?” She covered her mouth after spraying bits of bread and turkey onto Jack’s lunch. “Sorry.”
He rolled his eyes and flicked off the crumbs. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Do you think he’s jealous?”
“Of what? Me? Please. Marcus isn’t into guys. He’s so not jealous.”
Brittany smacked his arm. “No, doofus. Not jealous you have Ed, but that you’re dating someone. Let’s face it, he’s been your wingman for years. Now you have a new one—even if it’s a guy you’re dating.”
