“We’re in this together, P,” I assured him, lacing his fingers in mine. “I got you.”
He pulled back and caught my eye, nodding in agreement, as our fingers intertwined in that familiar comfort of knowing exactly how to fit together. Vulnerable Perrin was rare, and it kicked every one of my protective instincts into high gear.
Searching for a threat, I became aware of the man at the bar, out of earshot, but studying us closely, then throwing back his drink to approach Perrin.
The man was shorter than both of us, probably still six-feet tall, though. He had clear blue eyes, blonde hair lighter than Perrin’s own sandy blonde, and it was cut short on the sides but long on the top, in a way that I guessed tamed the natural curl Perrin embraced. I didn’t even need to register the breath Perrin took or the look that passed his face before he schooled it back to impassive to know this man was related to Perrin.
“Perrin?” the man asked, cautiously approaching.
“Good evening, Christopher,” Perrin said in the most neutral voice I could imagine, but also with a clench of his jaw that I rarely, if ever, saw.
Perrin said nothing else, and the two men stared at each other for a couple of beats past comfortable. The younger man, Christopher, was actively searching Perrin’s face forsomething, pain clear in his eyes. Perrin just looked back, giving up nothing that I could see.
“Hi, Christopher. I am Jack Mann,” I said, introducing myself and holding out my free hand to shake his, while still keeping my fingers interlocked with Perrin at my left. I gave Perrin’s fingers a squeeze, telling him I wasn’t letting go until he did.
Christopher seemed to notice me for the first time when he drug his eyes over to me, and took a moment for recognition. He took my hand and shook it.
“Christopher Stephens,” he said to me, and his eyes drifted to where Perrin and I still had fingers intertwined, and his eyes softened for a moment. “I am Perrin’s brother.”
I felt Perrin snap at the wordbrother, I’m not sure how, but something definitely shot through him, and his icy fingers tightened around mine. I knew Perrin wanted to say something, but his jaw just tightened down more, and he remained silent. Suddenly, Perrin went even stiffer than he had before. Hell, I didn’t even know if he was breathing.
I looked up at what had caught his attention, and there was a well-dressed older couple walking toward us with clear, purposeful strides. Perrin’s fingers became even colder, and it was all I could do not to want to warm him up or take him out of there. At this point, I could see the outline of his jaw muscles jutting out from how hard he was clenching his teeth. He didn’t move to walk toward who I could only guesswerehis parents, or mom and step-dad, rather. His body did shift though, almost automatically to when he saw them, and I would have guessed it was unconscious how he placed himself slightly in front of me.
As they got closer, I could see Perrin’s features in the woman. The man however, looked at Perrin in an assessing way, and his eyes found our hands together much faster than Christopher had. His nostrils flared at it, and then his eyes looked to me and I could tell there was instant recognition. Once he made the connection of who I was, his entire face changed.
The fact that Perrin was gay was obviously not something he liked, but being with a member of the Mann family was evidentially fine. He was clearly the type of man who had instantly tabulated those things, placed them into the asset and liability columns of his mind, and was now making the tally.
Suddenly, I realized I knew the man. Not personally, we had never met, but the face was known enough to put a name to it. Hell, half the country knew this guy. He was most definitely a household name.
Jesus Christ, Perrin is the step-son of Malcolm fucking Stephens?I didn’t even have the ability to process that fact in the middle of the tension radiating off Perrin beside me.
“Christopher,” Malcolm said, looking at the younger man. “Who did you find?”
I thought it was odd that neither of whom I was still guessing were Perrin’s mother and step-dad spoke to Perrin first. Over a decade from seeing each other and nothing? No touches, not even talking to him directly? But, then again, I couldn't even begin to catalogue the numerous expressions flicking across his mother’s face; she was just really good at holding them back. She was staring at Perrin like he was some sort of rare animal in the wild, that he might bolt at any minute and that she had to drink him in before hedid. It was clear she was afraid to speak to him, and he was trying with every muscle in his body to not leave.
“Dad,” Christopher began, turning to Malcolm. “It’s Perrin.” He said the name with a sort of awe and reverence, and most definitely surprise; and if I had thought Perrin couldn’t get any more stiff, that was clearly wrong as soon as he watched the word ‘dad’ roll off of Christopher’s tongue.
“So it is, so it is,” the man said, sizing up Perrin, and then holding a hand out to me. “Malcolm Stephens,” he said.
I shook his hand, “Jack Mann.”
“This is my wife, Catherine,” Malcolm said, but all I got from her was a nod in my direction, as she was unable to turn her gaze from Perrin. “And, I see you met our son, Christopher,” he said with simple, accented courtesy.
“Yes, of course,” I said, about to ask another question since Perrin did not need to be introduced to them. But, I guessed the appearances were more important than the obvious discomfort Perrin had of being around his very estranged family.
Before I could begin to keep the pleasantries going, Malcolm launched into the typical social small talk where names were dropped and connections were made as he tried, for whatever reason, to form a connection between my family and his.
I knew his angle. He knew power families, as he definitely was the patriarch of one, and that gleam in his eyes was for the Mann family fortune and holdings, I would bet on it. Certainly, it wasn’t for Perrin and his well-being. Seemed like the tally had come out in my favor, after all. Not surprising. With people like Malcolm, that’s always how itwould be. He probably hated everything my foundation and work stood for, but he would forgive it all if it lined his pockets.
I responded pleasantly enough to the small talk, and finally Malcolm placed a hand briefly on Perrin’s shoulder to clap it. “Perrin, been a long time. Nice, although maybe surprising, to see you in such good company as the Mann family,” Malcolm said. “You look well.”
“Yes,” Perrin said, “it has been a long time.” His voice had no emotion in it whatsoever.
“Do you live in Colorado now?” Christopher asked, and I could tell he was eager to ask as many questions as CJ on a good day, but was holding back. He had nervously skittered his eyes to Malcolm with every word he had said during our awkward encounter.
“Yes,” Perrin answered, complete politeness but still not giving any more information than what was asked.
“I am surprised to see you state-side,” Malcolm said. “How long have you been here?”
