Chapter Thirteen
‡
Reed exited thekitchen with Carter’s plate and stopped dead outside the swinging doors. Shit. What was his father doing here? Wary, he plastered a smile on his face and approached him and Carter.
“Um, hi, Dad. What brings you here so late at night?” He set the plate down in front of Carter and picked up his empty glass. “Another Grey Goose?” Not bothering to wait for a response he poured a healthy splash over ice, slid it over to Carter, then took a bottle of beer for his father and snapped off the bottle cap. Anything to keep his hands busy.
A smile curled Carter’s lips. “Your father and I met unexpectedly.”
“So I see.” He quirked a brow. “Dad?”
“I haven’t heard from you in a while and figured if the mountain won’t come to Muhammad…” He chuckled and held out his hand for the beer.
“I’ve been busy,” said Reed defensively. “Between school and work I hardly have a minute.”
“Is that all you’ve been busy with? Or should I say who you’ve been busy with?”
Carter choked on his drink, and Reed groaned inwardly. “Subtle, Dad. Carter is only a friend.”
Looking unconvinced, his father drank some of his beer, then placed the bottle on top of the bar. The music continued to play in the background, its pumping rhythm feeding the heat of Reed’s blood, enhancing every movement Carter made. From their first meeting they’d had a strangely special connection, but unable to decide what Carter’s visit tonight meant in terms of a potential future, Reed remained silent.
“Vernon is in the back. You want me to go get him for you?” The cocktail napkin shredded between his fingers, and he quickly shook away the clinging bits of paper before his father could mention it.
“There’s no rush. I was having a nice conversation with…Carter, is it?” At Carter’s nod he smiled. “I was about to ask Carter how you two know each other.”
Oh, Christ. Reed sent Carter pleading signals with his eyes, hoping his usually astute antennae picked up his distress.
“Oh, I’ve been coming to the bar now for several months, and Reed is my favorite bartender by far. It’s like he anticipates my needs before I even know what I want.”
Thankful the dim lights in the bar hid his somewhat pained expression, Reed tipped his head to the back. “Really, Dad. Vernon would get upset if he knew you were here and didn’t say hello. Besides, Carter was just leaving, weren’t you?”
Looking crestfallen, Carter’s grin faded. “Oh. I thought we could maybe hang out later.”
“Why don’t I text you when I get off shift, and if you’re around, we can make plans.”
That was as close as Reed would get to saying he’d see Carter later. The last thing he needed was for his father to draw conclusions about a relationship that no longer existed.
Perhaps recognizing he’d been dismissed, Carter slid off his stool, and leaving the platter of food mostly untouched, took some bills out of his wallet and placed them on the bar. “I hope to hear from you. I think we have some things to discuss.”
At Carter’s words, hope flared within Reed that Carter had listened and thought over what they’d talked about in his office and decided to let Reed into his life.
“You think, or you know?” He’d never been this daring or demanding, but Reed had never wanted to give anyone his heart before. He thought when he’d fall in love it would be soft and sweet, a coming together of two people who’d discovered each other. Instead it had proven to be messy and difficult, full of tears and hurt, of longing and thwarted desires.
Looking startled for a moment, Carter’s expression turned from hopeful to determined. “You’re right. I know we need to talk, so call me. I’ll be waiting in the usual place.” He made his way through the crowded bar, quickly disappearing from sight.
“You can’t tell me that man isn’t in love with you. Why didn’t you tell me you were in a relationship?”
Reed had almost forgotten his father’s presence and could’ve groaned out loud.
“It’s strictly casual, Dad. We don’t know each other very well.” He took a rag and began to wipe down the bar, studiously avoiding his father’s eyes.
“You don’t have to know someone long for them to fall in love with you or you to love them. It’s in the way they lean toward you, watching your mouth as you speak, or how their eyes light up when you enter the room. The brush of their hand on your shoulder when they pass you, or taking hold of your hand when bad news happens. Not having to ask if you’re upset—knowing it because they know you. Love has nothing to do with sex and everything to do with the heart.”
Reed stopped his pretense of wiping up the bar and clutched the rag in his shaking hand. “When did you stop loving my mother?”
His father slid onto Carter’s vacated seat. “I’m a funny man. It takes a lot to make me angry. But hurt my child, and I am done with you forever.” Dirty rag and all, his father placed a hand over his, and the memories of holding on to him while riding the roller coaster at Coney Island, of jumping the waves at the beach flooded through Reed.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that.”
