Caleb chuckled, but the glint didn’t fade from his eyes. “Too much?”
“Can’t… breathe,” Jayne managed between gasping breaths. “Crying.”
“Well, tell your lungs to suck it, too,” Caleb said with a shrug. Sluggishly, he met Everett’s gaze, and for a moment, Everett saw the spark of the man he knew—the man he loved. “What good did lungs ever do anyone, anyway? Fuck lungs. We’d all be better off without them.”
* * *
Ten minutes later,Jayne took a deep breath and slumped onto the floor. He brought his arms to rest behind his head and stared at the ceiling. “I’m done.”
“Do you feel better?” Caleb asked.
Jayne glanced at him. “Yes.”
“Good.” Caleb brightened, then caught Everett’s eye and beamed. The pain in his expression was gone. “Then please, for the love of god, tell me that you’ve come to your senses. No more ‘I’ll suck your dick if you keep my baby safe’ crap, right?”
Hesitation played across Jayne’s face.
“And by that, I mean yes, you can stay here sans-dick-suckage,” Caleb clarified. “I don’t mean that you have to leave, dick-suckage or not. I’m pretty sure the rules of the homeowners association forbid any guest from staying longer than thirty days, but you know what? If they want to get all uptight about it, I’ll direct them directly to my balls.”
“Direct them directly?” Everett arched a brow.
Caleb shrugged. “I’m not a politician or—what are they called? Oralists?”
Everett snorted. “Oralists?”
“Do you mean orators?” Jayne asked. He tented his knees, keeping his back flush with the floor.
“Probably. I pretty much mean public speakers.” Caleb sank onto the floor beside Jayne. Everett, not to be left out, lay next to him and rested his head on Caleb’s shoulder. Caleb tugged him into a half-hug and kept Everett close to his chest. “So they’re not called oralists?”
“No.” Jayne sounded like he was smiling. “If you made me suck your dick in exchange for a safe place for my son to stay, thenI’dbe an oralist. An orator is someone who makes speeches, or who is skilled at public speaking.”
“You some kind of linguist?”
“Nope,” Jayne replied. “I’m a—”
An angry buzz cut Jayne off. Everett jumped. His phone, which was in his back pocket, had started to ring. Everett wriggled onto his side to see what was up—it was his brother calling.
“Gage?” Caleb asked.
Everett nodded. “Yep.”
“TD?” Jayne lifted his head and grinned at Everett. “Answer the phone with, ‘Glit’s Glitter-Ammo Emporium—we’ll make you sparkleuntil you die.’”
Everett laughed. “Maybe some other time.”
“Spoilsport.”
“You came up with that by yourself?” Caleb asked as Everett answered the phone.
Jayne shrugged. “I get by with a little help from my friends.”
While they continued to talk in hushed voices, Everett pressed the phone to his ear and lay back so he was perpendicular to Caleb. He rested his head on Caleb’s flat stomach. “Hello, hello, little brother. Are you calling to say you’re back home?”
“Almost,” Gage replied cheerfully. The call was grainy—it sounded like he was driving. “Aaron and I are heading to your place. We’ll be there probably in like… an hour? Maybe forty-five minutes? Aaron says forty-five minutes if traffic is good.”
“Traffic’s been awful.”
“Then an hour. I know you have to work tonight—is that going to be okay?”
