“I certainly don’t want it if you think it’s garbage,” Sawyer said, unable to stop the hurt in his voice or the hurt Ciaran could surely feel.
“No, no,” Ciaran said quickly, turning in his seat and taking Sawyer’s hand in both of his. “If you want that, we will do it. Anything you want. Anything at all. I will make it happen. Fray can be the minister, or priest, or whatever. He’ll totally do it.”
Sawyer could feel how sorry he was, and he was all too aware they’d have some differences to iron out. But still, he couldn’t help but feel a little petulant. “I know it’s different for you, butfor me, as a human,” Sawyer said, trying to help him understand. “As a gay man, the right to marry isn’t something we were always afforded, especially in this state. So, yeah....”
Ciaran shook his head and his breathing changed. “I hurt you. Such careless words, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. Sawyer, I’m sorry.”
Sawyer squeezed his fingers. “I know you are. It’s okay. We’re still learning.”
He nodded, still frowning, still feeling bad. “I will do better, I promise.”
Ciaran was so pouty and cute, and Sawyer couldn’t help but smile. “For what it’s worth, I don’t need a church service. I’m not a religious person. So please,pleasedon’t give Fray any ideas about dressing up as a priest.”
That made him smile, and Sawyer felt immediately better. He nodded out the windscreen to the wooden sign next to the overgrown drive. “Come on, let’s go see what you can’t tell me about.”
Sawyer began the slow drive down the very overgrown track that was Mr Brown’s driveway, and he could feel Ciaran watching him.
“I knew you’d get it,” Ciaran said. “Join the dots, I mean.”
“Is it a pact? Like a treaty, or something?”
Ciaran smiled. “Something, for sure.”
Jeez. He really couldn’t talk about it.
“Okay, got it. So like if treaties were apples, you’d be totally unable to say anything related to apples. Or even say the word apples, right?”
Now he grinned. “Correct. All discussion on apples, or anything pertained within the apple, is forbidden.”
Sawyer nodded and couldn’t help but smile a little. “But apples are good, right?”
“Very good. I love apples.”
“Right. Got it. Message received loud and clear. Apples are a good thing.”
Ciaran chuckled. “Look at us learning more about each other.”
Yes, look at us learning, indeed.
Sawyer stopped the cruiser near the old rundown shack and cut the engine. The place looked deserted. “There’s no smoke coming from the chimney,” Sawyer noted. “Is he....” Sawyer got out of the cruiser, rushing to get inside. Being up here in this cold and constant damp was not good for a man of Mr Brown’s age. Sawyer fully expected to find Mr Brown deceased?—
“Sawyer, wait,” Ciaran said, grabbing the box of groceries out of the back of the cruiser with no sense of urgency at all. “He’s fine.” Then he nodded to the side of the house, to the tree line, where an old, gnarled figure emerged, walking stick in hand, a pipe in his mouth, a long grey beard, and a very pronounced lean to the left.
“Give him some time,” Ciaran said. “He’s not a spring chicken. Doesn’t move like he used to.”
“I heard that, boy,” Mr Brown said.
Wait... he heard that?
But Ciaran was grinning as Mr Brown walked over, and Sawyer realised then they had a history, and Sawyer had to wonder just how long it went back.
“Ah,” Mr Brown said as he got closer. “Sergeant Detective Sawyer, when I said you were welcome back anytime, I didn’t expect you so soon. Nor did I expect you to bring this riffraff with you.”
Ciaran laughed. “You missed me, old man.”
“Missed you? Believe me, if there comes a day when I have to take a shot at you, I won’t miss.”
Ciaran held up the box of groceries. “Courtesy of Otis.”
