For fuck’s sake.
Sebastian gathers the rubbish and dumps it into the bin and then heads for the cabinet on the other side of the room that holds my alcohol.
“What are you doing?”
“I’ve heard things about your stash, and I want to see it.”
Fantastic. “Grab whatever you want.” Anything in there is worth drinking. I don’t allow swill in my house.
Sebastian winks at me, and in no time we’re holding glasses of whisky, standing around the kitchen counter. It warms me up from the inside out, going smoothly down my throat. Of course, the lawyer picked the best whisky of the bunch.
“The house just feels empty without him,” I admit into the strangely comforting silence that surrounds us. The house feelsso full and filled with life when he’s here. It gets harder every day to come home when I know he’s not here.
“We do get it,” Quinn says. “Jericho doesn’t leave often, but there are times where his expertise is needed, and there isn’t anyone else. It’s usually only a few days or a week, but the longest he’s been gone is almost a month. He can’t communicate while he’s gone, and sometimes when he’s not there, we’re climbing the walls, worrying about him.”
I have to be grateful I can at least talk to Lake once a day even if it’s only for a minute or two. Not knowing where he isandnot being able to hear from him? Fuck that.
“We’re here for you.” Quinn holds out his glass, and I tap it with my own. I know he is. He always has been. I’ve never had a partner at work that I trust to watch my back more than him.
It’s not so bad having them over for dinner and a drink. But I’m still getting them to help me with the bathroom. They offered, and they aren’t getting out of it now.
Chapter twenty-five
Grady
It’slatertonightthanI meant to leave, but there are some things in my job that can’t wait, especially for a fresh case, where time is key. Quinn glances up when I stand and grab my jacket from the back of my chair, shrugging it on.
“Leaving?”
“Yeah.” I’m too tired to respond sarcastically to the obvious question. It shouldn’t be this hard to sleep just because Lake isn’t here. I spent years sleeping without him, and yet it’s been evading me like the plague.
“We’re all going out for dinner tomorrow night”—by we, I assume he means him and his four boyfriends—“and you and Riley should join us.”
My first instinct is to say no. Social outings are never on my to-do list unless they have to be. But it’d be good for the kid and kill a few hours at the same time.
“Sure. Text me the details.”
I don’t put music on for the ride home. The silence and stars in the dark sky are soothing, which is exactly what I need right now. Even the traffic doesn’t threaten to give me a headache the way it usually would.
The porch light is on, which is the first time I remember it being on since—my heart skips a beat. No, it can’t be that. He would have told me if he were coming home. Riley must have remembered. For a teenage boy, he does a good job of doing shit before being asked.
Hades greets me at the door as usual, tail wagging. There’s noise coming from the living room where Riley must be, so I bypass it to the kitchen. There’s leftover pasta casserole from last night, so I shove it in the oven to reheat and set an alarm on my phone. Drop my keys on the counter and drape my jacket over the back of a stool.
“Riley, did you do your home—” I stop short at the sight that greets me.
Lake.
Lake is here.
Lake is curled up on our couch with a throw blanket over his knees and a remote in his hand.
Lake is home.
I can’t move. Or think.
He smiles at me, soft and inviting. He looks like he needs a shower and twenty-four hours of sleep. He’s the best thing that I’ve ever seen in my life.
“Hey,” he says quietly. “I’m home.”
