“Not enough,” Axel muttered, “You move like a ghost. Want a beer?”
“Sure.” Castello leaned one shoulder against the door frame and studied Axel. “I’m not one, you know?”
“Not what?” Axel pulled another bottle from the fridge and popped the cork.
“A ghost,” Castello smiled in thanks, lifting the bottle to his lips, and taking a sip, “That’s more Grif’s job.”
“Cas, I’m not sure I understand?” Axel was confused. He didn’t get what Castello was saying.
“Why do you call me that?”
Jeez buddy, keep to one subject would ya?It took a couple of seconds for Axel to catch up. That damn dark scruff Castello had going on kept distracting him. He normally had a better handle on himself than this. He was acting like a fucking teenager with his first crush.Yup, your first crush is whyyou had to leave the club, remember? That’s what put Krystal on a path thatled her to the fucking mob. All your fault.Crap, his brain was really going all out tonight wasn’t it. His fucking brain was making him second guess every move he had made for fucking years.
“Why do you?” Castello prompted.
“Huh?” Why did he what?
“Call me Cas?”
“Does it bother you?” Axel supposed shortening the man’s name was kinda personal, maybe he shouldn’t have done it.
“No,” Castello moved farther into the room, “I kinda like it.”
“Nobody has ever shortened your name before?”
Castello snorted, “Most of the people I meet are at the business end of my guns or they work for me and call me Boss.” He walked across the room to the fireplace and studied the framed photos. Staring at those images of Axel with his sister, and one of him holding the baby who had to be his nephew, reminded Castello that he should call Rourke and check on him.
“Why?” He pressed for an answer.
“Dude, I know you are as big as a castle and all,” Axel planted his ass on the couch and tucked one leg in under the other in his go to comfy position. “But your ego doesn’t need the aid of me calling you Castello.” The snarky shit who lived on his left shoulder egging him on made the words come out of his mouth before he could stop them, “Your muscles have muscles, and you have to duck to go under my doors.” He took another sip of beer, “Plus, I kinda like that I call you something the others don’t.”
Ask him!
Shut up.
Ask or you will never know.
Axel was more than a little curious about Castello, he’d mentioned a son. That he had been married. Was he gay and hiding it? He had seen him on the battlefield, sort of. Okay, it was through a laptop monitor, but he’d still seen it. A mix of Thor, Rambo, and every other hero he could think of. But it wasn’t the warrior who drew him like a flame did a moth. No, it was the swirling emotions he could see in Castello’s eyes, before he shuttered them and hid them away from the world. It was the harshness combined with the soft scratch on a dog’s ears. The bellowing roar he gave when calling orders and the gentle pull of a blanket over Axel’s shoulders when he was in that middle place between waking and sleeping. Those and a million other things he had seen in less than a week. Stupid? Maybe, but the man was a complex mish mash of contradictions and Axel wanted to figure them out.
“You’re thinking very hard there,” Castello moved around the room, picking up a nick knack here and a magazine there, before replacing them.
“Umm.”
“Ask your question.”
“Are you gay?”
Castello froze in place, his hand hovering over the wooden box on the table in the corner between the fireplace and the window. “Why do you ask?”
“You mentioned a son.”
Castello’s face softened at the mention of the name, “Yeah, Rourke.” He smiled in Axel’s direction, and even though Axel knew it wasn’t for him, it still slammed into his solar plexus like a punch. “He’s the best thing I ever did.”
“His mother?”
“Long gone.” Castello snorted, “She was the worst thing I ever did.” He stopped himself and backtracked, “No I shouldn’t say that—she gave me Rourke. But yeah—” Scrubbing one hand over his head, he blew out a breath,
“I learned a hard lesson. My kid suffered for it. Best thing she ever did was leave.”
