Restoration 01 - Getting It Right (32 page)

Nate raised his head and studied James’s face. Blissful and happy and so openly honest it made Nate want to cry. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Saturday night was pretty miserable because I was detoxing, but I got through it. I had a friend here.”

“Elliott?”

“No, someone else.”

“I’d have been there for you during that.”

James shook his head side to side. “No, I didn’t want you to see me like that. It was pretty messy, and I said some nasty stuff. But I came out the other side, and I want to stay sober. For you and for me. I’m tired of drinking my problems away.”

Nate kissed him soundly for that, so grateful that James had made the decision on his own steam. No goading, no demands from Nate. No ultimatums. Only them, and their future.

Nate snuggled closer to his best friend and lover, more confident than ever in their relationship.

Positive they had the strength and love to overcome anything life decided to throw their way.

“Do I even want to ask?” James said, glancing at him from the driver’s seat of his vehicle.

Nate grunted and tucked his phone back into the pocket of his slacks. The Wilmington suburbs flashed by outside his passenger window, drawing them closer to their destination.

“Danvers pulled Pfieffer out of the field,” he replied. “He says we can’t afford to spend more money and resources on this.”

“Shit, sorry.”

“Not your fault.”

Grant Pfieffer had been undercover as a working boy for the past two weeks. Three full weekends, including tonight. He’d been “picked up” a handful of times by undercover officers to reinforce the illusion that he was doing his job, but so far no indication that his persona as Flint, previously arrested twice in Annapolis for prostitution, had caught the eye of their serial killer. It had been worth a try, but Nate hated throwing in the towel.

They were back at square one with finding the elusive bastard.

“Carey’s going to hit the roof,” Nate said.

“Probably so.”

Nate reached across the console and squeezed James’s knee, grateful for the support.

Wallace Carey didn’t have the same support system at home to deal with things, but he’d been told over and over he was more than willing to talk to either him or James. Last week, Carey had admitted to Nate that he was the one who’d helped James through his DTs, and that they regularly attended meetings together. Nate had never been more grateful to the senior detective than in that moment.

“Danvers did have some good news for me.”

“Oh?” James asked.

“As of tomorrow, I’m off desk duty.”

The smile James flashed him was genuine, because James understood how much Nate’s work meant to him. The past three weeks of desk duty had been torture for someone who was used to being on the streets, actively working cases.

“Dr. Sands have any weight in that decision?”

“A little,” Nate said. “She sent an eval to the department shrink, who spoke with Danvers. Basically telling them I’ve made significant progress and returning to regular duty will reinforce that progress.”

“You believe that?”

“Absolutely.” Nate had been sleeping better and longer at night. His flashbacks were infrequent, his reactions to being startled less violent. He still had some ground to gain, but he was improving every single day.

“Then I’m happy for you, babe. I really am.”

James navigated through the suburbs, taking them closer and closer to his mother’s house. She’d invited them over for a Sunday night supper—something she’d done on a fairly regular basis in the past, and James had often found a way to avoid going. Tonight they’d accepted because it was time to tell her.

Grace Taggert had a bit of a blind spot when it came to James being gay. She knew, but she didn’t talk about it. She asked if he was seeing anyone, when was he going to settle down.

But she avoided using
he
or
she
in those questions.

Her reaction would be interesting.

Nate plucked at the inseam of James’s slacks, mostly to watch him squirm. Teasing him had become something of a hobby for Nate recently. He loved watching James fight against arousal, to maintain self-control until they managed to get each other alone. Nothing made Nate go off faster or harder than when James was teetering on the edge.

Blood pulsed the wrong way, and Nate withdrew his hand. He hadn’t meant to get

himself stirred up, not when they were on their way to dinner with Mom. James flashed him a smirk that said “see what happens when you tease?”

They pulled into the short driveway of Grace’s house. It was a small, boxy thing in a middle-class neighborhood that had the layout and feel of a suburb built by rote in the mid-fifties. Small lawn in need of a good mowing, flower beds that hadn’t been cleared of this past summer’s dead growth. She’d put a pumpkin out on the patio steps, signaling the shift from summer to fall. The whole thing had a slightly sad appearance, as though Grace was projecting onto her home’s exterior.

Nate grabbed the bottle of sparking grape juice he’d brought. James had picked up a lemon meringue pie from the local grocery store because it was Grace’s favorite.

Grace opened the door before they could push the bell, throwing herself into James’s arms with enough force that Nate had to rescue the pie from him. “Oh, honey, it’s so good to see you.” Her breathy, high-pitched voice raked down Nate’s spine like it always did.

“You too, Mom,” James said. She clung until he added, “Can’t breathe.”

She pulled away and smoothed back frizzy brown hair that was spackled with gray. She wasn’t an unattractive woman, but she’d spent little time on her appearance these past couple of years. Her slightly curly hair had gone wild, and more lines crowded around her eyes and mouth, showing her age. She didn’t wear any jewelry, just a simple blue dress and matching pumps.

“And Nathan,” she said. The intent stare at his face made his stomach somersault. “My goodness, you’ve grown a beard.”

Nate laughed politely, grateful she’d commented on that instead of his scars. “I did. What do you think?”

“You look very rugged, dear.” She ushered them both into a dreary living room with a faintly musty smell.

Does the poor woman ever open a window?
For early October, the mild weather had been a wonderful gift.

“How do you feel?” she asked as she took the bottle of juice. “James told me about the attack, you poor thing. Your mother must have had quite the fright.”

Leave it to Grace to make Nate’s assault about his mother. “I feel fine, thanks. It’s been more than five months, so everything’s healed up. And my mother was worried, yes, but my parents were great.”

“Yes, such a pair of dears, they are. James, can you put the pie and wine in the fridge and then set the table?”

James rolled his eyes at Nate over his mother’s head, and then went into the kitchen. Nate wanted to follow him, but Grace had decided Nate was her focus for the immediate future. At least she’d yet to notice it was sparkling juice, not wine. James hadn’t made up his mind about admitting to that particular problem yet.

“So, have you figured out who attacked you?” Grace asked. “Are they going to pay for it?

People have to pay for their crimes.”

“It’s still an open case.” Nate wasn’t sure telling Grace it was cold was a good idea.

And putting the perp behind bars didn’t always mean the victim found peace.

“Well, I hope your police friends get their acts together. That animal should be rotting in jail, not roaming the streets terrorizing others.”

Nate wasn’t entirely sure she was still talking about his attacker. He wanted justice as much as anyone, but he’d been a cop long enough to know justice wasn’t always served.

Sometimes justice shat right on your head.

“Mom, do you need to check on dinner?” James asked.

“Oh dear.” Grace flew past James into the kitchen.

“My hero,” Nate whispered. He went over to stand with James in the entry to the kitchen, so tempted to slip his arm around James’s waist. He stayed close, instead.

Grace pulled a glass baking dish out of the oven. Inside was a clear plastic steam bag with what looked and smelled like a pot roast and vegetables. She cut into the bag with kitchen shears, and the steam that wafted out fragranced the air with meat and spices.

“That smells fantastic, Grace,” Nate said.

“Thank you, dear. Those premade bags are so simple, but it still makes too much for one.” Grace smiled at them over her shoulder. “It’s nice to cook for others once in a while.”

James’s jaw twitched as he fended off the very blatant guilt trip.

“You look rather thin, Nathan,” Grace said. “You need to settle down with a nice girl who can cook and fatten you back up.”

Nate smothered his chuckle behind a cough. He’d gained back half the weight he’d lost, and while he didn’t yet have the same muscle tone as before the assault, his clothes fit better.

Leave it to Grace to still notice, though. “I do well with my own cooking. My mother taught me a few things.” He glanced at James, who smiled fondly. “Besides, I think a woman’s charms would be lost on me.”

Grace placed the steaming dish of meat and veggies onto a trivet in the center of the kitchen table. “And why’s that, dear?”

“Because I’m in love with your son.”

She froze with her hands just over the dish of food, her profile going still. James slipped his hand into Nate’s and squeezed, a comforting grip that kept Nate’s heart from leaping out through his throat. Grace turned slowly to face them, her face slack, eyes wide. She looked between the pair of them, then down at their joined hands.

Suspicion creased her brow. “Since when?”

“Does it matter?” James asked. Irritation warmed him from the inside out. He’d put up with a lot of crap from his mother over the years, but doubting Nathan wasn’t something he’d idly stand by and watch. No way in hell.

“But you’ve dated women,” Mom said to Nathan. Her narrowed eyes turned to James.

“And you.”

“What about me, Mom? I’ve never dated women. Granted, I’ve never brought a guy

home to meet you before, but that’s because I’ve never been serious about anyone until Nathan.”

“But I…oh, this is so confusing.”

“What’s confusing? Nathan and I are in love, Mom. We’ve known each other for fifteen years. We’re together. It’s actually pretty simple.”

Mom’s eyes went liquid. “I’ve never heard you say that you loved someone.”

“That’s because I haven’t until now.”

She blinked back tears, a mask of calm settling over her, pretending she was fine. “Well, then I suppose I should say congratulations. I wish you both all the happiness.”

James bit back a groan. This was the calm before the storm. He’d seen it before.

They went about the task of sitting down, pouring the sparkling juice and serving the roast. He and Nathan made conversation and tried to include his mother, but she’d retreated.

James ate with no appetite, his insides coiled up tight as he waited for her to explode.

She held out until the roast was cleared away and the pie was put out to cut for serving.

At first, it was a sniffle. Then fat tears rolled down her cheeks, and she wiped them away with a dishcloth. Nathan flashed James a concerned look.

James sighed. “What’s wrong, Mom?”

“Nothing, I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine, you’re crying over a pie.”

She made a familiar, affronted sound. “I’m not crying over a damned pie.”

“Why can’t you be happy for me? Why can’t you say ‘good on you, James, for finding someone who makes you happy’?”

“I am happy for you, dear.” She sobbed once, then coughed. “It’s just that I’m so lonely here, by myself, and now you have someone. I feel like I don’t matter anymore.”

“You do matter, but I can’t keep my life on Pause because you refuse to live yours.”

Nathan’s eyebrows went up, but he didn’t comment.

“James Patrick Taggert!” His mother’s ire melted back into grief. “It’s not easy for me.”

“You think it’s easy for me? I lost Laurie, too, but I didn’t use her death as an excuse to hide from the world. I went out there and tried to keep other kids from killing themselves like she did.”

“You’ve never understood me.”

James snorted, his temper rising. “I’ve tried, believe me. We didn’t do enough to help Laurie after she was molested, I get it. You feel responsible for her doing drugs and overdosing, I get that too. But still holding on to all that guilt eighteen years later? You didn’t make Laurie shoot up with heroin that night, so stop punishing yourself.”

“I let Price into our lives,” she wailed, her tears flowing freely. “I let him in, and now he’s stalking me, and he’s going to punish me for punishing him.”

“He’s not stalking you, Grace.” Nathan’s voice was firm enough to make her pay

attention. “I checked in with Price’s parole officer on Friday. He’s made every appointment.

He’s never missed a day of work, and he’s at the halfway house every night. There’s no way he’s been stalking you.”

Her face flushed bright red. “But he has. I’ve seen him!”

“It’s possible you’re seeing men who look like Price and you’re projecting your fears onto strangers.”

“So I’m crazy, is that it?”

James bit back a snarly affirmative. “It’s not uncommon, Mom. You’re still scared of him, and I get that, but Price isn’t coming after you or me. He’s served his time, and he’s trying to live his life far away from us. Why can’t you accept that?”

“Can you? You were just as upset as me when that monster got out.”

“Yes, I was.” He’d been pissed off and had nearly hurt someone else because of it. “Hell, back then I’d have probably killed him myself if I’d been given the chance, but I’m tired of dwelling in the past. I miss Laurie, and I’m sick over what happened to her. But I won’t allow it to rule my life anymore. He went to prison. He served his sentence. That’s our closure. It’s time to accept it and move on.” He smiled at Nathan. “I need to think about my future.”

Nathan returned the smile, his eyes crinkling.

“What about me?” his mother asked, more tears joining the others.