Chapter Two
Rand 2012
“That’s the last one.” Claire set the box in the corner by the bookshelf, collapsing onto the couch beside Rand.
Wrapping an arm around her, he kissed her cheek. “Thanks, Sis. Don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Let’s never find out, okay?” Claire elbowed him playfully. Her logic was sound, and he agreed wholeheartedly.
He hooked the handle of the cooler with his foot, dragging it closer to the couch. Lifting the lid, he grabbed a couple of beers, twisting the caps off and handing a bottle to Claire, then taking a healthy swig from the other before leaning back and sighing. The apartment he’d rented in Cedar Hill was small and quaint, nothing compared to the one he and Grant had shared for the past several years. But Rand didn’t see any sense in paying an exorbitant amount for rent on a place he’d probably only sleep and watch football games in. It was hell starting over though, and he was thankful to have his sister there with him, bearing part of the burden.
“I hate the fucker. Always have—that’s no secret. But I know you loved him, Rand, and I’m sorry for what he’s done to you. But…” Claire paused, taking a pull from the bottle in her hand. She turned to him and said, “I’ll help you dispose of the body if you wanna take him out.”
Rand cracked up. He laughed so hard he was crying and his ribs hurt, and it hit him—that was her intention. “God, I love ya, Sis.”
“Seriously, big brother, you’re some hot-shit former Military Intelligence Officer. You have to have connections that can assist with burying the body somewhere it would never be found.” Claire waggled her eyebrows, taking a long drink from her bottle before belching loudly.
“How, and I ask you this with all seriousness, are you still single?” He ducked when she swung at him, chuckling.
It had been just the two of them for so long, their parents having died in a car crash when Rand was sixteen and Claire fourteen. Hell, she was the reason he joined the Navy to begin with, so he could afford to give her the best of everything. They spent three years with a distant cousin in Texas—two together and Claire for another year while Rand went through boot camp in Chicago. As soon as he was at a place where he could apply for housing, he did and promptly moved Claire to Chicago with him. Everywhere he was stationed, they went together—all over the world; they even spent several years in France and a few in Italy. Claire could speak both languages, fluently, and a stranger would be none the wiser that she wasn’t born in either country.
Eventually, they wound up back where they started when Rand was assigned to Whidbey Island Naval base in Oak Harbor, Washington. Little more than a decade after their parents’ deaths, they visited their graves for only the second time. When Rand retired from the military, he asked Claire where she wanted to live—he couldn’t really care less just as long as they were together and putting down roots. So they moved back to Texas, the place Claire called their second home, having spent the last of her formative years on the ranch in Austin with their cousin.
“Hey, why don’t you stay the night?” he asked. “I can make up the sofa bed, and we can order takeout. It’ll be like old times.”
She sidestepped his question with another. “So, Senior Detective Davis, when do you go back to work?”
Ah yes, the silver lining in his otherwise shitty circumstance. Rand had been so excited the day he was officially promoted that he’d taken off early and rushed home to tell Grant, only to have his heart broken when his suspicions that Grant was cheating were confirmed. It was a blow that still stung, a cut that hit to the bone when the man Rand thought he’d spend the rest of his life with betrayed him. He’d spent the better part of a month working from sunup until sundown, closing out several open cases, then passing out on Claire’s couch every night.
Claire snapped her fingers in his face. “Earth to Rand. Have you heard a goddamn word I’ve said?”
“No.”
“Listen—”
“Nope.” He cut her off again, setting his empty bottle on the coffee table and grabbing a fresh one from the cooler.
“What am I going to do with you?” She sounded exasperated.
Rand scooted down, laying his head on her shoulder, sticking his bottom lip out, and batting his eyelashes. “Pwease Claire, say you’ll stay wif me.”
His sister chuckled, shoving him off. “Fine. I’ll stay, but only if you cut that shit out.” She stood and headed into the kitchen. “Where did you put the menu for that Thai place on the corner? If we’re ordering takeout—that you’re paying for, by the way—I want the good stuff.”
While they waited for dinner to arrive, Rand hooked up the TV and DVD player, and Claire dug out sheets and made up the couch. He rummaged through the box of movies until he found My Big Fat Greek Wedding, one of their favorite movies, and they curled up with crispy spring rolls, pad thai with shrimp, and steamed dumplings, eating until they were stuffed. It was just what he needed: a night spent with someone he loved where he could shut everything else out. They laughed, fed each other dumplings, and polished off the rest of the twelve-pack in the cooler before passing out on the sofa bed.
Rand woke a few hours later, bladder screaming for release, and turned the TV off on his way back from the bathroom. “Whas wrong?” Claire asked, groggy from sleep, as he climbed back under the blanket.
“Nothing, had to take a piss is all. Go back to sleep.” He kissed her forehead, loving the sleepy smile he was awarded.
“Love you, big brother.” She yawned, rolling over.
“Love you too, little sister.” He lay there, watching her chest rise and fall, his mind racing as it often did, keeping him awake.
“Jesus, I can hear your mind cranking, and it’s giving me a migraine. Shut it off, Rand, and get some sleep.” He chuckled. No one knew him as well as Claire, and he doubted anyone ever would. If he could just find that guy, one that could read him, one that could stand up to him, one he could trust implicitly, life would be golden.
Rand had once thought he’d found that person in Grant. Boy, was he wrong. Regardless of the outcome, there were fond memories of their years together that Rand didn’t want to forget. When Grant made partner at the architectural firm he worked for, he took Rand and Claire on a three-week jaunt through Europe. They stayed in quaint little hotels in Paris and Switzerland, dining in back-alley restaurants that served the best food—as well as hiking, visiting castles, and touring some stellar wineries. The highlight of that trip had been the five days they spent in a small medieval town and commune in the Aude department in the Occitanie region of southern France, Caunes-Minervois.
There were blatant and obvious signs that Rand had ignored over the past few years though, little things here and there that had shown the fabric of their relationship was unraveling. With them both having demanding jobs, Rand was able to brush off late nights that became all-nighters and quick overnight trips to bid on projects that became weekend stays.
Then there was the afternoon he stopped to pick up dinner for them at one of Grant’s favorite Italian places. Rand took a picture of the restaurant sign and texted the image to Grant with the caption, Dinner for two headed your way, open a bottle of bubbly and light some candles, babe! The detective in him recognized a rent boy when he saw one, and Rand would put money on the guy that shot past him as he headed into their apartment building being on the job. He grinned, shaking his head and climbing the stairs, taking them two at a time.
Grant showering in the afternoon when he normally did in the morning, two bottles of water half-full, condoms and lube already on the bedside table—Rand dismissed all these things at the time. Looking back with fresh eyes that had cried genuine tears after their breakup, he realized the young man that brushed his arm in a rush to exit the building had been in his apartment, being fucked by the man Rand loved, in his goddamn bed. And just to be a dick, when he moved out, Rand took the bed. He then drove out to a solitary campground he and Claire had visited several times over the years. He poured gasoline over the mattress and box spring and set them on fire, watching the flames rise then fall, dissipating before flickering out, much like his love for Grant.
Claire rolled over, curling up beside him. He pulled her close, kissing the top of her head, her five-foot frame easily fitting under his arm. It was just the two of them again—as it had been for more than half their lives. “Someday, Sis, we’ll find the right ones,” he promised before closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep.