Over the next several days, Brody worked hard to finish the kitchen so Owen could finally start living normally again. They both would, since he’d been spending every night there. He’d never been this happy in his life, never knew he could be.
His original plan had been to go back to Boston. The thought of being in Haven’s Cove too long used to feel like a brick the size of Texas sitting in the pit of his stomach. Now, Boston seemed like a lifetime ago. He’d stay if Owen asked him to—he had no doubt—but so far they hadn’t talked about it. Deep down, he also knew he was being a coward; too damn scared of what the answer would be and equally afraid to ruin what they had.
Truth was, Brody had loved Ryan and he’d lost him. Now, he was losing his mom.
He wasn’t sure that he could handle losing Owen too.
As he drove over to his mom’s, he thought about the last little things he had to do to finish the kitchen for Owen. Cabinet knobs, drawer handles, and some clean-up and the kitchen would be ready to use. He wanted it to be a surprise. A tarp had been hanging in the doorway of the kitchen for the past week so Owen couldn’t see how everything was coming together. It was obvious the man was itching to tear the thing down. Brody would have to be quick at his mother’s today so he could get it all done before Owen got home.
He parked his truck outside of his mom’s house and met Aunt Nora at the door. “How is she today?”
“She might be the happiest I’ve seen her in weeks.” His aunt gave him a warm smile. “Go on back and see for yourself.”
Brody nodded and walked back to his mom’s room. Her hospital bed was positioned in a more upright position than normal, but as usual, she was looking out her window. The smile on her face was just as his aunt had said―the happiest one he’d seen in a while. Brody walked over to her bed and quietly said, “Hi, Mom.”
She turned to look at him, and then looked back out the window. “Come and see...Brody. Come see...my present.”
Brody walked over to the window, and outside was a beautiful stone bird bath. It had an intricate design around the pedestal and the basin. A fountain flowed from the center, adding to the pool of water below. There were a couple of birds splashing around and drinking water from the stone basin. It was placed right in his mom’s view, giving her something to look at as the birds bathed in the sun. Like it was staged in some version of Snow White, a squirrel jumped up on the edge, scaring the birds away, and his mother let out a soft laugh, watching it all.
“Where did it come from?” Brody stood in awe, looking at this simple thing that people took for granted, but brought such a glowing smile to his mom’s face.
Aunt Nora said from the doorway, “Owen came by with Jerry from the garden center this morning, and they set it up. She’s been watching it all morning.”
Brody turned away, trying to hold back the tears, knowing without a doubt in his mind that he loved that man. He was in love with Owen Richards—the incredible man who did this for his mom to bring a smile to her face, even for just a little while. Feeling a couple of tears slide down his cheeks, he startled when his mother called him over. He turned around to see that his aunt had left again, and he went to his mom’s side, leaving the tears where they lay as he held her hand.
“You have...an incredible man that...loves you, Brody. Hold...onto him, my precious boy. Hold onto him...with everything you are...and don’t let go.”
“How do you know that he loves me?” Brody sat on the edge of her bed and waited for his mom to speak.
She pulled him a little closer until he leaned in and she whispered, “Look out the window. He brought me life, Brody...and he brought you back to life.”
Brody lowered his head down, resting his forehead on her arm as he cried. Everything he’d been holding in over the last several weeks released like a dam breaking. He was losing her, and there was nothing he could do about it. But with a new determination, he knew he could hold on to Owen, for as long as Owen would let him.
Brody picked his head up, wiping the tears away and kissed his mom on the cheek. “You’re right, Mom.”
“I’m so happy for you, honey.” She smiled, then looked back out her window, her eyes lighting up as she watched the birds.
~ɤ~
Owen did one last check of the bakery, making sure things were in their place. He’d let the rest of the staff go and closed up on his own. Considering how many times he came in late and left early over the past few weeks, he figured he owed them.
Opening the back door, Owen grabbed the bag of trash, flicking the lights out on his way. He turned to make sure the door closed behind him and just about jumped out of his skin. “Holy shit, Brody!” He pressed a hand to his rapidly beating heart as he stared at the man leaning against the brick wall. “What the hell are you doing back here? Is everything okay?” Owen swung the bag into the dumpster, and then turned back to Brody.
“Sorry.” Brody grabbed Owen’s hand and pulled. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Owen threw his hand up between the two of them, flattening his palm against Brody’s chest to stop the forward momentum. “You probably don’t want to get too close. I need a shower.”
Brody yanked harder, wrapping his arm around Owen’s waist. “I don’t give a shit. Come here.” He leaned in, burying his face in Owen’s neck and inhaled. “I love the way you smell. Cinnamon and sugar and all man.”
Owen shivered at the touch of Brody’s tongue on the hollow of his neck. Brody turned them around, holding Owen against the red, brick wall. A shadow fell over Brody’s face, the smile fading as he bit his bottom lip.
“Brody, what’s going on?” Owen ran his hands down Brody’s tense arms, trying to comfort him.
Brody brushed his nose against Owen’s, kissed the tip softly. He lifted his gaze, his eyes glistening with emotion, and it was then that Owen noticed that they were already red-rimmed. Pushing away from Owen, Brody began pacing, his heavy work boots hitting the pavement hard with every step.
Finally, he asked, “Do you think walls have a memory?”
“Walls?”
Brody kept up his pace, dragging a hand through his brown strands. “Yeah, you know, like memory foam or some shit?” Brody pinned Owen with a desperate look. “Or do you think shit bounces right off? Like, the walls are impermeable or something and no amount of hate or anger could seep into them?”
“Baby, I’m not sure what you mean,” Owen replied hesitantly, trying to keep up, but overwhelmed by the emotions radiating off Brody.
“I’m not saying this right.” Brody stopped mid-step and faced Owen.
Owen reached out and grabbed Brody’s shirt, pulling him up against his body. “Stop. Breathe.” Brody took a deep, shaky breath. “Now, start over.”
Brody closed his eyes and nodded. “I went to see my mom today.” He opened those big brown eyes. “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve seen her that happy?” He cupped his hand on Owen’s cheek, brushing his thumb over Owen’s tingling skin. “And it’s all because of you.”
Oh. “So, she liked it?”
“Liked it? That’s not even a strong enough word. I never would’ve thought of that…but you did. And it just got me thinking.” He paused and then said, “I have a lot of awful memories in that house. So much anger and violence. Seeing her today though?” Brody shook his head. “With that smile on her face? It felt like that moment could wipe away all the bad shit. Like her happiness,” his breath hitched, “in that moment, could act as a shield against any residual aggression. Or, maybe even replace it?” He hung his head. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m talking about.”
Owen lifted Brody’s chin. “Don’t do that. You do know what you’re talking about.” He thought for a moment then shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe it’s like a blackboard. All those fucked up times, the times you’d rather forget, can be wiped away. Rewritten.”
Brody reached behind Owen and grazed his fingers down the brick. “I can’t change what happened here.”
In this very spot, Owen thought. All those years ago—the one and only time Brody laid a hand on him in violence.
“Kiss me,” Owen said.
Brody reeled back in confusion. “What?”
“In this spot—a part of this town that holds a bad memory for both of us—kiss me. Wipe the slate clean, Brody.”
Intensity flashed in Brody’s eyes before he slid his hand to the back of Owen’s neck. He sealed his mouth over Owen’s, and Owen welcomed the soft brush of lips, the smooth slide of tongues.
Owen wrapped his arms around Brody’s neck, making sure there wasn’t any space between them. Nothing standing in the way, not any longer, as they both let go of the past.
Brody pulled back slightly, nipping Owen’s bottom lip. He leaned his forehead down, meeting Owen’s as he breathed deeply. “I don’t know how to thank you,” he whispered.
“You just did,” Owen whispered back. “Come on. Let’s go home.”
Brody followed Owen home, but before they got to the front door, Brody rushed in front of him. A smirk lifted the corner of Brody’s mouth as he pulled something from his back pocket. “Put this on.”
Owen took the black object. “A blindfold? Baby, I’m all for kink, but can I shower first?”
A wicked smile spread across Brody’s face. “Good to know. We’ll be revisiting that,” he said in a deep voice that sent chills down Owen’s spine at the promise. “However, I had something else in mind—if I can remember what it was after that visual.”
Owen studied Brody skeptically, then covered his eyes with the material. He reached out and felt Brody’s rough hand clasp his own. With small unsure steps, Owen let Brody lead him into the house, hearing a lot of shuffling around him. Brody stopped them both and Owen sucked in a breath when Brody’s warm body pressed against his back. He felt hot breath on his ear as Brody whispered, “One…two…three.”
The blindfold was removed and Owen slowly opened his eyes. “Oh my God, Brody.” He looked around in awe at the pristine brown and beige granite countertops, gleaming new stainless steel appliances, and deep russet oak floors. His eye was immediately drawn to the table, set with rustic, burgundy colored dishes, sparkling wine glasses reflecting the candlelight from the center of the table, and finally his ears tuned in to the soft music playing from the living room.
“How did you…?”
“Gabe helped.” Brody gave a sheepish grin. “In fact, he slipped out after I blindfolded you. I’m shocked he was able to hold back the dirty commentary.”
“No kidding,” Owen muttered in disbelief, walking through his gorgeous new kitchen. He slid his hand over the new surfaces, totally in awe of Brody’s work.
When Owen had looked his fill like a kid on Christmas, Brody turned Owen and led him to the stairs. “Okay, you have ten minutes while I heat up dinner.”
“You cooked?”
Brody laughed, shaking his head. “God, no. I would never defile your brand new kitchen that way. I can think of a much more fun way to christen that kitchen without the need of 911 on speed dial.” He wiggled his eyebrows up and down. “Gabe picked us up some dinners from Esposito’s.” Again, Brody gently urged Owen to the stairs. “You shower, I’ll heat the food.”
An hour later, they were both completely full, chicken Marsala devoured and velvety tiramisu savored. Brody ushered Owen into the living room with a glass of red wine, insisting he didn’t need help with the clean-up.
Shortly after, Brody joined Owen on the couch. Owen snuggled up with him, ignoring whatever was flickering on the TV. He was overcome with warmth, a feeling of rightness settling over him. Owen burrowed in, pressing his mouth against Brody’s throat, Brody’s pulse thumping a comforting rhythm on Owen’s lips. He slid his hand inside Brody’s shirt, feeling defined muscle and the light dusting of hair on Brody’s warm skin.
The TV was muted, clothes removed and thrown haphazardly on the floor, hands and mouths roamed and licked over sweaty bodies. And when Brody finally slid into Owen, they both released stuttering breaths and heavy moans. No words were spoken. Owen knew, as he looked into Brody’s eyes and felt him moving in and out of his body, that they both could feel the connection.
Sometimes, there wasn’t anything more monumental than saying nothing at all.