Actually (5 page)

Aaron rolled over and blinked at the clock. The alarm was set to go in two minutes. He switched it off and sighed. After the blow job, he and Ian had flipped on the television, sinking into comfortable mindless chatter until Aaron had to call it an early night. He’d had the best night sleep in months, and he smiled happily, until he remembered why. Ian was downstairs on the couch.

Aaron didn’t remember him coming up to tell him that Mike had come home. He got up and made his way to the bathroom, looking into Mike’s room on the way. The bed could’ve been slept in. It was hard to tell since Mike never made it.

He brushed his teeth and took care of his more pressing needs. Pulling on a pair of loosefitting pajama pants, Aaron wandered downstairs. Ian wasn’t on the couch and all the blankets had been folded.

The smell of hot coffee floated to him, guiding him to the kitchen.
“Ian?”
“In here.”
He found Ian in his jeans and snug, sleeved undershirt, leaning back against the counter

top with a mug at his lips. Ian’s eyes traveled over Aaron’s bare chest and slowly lifted. That look said all the same sexy things Aaron’s probably did.
“Did he come home?” Aaron asked focusing on his other competing thought.
Ian lowered the mug. “No. I think it’s time to call the girlfriend.”
“I’ve got her number.” Aaron went to get his cell.
“How do you take your coffee?” Ian called after him.
“Sweet and creamy,” he yelled back.
Of course he liked it sweet and creamy. Just the reference lifted Ian’s libido another notch. He tried to get his mind back on the matter at hand. Mike was still missing. That was a thousand times more immediate than wanting to cuddle Aaron against his chest and kiss his sleep-warmed neck.
He hadn’t been prepared for tussled brown hair and droopy golden eyes, or how much Aaron had filled out over the years. His lean build hid impressive muscular tone and trim hips that barely caught the waistband of his low-slung pajama bottoms. It wouldn’t have taken much to tug them down. He smiled at all the ways he could give Aaron a very good morning, indeed.
The retreating view had been pleasant too.
“Out of the gutter,” Ian muttered to himself under his breath. He refilled his mug, poured a cup for Aaron. He added milk and sugar until the coffee looked tan. By the time he swirled the spoon in the liquid, Aaron was back. Concerned muddled his brow.
“What did you find out?” Ian asked.
“Her mother said Mike wasn’t there, but then neither was Sara. She didn’t seem the least bit worried.”
Ian closed the distance, handing him the mug of hot coffee. “I’ll stay here. I have all the papers I need to grade in my bag. When you get home from work, we can reassess.”
“I can’t ask you to do that,” Aaron protested. “He’s probably just blowing off steam.”
“Remember what I said last night? I’m offering. You didn’t have to ask. Think of me as another big brother,” Ian offered with a grin.
Aaron’s look slipped over him in disbelief. “I can’t think of you like a brother.”
Damn, he was adorable. It would be so easy to kiss that pretty mouth until Aaron’s gaze turned heated. He mentally shook himself. That’s not why he was there. It wouldn’t be fair to give the poor guy another thing to think about.
“Then I’m your fairy godmother,” Ian joked lightheartedly. “Go get ready for work, unless your bosses are a lot more lenient than you led me to believe.”
“Are you sure you want to stay? I could call in,” Aaron suggested.
“I’m sure.” He put his mug down, turned Aaron toward the kitchen door and gave him a gentle shove. “Go, before I find ways to occupy your mind that have nothing to do with being responsible.”
“I’ll go, but you need to follow up on that later.”
“I promise,” Ian murmured. “Hurry, before I change my mind.”
Aaron left him there. It was the time he needed to compose himself. He made toast for Aaron to take to work, then cleaned up the kitchen. A quick trip out to his car and he set up the opposite side of the dining room table as a work space. His laptop booted up silently.
“I thought you might need these.” Aaron, freshly showered, hopped off the last step toward him and held out what looked like towels and some clothes. “There’s a new toothbrush beside the sink up there. You’re taller than me and leaner than my dad was, but if you belt the jeans tighter, they should do. I grabbed one of my law school shirts. It’s a bit big for me anyway.”
“Thanks. There’s toast on the kitchen table for you.”
“Thanks.”
Aaron stood for another several seconds looking like he wanted to say something. Ian waited. The silence became filled with hot looks that couldn’t be answered adequately in the time frame they had.
“Okay, well, make yourself at home. I’ll be back around noon,” Aaron said instead.
“I’ll be here.”
* * * *
Like he promised, Ian was still there when Aaron got home. But Mikey wasn’t, and Aaron was beginning to worry. He glanced at the clock. He had to wait a few more hours before he could call the local police station.
Aaron tried to study. Ian sitting across from him made a welcome distraction both from legalese and worry. Unfortunately, it did nothing to dampen the hunger that had been growing out of proportion since Ian had come back into his life.
God, had Ian always been this in control? He sat across him, calmly grading papers as though nothing had gone on between them the night before. Meanwhile, Aaron could barely keep his mind off sex with him. His brain had two paths today. Mike and Ian.
Ian looked up, catching Aaron watching him.
The older man smiled warmly. “You doing okay?” he asked.
No. He wasn’t okay. His family was in shambles. His little brother had gone missing after storming out from seeing Aaron in full-on gay mode. And now the object of his teenage wetdreams had taken up temporary residence in Aaron’s home, and there was nothing wrong with him.
Not a thing
. He was even good at sex. Sex seemed to be the rollercoaster of thought Aaron had latched onto. But there must be something wrong with Ian. He couldn’t be perfect.
“Do you snore?” Aaron asked suddenly.
“What?”
“Talk in your sleep? Snuffle? Snort? Fart?”
“I don’t think so,” Ian answered, laughing. “I’m asleep so I wouldn’t know, but I’ve never heard that I do.”
“Do you pick your nose in public? Scrape toe-jam out when you think no one’s looking?”
“No,” he stressed, still laughing. “Why? What’s this about?”
“Nothing.” Aaron tucked his chin and stared blindly at his notebook.
“No it’s not,” he contested companionably. “Tell me.”
“You’re perfect. There has to be something you do that’s just gross, or wrong.”
“I’m not perfect.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” Aaron said. He lifted his chin. He ticked off the points on his fingers. “You cook. You clean up after yourself. You teach miscreant youth and then help them when they’re in trouble. You support families in need. You stay up all night and are cheerful the next day. You’re good at your job, a great listener, a good friend and unfailingly loyal.”Aaron scowled. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”
“You’re right. I’m perfect,” Ian replied straight-faced. He stood up. “I’m going to get some water. Do you want anything?”
Aaron looked up with surprise. He couldn’t remember the last time another person offered him simple kindness before Ian. But Ian’s spanned the distance between offering a shoulder to offering a drink.
It made Aaron’s throat tight with emotion. It was such an easy gesture, but it meant a lot, because someone was actually taking care of Aaron for once. And it was a relief.
A few hours later, Ian got up and ordered pizza. Aaron didn’t look at the clock choosing to study as much as possible and pray the time was going as quickly as he hoped. Maybe if he didn’t think about Mike not being home yet, then his brother would be walking through the door just as the pizza got there. But that’s not what happened. They ate the pizza in silence. Neither one of them talking about the elephant in the room. That twenty-four hours had almost been met, and there was a call to place to the police.
Aaron glanced at his watch. He pushed back from the table, crossed the floor, and lifted the receiver. The phone number for the general police office had been scrawled on a notepad by the phone. It wasn’t his handwriting. It was Ian’s.
He glanced over his shoulder at Ian, thanking him with a nod. Ian nodded back. He placed his elbows on the table, folded his fingers and waited.
While Aaron dialed, all the reasons he shouldn’t floated through his head. Mikey was just a teenager. He’d walk through the door any minute, and it would all be nothing. But Aaron dialed anyway on the off-chance that there was another problem, another accident like the one that had brought Aaron home three months ago.
That maybe Mikey needed him again not because there was a car accident but because Mikey’s life was spiraling out of control. And Aaron ought to do something to make it stop. Even if he felt incapable of helping. Even if it really was nothing. He’d rather be safe than sorry. He’d rather not lose another family member. Not on his watch.
“I’d like to file a missing person’s report,” Aaron said feeling as though the words came from far away as he spoke into the receiver. “Yes, I’ll hold.”
He hadn’t heard Ian come up behind him, but he felt the soothing stroke of his hand glide up and down his back. He gave Aaron’s shoulder a squeeze, his neck a kiss, then resumed the comforting rub.
The police officer picked up the line.
“Michael Hedlund, sixteen. He’s about five-ten, five-eleven, one sixty.” The details. There were always details. Giving them felt just like identifying his mom in the morgue. He’d had to give these same details to them too, before he could see her body.
Ian’s warmth beside him beckoned him. He didn’t think about whether or not Ian would mind, he simply leaned to the side, letting his shoulder press against Ian’s solid chest as the man’s arm wrapped comfortingly around Aaron’s shoulders.
“Black hair, curly. Light brown eyes. Lean build. What was he last wearing?” Aaron repeated the question, trying to pull up the memory of his kid brother in the doorway before he slammed out of the house in disgust. “Black tee shirt. Black cotton pants. He had a long chain at the hip attached to his belt loop, and he wears a couple of thick leather wristbands on each arm.”
“This will be good to get started. I’ll send an officer over for your statement while we put out an All Points Bulletin.”
“Thank you.” Aaron hung up the phone. “They’re sending someone over for the rest of the information.”
“You might want to pull together addresses and phone numbers of his friends for them to check out,” Ian suggested.
“Of course, why didn’t I think of that?” Aaron asked feeling disgusted with himself. He picked up the notepad and pen, jotting down names as he thought of them.
“Because you have a lot to deal with.”
“That’s no excuse. He’s my brother. I should be prepared for shit like this. I should know what he’s up to and where he goes when he takes off. I should be able to tell you who all his friends are and know how to find them. I should—”
Ian grabbed him by the shoulders and gave him a small shake. “Stop it. Stop beating yourself up for something that was out of your control.”
“Was it? I could have gone after him and made him stay home.”
“No, you couldn’t have. Do you think that he’d have listened? Do you think that you could lock him away and still have any ability to work or study? You can’t know everything. You can’t be everything. And sometimes, like it or not, things fall through the cracks. It just means you pick them up again and try something different next time.”
Aaron snorted. “Like not kissing his history teacher in front of him.”
“That’s not the real reason he ran and you know it.”
“Do I? Because it feels an awful lot like it’s my fault,” Aaron protested.
“Because you’re taking it all on. You can’t do that. You can only control yourself and your own actions. Right now that kid is on a free-for-all, hurtling himself through life without a speed bump to slow him down.”
“That’s my job.”
“No,” Ian said gently. “Your job is to be here when he comes back. To love him anyway, and to be the one thing in his life that isn’t broken.”
“How?” Aaron all but shouted. “How am I supposed to be that when I can barely keep my own life together?”
Ian pulled Aaron against him, holding him with iron arms. “You let me help.”
Aaron dissolved against him, resting his cheek on Ian’s shoulder as Ian held him and rocked.
“You take on too much, Aaron.”
“I wasn’t given a choice. I didn’t want my parents to die. I didn’t want to leave law school. I didn’t want to take on all the bills or homeownership or parenting. I wasn’t asked, Ian. It was handed to me on a bloody platter.”
“I know.”
“I didn’t even get to say goodbye to them. Not while they were living. Not really. The last thing I said was, see you at Christmas. If I’d known I wouldn’t, I’d have hugged them and told them how much I love them.” Aaron’s throat burned with unshed tears. He tried to push them down like he had every other time.
“They knew or they wouldn’t have known to put you in charge of their estate. They knew you loved them. They trusted you with everything they had, including Mike.”
“Look how well that turned out.”
“I’d say you’re doing a great job for a guy who hasn’t mourned his own losses yet,” Ian countered.
“I can’t. I have to stay strong. What is Mike going to do with a brother who falls apart? How will I help him them?”
“Maybe he needs to see you fall apart a little. Maybe he’s holding back his grief, acting out the way he is, because he thinks that’s how he’s supposed to handle it.”
“That’s stupid.” Aaron looked up at him.
“As stupid as an older brother who won’t cry when he’s lost everything too?”
Aaron got momentarily lost in Ian’s soft blue eyes. They looked at him with patience and understanding, not pity, not disgust. He smelled like basil from the pizza and like laundry detergent. Heated by his body, it created a comforting cocoon of scents that reminded him of all the times he’d imagined being this close to Ian and what he’d want to do if given the opportunity.
Now he was this close. He could see the glint of strawberry in his blond hair up close, and he detected a little green cloudiness to the pristine blue of his eyes. His stubble had grown in like blond frost, barely perceptible at a distance, and deceptively rugged from this angle.
“You’re going to be okay,” Ian murmured. He sounded gruff as though the emotion of everything Aaron struggled with were shared by him, as well. Like they really were in this together and Ian really would be there to help him through it.
Kindness, the need, the tenderness of the man holding him, undid Aaron. He slid his hand up behind Ian’s head, spearing his fingers through the short, soft strands and pulling him down the two inches it took for Aaron’s lips to meet his.
They were soft, dry, smooth, warm, all the things he remembered they were and more. Aaron shifted to find better contact. The doorbell rang and Ian snarled unhappily.
Aaron ducked out of his embrace. “I’ll get it.” He swung open the door and invited the uniformed police officer in.
The officer glanced between the two men. “Which of you is Aaron Hedlund?”
“That’s me,” he answered easily.