Savaro's Honey Buns (8 page)

"In the bedroom!" his father's voice hollered from up the stairs.

Savaro took them two at a time to find his father bracing against the headboards and watching a Mixed Martial Arts match. He climbed onto the bed beside his dad and grabbed a chip from the bowl between them. Silently, the two watched until the match was over before George turned the television off and turned his head to look at Savaro.

"Sav? What's the matter?"

"I met someone—things seem to be on nitro with him though."

George tilted his head.

"What I meant is—everything is just moving at lightning speed and I'm scared I'll just completely ruin it."

"Okay. Why don't we start with who this man is."

"His name is Jamal Kendricks."

"The basketball player?"

Savaro sat up then and eyed his father. "Does everyone know who this man is but me?"

"Apparently. I met him a few years ago when I went to this Condo presentation in New York. Nice guy—very intelligent I have to say."

"Well that nice guy came here and I seemed to keep putting my foot in my mouth around him. I allowed myself to be talked into dinner with him and one thing led to another…"

"Are you regretting it?" George questioned.

"No—never that."

"Then what's the problem?"

Savaro sighed and leant against the headboard

again. He rubbed a hand over his face. "I want this man, Appa. I want him so bad I stood in my office and was climbing the walls because I have to wait to see him again.

But is that enough—is that enough to make me give this man my heart?"

"It has to be. Want is just the beginning. And you wouldn't just hand your heart over—that's to be expected because you've been hurt before. What you do, is you give him a piece of your heart, see what he does with it then make a decision to give him a piece more or not… piece by piece. But in all fairness to him, if you're never going to give him all of it, don't bother. It will only end in tears."

"It's not hard to fall for him, Appa. He makes it so damn easy. Sometimes I feel so overly useless and so…

so… I feel worthless. I mean, sometimes I feel like I am just so unlovable it breaks my heart over and over. But with Jamal—have you ever had a woman who could just read your body—knows exactly what you wanted or what you were feeling before you did?"

George nodded with a smile.

"How did you deal with that? I don't know what to do because Jamal is only passing through."

"Remember I told you about Evvie?"

"Yes… your wife that died."

George smiled sadly and eased from the bed. He

walked over to the dresser and opened a drawer. He pulled out a small black box and walked back to the bed. He sat on the edge and caressed the delicate design on the lid. "When I met her, I was seventeen. But I knew she was something special. We were married six months later and my life hadn't been more perfect. She knew precisely what I was thinking, feeling, wanting, needing before I did. At first I thought it was just worrisome but as the years passed—I knew it meant she was my perfect match."

"And when she died? How did you deal with that?"

George took a deep breath. He looked up then but

only for a brief moment. His eyes were back to the box.

"Not well I suppose. I never did get out there to date again.

I just felt so cheated that I didn't have more time with her.

But I wouldn't change the short time I had with her for anything. What you need to do now, Savaro, is think about this. Take time and think—in the end what will you say about Jamal five, ten, fifteen years down the road? Will you say the time with him was short but you wouldn't change it for anything? Or will you say you wished you'd spent more time with him during the time you did have?"

"Appa…"

"Let the past go, Sav. You have to choose. The past is enormous and so is the future. We cannot carry both at the same time. You've lived through the past and even though it started out rocky, we move on. That's how we live."

"But I'm scared, Appa. I'm scared to tell him where I came from and have him write me off as damaged goods."

"But you see, if you weren't scared it wouldn't be so good. I was going to wait to give this to you and your brothers," George interrupted. "But you boys grew up so fast I didn't know what hit me." He chuckled and gave Savaro the box. "When I married Evvie, my mom gave me a beautiful ring. She told me I should give it to Evvie as a welcome gift to our family for she made me so happy.

These aren't rings but necklaces. You give the one with your initial on it to the man that makes you as happy as Evvie made me."

Savaro didn't open the box. Instead he placed it

beside him and hugged his father. "I don't know if I've said it lately, Appa. But thank you."

"For what?"

"You loved us when everyone else thought us

unlovable. You gave us a second chance when others wrote us off. You loved us… thanks for that most of all."

"Of course I loved you—I still do. You are my sons; not loving you was out of question."

Savaro laughed softly and settled against his father's bed once more. George climbed in beside him and the two watched another Mixed Martial Arts match.

The day was torture. After the gym, Jamal spent the rest of the day making international phone calls, fielding a few from reporters who had tracked him down, with questions about where he would play the next season.

Chuckling, he told them he didn't even know where he'd play the next season. With those over, Jamal took a cold shower—it was either that or find Savaro wherever he was and tackle him. Smiling, he glanced at the clock for what felt like the millionth time and groaned. He still had an hour before it was considered correct to show up at someone's house for an evening get together.

The person who came up with the time for these
things should be shot.

Finally six in the evening rolled around and Jamal took another shower. He dressed in all black except the silver necklace he always wore. He'd gotten that from his mother when he was fifteen. The only time he took it off was when he was in the shower because he knew it wasn't real silver. The last thing he wanted was for it to turn black.

They couldn't afford anything high end back then. Smiling at the good times he had with his mom, Jamal looked himself in the mirror. Brushing a hand over his cornrows, he made a mental note to call his stylist to re-do them as soon as he hit New York again. He then grabbed his phone off the charger along with his keys and wallet. He dug around for his hotel room key, shoved it into his wallet and reached for his coat.

His rental car was freshly washed by the rain. He hit the remote to deactivate the alarm and open the doors and climbed in. The drive over to Savaro's required the perfect music. If they were going to be alone he would have played Trey Songz
from his iPod. But since they would have company, ones Savaro had described as
insanity,
Jamal opted for some Taeyang and Epik High. With the GPS

needlessly telling him where he was going, Jamal wasn't really paying attention to it. By the time he pulled up at the large gates for Savaro's home and was allowed in by the gateman, he pulled to a stop and looked back. The man waved at him. "That was weird. Where'd he come from?"

Even with his question, Jamal couldn't help laughing.

When he was a kid he'd be one of those nosey little
rats
the gateman would shoo away from such gates.

Parking, Jamal climbed from the car and closed the door after him. He leant against the car, crossed his ankles and folded his arms over his chest. Staring at the large house, he took a deep breath then looked to the left then the right. There was a Mercedes as well as an SUV already there. He wasn't sure he was ready for any of this, but for Savaro, the need to see that man smile outweighed the discomfort he was feeling. Taking another breath, Jamal reached into the passenger seat and pulled out a box of beer and made his way up the front steps. After knocking, he took a moment to slip his phone to vibrate and turned to look over the landscape of the yard. He could really get used to coming home to something like that.

"Jamal? You all right?"

Jamal turned around to see Savaro staring at him

worriedly. Smiling, he reached in and pulled Savaro into his chest, taking his lips and kissing him soundly. He savoured the taste of his lover's mouth, basking in the sharp fire that soared through him with each pass of his tongue over Savaro's. When he pulled back, it was only out of the necessity to breathe. "Good evening," he whispered stealing another kiss.

"Good evening indeed," Savaro smiled. "Kiss me again."

Jamal groaned and kissed Savaro's head. "Unless we're alone right now, I advise against that kiss."

"I see. Come on in."

"So we aren't alone?"

"Nope."

Jamal groaned, handing Savaro the box and closing the door. "A guy can dream," he muttered, then followed Savaro into the kitchen. Laird was there and the two shook hands.

"Jamal, meet José. José, this is Jamal Kendricks,"

Savaro made the introductions.

Jamal shook José's hand but the tall man walked

around Jamal, poking him from time to time and saying

"uh-huh" over and over. Jamal looked over at Savaro who looked as though he wanted to bang his head into the wall and Laird looked as if he was trying to hold back his laughter.

"Stop poking me," Jamal warned.

"I'm making sure you have flesh on them bones,"

José replied. "My friend here likes a man with meat on his bones, more cushion for the…" he trailed off, did a few pelvic thrusts then smirked. "Pushin' if you know what I mean."

"Is he always like this?" Jamal questioned.

Laird did laugh then. "Trust me, this is tame José.

Come on, we should have dinner."

"Who cooked?" Jamal questioned.

"Not me, if that's what you wanted to know," José seemed down about that fact. "They won't let me go anywhere near the stove."

"The last time we made him cook he caught the stove on fire," Savaro said, leading the herd for the dining room.

Jamal sat to Savaro's left, between Savaro and

Laird. He figured he needed some more time to get accustomed to José. The dinner went by rather well. Their conversations were somewhat out there but Jamal was beginning to learn Savaro couldn't live without it. After José left and Laird retired to the upstairs bedroom, Jamal stood by the window. He folded his arms across his chest and stared out, waiting for Savaro to finish a phone call. He was prepared to head back to the hotel but Savaro said they needed to talk. That was the kiss of death for him. Any man he'd ever dated that said those words always ended things.

The truth was, he wasn't surprised Savaro wanted out.

Savaro had been scared to get things started between them in the first place.

Taking a deep breath, he put his phone back on ring and he listened to footsteps coming toward him down the hall. When they finally stopped at the door, Jamal braced himself for the worst. He turned and stared at Savaro who stepped into the room and closed the door quietly behind him.

"I need to tell you something before this…

whatever this is between us, gets any deeper. This is me giving you a chance to run."

He arched a brow. "Savaro, what are you talking about? Why would I want to run?"

Savaro sat in a plush, oversized seat and pushed

back into it. Jamal sat across from him and braced his elbows against his knees, lacing his fingers. "Talk to me."

"When I was a kid, I was abandoned at a church,"

he started. "I boxed around from group home to foster homes to group homes for years until I met Laird and Rajan, my brothers. When I was a teenager, it got even worse for us to get adopted because we were gay but we stuck together. Life wasn't easy but we stayed until George Anatolis adopted us."

Jamal was confused. "Why are you telling me all this? Why do you think this would make me not want to be here?"

"Other men saw me as damaged goods. They had no patience with what I was going through—what was happening to me. After they left it got worse but lately I've been hanging in there. If you were to leave because of that reason it would break me and I don't want to have to deal with that down the road."

"Savaro—I'm not in this because of your

background. Hell, I'm not in this because of a booty call.

I'm in this because my heart has taken a hold of you and if I let go it would break it. I'm not a teenager, Savaro—I don't scare easily. I want to get to know you better, more than just a lover. Past or no past, it is what it is."

"Jamal…"

Jamal eased from his seat and knelt before Savaro.

He cradled his face, pushing his hair from his face and caressing his cheeks. "Listen to me," Jamal said, softly.

"Don't put so much stress on it."

"I just wanted to lay it all out there—on the table so that when it's time for you to leave I don't feel like my world ended."

"Leave?" Jamal asked then recognition hit him. "Oh you mean for my games. Savaro there is always coming home again. When I came here, it was just for your honey buns—which were delicious by the way—but then I saw you and that very moment I couldn't help myself. But we really can't predict things like this. I will deal with my living situation when the time comes."

Standing, he pulled Savaro with him and into a hug.

He buried his face into Savaro's neck, dropped a kiss there before releasing him. "I want to make love to you so bad,"

Jamal whispered, feathering kisses across Savaro's forehead. "I need to feel you naked and hot against me. But your brother is just up the stairs and I can't chance him walking in on us."

"It took everything I had not to run to your hotel

93

Savaro's Honey Buns

Remmy Duchene

today," Savaro admitted, pulling closer. "I didn't want to seem needy."

"You never have to hold yourself back from me,"

Jamal told him. "Never, ever. But you wanna know a secret?"