Chapter Twelve

Brian walked through the bunkhouse with caution. It seemed as if someone had tried to ransack the kitchen. Greg, with his quiet ways and his shy personality, could get so angry he destroyed an entire table? Brian wondered why no one had cleaned it up.

A coffee-drenched envelope with Greg's name on it lay on the floor, so Brian picked it up, opening it to see if it contained anything. When he discovered it was empty, he searched for the contents. Maybe Greg had kept it with him. It was as he stepped out of the kitchen that he noticed a ball of paper in the middle of the living room.

He picked it up and smoothed it out. A part of him knew he shouldn't read it, but he wanted to know what had set Greg off.

There wasn't anything in the letter that Brian could see, but it hadn't provided closure either.

The door opened, and Leonard walked in, Neil following him.

"Hello. Can you tell me which one is Greg's room?"

Leonard shook his head. "You should leave him alone."

Both men stood in the doorway as if protecting Greg. It made him feel like a criminal, stealing souls and televisions. As if they'd caught him in the act or something.

Brian drew his eyebrows together. "I was hoping he'd see me. I want to help."

"Greg's not gonna want to see anyone right now. Trust me on that. I know my boy well."

Brian sighed and nodded. "Why isn't anyone cleaning up?"

"Greg made the mess, so he'll clean it up."

"Right. Well, maybe you'll let him know I stopped by—"

A door in another part of the house opened and then closed again. And then boots clomped on the hardwood flooring right before Greg came into the room. He wore a black T-shirt and a cowboy hat. His eyes were red-rimmed, and his mouth set in a straight line.

Greg stopped, looking from Leonard and Neil to Brian. His gaze landed on the piece of paper in Brian's hand. His expression hardened even more, and he closed the distance between them, snatching it from him. "You had no right to read it."

Brian opened his mouth to speak but closed it again. He didn't know what to say, so the next thing out of his mouth felt like word vomit. "Jaron called me and told me about your dad. I came to check on you and to tell you that I'm here for you."

"And that includes reading the letter my dead parent wrote to me?" Greg took a step back, farther into the hallway.

"Greg," Leonard said. That one word held a warning Brian didn't understand.

"I'm sorry. I wanted to understand the mess in the kitchen." Brian brought a hand up, wanting to touch Greg and soothe some of the tension he saw etched on his face.

Greg grabbed his wrist and flung his hand away. "Get out."

For the first time, Brian understood why Leonard had followed him inside. It wasn't to protect Greg from Brian. It was to protect Greg from himself.

Brian hugged himself around his middle and took a step back. "You don't mean that."

Greg took a step toward Brian but didn't say anything. The scowl was still in place, but it also held regret.

Surprisingly enough, it was Neil who stepped around Leonard and put himself between Greg and Brian. Neil folded his arms in front of his chest.

Greg turned, going back the way he came without a word.

Neil turned to Brian. "He needs alone time."

Brian nodded, handing Leonard the letter. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make it worse."

Leonard waved his hand, dismissing Brian's apology. "You're in the wrong place at the wrong time. That's all. He'll calm down, and once he does, he'll feel terrible about how he treated you. You best steer clear until then."

Brian had his doubts about Greg feeling bad. He would never associate the quiet guy who loved animals with the one who had yelled and refused to let Brian touch him. It made him a major shit to say he didn't know if he wanted to deal with the latest version.

Brian nodded and walked out of the house, feeling as if someone had read him his Miranda Rights and handcuffed him.

As soon as Brian got home, he let Molly out of her kennel and changed into sweats and a T-shirt. He didn't have anyone to impress anyway, so why bother? He grabbed a spoon and the mint chocolate chip ice cream from the freezer and plopped down on a stool at the kitchen island.

The first cold spoonful almost made him feel better. Almost.

Andrew was in and out all the time, but mostly out. He seemed to eat and breathe cop life. It was as if the criminals in town were so plentiful.

He had to sleep at the station too. Dude didn't realize that he wasn't in a big city anymore. The most crime he'd get was arresting Mr. Simpson for indecent exposure.

Brian rolled his eyes at himself. Trivializing Andrew's job because he wanted someone there to tell him he was right and to tell him everything was going to be okay, wouldn't make him feel better.

Well, it would, but it wasn't true. It would eventually come and bite him in the ass if he didn't admit it. So, he shouldn't have read the letter. And, okay, maybe he should have called. Everyone grieved differently. He got that. But he thought Greg would want him around during the process.

It wasn't like they were seriously dating, and even though Greg was the first guy Brian ever even contemplated getting serious about, that didn't mean Greg felt the same way. Greg had said he didn't want casual, so there was that, but maybe there was a lot between casual and dating exclusively.

He heard the front door open but didn't move from his ice cream. Keys clinked inside the bowl on the table beside the door right before Andrew came into the room. "I thought cops wore uniforms."

"Only some of them." Andrew raised an eyebrow. A neat little trick that made him seem like a Latino badass.

Andrew was a good chief, or so Brian had heard around town. He didn't need a badge to know Brian was going through something. It was the horrible sweats that made Brian look like a stay-at-home mom and the container of ice cream that gave it away.

Andrew pulled a bottle of water out of the fridge and leaned on the counter.

"You want to talk about it, vato."

"Greg's father died today. I went over there to console him and might have read a personal letter. The letter was on the floor in his living room." Was it fair if he didn't mention how long it had taken him to smooth the wrinkles out of the paper? "He got angry. Now I'm drowning my sorrows in ice cream."

"Your cell phone is on the front table next to the key bowl. You do know he's called you twice, right?" Andrew took a drink from his water bottle.

"Yep." Brian took another spoonful of ice cream, letting the goodness slide across his tongue.

"You don't want to talk to him?"

"Nope."

There went that one eyebrow again. "The silent treatment. Right after his father died. Nice way to add to the carnage."

Brian smirked even as the guilt set in, nice and tight in his chest. "Thanks for that, asshole. Maybe this dating thing isn't going to work. Might as well have a clean break before it even gets started."

"Commitment issues added onto it. Nice shit sandwich."

Brian stood from the stool, shoving his spoon into the ice cream before leaving the room. He flipped Andrew off as he went into the living room.

Andrew chuckled and followed him, carrying Molly in one arm.

"I'm not telling you about my boyfriend issues anymore, asshole." Brian sat on the couch and turned it on a movie channel that played old westerns.

Andrew sat beside him, crossing his feet at the ankles and resting them on the coffee table. Usually Brian would bitch about the feet, but he didn't have it in him to care. "You called him your boyfriend."

Shit. "Thank you very much for pointing that out." Brian rolled his eyes for good measure. Not because he felt annoyed but because it took the focus off the way his chest tightened.