Epilogue

Epilogue

"D

rive faster."

Behind the wheel, Mike raises both brows and glances over with a superior little smirk that he knows Toby finds infuriating. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me the first time."

"I don't think I did."

Fine—if that's how Mike wants to play it, Toby is game. "Michael," he says, with all the gravity of a priest listing the Ten Commandments. "It took me a year to talk my brother into moving here. A year. And I am not missing Haley's first day of school just because our flight was delayed and you've decided to drive like a normal person for once. Drive faster."

"I love it when you boss me around," Mike tells him, still with that infuriating smirk—and then he hits the gas. The car swerves off the H-1 into some residential area, probably one of Mike's shortcuts that will end with a semi-legal merge back onto the highway further up ahead, after bypassing one of its more congested areas. Toby still doesn't know the island quite like Mike does, but he's coming to learn more and more of its ins and outs, has even tried surfing a few times and didn't completely hate it.

"Thank you," Toby mutters.

Houses flash by, another sharp turn, past the Convention Center, and over the canal. Toby keeps one hand on the dashboard, just to be prepared in case Mike hits the brakes without warning, and angles himself so he can watch Mike do his thing. It's fun, not that Toby would ever admit as much.

"Better?" Mike asks, glancing over, and of course he's enjoying this, the bastard. After ten days in North Korea and a missed flight connection that extended their return trip by almost twelve hours, he still looks fresh and alert, happy to be back home.

Home.

"Better," Toby allows. "Eyes on the road."

"You know," Mike says, "it would really help me concentrate if you got your mouth on my cock right now."

"Get us to Haley's school on time, and I'll think about it."

Mike's grin is edged with delight. "I'll hold you to it."

Another fast turn, and Toby catches a flash of the beach between houses and palm trees, the ocean a bright turquoise. He digs his phone out of his pocket to send Matt a quick text that they're almost there, to please just give them a couple more minutes.

‘Island minutes?' Matt replies.

"Is there a raised middle finger emoji?" Toby asks Mike.

"Don't fight with your brother," Mike says mildly. "He's the only one you've got."

He's joking, of course, but Toby has come to recognize that there will always be a certain rawness to Mike's perspective on sibling relationships. It's been getting easier, though, and when Mary spent three weeks with them a couple of months ago, Toby made sure to give them plenty of space to talk, stayed at his own place more than he normally would, until Mike told him in no uncertain terms that unless Toby wants a missing person alert tied to his name, he better be around more because as far as Mike is concerned, he's family too. Ever since then, Toby has noticed that his own place has emptied out more and more, Mike sneaking away with Toby's clothes and other personal stuff that then shows up in drawers at Mike's house as though it's just always been there.

Mike is not subtle. It's one of the things Toby loves about him.

When they pass the Waikiki Shell, Toby sits up straight, preparing to jump out the instant they arrive. It's another sharp turn, then Mike pulls into a space right behind Matt's car, and Toby throws the door open before they've fully stopped.

"Haley!" he calls. A moment later, he's blessed with an armful of little girl, smile wide and her hair all over the place. He takes a deep breath and hopes it will be a while yet before she gets too cool to hug her uncle.

When he lets her go, she beams. "You made it!"

"Said we would, didn't I?"

If she was anything other than the absolute ray of sunshine that she is, she could have listed all the times he's let her down. Instead, she nods seriously, "Yes, you did."

"Mike drove like a madman to get us here," Toby tells her, just as Mike joins them and gets rewarded with his own tacklehug—ever since that first trip to Hawaii, when Matt and Haley stayed at Mike's house and Mike taught her how to surf, Haley has fully adopted him into her small circle of favorite people. Toby knows the feeling.

He turns around to give Matt a quick hug. ("Man, you need a change of clothes, Bas." - "And you need a change of face, Mattie.") They make plans to meet up tomorrow, after Toby has had a chance to shower, sleep in a real bed, and do absolutely nothing that could get him killed for a minimum of twenty-four hours. Then he watches Haley and Matt join the stream of people that flow into the school building, excited chatter and yelling kids all around.

"So." Mike steps up next to Toby, their shoulders overlapping. "Where to?"

Toby turns his head and takes him in: the loose smile, the even tan that stood out in New Jersey but not here, the easy grace in the way he holds himself. Toby's lucky, is what he is.

He returns Mike's smile. "Home, please."

"Which one?"

Like it's an actual question—everything that matters is at Mike's place anyway, and maybe it isn't actually Mike's place at all. Toby inhales, and heated, slightly humid air fills his lungs. He can almost taste the ocean. "Ours."

Sunshine brightens Mike's eyes. "Ours?" he repeats slowly, as if testing the word.

"Yet again," Toby says, "you heard me the first time." He turns his head fully, lets Mike see the certainty in his eyes. "Let's go home."

Mike's smile is brilliant, and for a moment, Toby thinks back to the first time they met—just strangers in line at a coffee shop, and while Mike left an impression, there's no way Toby could have known that this man would change his life.

He's exactly where he wants to be.

Home.