Chapter 2

ChapterTwo

Andrew waved as Austin passed his house. Austin returned it and continued down, parking in front, behind Randy's truck. Because of the trip to Chicago, Weaver's precious BMW was being driven to Carlisle by his brother, Gregory, who would continue on to Pitt for college by train. Weaver made sure Gregory knew exactly what would happen to him if he got so much as a scratch on his baby.

"Afternoon," the neighbor next door said as he hurried out of the house. "I'm Doug. It's good to meet you. Eileen is going to be sad she missed you, but she's in New York on business. Welcome to the neighborhood… all of you." He shook Austin's hand before hurrying toward his Prius. "I'm late or I'd chat longer." He waved, got in the car, and pulled away. That was interesting.

Austin carried the bags of groceries inside and right to the kitchen. One thing he knew about his men was that they would be hungry sooner rather than later. Austin put the groceries away and grabbed three cold bottles of water, heading upstairs. All he had to do was follow the scent of fresh paint to find Randy and Weaver. He reached the top of the stairs and pushed the office door open slowly. Randy and Weaver were both barefoot in shorts and T-shirts. Randy was edging the walls as Weaver rolled on the paint.

"Do you like it?" Weaver asked.

"This isn't the same color," Austin said as he stepped inside.

"I know. I got the color strip and really liked the one a shade lighter. It's softer and…." He trailed off as Austin looked over the wall they'd finished.

He nodded slowly. "You did good." It really was a better choice, but he wasn't willing to tell them that. Their egos were already big enough.

Weaver mocked dropping his roller. "That's twice he's said that. Do you think that deserves a reward?"

"It does. You each get a cookie when you're done." Austin backed out of the room, heading down the stairs.

"You know what I want to do," Weaver Fisher said softly as soon as Austin was out of earshot.

Randy snickered, but his eyes said it all. "Strip him down and make him scream until all that worry leaches out of him?"

Weaver nodded. "He's too damned uptight. Between us, we've got everything covered." He continued putting paint on the wall, ready to have this job done so the three of them could talk this shit through.

"You know that's not enough. Austin has to have a way to support himself so he can have a way out." Randy climbed on the ladder, and Weaver admired the way those shorts clung to that one-of-a-kind ass. "He's always wondering when he's going to end up on his own again. It's happened too many times for him to just trust that we aren't going to decide that he isn't wanted or needed."

"That's bullshit," Weaver muttered. "I don't know what the fuck I'd do without either of you." Randy was his best friend and confidant, the one he could say anything to, and Austin was all energy and vitality, the one person who could lead him into trouble and make him happy about doing it. Together they completed his life in a way neither of them could do alone. And he was sure Randy felt the same way. They had been together, all of them, for three years. He and Randy had been together for almost three before that, but it wasn't until they had met Austin that things really clicked and that last piece fell into place.

"I know, and Austin does too—at least part of him does—but there's still the need for a parachute. We have to help him have the safety net he needs to feel safe." Randy continued painting, finishing edging the third wall and moving on to the last one, which, with all the angles, was going to be a pain.

"What is wall and what's ceiling?" Weaver asked.

"If you can hang pictures on it, it's wall. Otherwise it's ceiling," Randy answered as he continued working.

Weaver returned his attention to his task, pulling it away from Randy's surprisingly fluid movements. For a man of his size, Randy was graceful, and Weaver could watch him all the damned time. "So what do we do?"

"Just be there for him and give him the space and support he needs," Randy answered. "There are opportunities here. We just need to keep our ears open for something that is going to make Austin happy." He stepped down off the ladder and moved it over. "But whatever we do, we have to make Austin think it was his idea."

Weaver snorted. "Why can't we just fuck him until he can't move and is too tired to think about it?" He watched Randy as he turned around, those eyes a deep sapphire blue. He knew that look, but Weaver looked away. He had to keep his mind on the task at hand, rather than on the fact that he was hard enough to pound nails.

"Who says we can't do both?" Randy got back up on the ladder, and Weaver worked a little faster. Damn, that was the best idea he had heard in a long freakin' time.

With the painting and cleanup done, Randy Mather munched on a cookie as he checked out the room before opening the window to let in some fresh air and help the walls dry a little faster. He wandered to their bedroom, hoping to find Weaver, but it was empty, so he descended the stairs, locating his quarry in the kitchen, chugging a glass of water.

"It looks nice," Weaver said.

Randy kissed him lightly before getting his own water. "Where's Austin?" he asked before drinking most of the bottle. "I expected him to come in to see that everything was up to his standard."

Weaver shrugged. "I haven't seen him in the last hour. His car is gone, so maybe he decided to run some more errands." He put the glass in the sink and then checked his phone. "I keep hoping to hear something from the law school."

"You know these things take time," Randy said. "They'd be a fool not to hire you." Weaver was a leading authority on international law, which was the specific subject they were advertising a teaching opening for. "You have to give them time."

"Veronica said that they were interested in filling the position as quickly as possible. So I figured I'd hear something." He shoved his phone back into his pocket.

"I know this is tough for all of us," Randy said, knowing he was the reason that they had all uprooted their lives. Maybe he should have just kept managing the clubs, but this opportunity had opened up, and it was what he had always hoped for. Besides, with the proceeds from selling the clubs, they would have enough that money would never be an issue for any of them.

"We can deal with it. This is what you want, and I can always register for the bar here in Pennsylvania if I need to. The important thing is Austin."

"What about me?" Austin strode in, closing the doors behind him. "Is the room done?"

"Yes, and everything is cleaned up." Randy watched Austin closely. "Where have you been?"

"Downtown. There are some great antique shops here, and I was able to get six chairs for the table that will arrive on the truck." He set his keys on the counter before opening the refrigerator. "I bought some steaks and things for dinner, but I'm not sure where to cook them."

"I'm on it," Weaver said, grabbing the truck keys. "We're going to need a grill and stuff. I might as well see if I can find one." He hurried out, and Austin closed the refrigerator door.

"I know I'm being stupid with all this worry and shit," Austin said.

"Hey, we get it," Randy told him. "And you know all you have to do is tell us… talk to us. We could have stayed in New York."

"Nothing would be all that different. The offer on your business was too good to pass up, and his firm had been working Weaver to the bone. I've been worried about him for the last six months. We're here now, and it's no use going over the coulda-woulda-shoulda's. That isn't going to get us anywhere."

"True." He pulled open the refrigerator and grabbed a second bottle of water, chugging it in a few gulps before shooting the empty into the recycling container Austin had set up.

Austin shrugged. "Besides, I somehow think we're going to like it here. As I drove down the street, a couple of folks waved to me. At first I thought something was wrong with the car, but they were being nice. It's fucking strange… and good at the same time."

Randy rolled his eyes. "Dorothy, we're not in New York anymore."

"Tell me about it," Austin said as he left the room. Footsteps on the stairs told him he was going to check out the room. Randy followed to the bottom of the stairs, enjoying the way Austin's pants clung to him with each step. "Are you perving on the view?"

Randy growled. "It's not perving if you're already mine," he called up, and Austin turned, flashing a smile before heading on to the room. Randy wandered through the house to find Austin's list. There were still plenty of things on it, and he might as well get some of them checked off, but he needed energy, so he grabbed another cookie and then headed to the utility room to check the connections for the washer and dryer. He ended up cleaning out the dryer vent and tightening the water line to the washer. By the time he was finished, Weaver returned with a grill, which they placed in the backyard and got the charcoal going.

"You could have gotten a gas one, you know," Austin said as he joined them with three beers.

"I like old-fashioned charcoal. It gives a better flavor," Weaver said as he got everything set up with paper and the chimney. Then he lit it. This was Weaver's element—the man was a grill master. In New York, with limited space, the man had performed wonders. Randy's mouth watered at the thought of what he was going to be able to do here.

The three of them stood watching the flame as the charcoal caught. Randy popped open his beer and raised the bottle. The others did the same. "To new adventures," he said softly before slipping an arm around Austin's waist. Weaver did as well from Austin's other side. They tapped the bottles and then drank.

"Everything is an adventure with you two," Austin drolled.

Randy lowered his hand, getting a good grab of Austin's perfect ass. "And don't you forget it."