27. Byrd

27

Byrd

" I 'm sorry, Mr. Wash, but Ms. Blake's instructions were very clear. No one is allowed in the room during the evaluation. Not even his coach."

Griff is twenty-five, looks about seventeen, and is currently way out of his depth. Working reception at the San Francisco Circus Center is a cush job, handled in rotation by students looking for discounted classes. Angry men in dark suits are not usually part of the job description.

" That man is not his coach," tall, dark, and scary declares, "and that particular instruction came at my request. For the protection of my son. I'm quite certain Ms. Blake did not mean to include myself in the prohibition."

Griff's gaze shifts to mine, and his panic turns hopeful. "I'm sure if you talk to Coach Byrd…" He trails off when the man, Echo's father, rounds his fury my way.

I have a weird moment of dislocation as we study each other across the space. Echo's eyes in an older face with fine wrinkles at the corners. Gabe's curls tamed by a close, professional cut. The bravado of both sons matured into absolute confidence.

"Mr. Wash." I keep my voice carefully neutral .

"Byrd Baardwijk." His is cool and appraising, no trace of the frustration he was throwing at poor Griff. I think about offering a hand, but the look on his face stops me. "Where is my son?"

"Finishing his warm-ups." And trying to calm the raging hard-on I left him with.

Echo was a nervous disaster, bouncing around the studio room the Center had set aside for his eval. I ended up calming him down the only way I could think of—fucking into his hot mouth until he drank me down like he was starving at the end of the world. When I tried to return the favor, he pushed me away.

"If you make me come right now, I'll turn into a pile of spaghetti, and I need all my guns firing." He flexed one bicep with a smirk. "I just needed a shot of my favorite energy drink." One kiss, deep and hungry. "Now get out of here before I change my mind and blow the whole thing off."

I don't think Mr. Wash wants to hear any of that, though, and I have no idea how Echo would react to seeing his dad right now. From everything he's told me, he has a pretty decent relationship with his parents. Not close, exactly, but they've definitely contributed to his "charmed life." On the other hand, Echo was pretty freaked out after that phone call.

"I'd like to see him." The words are polite enough, but there's no mistaking the command in his voice.

"I'm not sure—"

He cuts me off. "Mr. Baardwijk. While I appreciate all you've done to get Echo here—" His mouth twists, obviously fighting the urge to lay me out and charge past me. "Do not discount the sacrifices I've made to support him. In fifteen years, I have never missed an audition or performance. I have no intention of breaking that commitment now, and you would be wise not to get in my way. "

Okay. So he's a domineering asshole, but maybe his heart is in the right place. In-person auditions for NCC are always closed, which Wash knows if he's telling the truth, but I can't blame him for wanting the chance to wish Echo luck. To let him know his father is here pulling for him. I'm also not sure I have any right to be the person standing in his way.

You've loved him for a few weeks. This man has loved him his whole life. He'll be around long after…

"Give us five minutes," I say to Griff, then head back down the hallway, gesturing for Echo's father to follow.

At first, Echo is wary, and I wonder if I made a mistake. The look he throws my way is trepidatious—a look that does not go unnoticed by Mr. Wash.

"He came to wish you luck," I say, answering the unspoken question, and some of the tension leaves Echo's body. He climbs slowly to his feet as I cross to him, standing as close as I dare under his father's watchful gaze. I'm not sure if it's for Echo's comfort or mine, only that I'm ready to shield him in whatever way he needs.

"Hi, Dad." A slight smile quirks the corner of his mouth. "Wasn't sure you'd make this one."

Wash's answering smile is a mirror. "You should know better by now."

I step back as they embrace, giving them room and letting the relief breathe through me.

"I'm sorry I can't watch the evaluation," Wash says as they pull apart.

Echo shrugs. "I know. They won't let Byrd in either."

"Need me to kick some ass?" his father asks. "Regina is pretty tough, but that kid at the front desk was two seconds from folding." He winks. "I think I could take him."

I'm starting to see where Echo gets some of his attitude .

"I'm okay, Dad. When have I ever fucked up an audition?" He says it without hesitation, cocky grin firmly in place. If I hadn't seen him twenty minutes ago, trembling on his knees and begging me to distract him, I'd even believe it. His father claps him on the back.

"Your mother sends her love. She wanted to be here."

"Let me guess. One of her ‘appointments' with Dr. Nip-tuck?"

"You know Dr. Tucker books six months out, or she would have rescheduled." They share another smile, wry and fond at the same time.

"I'm glad you're here, Dad," he says sincerely, and my heart swells in sudden gratitude for the man who helped shape Echo's ability to love. And then he spoils it with a devious glance in my direction. "Maybe you can keep Byrd from climbing the walls while I'm in here."

Mr. Wash cocks an eyebrow at me, a familiar gesture in an older face. I can see Echo at fifty, those same fine lines winking from—

Echo at fifty.

Not Gabe.

My relief bubbles up like laughter as Echo steps shamelessly into the waiting circle of my arms, pressing his forehead to mine. I don't tell him he's got this, or that he's ready, or that I believe in him. I've told him all of those things a thousand times over the last two weeks. I don't ask if he's okay, because I know the answer better than he does.

"Be Echo," I say instead, soft and fierce, with my hands locked at the back of his neck.

"Your Echo?" His heart beats staccato wings against my chest.

" Your Echo." I press a kiss to the offer of his mouth and whisper against all the vulnerability there: "You'll always be mine." In this moment, it doesn't feel like a lie, and I'm rewarded with that lightning flash in his eyes and the slow smile that stops my heart.

"See you after," he whispers back. "I'm gonna change your life tonight."

You already have.

It's hard to look someone in the eye when their son just promised to wreck your ass with his cock, but I'm a fucking adult, so I manage. To my surprised relief, the look on the man's face is thoughtful rather than suspicious.

"Graham Wash," he says, holding out his hand. "You can call me Graham."

"Byrd." I shake, resisting the absurd impulse to thank him, and I don't fight it when he exerts a little extra pressure.

"Just don't call him ‘Mr. Baardwijk,'" Echo murmurs behind me, and I stifle a shocked snort. Guess my boy's feeling better. Graham's eyes flit between us, but other than a slight tightening of his lips, he wisely doesn't react. Jesus. Is he trying not to smile ? I drop my hand and clear my throat, fighting a blush.

I'm saved further embarrassment by the arrival of Reggie's surrogate coach. I make the introductions, since Claire and I spoke earlier while Echo was getting changed, and then she shoos Graham and me toward the door.

"We'll be right outside," I promise, while Echo gives his father one last hug, and I wonder if I'm about to have the most awkward conversation of my life.