The Rules of Gift Giving Read online

  He just so desperately wanted to give him something worthy of him. Lucas was the best thing that had ever happened to him. He was a young, vibrant, gorgeous man. He deserved the best.

  Elliot sighed, feeling confused and vaguely unhappy as he unlocked his front door.

  His breath puffed out in a white cloud.

  It wasn’t raining, and the air was so sharp that it smelled like snow when Elliot breathed deeply through his nostrils. As delightful as a white Christmas would be, he doubted it would snow. It rarely did so early in the winter.

  The house was dark except for the porch light, and the air was still and warm when he finally made it inside.

  It was rare for him to beat Lucas home from work. Over the past few months, Elliot had worked hard on curbing his excessive hours.

  At first, he’d felt guilty. Everyone at the CLC worked hard, even the admins. Their boss, Alexander Cabrini, might duck out of the office every day at three o’clock with no explanation, but he also worked nights and weekends when no one else was around.

  Lucas had been the one to point out how unhealthy his lifestyle was. He’d used work as a way to fill the void. Before he’d met Lucas, he’d had no real friends, no lover, and minuscule communication with a family he hadn’t seen in years. Now that Elliot had something to come home to, working overtime had lost a great deal of its appeal.

  As he shucked off his coat and flipped on the lights, he felt like his house represented the deeper internal change that he’d undergone.

  When he’d lived alone, the house had been nothing more than a place to lay his head. The walls had been empty, the rooms bare of all but the most basic furniture, with little personality and zero warmth. It had reminded Elliot of a showroom, a place that looked like a home on the surface, but nowhere people would ever really live.

  Lucas had changed all that. It had started with the kitchen. He’d been so horrified by the motley array of takeout cartons and leftover pizza that he’d run down to the store and bought eggs and bread and fruit the very first morning they’d spent together. He’d refused to eat cold pizza for breakfast.

  Elliot supposed it was that dedication to nutrition which gave Lucas a defined six-pack and Elliot… well, he wasn’t flabby. He chose his battles.

  After they’d moved in together, the changes had been more gradual. Pictures went up on the walls and splashes of color appeared in Elliot’s former sea of beige.

  It wasn’t even all Lucas’s doing. Elliot felt as if he’d been brought back to life. He was no longer simply going through the motions.

  These days, it wasn’t unusual for him to be walking through a department store and end up taking home some little useless bauble, even if it did nothing but add a speck of warmth to their living space.

  They’d begun talking in earnest about adding a cedar deck in the spring, and Elliot was tantalized by the fantasy of sitting out there on dark summer nights, steak and a beer in front of them, and Lucas’s hand in his.

  He opened a bottle of wine and got started on a stir-fry, happy to please Lucas with his favorite meal when he walked through the door. Usually, it was the other way around.

  He was just chopping a pile of carrots and celery when his phone vibrated in its charging station. The screen flashed one word: Mom.

  Elliot frowned as he retrieved the phone. It was unusual for his mother to call unless it was a major holiday, and that was still a week away.

  “Hello?”

  “Elliot?”

  He knew instantly that something was wrong. Her voice, usually so cheery and strident, had a tremulous quality to it. It cracked and wavered, as if she were very old.

  “Mom? What’s wrong?” he asked in alarm. “Are you okay?”

  “Oh, fine, fine…” She trailed off. There was a long silence, but Elliot knew something was coming, so he waited. Eventually, she sucked in a deep breath and croaked, “Your father had a heart attack.”

  For the briefest moment, Elliot felt like he was having one too. His heart clenched painfully beneath his sternum, and a sick feeling swelled in his stomach. He wet his suddenly dry lips. “Is he…”

  “He’s alive,” she rushed to reassure him, and he let out the breath he’d been holding. A bit of the panic eased. “He’s been at Hardin Memorial since last night. I wouldn’t have bothered you except… well, it did some damage to his heart muscle. The doctors aren’t sure…”

  Elliot stared blankly out the kitchen window and listened to his mother sob quietly into his ear. He had a curious sense of time narrowing around him, moving at a glacial pace, as a thousand emotions rocketed through his brain.

  He became aware of isolated sensations: the buttery, slightly acrid scent of oil smoking in the frying pan; the suddenly too bright lights overhead; and himself, still in his business clothes with the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up, listening to his mother cry and feeling like a scared little boy.

  The low snarl of Lucas’s motorcycle rattled the kitchen windows.

  Elliot closed his eyes. “Is he going to die?” he whispered.

  His mother seemed to get ahold of herself. He imagined her wiping her tears on her shirt sleeves, the way he’d seen her do a million times after watching a Hallmark movie on television.

  “They don’t know, honey. They said we should call the family, just in case. Kevin has been here with me all day, and Mark is driving over from Lexington. He’s leaving Shirley and the kids at home for now. A hospital is no place for little ones.”

  Elliot made a noise that might have been agreement, struggling to wrap his sluggish mind around everything she was saying. He heard the words, but his brain had switched to autopilot, and he was having a difficult time processing them.

  Somehow, he managed to say, “Should I come home?”

  “That’s up to you, Elliot.”

  He sensed a presence at the threshold of the kitchen and turned blindly, reaching before even seeing, and Lucas was there.

  He folded Elliot into his arms unquestioningly, even though he had no clue what was going on. His leather jacket was cold through the thin fabric of Elliot’s shirt, but his chest was warm and hard.

  Elliot buried his face against Lucas’s neck and breathed deep, pulling the crisp, smoky fragrance of him into his lungs and holding it there.

  Whatever beast that had been thrashing about in Elliot’s chest began to calm.

  He tucked his forehead against the rough, unshaven edge of Lucas’s jaw and whispered into his phone, “Of course I’m coming, Mom.”

  “I know you’re busy with work. I hate to pull you away from anything important.” It wasn’t said spitefully, but Elliot couldn’t help but hear a note of censure in her tone. He’d used work as the go-to excuse for not visiting for the past five years. It had been a convenient way to avoid arguments.

  “I’m coming,” he said again. “I’ll catch the next flight out.”

  “Okay. Text me your flight information. I’ll have Kevin pick you up from the airport.”

  Elliot nodded, though she couldn’t see him. “Is he awake?” he croaked.

  “Once in a while,” she said gently. “He’s very tired. He falls asleep mid-sentence.”

  His throat was so tight, it felt as if he’d swallowed a baseball. He managed to swallow around the constriction and force out something that sounded reassuring. “I’ll be there soon. Everything will be okay, Mom.”

  He disconnected the call, but couldn’t bring himself to move from the circle of Lucas’s arms. He took strength from his steady, grounded presence.

  Lucas didn’t make him feel weak when he pressed his face against his neck and let the tears fall.

  3

  Lucas

  Lucas was tired and sore. A thick bandage covered a three-inch gash on his forearm where the hood of Elliot’s Christmas present had collapsed on him that afternoon.

  The car was a real finicky pain in the ass, but it would be worth it to see Elliot behind the wheel.

  Lucas knew he
regretted giving up his Lexus when he’d left his corporate practice. The Prius he drove was practical, and Elliot liked to consider himself practical, but there was so much fire beneath his mannered exterior. He’d secretly love something with more power.

  He’d been working late every night for the past six weeks to restore the car in time for Christmas, and it was finally finished. The satisfaction of a job well done was worth the fatigue, and he looked forward to not coming home to that damn Prius in the driveway every night.

  But he forgot all that the moment he walked into the house and saw Elliot standing there with his phone pressed to his ear, looking as pale and lost as Lucas had ever seen him.

  He’d collapsed into Lucas’s arms like he couldn’t hold himself up any longer, and Lucas took his weight wordlessly. He hugged him tightly, listening with concern to his end of the conversation. All he could gather was that something bad had happened to someone he cared about, and that was enough to keep him right where he was.

  He squeezed Elliot until his bones creaked, and even then Elliot burrowed deeper into him. His tears were hot on the cold skin of Lucas’s throat.

  Eventually, a smoking pan on the stove caught his attention. He gently directed Elliot to a chair at the kitchen table and removed the pan from the flame before it caught fire.

  A pile of half chopped vegetables rested on the cutting board.

  He stripped off his jacket and tossed it over the counter, scrubbed his hands in the kitchen sink, and got to work.

  “That was my mom,” Elliot said eventually. His eyes were red-rimmed, and he fiddled with the stem of his wine glass. “My dad is in the hospital. Heart attack.”

  It felt like a punch to the gut.

  He knew Elliot wasn’t as close to his father as he’d been to his, but he couldn’t help remembering what it was like watching his own dad slip away a day at a time as the cancer took hold. Until that final, terrible day when his dad just hadn’t been able to take the pain anymore.

  He added soy sauce to the hot pan full of vegetables and gave it a stir. “Is he going to make it?”

  “They don’t know. I guess there’s some damage to his heart.”

  Lucas nodded grimly. “I’ll have Tracy take over running the garage for a few days. Let’s get some food in you, and then we’ll look at flights.”

  “You don’t need to come with me,” Elliot protested. His eyes were dark and huge, and his expression was strained. “I know you’ve been swamped lately.”

  “Bullshit. I’m going.” A terrible thought crossed his mind. “I mean, only if you want me to go. I get it if you’d rather go alone.”

  He kept his voice even, but his fingers clenched on the handle of the frying pan.

  Elliot didn’t speak much of his family, but Lucas knew he loved them despite the strain in their relationship.

  Lucas wasn’t exactly the easiest man to take home to meet the parents. He wouldn’t blame Elliot if he wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of introducing an ex-con into the fold. Especially at a time like this.

  There was a rustle behind him, and then a pair of wiry arms slid around his waist and squeezed.

  Elliot rested his chin on the shelf of Lucas’s shoulder. “It would kill me to go alone,” he confessed. “I just… I don’t like you seeing me like this.”

  “Like what?”

  “Weak. Needy.”

  Lucas killed the heat and set the pan aside. He turned in Elliot’s arms and cupped his face in both hands, forcing it up so he could look him in the eyes.

  “You’re the strongest man I know, Elliot Smith. Inside and out. The way you care for people…” He shook his head. “It’s something special. I still can’t believe you gave me the time of day.”

  “You’re crazy,” Elliot gave him a wan smile and kissed him. “I’m the one who got the better deal here.”

  “Agree to disagree,” Lucas murmured against his mouth, coaxing Elliot back into a kiss that spun out into something long and deep and sweet.

  Elliot was so responsive, his taste so rich, his tongue so eager to slide against Lucas’s own. For a few silent moments, there was nothing else but the two of them and the heat of their mouths pressed together.

  They parted for breath eventually. Elliot rested his forehead against Lucas’s shoulder and sighed. “It’s our first Christmas together. I’d hoped to spend it in our home.”

  The home they were building together. The words were unspoken, but Lucas knew what he meant.

  He gave Elliot a squeeze. “We’ll have plenty more.”

  Gratitude shone in Elliot’s dark eyes.

  Lucas ducked his head and grabbed their dinner.

  It made him vaguely uncomfortable, how much Elliot thought of him. It wasn’t that he thought he was a bad guy. There were worse men in the world.

  But he wasn’t anywhere near Elliot’s league, and he couldn’t shake the suspicion that Elliot viewed him through a pair of blinders that would someday fall away.

  Phenomenal sex could make up for a whole host of sins, but even that would eventually grow old, and then Lucas’s rough manners and lack of education would surely begin to grate.

  He set their plates down and guided Elliot to the table. “Come on, baby. Grab your phone and we’ll check flights while we eat.”

  “I’m not very hungry.”

  Of course. Elliot had a tendency to lose his appetite any time he was under stress.

  Lucas made a habit of stocking the kitchen with portable, high-calorie snacks, in hopes of getting some food into him during his roughest cases.

  He loved Elliot’s tall, rangy body, but the man didn’t have much weight to lose in the first place.

  “Give it a try,” he suggested. “God knows when you’ll get a chance to eat next.”

  They found a red-eye to Kentucky departing PDX in six hours. Elliot booked the tickets while Lucas scrubbed off the day’s grime with a quick shower.

  They called work and arranged to offload their duties, then packed enough clothes to get them through the week. For Elliot, that meant chinos and sweaters. For Lucas, it was jeans and t-shirts.

  He wondered if his wardrobe was too casual. What did a person wear to meet the family under terrible conditions?

  Elliot had said they were a family of public school teachers, and while the cost of living was undoubtedly less expensive in Kentucky than Portland, there was no chance they were rolling in dough.

  He’d never been on an airplane before, but he’d heard it wasn’t easy to sleep on them, so he coaxed Elliot onto the bed to try and catch a quick, fortifying nap.

  They didn’t even bother getting beneath the blankets. He offered his shoulder as a pillow, and Elliot curled up against his side, warm and real and vibrating with a pain that Lucas couldn’t ease.

  He tucked his free arm beneath his head and stared up at the dark ceiling.

  Despite himself, he grew sleepy. It had been a long day of difficult, labor-intensive vehicles, and the garage was short-staffed due to the holidays.

  Elliot was a comforting presence at his side, and the bedroom was filled with soft blue shadows. It was absolutely silent, except for the gentle hum of the central heating kicking on, and Elliot’s quiet breathing.

  Elliot stroked his chest with idle fingers, and the rhythm was enough to have his eyes closing and his breath slowing.

  “He’s getting old,” Elliot said suddenly.

  Lucas’s eyes opened.

  A frown marred Elliot’s handsome features. “They both are. I knew that, but life was easier without facing their disapproval every time we spoke.”

  Lucas didn’t reply. He had so little experience with how proper families behaved that he had nothing to offer. It was easy for him to say their opinions didn’t matter because, except for his years in prison, he’d never been forced to hide his sexuality.

  But then he remembered his sister Trisha and how afraid he’d been to get in touch with her. Her opinion about her criminal brother sure as hell mat
tered. He supposed it was similar for Elliot.

  “Do you think it’s selfish, staying away when I know their time is getting shorter every day?”

  The pain and uncertainty that cracked his voice were enough to break Lucas’s heart.

  “I don’t know,” he husked, dropping a kiss to the top of his head. “But if it is, I don’t think it’s any more selfish than treating you like garbage because of who you like to fuck.”

  “They didn’t treat me badly,” Elliot protested. “In fact, after I came out, they made a concerted effort to pretend nothing had changed.”

  “What did change?”

  “The look in their eyes.” Elliot sighed. “The way they spoke, the way they hugged me. It was as if I was suddenly a stranger to them. They were always polite, but…”

  “The love was gone?” Lucas asked gently.

  “They love me.” He said it with such certainty, it was as if he were trying to convince himself as much as Lucas. “They just don’t like me very much.”

  Lucas tucked a finger beneath Elliot’s chin and lifted his face so he could look into his eyes. He couldn’t help but grin at the way Elliot’s gaze kept dropping to his mouth.

  “Look at me, baby.” When he was sure he had his attention, he added, “Just remember that I’m going to be with you every step of the way, and I like you.”

  Elliot chuckled. “You better. I’m not sure I can return your Christmas present.”

  “Oooh,” Lucas waggled his eyebrows. “Just wait until you see what I got you.”

  “Give me a hint?” There was a strange eagerness in Elliot’s expression.

  “Nope.” He settled back, tucking Elliot against the round of his shoulder. “You’ll just have to wait. But trust me: you’re going to love it.”

  4

  Elliot

  It was raining when they flew out of Portland, and it was raining when they landed in Kentucky.

  Lucas looked startled when he peered out the window as they taxied down the wet runway.

  “There’s no escaping it,” he muttered grumpily. “I was hoping for snow.”