Play It Again, Charlie (24 page)

She hadn't sounded close to tears, at least, but that mild rejection had made her go off about the “inappropriate” questions on some of those matchmaking sites. Once she got going, Ann was like a general: a tall, foul-mouthed Patton with bad taste in men who had a new hobby every few weeks. But of his sisters, she was the one who was the most spirited, usually on behalf of somebody else instead of herself. It was a family trait.

“I can date on my own,” he'd told her, with only a small hesitation. He'd barely managed to keep the smile out of his voice— a hint of that, and he would have been on the phone for hours more
and
confessing everything about Will. He must have been convincing enough, because she had sniffled and asked,
"Really?"
in a hopeful voice.

Which had reminded him of what Nana had said about his sisters waiting for him to show them a good man, though, as wise as his abuela was, she always seemed to see his sisters as easily led children and not stubborn grown women. He'd had to learn tricks to deal with them.

“Love you, Anita.” He'd ended the call, and then paused to make his voice serious. “I don't know why Katia was so worried about you.” He'd hung up the second he'd said it. It was going to cause him more trouble later, but it would also give him a whole day of silence as his sisters bickered amongst themselves.

The memory made him smile at Sam, sunbathing along the top of the couch.

Charlie leaned against the pillows at his back and sighed again before returning to his phone. The sun was warm on his feet. If he wouldn't have had to get up to get it, he would have had a beer. He stared at the phone instead, at the corner of the screen, where there was a small icon of an opened envelope. He wasn't used to getting texts, wasn't sure if the jumble of letters in the single word was text code or just the result of clumsy, drunk fingers. But the surprise of finding a message from Will at all had made him run a thumb over the screen when he'd found it earlier.

Will had sent him a text around 2:00 a.m., and since Charlie didn't know how to interpret it, he couldn't answer it. He thought about it, glancing at Sam, who didn't bother to open his eyes, then he called Jeanine before he could think better of it.

“Goes home like that on Friday and doesn't call me back until Sunday,” she grumbled. “If I didn't know you, I would have called 911 on your ass.”

“You could have just come over to check on me.” Charlie ignored her complaining. His apartment was silent, but the world outside seemed to be quiet too. Maybe everyone else in the world had also had a busy night.

“I thought maybe you were mad at me,” Jeanine confessed, and Charlie frowned at his ceiling. “I can be pushy.”

“Does everyone think I'm incapable of saying no?” he wondered, mostly rhetorically, but Jeanine's tone instantly lightened, as though he'd said something positive.

“I think all you do is say no, kiddo, before anyone else beats you to it.” She was moving around, he could hear her, though he couldn't tell what she was doing. “You sound better at least, almost perky. What did you do, get some rest?”

“I don't always say no,” he argued lightly, immediately, ignoring her last question. “And don't call me kiddo. I'm not twelve.” Jeanine just laughed. Maybe it was because he couldn't really summon the energy to sound truly angry. Or maybe that was because he'd woken up with a few mild aches from sex against a door and each time he moved he thought of that and found himself smiling.

“Well, someone has an attitude this morning, and... . Wait.” Jeanine stopped to crunch something. Was it lunchtime? He pulled away the phone to check the time only to put it back to his ear when she went on. “Charlie?” Jeanine began slowly, and Charlie felt a twinge of alarm. “What did
that
mean?” she demanded, and Charlie pictured her pushing her glasses up. “What have you been up to this weekend?”

“I... .” Charlie stopped there to try to clear away his smile. It didn't work. He was going to regret this. “I had a date.”

Jeanine swallowed. Her eyes were probably narrowed. “I'm going to ask you repeat that, Charlie.”

At which Charlie made a rough noise in his throat and was glad she couldn't see his face.

“I had a date,” he said, “but it doesn't mean there will be any more.” He didn't want her to freak out. But she was quiet, obviously waiting. He coughed. “It went well, but I don't think it was anything serious.”

“You had sex,” Jeanine interpreted instantly, making his grin sneak out again anyway. “You had sex!” she said again, insultingly but honestly surprised and happy for him. “Was it good?”

“That isn't any of your business.” He scrubbed at his face. Jeanine snorted.

“Yeah, right, like that isn't why you called me. Well, at least now you should be in a better mood.” She went back to crunching whatever it was she was crunching. “But you're not expecting a call back?”

“Jeanine!” Charlie snapped in response to the “better mood” comment and then paused. He thought of the random message from Will last night. “I don't know. But it's fi— ”

The knock on his door stopped him. Sam twitched as Charlie sat up. Charlie noticed how fast he was breathing and made an effort to sound a little less like a hyperventilating teenager with a date waiting. He brushed a hand through his hair and glanced down. “Jeanine, there's someone at the door, I have to go.”

“Mystery man?” she guessed, then she made “I'll see you at work tomorrow” sound like a threat.

He shoved his phone into his back pocket when she hung up, then walked to the kitchen. He didn't hold his breath as he opened the door, but it rushed out anyway when he saw Mark standing there.

He looked good. Better than good, Charlie corrected himself immediately. Mark looked fit and healthy in his dark-blue polo shirt, his hands casually tucked into the pockets of his khakis. He was looking around, but he turned back and smiled when Charlie opened the door. His hair was shorter than it used to be, darker, though still pale gold. His glasses were new too. He'd used to only wear glasses at home, preferring contacts at work.

It had to be a day off for Mark not to be in a suit and tie, Charlie thought vaguely, then blinked and tried to focus. Mark's eyes swept quickly over him, and Charlie realized he was in the plain white T-shirt he'd worn to bed, and jeans, and that he hadn't bothered to put on socks or shoes. He ran a hand through his hair, then pulled it away at the memory of Will's remarks about it last night.

He didn't think anybody had ever really noticed his hair one way or the other, not that that was important. It was Will's job, after all. He didn't know why he was thinking about it now.

“Mark,” he said abruptly, embarrassingly slow, but he moved forward when Mark put his arms out. The hug was strong, distracting in how easy it was to let Mark wrap his arms around him. Mark was still working out, of course he was, and still using the same cologne. It had used to seep into his pillowcases, into his coats, into Charlie's clothes, subtle and spicy. His uniform had smelled of it for weeks after he'd stopped wearing it. When he'd wrapped his uniform in paper and stored it in a box, he'd been convinced the tissue had carried the same scent.

“Charlie,” Mark greeted him, exhaling against his neck for a moment before stepping back to look him over again. Charlie focused enough to smile.

“Your hair's longer. Going for a new look?” Mark asked, reaching out to playfully touch his hair, and Charlie nodded, then shook his head, trying to catch up, to notice something that wasn't the dozen small changes.

“No.” He had to fight to speak. “No, I'm planning on cutting it. I've been busy.”

The speed with which Mark nodded at that, like he didn't believe it, made Charlie lift his head, but he didn't say anything. He stared until he realized he was, then he blinked. Mark's eyebrows went up before he shook his head.

“You forgot, didn't you?” He was surprised. “I said I'd come by today.”

Charlie had the feeling that he'd once again neglected to blink. Mark sighed and took a moment to glance at his watch. “It's twelve thirty. You used to be an early riser. I guess things change.”

“I am.” He couldn't quite make himself say that nothing had changed, but he finally blinked and closed his mouth. Then he frowned. Mark
had
e-mailed him... and said something about Sunday... and lunch. He couldn't believe he'd forgotten, though he couldn't remember ever answering, either. “I was just... I was out last night, and today slipped my mind.”

“Of course.” Mark smiled at that. It wasn't his real smile, but it didn't seem fake either. It was polite, Charlie remembered, breath hitching for a moment. For some reason he'd forgotten the polite smile Mark used to hide hurt feelings. Strange, when it had taken him so long to figure it out.

Charlie frowned harder and stepped out of the way, waving Mark in.

“Sorry. Come in.” Maybe he was getting too used to Will waltzing in. He closed the door after Mark and then had to drag his gaze away from the painted wood and back to Mark's face. Someday he would be able to look at his door again without thinking of Will gasping against it.

“Did you want some coffee?” The pot was still on, but Mark shook his head, so Charlie switched it off. Mark stopped his examination of the kitchen to study him and smiled widely. Charlie had forgotten about his dimple too. He smiled back at it without thinking. “So... .” He didn't want to pry, didn't want to seem too interested by asking about his life. When Mark wanted to talk, he would. “I heard from Smithee that they brought in some captain from LA, and that Garcia got married and invited everyone to his wedding.”

“Outrageously tacky wedding, too. It looked like someone had thrown up tulle and plastic flowers all over the hall, and I don't think he's stopped his playing around.” Mark smiled wider. “You know how he is.”

Garcia was a detective and had been when Charlie had been in uniform. He didn't know him, not really, but he'd heard the stories, so he nodded. “You still talk to Smithee?” Mark went on, a new trace of surprise in his voice as his smile shifted. “He never mentioned it.”

“E-mails. Christmas cards,” Charlie explained, and Mark nodded again.

“That's good. I'm glad you stayed in touch with someone in the department.” He let his smile fall away. “You were popular, Charlie. You shouldn't have stopped visiting. Those guys miss you.”

Charlie tried to banish the memory of the two gatherings he'd tried to attend once he'd given up on pretending that he was content with desk duty and pensioned out, parties he'd known Mark wouldn't be attending. They'd always arranged it that way when they'd been dating, so one of them wouldn't slip up in public. It didn't matter if everyone knew or didn't know, had guessed or not, there were things that just weren't done if a cop wanted any kind of career.

Charlie had still been relying on pain meds at the time, but he hadn't been able to relax much, and he'd found himself outside and alone when the men around him had run out of things to say. He'd wondered at the time if part of that awkwardness had been their knowledge that the accident hadn't ended just his career.

“I've been busy,” he said again, as though he'd been running around nonstop for over two years. He swallowed, then focused back on Mark. He'd made detective when Charlie had been in the hospital. His career seemed fine from what Charlie had gathered.

Charlie looked down for a moment before lifting his head. “If you want to look around, I'll just go change. If you want to go out.” He moved around Mark and hurried through the living room into his bedroom. He grabbed a clean dress shirt from his closet and a new pair of jeans. He reached for a belt, and then remembered that it was the one Will had tossed across the room. He shook his head and went for his socks and shoes.

“You haven't changed the place much since I was last here,” Mark called out, something Charlie hadn't been going to think about until Mark mentioned it. It had been to deliver a box of things of Charlie's that he'd found around his house. That had been shortly after another surgery, and unfortunately for Mark, Ann had been staying with Charlie at the time to cook and go shopping for him. She had
not
been welcoming to the man that she'd thought had broken her brother's heart while he'd been in the hospital.

According to Mark, it had been over long before then. If only he'd passed that message along to Charlie in something more than distance and dry conversations about work.

The thought made Charlie pause, look out, though from the edge of the bed he couldn't see much. Mark was still talking. “I don't remember these pillows.”

The damn cat pillows. Charlie didn't think it would be a good idea to tell him they were from Ann.

“And you got a cat,” Mark observed distantly, and Sam must have run for it, because he appeared in the bedroom a second later, his tail flicking madly. “That's good.”

Charlie took a deep breath. It wasn't as though he was desperately lonely and needed Sam for company. He scratched at Sam's ears until Sam swatted at him, claws in, then he bent carefully over to tie his shoe. “What's his... Charlie, there's somebody at the door. Should I get it?

“You know, your walk is much better.” Mark kept on though Charlie was shoving his other shoe on and trying to tie it and stand up at the same time. Someone at his door either meant a tenant, or one of his sisters with an emergency, or Will. “You can hardly see a problem anymore. I knew it wouldn't keep you down. Hello.”

“Hey.” Will's voice made Charlie close his eyes for one too brief moment. Then he was up and moving. He got to his bedroom door in time to see that Will had breezed in past Mark. He stopped at the border of the kitchen and the living room, and having known him a few weeks now, Charlie knew it was to pose.

Being aware of that didn't stop Charlie from looking. Will's hair looked like someone had just run their fingers through it, the warm honey color seeming to glow next to his pale face. Charlie swept a look down to see more of that, that Will was paler than usual but still tanned and slim, something that his tight, dark jeans, belted low enough to reveal of hint of black underwear, and green sleeveless, form-fitting shirt, highlighted. Charlie forced his attention back up and then swallowed to see the faint red mark just underneath Will's jaw by his ear.