Love Brewing (Love Brothers #3) (18 page)

“I’m so happy to have you here, Jace.” Lindsay beamed down
the table at him.

“Want Kent,” the kid mumbled.

“What’s that?” Anton leaned in close.

“Want Kent! Want to go home!”

Dom jumped to his feet, somehow anticipating what was about
to happen just as Jace picked up his plate full of food and threw it onto the hardwood,
sending chicken, potatoes, and green beans mixed with shards of ceramic
scattering across the floor. He did the same with the root beer, filling the
room with its distinct, licorice aroma.

Antony pushed his chair back and lunged for the kid as he raced
behind that side of the table. Kieran tried next. Dom did a quick sidestep and
blocked his exit down the stairs. He tried on his best Dad-voice. “Son, that is
bad behavior” he said as he reached down to pick Jace up.

“No,” the boy screamed at the top of his lungs. “Bad Jace!
No bad Jace.”

Dom grabbed him, but a small fist whacked his nose, then his
cheek, which didn’t hurt too much. The knee in his balls made him curse.
Unwilling to be bested in front of his whole family, Dom pinned the boy’s
flailing arms at his sides. He would swear the kid might start foaming at the
mouth any second.

“Calm down,” he grunted with the effort of containment.
“Just calm…ow! Fuck!” He let go and grabbed his nose, shocked.

“Fuck!” The boy yelped before he took off down the steps and
out the sliding-glass door. Legs and feet passed Dom as he sat, blinded with
pain for a few seconds.

“Little fucker
bit
me,” he muttered. His mother
crouched down next to him while Aiden ran out the lower door, returning with an
armful of growling, spitting, blond-haired little boy who turned the air blue
with his foul language. “God, Mama, what am I supposed to do with him?”

They both stood to get out of Aiden’s way. “Take him to the
shower,” Anton called out. “I’ll be up there in a minute.”

Margot and Rosie cleaned up the mess, insisting Cara stay
seated, while Kieran and Antony observed him, both wearing bemused smiles.
Jace’s shrieks of shocking profanity echoed down the hall. Lindsay patted his
arm.

“What you do is love him, son. Pure and simple.”

“He might be rabid.” He felt his nose again. “I can’t do
this.”

“Don’t have a choice about it, now do ya?” His father wiped
his mouth and headed toward the sounds of Jace’s fury.

Five months later

Dominic shot a few baskets in the heat of a Sunday
afternoon, waiting for his siblings to show up for their weekly game. Kieran
had begged off at first, claiming his infant son had drained him of all the
energy in the immediate universe. But Dom expected him to show, knowing Cara
would likely boot him out the door. Aiden and Antony arrived together, followed
by Anton and Jace.

Dominic shook his head, determined not to feel like a
failure because the kid still refused to move in with him, preferring instead
Dominic’s boyhood room at the Love family house and the near-constant company
of his grandfather. Jace had on a new pair of high tops, shorts, and an old
Lucasville basketball T-shirt Lindsay must have located in her various treasure
troves of little boy clothing.

His light blond hair was trimmed nicely, belying the extreme
trauma of the actual haircut experience. Dom still had bruises on his arms and
thighs from hanging on to the wild-ass kid while the barber did his level best.

The one time he’d convinced his own father to let go of the
boy long enough for him to visit Dom’s small, reclaimed apartment above the old
Love Brewing facility downtown had been an unmitigated disaster. Complete with
tantrums and broken dishes the likes of which Dominic had never experienced.

“He’s so very much you, in his face and temperament, if
you’d been allowed to run completely wild your first seven years or so,” his
mother had declared the morning after a sleepless night spent trying to placate
his son with anything he wanted. “He does require a firm hand, but a loving
one.” It defied logic to Dom.

They’d ended up eating an entire gallon of chocolate ice
cream for dinner, sitting on the kitchen floor, passing it between them without
words like a couple of drunks with a brown-bagged bottle of hooch. Jace had
fallen asleep at one end of his couch, clutching the video game controller, the
television still blaring the sounds of the most violent game Dominic
owned—which he’d had demanded by name once the ice cream had been consumed.

The Jace sleepover hangover had not been one Dom wanted to
repeat. So he hadn’t. Besides, the kid seemed perfectly content to live in his
old bedroom, eat Lindsay’s food—like a horse—and follow Anton like a tiny,
stubborn, shadow.

Kieran did show up, finally. He heaved his ball toward the
court before pulling some kind of contraption out of his trunk, assembling it
with Antony’s help before laying baby Frankie inside it.

He straightened up with a groan. “I think this is the first
time he’s been asleep in about four days, no lie.”

Jace ran over to the mini crib-like thing and pointed into
it. “There’s a baby in there,” he declared to Kieran, who patted his head. Jace
sidestepped him. He preferred not to be touched by anyone but his grandparents
Dom had learned the hard way. Anton pulled the blanket away from Frankie’s face
so Jace could see him better.

“So help me, Daddy, if you wake that kid I’m sending him
home with you for the next week.”

“I’m not gonna wake him, Francis. Look here, Jace. It’s your
cousin, Frankie.”

“Why is his hair pink?”

Anton chuckled. “‘Cause his Mama and Daddy’s hair is the
same color. And I’d call it more orange than pink.”

Jace frowned up at his red-headed uncle then focused down on
the sleeping infant, reaching over the canvas railing.

“No, Jace, don’t.” Dom tried to reach for the kid. But Anton
held out an arm. .

“He’s not hurtin’ anything.” He crouched down next to Jace.
“Babies are very soft so you have to be real careful with them.”

Dom had gotten close enough to see Jace leaning into the
portable crib and brushing Frankie’s nose and cheeks, before running a
fingertip across the light scattering of orange-tinted hair. Everyone froze
when Frankie screwed up his mouth. But he settled again, his lips pursed. A spit
bubbled formed, then popped, making Jace giggle. Dom blinked, realizing that in
the last five months since he’d met his son, he had ever once heard the boy
laugh.

“I like it,” he declared, standing with one arm draped over
the rail, his stance and expression one of fierce protectiveness.

“Cool.” Kieran gave Dom a nudge. “Tell ya what, Jace—you
stand there and watch him for me, okay? If he starts crying, wave at me.”

“Okay,” the boy stated solemnly, focused down on the
sleeping baby.

“Let’s play already,” Aiden insisted. “I’ve got a ton of
edits to do still today. I shouldn’t even be here screwing around with you
assholes.”

“Assholes,” Jace repeated, tenderly, still gazing down at
his baby cousin.

Anton poked the boy’s shoulder. Jace rolled his eyes and
pulled a coin out of his pocket, placing it in his grandfather’s outstretched
palm. Dom grinned, then focused on the game, a small bit of him
thinking—hoping—that maybe this colossal mess might end up all right.

An hour later, little Frankie had woken and started
squalling. The men limped off the court, the usual thrown elbows, and fists,
and knees having done their weekly damage. Dom’s hair dripped with sweat. He
took a full bottle of water and dumped it over his head, shaking like a dog,
hoping to make some kind of impression on Jace. But the kid seemed mesmerized
by Kieran with the baby up on his shoulder.

“You’ve got him the rest of the day, right?” Kieran nodded
toward Jace as Frankie’s yowling subsided.

“Yeah.” Dom frowned, wondering how he’d keep Jace
entertained and how he might get out of the sleepover part of the arrangement.

“Bring him over. I’ll make burgers. He seems to be fixated
enough, maybe we can give Mama and Daddy a break.”

Dom opened his mouth to answer when the phone he’d finally
agreed to start carrying again rang over by his gym bag. A strange, local
number appeared on the screen sending his heart lurching into his chest.

“Dominic?” Kent’s mother said when he answered. “Kent wanted
me to call you.” She sounded like a shell of the intimidating woman he
remembered from Kent’s aborted wedding to Cara.

“Okay.” He sat before he fell down. Kent had totally avoided
him for the past few months, paying him back, Dom figured. It had not set well
with Jace, whose repeated demands to see Kent had to go unmet.

“Can you come? To the hospital I mean? He wants to see you.”

He nodded like a dunce, rendered speechless by how his life
had imploded yet again just when he’d dared have some faith in a positive, if
convoluted, outcome.

“You still there?” She sucked in a breath. “Listen, it’s…not
good. And he wants to talk to you, I guess. I’m trying to get his father to …
oh, never mind.”

Jace grabbed Anton’s leg and looked straight at Dom, as if
he sensed something bad looming on the horizon.

“I’ll be there,” he finally croaked out, focused on his
son’s face.

He sat clutching the device.

“What’s up?” Kieran walked over him, cradling the baby to
his neck.

“It’s Kent. I have to go…um…to the hospital.”

“Oh, okay. I should let Cara know, too.”

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do with….” He gestured at Jace,
who merely gazed at him, his expression eerily calm. When he glanced over at
Anton, Dom noted that the man did seem exhausted and much older than he had a
few months ago.

“You want to come home with me, Jace? Me and baby Frankie?”
Kieran didn’t try to touch the kid. But Jace let go of Anton’s hand and sidled
over to Kieran. “Good, that’s settled then. Daddy, will you grab his seat out
of your truck?”

Jace allowed himself to be installed in Kieran’s car next to
Frankie and touched the baby’s chest. “I’ll take care of him.” He gazed up at
Kieran somberly.

“Great.” He turned to Dominic. “I sent Cara a text. Kent’s
mama called her already. She’ll drive you there.”

Dom nodded, unable to find words. Dizziness made him wobbly.
But he climbed on his bike and fired it up, noting his father nearby. The worst
sort of emptied-out feeling in his chest and a burning desire to point his bike
toward Diana’s place stole over him. But she had a wedding planned for the
following weekend. She’d have no time or inclination to coddle him.

His father took a few steps closer to him and gestured to
turn the bike off. Dom did, but remained seated. “We think Jace should stay
with us, indefinitely.” His words shocked Dom to his core.

“No,” he declared through gritted teeth. “He’s my son. I’ll
get something sorted out with him.”

“He can’t live with you, Dominic. Not if you and…Kent are
together.” His father’s jaw was set in a way Dom knew well.

“Daddy, I’m not with Kent in case you hadn’t noticed. And I
likely won’t be. God, you are unbelievable, you know that?”

Anton glared at him. Dom glared back. “I have to go now.
Kent wants to talk to me. Don’t worry, I won’t get any gay germs on you or on
my son.” He fired up the bike, and roared out into the street, chest tight and
face burning hot.

Dom entered Kent’s darkened room with Cara hanging on his
arm. His body broke into a cold sweat, the urge to bolt from the horror that
awaited him never stronger, But he had to thank him, to look the man in the
face and tell him… a lot of things, but mostly that he was so very grateful
he’d found Jace.

When he got to Kent’s side, he put his shaking palm on the
other man’s arm.

Kent’s eyes opened slowly. Cara gasped, but Dom held onto
his smile as long as he could. “Oh. Hi. What…what’s going on?” He frowned at
Cara who stood at Dom’s shoulder then swiped at his dry lips.

“Your mama called me.” Dom gave Kent’s arm a gentle squeeze.
“Told me you wanted to talk.”

“Oh, um, no. I didn’t.”

Dom blinked, hypnotized by Kent’s dark blue gaze. He gulped.
“Oh, well….” He took a step away from the bed.

“Stay.” Kent’s voice barely above a whisper. “I guess you
should both know. They’re moving me to hospice.”

Cara burst into tears. “Sorry, sorry.” She shook her head.
“My hormones are so whacked.” She pressed a kiss to Kent’s gaunt cheek. “I’m
gonna go find Missus Lowery.”

Kent nodded, then winced. Panic draped over Dom’s brain as
he dropped into an uncomfortable chair next to the bed.

“Do me a favor,” Kent said, staring up at the ceiling.

“Sure.”

“Touch my arm again.” Kent turned his head to Dom, and the
smile that had so captured him appeared in its full, breathtaking force. Dom’s
heart raced. “I missed you,” Kent said, his voice breathy.

A tumble of memories, poignant and incredibly erotic, filled
Dom’s consciousness. He swallowed hard and put his palm on Kent’s arm again.
“Nah, you didn’t miss me. I’m no good. Ask anybody.”

Kent trained his gaze upward again. “I am so fucking tired
of this ceiling. I’m tired of everything.”

“Hey, don’t talk like that,” Dom insisted, reaching over the
brush Kent’s hair off his forehead. “Why’re you avoiding me? Jace is beside
himself over not seeing you.”

“I don’t want him to see me like this. It’ll just scare
him.” He smiled at Dom again. “He’s a great kid, Dom. Don’t give up on him.” A
tear slid down the man’s cheek. “Gah, I hate crying. All I do is blubber like a
fuckin’ girl anymore.”

Dominic’s heart seemed to expand, the way it had the moment
he realized that the simple, flirty, sexy relationship he’d struck up with a
man more or less on a whim had led him into an emotional connection he’d not
felt since Diana. Dom laid his head on Kent’s thin, T-shirt-covered shoulder.
“Why did you do it?” He moved his palm to Kent’s chest, feeling the slow
heartbeat. “You were always Mister Safe Sex.” Dom’s skin prickled at the
memories, but he shoved them away, unwilling to revisit any of it.

Kent chuckled, then coughed so long and loud the nurses came
running. Once they had him settled, he held out his hand. Without a second’s
hesitation, Dom took it. “Because I wanted you. And if I couldn’t have you, I
didn’t care anymore.”

Kent’s mother and Cara walked in at that moment. Dom tried
to let go, but Kent held tight.

“Kent, honey, we’re headed over to hospice.” Vivian Lowery
kissed her son’s forehead. “Noon tomorrow they’ll be ready for you but Cara and
I want to make sure your room’s set up properly.”

Dom brushed his lips over Kent’s, praying harder than he
ever had at that moment for a reset, a do-over, a life Mulligan. What he might
actually concoct with such an opportunity he had no idea, really, given the
precarious state of affairs with his father. But he knew he had to make some
things right, now that he had a shot at it. “I need to…I want to do some stuff
to your room over there too, make it feel homier than here.”

Kent nodded. “Tired,” he muttered, his eyes already closing.
Cara and Dom rode to her house in total silence.

The next day Dom ran a few final errands before he parked
his bike at the hospice building and shouldered his backpack containing the
supplies he’d procured, hoping to make something up to Kent, but knowing he
would never be able to repay him. After charming his way past a gaggle of
nurses and volunteers, he re-arranged the room up the way he wanted, then sat
to wait.

A kind of peace had set itself up in his soul. While he’d
accepted that he did love Kent, had loved him, he also knew he wouldn’t love
any other man again. He had a different set of priorities now. Despite Jace’s
mistaken conception and his horrific early start to life, it was now Dominic’s
responsibility to fix things for him. He owed Jace that. Hell, he owned Kent
that.

When he opened up the email on his readopted smartphone
screen, a message flashed up at him, the word
contract
in the subject
line from Erasmus Brewing in Fort Collins, Colorado. He’d been doing a bit of
job hunting in the past few weeks, hoping to get out from under his father’s
thumb and off his payroll, despite Dom’s desire to stay closer to home, near
his mother. But he’d become obsolete at Love Brewing since being booted out,
replaced by some hotshot his father had hired away from a brewery in Michigan.
Dom figured if he could work a year or two somewhere else, he could return home
and reassume his proper place at Love Brewing, after his parents did their
tough-love discipline thing on Jace.