Connected (Bureau #12)

Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

O wen sat in the passenger seat of Keaton’s pickup and tried not to be a chickenshit.

“You’re more scared of this than you were of Miller.” Keaton’s hand was on Owen’s knee, warm and comforting.

“I’m used to dealing with things that want me dead. But this….” His throat was thick, and he was glad he’d eaten a light breakfast.

“You’re strong. You can handle this. Do you want me with you? Or I can make myself scarce.”

Owen definitely didn’t want Keaton to leave him. “You don’t mind being dragged in?”

“It’s good for me to remember that I’m not the only one with dysfunctional family dynamics. Hey, maybe someday you’ll get to meet dear old Dad. That should be fun.”

Actually, Owen would welcome that. He’d be happy give the bastard an earful over what he and his ex-wife had done to their kid. It might be fun to terrorize him. Just a little bit.

But right now Owen needed to get his ass out of the damn truck.

Standing on the grass, he gazed at the house: a newer ranch-style build in a subdivision at the edge of town. The front lawn was lush and carefully trimmed, a Fourth of July–themed wreath hung on the front door, and a basketball hoop was mounted over the garage. All very pleasant and ordinary. And terrifying.

He was still staring when the front door opened and his father stepped out. No, not his father, of course. The old man was dead. It took another beat before Owen’s brain kicked in and he understood that this was his brother Andy—hair gone mostly gray, a paunch, and glasses perched on his nose. He wore tennis shoes, khaki shorts, and a faded Star Wars T-shirt.

Andy spoke first. “Owen? You look good.”

That was a gross exaggeration, given the state of Owen’s face, but he nodded stiffly. “This is Keaton Gale.”

Nobody shook hands, and they certainly didn’t embrace, but there might have been a slight thaw.

“Nice to meet you,” Andy said, then squinted. “Haven’t I seen you around town, Mr. Gale?”

“Keaton, and yes. I live here.”

That seemed to crank Andy’s curiosity up a notch or two. “Are you two old friends?”

Owen and Keaton both laughed, and then Owen sobered and firmed his chin. “Keaton’s my….” Shit. He wasn’t sure what word to use. Partner was ambiguous, boyfriend made it sound like they were kids, lover felt salacious. He took Keaton’s hand in his.

“I’m Owen’s person,” Keaton interjected.

Surprisingly, Andy didn’t recoil. In fact, he simply nodded. “My wife’s name is Lisa. She’s out of town on a college tour with our younger son.”

It was awkward standing here, but Owen couldn’t think of what to say. He couldn’t get a handle on his emotions, which were swirling around as if caught in yesterday’s storm. Just when he was ready to turn around and get back in the truck, Keaton squeezed his hand and whispered, “You can do this.”

That gave Owen enough confidence to find his voice. “I hear you were looking for me.”

“I had to hire a private investigator. I understand that you work for a federal law enforcement agency?”

Owen shrugged. “Something like that.”

“I bet you’re good at it. Is that how you got, um….” Andy gestured at his own face. then colored as he realized that mentioning the wounds might be a faux pas.

Owen simply nodded.

Everyone was silent, but before it got too painful, Andy spoke again. “It’s a nice afternoon. Want to come out back for a beer?”

Some alcohol would go down well right now, but then Owen remembered Keaton’s history. “We don’t drink.” Then because he’d gotten this far, he relented a bit. “But we can come with you.”

Still holding hands, they followed him around the side of the house and into a large backyard with a few trees and some well-tended vegetable beds. There was an elaborate treehouse in the back corner and, up against the house, a flagstone patio with a big grill and an assortment of outdoor furniture.

Andy waved them to some chairs. “How about iced tea?”

“Sure,” said Owen as he took a seat. It felt weird interacting with this stranger with whom he’d spent his first eighteen years sharing a bedroom.

As soon as Andy ducked inside, Keaton leaned closer to touch a finger to Owen’s lower lip. “You wanted that beer he offered. Thanks for how you handled it. That was considerate of you.”

Owen didn’t think it was a big deal, but he also realized that few people had ever prioritized Keaton’s needs and well-being. He silently vowed to make it his goal to do so.

Andy returned with three frosty glasses, which he set on the table before sitting opposite Keaton and Owen. His resemblance to their father was uncanny, like meeting a ghost, although his features were softer than their father’s had been. “Thanks for coming to see me,” Andy said.

“My boss sent me to Copper Springs,” Owen blurted. “I had an assignment here.” He waved vaguely at his own face and felt like an idiot.

“But you chose to stop by. Thank you.” Andy took a long drink and Owen followed suit.

Keaton sat there, drawing squiggles in the condensation on his glass. Maybe he was tuning in to Andy’s emotions. Owen didn’t envy Keaton his talent, but at the moment he wished he could borrow it. He would have very much liked to know how Andy was feeling, but Owen could barely sort himself out.

“You have a son?” Owen finally managed.

Andy gave a broad smile. “Two. Great kids. How about you?”

Owen, who knew he would have made a terrible parent, almost laughed. “No.” He had some more iced tea.

Some time passed; it felt like centuries. Then Andy sighed, exactly the way their father had when money was especially tight or his boss was a jerk or one of his sons had done something stupid. “Look, Owen. I’d really love to know what you’ve been up to all these years. I bet it’s been interesting. But… I don’t think you’re up to that kind of thing with me, and I don’t blame you. Maybe someday you will be. But you came here, and there are two things I need to tell you.”

Automatically, Owen tensed. But Keaton was right beside him and didn’t act upset, so probably Andy wasn’t planning anything too nasty. “What?” asked Owen, knowing he sounded rude but unable to stop himself.

“Well, first off, I have something for you.” Andy rose slightly so he could slide an envelope out of his back pocket. When he set it on the table, Owen saw his own name written on the front, the penmanship shaky. “It’s a letter from Dad.”

Owen hissed and leaned back as if the thing might bite him.

Which made Andy sigh again. “When you first left?—”

“Got kicked out.”

“When you were first kicked out, Mom and Dad wouldn’t talk about you at all. It was like you’d never existed. And Mom, I’m sorry to say, stayed that way until the day she died. She was a bitter woman and it got worse as she aged.”

Remembering what Miller had said—which might have been true—Owen asked, “When did she die?”

“Seven years ago. Got in a car wreck on the way home from Walmart.”

A hint of emotion threatened, but Owen slammed a wall around it so hard that Keaton startled a bit. “Oh,” was all Owen said.

“After she died, Dad suddenly got old. But I think he also finally started to think about some choices he’d made and the way he’d treated some people, including you. He started talking about you. Good things, like how well you did in school and how hard you always worked. He didn’t want me to find you—I think he was too scared—but after he got sick, when he realized his time was short, he wrote you this letter. Asked me to give it to you if I saw you someday.”

“What’s it say?” Owen hadn’t touched it yet.

Andy shook his head. “Dunno. It’s your letter.”

After a bit of indecision, Owen took the thing and tucked it onto a pocket. He could always burn it later if he wanted to. “Thank you,” he said to Andy.

“There’s something else.” Andy polished off his tea, looking very much like he wished it was something stronger. He straightened his shoulders and looked Owen in the eyes. “I’m sorry, Owen.”

“Sorry?”

“For being a shithead. For harming you when I should have supported you. For spending way too long telling myself I did the right thing—telling Mom and Dad about you—because being gay is a sin. Except it’s not. The real sin was mine.”

Owen had no idea how to react to this. He didn’t know how he felt about it. He didn’t…. He looked to Keaton in mute supplication.

“What made you see things differently?” Keaton asked quietly.

“My older son.” Andy made a sound that wasn’t quite a laugh. “See, when he was born we thought he was a girl. He looked like one. That’s what his birth certificate said. We gave him a girl’s name, girl clothes. When he got old enough to say something, he insisted on having his hair cut short, and he, well, we figured he was a tomboy. That’s nothing unusual. Then one afternoon when he was in high school he came to us and told us we’d been wrong about him all along, and that he’s really a boy.”

Owen almost groaned. Being gay had been rough in Copper Springs two decades earlier, but being trans was probably much harder, even today. “What did you do?”

“Freaked out. Went on a rant about how my daughter had been listening to the wrong people and was just really confused, about how a girl’s a girl and a boy’s a boy and… and all that bullshit. My son left and went to a friend’s house. Refused to come home. I was gonna call the cops.

“But Lisa sat me down and reminded me how broken up Dad still was over driving you away. She told me the same thing was going to happen to me, and I was going to regret it forever. And the thing is, he’s an amazing kid. Really kind and funny. And talented—he goes to art school in Chicago and he’s doing a summer program in Italy right now. I’ve always been so damned proud of that kid.”

To Owen’s mild shock, Andy teared up a little. He hadn’t seen his brother cry since they were very young.

“I didn’t want to lose him,” Andy said. “So I started reevaluating a lot of my assumptions. Realized what a shithead I’d been. My son and I, we’re good now. I’m prouder now than ever. And along the way, I had to face what I’d done to you and acknowledge how fucked up it was. So I’ll say it again: I apologize. I am deeply sorry for my behavior.” He looked down at the table.

Owen’s heart ached. For everything he’d lost, not just as a teen, but in all the years since. He knew, however, that it wasn’t easy to question your own viewpoints, let alone change them. Andy had put a lot of work into it for the sake of his kid.

And dammit, wasn’t that a hopeful thing? That even in middle age, a person could become better. And that they could be led to that improvement via love.

Anger and resentment, long-standing residents inside of Owen, suddenly withered to insignificance. His lungs felt freer, his heart stronger. For the first time since he was eighteen, he pictured himself with family. A brother and his wife and kids. A partner.

Hope didn’t just destroy monsters—it felt good.

Keaton made a strangled little sound. He was crying, but he was smiling too, and he looked at Owen with eyes that promised a whole world of joy.

Owen slowly stood. “I need some time. But it looks like I’ll be sticking around Copper Springs for a while. Let’s get together soon. I’d like to meet Lisa and hear more about your sons.”

Andy beamed.

They didn’t hug. It was too early for that, and Owen had never been a hugger anyway. But Andy walked them back to the truck and shook both their hands. That was progress.

Without saying anything, Keaton drove them out of town to the spot that had once been the Clark ranch. He pulled off to the side, although there was no worry about blocking traffic on the empty road, and cut the engine. “You’re doing okay,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

“I guess I am.”

“Together, we’re gonna do okay.”

Owen believed him. He thought about the letter in his pocket, and how he’d probably read it pretty soon. And how, whatever it said, Owen knew he was valued. He put his hand over Keaton’s, which rested on the steering wheel. “My family, whatever it ends up looking like, can be your family too. If you want. We’ll be family together.”

“I want,” Keaton said quietly.

“Something ugly is coming. Townsend thought so. Grimes thinks so now. I could feel it when Miller spoke.”

“Yeah.”

“But we’re going to be…. It’s like that tired old metaphor about a chain being stronger than the individual links. There are connections, good ones, between people. That’s what’s going to save us.”

“That’s what’s going to save us all.” Smiling at Owen, Keaton looked beautiful, a promising youth grown into an impressive man. “Now let’s head back. We have a house to rebuild.”

Keaton turned the truck toward Copper Springs. Toward home.