Fix It Up (Torus Intercession 3)

I was thinking I’d doze for however long it took to get from the airport up to New Fox Road in Irvine, but there was soft throat-clearing, and I opened my eyes to find Flint Burroughs in the seat in front of me turned around, staring.

“Hey,” he greeted me, and I could hear West Texas in his voice clear as day.

“Flint.”

He winced, and I girded for whatever he had to say.

“You reckon it’s safe where we’re goin’, yeah?”

I squinted at him.

“I mean, I’m white, but Si’s Black an’ his wife is white, and Merce was adopted from Korea, so that’s why he don’t look like what you’d expect from his name—but I was just wonderin’ if you thought we were safe is all.”

“I would think so,” I soothed him. “But if anything doesn’t look right, I won’t let any of you stay there, and I have a Beretta strapped to my ankle just in case.”

His eyebrows lifted and his eyes went round. “Well, I hafta tell you, that makes me feel quite a bit more settled.”

I nodded, studying him. He was handsome, if you went in for messy manbuns and scraggly beards. He wore a pair of pince-nez glasses attached to a chain, and there were several different piercings in both ears. His clothes looked like he’d slept in them; rumpled was an understatement. But he smelled good, not like patchouli, instead clean, like soap, and his eyes were a lovely shade of pale jade green.

“So, Flint,” I began softly, leaning forward. “Why does Rico think you need help?”

“What?” His breath caught and his voice came out as a squeak.

“Why don’t you tell me what’s goin’ on with you?”

“I—nothing.”

I squinted at him.

“Not to be mean, but ’cause your eyes are so dark, it’s kinda creepy when you stare like that,” he said, looking pained. “I mean…has anybody ever told you that before?”

“No,” I lied, waiting.

“Okay, so it’s possible that I have a slight gambling problem.”

The groans from all sides at once, loud, some swearing, others laughing, were impossible to miss.

His face scrunched up tight.

“Hey.”

He looked at me through narrowed eyes.

“So very fixable.”

His eyes widened and he sat up straighter. “I’ve tried.”

I grinned slowly. “We’ve never tried. Me and you.”

“I don’t know if––”

“It’ll be great, you’ll see.”

“What will?”

“Living at Nick’s house.”

He turned to look at Nick, who glanced at me. Giving me a slight nod, Nick glanced back at Flint and gave him a thumbs-up.

Whatever it was, he was ready to help. It was what you did for your friends.

I watched the highway go from I-64 east to exit 96 to 627 to Veterans Memorial Parkway. Directions, routes, had always been something I paid attention to since I had to navigate for my mother when we drove cross-country when I was a kid. I read the map, that was my job, and I always knew where I was. It was important to me.

When we were on the last leg of the trip, on KY-89 south, Nick got up and dropped back into the seat beside me.

“So, what is this about Flint camping out at my place?” he almost whined.

I smiled at him. “He needs some help, and you’re in a great place to help him.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, “but I’ve got news. Conner’s coming too.”

“Sorry?”

He groaned and shook his head. “Conner wants to get clean, so he wants to stay with me after rehab. What am I gonna say, no?”

I smiled at him. “Lookit you payin’ it forward.”

“It’s not me, it’s you,” he said, taking hold of my hand, turning it over and lacing his fingers with mine. “You fixed me, and they see it, and they want you to repeat the magic.”

“It’s not magic; you worked really––”

“Hard, yes, I know. You always give me all the credit.”

“Because it’s yours, not mine.”

“You were the catalyst for change.”

I squinted at him.

He snorted out a laugh that ended with a sigh. “Kiss me.”

“In front of the film crew?”

“Yes,” he said under his breath, leaning in.

“I dunno,” I teased him. “What will your fans think?”

“That they’ve never seen me so happy.”

I grinned and leaned sideways and kissed the side of his neck as I took his hand in mine. “You say very nice things, Mr. Madison.”

“It’s easy to do, you bring it out in me,” he murmured. “And don’t let go of my hand, all right? I like it more than I ever thought I would.”

The contentment I felt inside when he turned my face for the kiss was not a surprise. I’d been basking in his attention and desire for days, always reminding myself not to get used to being loved by Nick Madison. It would end, and soon, and I’d go back to my life, and he’d go back to his. There was no point falling for a man who had gratitude confused with love. The problem was, taking that moment to shake off my own happiness was getting harder and harder.