Oh. There went a few fantasies of how the evenings would go. On the other hand, he could use that time . . . he should be putting in more piano hours. “Can I stay here? With Mary?”
“Anything you like.”
Jason hummed dreamily. “What I’d really like is a piano in this room.” Maybe over by those windows, if the couch and TV shifted to the other corner. Except . . . even if he could rent out a grand piano, it might only arrive when it was time for him to go.
Owen was looking at him over his coffee. Jason shook out of the tangent thought and returned to his pen and paper. “I’ll ask Hannah, then.”
“You know who would be better than Hannah and my dad?”
He poised the tip of his pen to the next clear line. “Who?”
Owen plucked the pen from his fingers and wrote on the paper.
Jason read and laughed brightly. “If I play, there might just be a few people who see through this charade.”
Another long sip of coffee. “So what if they did?”
Jason’s heart lurched into his throat, pulsing wildly. “Carl—”
“Is a big boy.”
“I’d still be letting him down. And Cora . . . Patricia . . . The fallout of this whole town finding out the truth.”
“A fallout of some kind will be inevitable.”
“I can handle a bit of hurt for the greater good.”
“Sure it’ll be the greater good?”
“They haven’t even told Carl that Patricia isn’t his birth mum. Let alone that there’s a twin brother running around. They don’t want anyone knowing the truth.”
“Carl found out anyway. So did I.”
The quiet, cop-like inquisition flustered Jason, made him . . . think about it—what it might be like if they knew. Would they accept him or . . . turn away from him again? What if they acknowledged him, but that was it?
He wasn’t really theirs to care about, after all.
That kind of rejection . . . No. Better not to expose himself to that. He’d have a few good memories; that would be enough.
He swallowed; his throat felt raw.
“What are you going back to, Jason?” The question was quiet. And stung.
What he was going back to was an echoing house and a barrage of social media posts following Caroline to her wedding day. He was going back to feeling lost.
He stood, laughing hollowly. “More manageable wildlife?”
“Jason . . .”
Owen’s softly furrowed brow and that downward crease at the side of his lips started to blur and Jason twisted away, blinking. “Could I borrow your car, please? I want to swing by the supermarket.”
Owen didn’t so much as blink at the request. Just handed him his keys and a spare one to the house, and asked Jason if he thought he’d be done by midday so they could see Hannah before cop-duty called. Jason shopped at Woolworths and swung by the convenience store—run by Carl’s part timer on his days off—for a few more things.
The yard was freshly cut by the time he hauled in the supplies, and Owen had vacuumed and mopped inside too.
Mary found Jason filling the cupboards, and Jason rummaged through his bags to the treats he’d bought. “This,” Jason said, holding up a beefy doggie snack, “is me bribing you for your love.”
She wagged her tail and deftly snatched the flying treat out of the air.
A low laugh had him swinging to Owen and taking a few long moments to . . . appreciate. The way he filled out that uniform . . . the shirt, the pressed pants, the polished shoes . . . where was the utility belt?
“What was that?” he murmured, as the beltless hips approached.
Owen peered into the bags. “Anything to bribe me with?”
“An officer of the law? We’ve had this conversation. I would never.” Jason pulled out a block of roasted almond chocolate. “But doesn’t this look delicious?”
Owen gripped one end of it, but Jason didn’t let go. He met Owen’s warm eyes. “Look . . . sorry about before, I know you’re only watching out for me. Thanks for giving me a moment. And for your car.”
Owen took the chocolate and set it down, then he stepped up to Jason and cupped his cheek. “I’m sorry too. I have concerns, but they are very much my own. I’ll be more respectful going forward.”
Jason wanted to kiss him.
So . . . he did.
A light press of their mouths. A thank you. “Do I have time to whip up some apple bran muffins?”
“Sounds delicious.”
“They’re to take to Hannah’s. Wait.” He gripped Owen’s arm tightly. “Any allergies I should know about?”
They parked in Hannah’s driveway next to Carl’s Jeep, a picket fence, and a square patch of garden edged with roses. They climbed out of the car, Jason clutching his Tupperware of fresh muffins against his stomach.
Owen paused to answer a call as he let Mary out. Watching over the roof of the car, Jason caught the gist. Hannah—she was running a few minutes late.