Despite It All by Reese Knightley

 

Forest

The look of panic on Greene’s face sent his heart stuttering. Oh shit, too much too soon.

“Joshua, we can go back. I can call her.”

“No.” Greene’s voice was all raspy and his throat moved when he swallowed hard.

He sat there even though his mom waved through the window. She could wait because he didn’t want Greene pressured into doing something he really didn’t want to do.

“I’m good,” Greene said and slid out of the car.

Jumping out, he hurried to the back end to meet Greene, and jerked in surprise when the man linked their fingers.

“This okay?” Greene asked.

“It’s perfect.” Holding Greene’s hand, he climbed the stairs of the front porch, and his mom opened the front door.

“Your poor, beautiful face,” she cried, reaching up to touch the butterfly bandage.

“I’m okay, mom.” He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek.

She hugged him tightly and sniffled. He squeezed her back and brushed a kiss on the top of her bright hair.

“Who is this?” Her eyes lit up when they landed on Greene standing behind him.

“This is Joshua.”

He wished he could read Greene’s mind. The man had grown awfully quiet since leaving the car and his steps had seemed to lag approaching the house.

“Ma’am,” Greene rumbled softly and held out a hand to his mother.

She bypassed the hand and pushed her way toward him, grasping him in a tight hug. She was tiny next to Greene, her head coming up to just below his chest. He could have warned the man, but what would have been the fun in that? His mother had a way about her and he was hoping that way would ease Greene into feeling a part of something. From what little Greene had shared about his childhood, Greene hadn’t had much love in his life. Not with the crappy ass mother he’d described.

Greene blinked at him, looking adorably bemused over the top of his mother’s blonde head. And his heart hurt for the little boy Greene had been who hadn’t felt a mother’s love. Let her love you. Let us love you, he chanted because it sounded really nice in his head. Not so much if he blurted it out—he’d see Greene run for the hills.

“Come inside, I have tons of food. Mason isn’t here yet,” his mom said, hooking her arm through Greene’s and pulling him into the house.

He’d never brought a man home before, so she was in rare form. After he’d come out as gay in high school, she’d been trying to match him up ever since. Insisting that he produce a grandchild since Mason was lagging.

He’d told her that it wasn’t the way it worked between two guys. She had slapped his arm and scolded him, and then told him that she had a whole host of surrogates lined up. He’d dropped the subject quickly after that, dodging her matchmaking attempts.

He wanted to find a man on his own. His eyes lingered on Greene next to his tiny mother. She patted his massive arm, twittering a laugh as she looked at the half of the tattoo on his arm. Greene lifted the shirt sleeve so she could see the eagle.

Something hissed and spit in the kitchen.

“Oh shoot!” She dashed off to the kitchen.

“What’s your mother’s name?” Greene whispered to him, pulling down his shirt sleeve.

“On no, you don’t! You can call me mom,” she said from the kitchen.

With wide eyes staring at him, he wrinkled his nose and patted Greene’s arm. “She has supersonic hearing. You know, it’s a mom thing.”

“No, I wouldn’t know,” Greene said, but his eyes twinkled, the skin at the edges crinkling. He suspected Greene was getting a kick out of his mother and damned if that didn’t make him happy.

“And I have eyes in the back of my head,” his mother said from the kitchen.

“That’s what you think,” he called back.

“I do.”

“You don’t know everything.”

“Try me.”

“I’ll pass.” He laughed when she laughed.

Greene’s head bounced back and forth between him and the kitchen and he took pity on the man and pulled him into the den. Greene relaxed further, he saw it when the man’s shoulders eased, and the fingers locked with his grew gentle when they entered his mother’s warm and comfy den. An oversized stuffed couch and big easy chairs sat on area rugs over sand-colored carpet. Magazines, books, and candles graced places like the ottoman, hutch, and end tables. The big, wide screen television had Frozen playing—do you want to build a snowman?

“Mom? Are you watching Disney?”

“Yes, the neighbor girls were over while their mother went to the grocery store. You can change it.”

“Wanna?” he glanced at Greene.

“Nah, it’s okay. Shouldn’t we help?”

“Don’t worry, we will.”

“We will?”

“Forest, honey, get the barbecue started.”

“Told ya.” He grinned, walked across the den, and opened the patio doors.

Greene’s big body was against his back, hands on his shoulders, and he paused there in the doorway. The man’s beard brushed over the side of his neck and then his cheek.

“Need some help?”

He adjusted himself and dodged away from Greene with a chuckle. Stalking across the large, covered patio to the big black metal monster, he lifted the lid.

“Know how to barbecue?”

“Are you serious?” Greene looked at him like he’d grown two heads.

“You think barbecuing is automatically a guy thing?”

“No, but it’s this guy’s thing.” Greene started the barbecue and then snatched the scraper from his hand and put it to work on the blackened grill.

“Good to know,” he said with a laugh, and stepped back to admire the roll of muscle along Greene’s forearm.

“Here, baby.”

He turned and took the tray of meat from his mom and passed it to Greene, who put it on the side tray and continue cleaning the grill.

His mother remained beside him, watched Greene clean for a moment, and turned to him.

“Mason told me about you getting into a fight.”

Damn his brother and his big mouth. A fight? Christ.

Mason was probably doing it so he’d make a decision. That wasn’t going to work. After today, he was going back and finding the asshole mole in charge, and he was going to find Renee and figure out why she took that shot at Hardier. The more he thought about that, the more it didn’t make sense. Maybe it was his own paranoia, but then, maybe not.

“I’m okay, mom. Greene saved me.” He turned the focus on Greene, who snapped around and frowned at him.

“Thank you. I’ll be grateful to you for the rest of my life.” She ran to Greene and hugged him.

The big man ducked his head, a flush sweeping up his neck, and hugged his mom. When she stepped back, Greene continued scraping.

“Not much of a talker, that one.”

“Nope.” He grinned

Greene’s head came up again and he looked at them both standing together. And he knew what the man saw. He looked just like his mom. They were alike in many ways, more so than her and Mason. The big man groaned and gave a rueful chuckle when his mom stepped back toward him and kissed Greene’s cheek before disappearing back into the house.

“Good lord,” Greene grumbled, but he heard the smothered laughter and damn, if that didn’t make his smile grow a mile wide.

“You didn’t tell her the truth.”

“I did too. You shot those guys like the badass I know you to be.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He wanted to tell Greene to get used to being here, but he wasn’t sure if the man would ever be back. Hating that way of thinking, he stepped up and pulled his head down for a kiss. Their lips touched, brushed, and then pressed in a slow, aching kiss.

“So, this is what you get up to when you’re supposed to be hiding out?” Mason said from the doorway.

“I am hiding out,” he said against Greene’s mouth, refusing to let the man go until he popped one more kiss on his lips.

“Mason.” Greene cleared his throat when he finally pulled away, and turned to put the meat on the grill.

“Greene.” His brother smirked at him.

“Be nice,” he hissed.

Mason laughed and patted him on the back. From there, they migrated to the chairs with plates loaded with food.

Poking at a piece of steak, he held it up with an eye wiggle to Greene before popping it into his mouth.

“So good,” he said around a bite.

“So good,” Greene agreed.

“Wait until next time, I’ll cook ribs,” he laughed.

Something flashed in Greene’s eyes. He might have missed it if he hadn’t been looking, but he was always looking, so he saw it.

The look of hesitation, of resignation, of regret. Greene wasn’t sticking around. Forest could see it in the soldier’s eyes. It was as if Greene thought this couldn’t last.

As if Greene couldn’t handle loving someone or being loved.

He understood where Greene might be coming from. The soldier had been given the silver star of valor after his unit was bombed. Three men died that day. By sheer chance, the bomb hadn’t taken Greene. He knew the wounds still ran deep. He saw it lingering in the fringes of Greene’s smoky gray eyes.

Could a person ever recover from something like that? Could Greene? Did Greene think himself too wounded to love?

His heart dropped at the sorrow in Greene’s gaze.

He turned quickly away, eyes back down to his own plate, blinking at the blur.

“Who wants dessert?” his mom asked.

“Pie?” He blinked at her and forced a smile.

“Blueberry.”

“I love Blueberry,” Greene said, but he couldn’t bring himself to look over.