Tequila Mockingbird (Sinners #3)

She’d told him more than once she’d been glad she hadn’t dug him out like she’d done the other babies she’d almost had. It was her way of saying she loved him—or at least her way of saying she was happy he could provide some kind of income on those days she didn’t feel like lying back for sloppy, drunk johns. Forest was never really sure. Or even if he cared one way or the other.

Until he’d called and found he really hoped she would come by. At least for a moment. Anything at all to show he meant something to her. There’d been too many times when he’d hauled her ass out of an unpaid-for motel room when she was too stoned to walk, or the times he’d found her with a needle sticking out of her arm and the cops were banging on their door. He’d grown up knowing how to jiggle loose a soda from a vending machine and how to pull a short-change con. Frank put an end to all that, and he’d been okay for years. He’d even fucking thought about having a cop for a friend—a man who seemed to be there every time he turned around—and probably would turn around and walk away as soon as he understood how filthy Forest really was.

“’Cause that’s just how shit is,” he mumbled to himself, expecting a nurse to plunge more needles in him and take what little blood he had left in his veins. “Don’t get too used to normal, dude. It all just eventually goes to shit anyway.”

A large hand on the small of his back startled him, and Forest curled in tighter, instinct driving him in. Then a warm Irish voice poured over him, and the whole drug lust slipped away, replaced with a much more carnal desire.

“Are you asleep there, Forest?” Connor murmured.

“No, I’m… just cold.” He couldn’t stop shivering. It came in waves, but the cold was insistent, crackling through any heat Forest stored up.

“Hold on, I’ll get you a blanket. Be right back,” Connor promised.

Forest blinked and turned over to watch Connor digging through the room’s closet for more blankets. He came back laden with a thick cover, then neatly tucked it around Forest’s prone body. His hands brushed over Forest’s thighs and stomach. Connor’s touch warmed him more than the blankets, and Forest groaned softly, wishing he could bury his face in a pillow because it felt like his cheeks were on fire—a licking heat thankfully spreading through the rest of him as well.

“Hey, you.” Connor patted again. Moving his hand to Forest’s hair, he gently pushed a fall of blond out of his eyes. “How are you doing?”

Forest lay there, mute—shocked, really, that the man not only stayed to see how he was but was in his room, probably past visiting hours, and tucking him in as if he’d done it a thousand times before. The man had more siblings than Perdita had puppies. Frank’d loved that damned movie, and he’d seen it more times than he could count. At least he thought it was Perdita. It could have been Ping because the other one was Pongo.

Not remembering a damned cartoon dog’s name was suddenly the most important thing in the world, and Forest sniffled, fighting back tears he thought he didn’t have in him. He’d just soaked through the sheets before the nurse came back. There shouldn’t have been any more sorrow left in him, but there it was, pouring out and sliding between him and a man who shouldn’t have been there.

“Okay. A building fell on me, but I’m better now.” He was lying. His head hurt. He wanted to whine, and most of all, stop crying. “Thanks for… fuck, everything. You don’t have to stay—”

“Look, let’s not go there.” Connor cut him off, and the man’s hands moved again, creating delicious circles over Forest’s cocooned body. “I’m here, and they’ve even got a love seat I can crash on if I need it.”

“You’ve got a life, remember? House and um… wife? Kids?” His head ached too much, and he couldn’t recall if there was even a girlfriend on Connor’s horizon. “Dog?”

“No dog.” Connor shook his head, and his fingers once again found Forest’s hair. “They should have cleaned you up a bit more. Feels like you’ve got grit on your scalp.”

“They probably didn’t want to shake out my brains. There’s very little in there to begin with. Now that I’ve cracked the case open, they can’t get full price any more. Can’t ever open the original packaging.” He knew he was babbling, but Forest didn’t care. “Hell, you weren’t even supposed to be there today.”

“I told you I was coming.” Connor looked confused for a second. “Wait, I’ve heard that before. Where?”

“Movie quote. I’ll make you watch it someday. You’ll either love it or hate me forever.”

“You sound like my idiot brother, Quinn. His mouth bubbles out the oddest things.” He laughed, rumbling noises as softly comforting as his slowly roaming hands. “He was here, actually. Along with my terrier sister, Kiki.”

“God, she’s like the fucking Spanish Inquisition,” he blurted without thinking. “Fuck, maybe I should have them drug me so I can’t talk. Sorry, dude. I know she’s your sister—”