What Remains, Bailey Bradford [classic romance novels .TXT] 📗

me.” He nudged Rogelio playfully in the ribs. Even through the jacket the boy felt bony. “You know your grandparents—my parents—had me committed to a mental institution when I was years younger than you?”

Rogelio’s eyes widened dramatically. “No? You knew you were gay that far back?”

Sev couldn’t hold back a bitter laugh. “No, but I was psychic that far back, and even when I proved it by talking to the spirits of people they’d known who’d passed away, told them things no one but they and those people would know, they still didn’t believe me.”

“I bet they did,” Rogelio argued. “I bet that’s why they had you committed. You probably scared the crap out of them and they were terrified of what else you might find out. Maybe they murdered someone or sold drugs, or—”

“I think they’re just narrow-minded and can’t accept anyone different from them,” Sev said before Rogelio could go on. The kid sounded way too excited by the idea of his grandparents being criminals. “Anyway, they took me to a few shrinks, then had me committed. Your great-grandma had all the money back then. She told my parents to get me out or she’d cut them free. They did, and Grandma—my grandma—forgave them enough to let my old man inherit everything.”

Rogelio spluttered for a solid minute before getting his tongue to work. “But that’s crap! Why would she do that after what they did?”

Sev couldn’t deny he’d been hurt by it. He didn’t care about the money, but he’d have liked to have something other than just this necklace and his memories of his grandmother. “She was old-fashioned. Well, in some ways. She didn’t like me being gay, but she didn’t turn away from me because of it. My dad was her son, the first born and all of that, and other than the exceptions she made for me, Grandma was pretty traditional. Plus, it wasn’t like I was going to have kids to pass the money along to, right?”

“That doesn’t matter!” Rogelio practically shouted. “How could she…?” Rogelio trailed off at the sound of an approaching vehicle.

Sev grinned, happy to his soul to hear Laine approaching. He knew every click and growl of that engine. He turned and stood beside Rogelio to watch as Laine drove down the drive. Sev hooked his arm through his nephew’s. “Come on. I want you to meet my partner.”

Chapter Eight

“Mm, Chiles Renellos,” Sev purred, making the dish Alma set on the table sound like a pleasurable sexual experience.

Laine took a whiff and thought his partner might just be right. The spicy scent went straight to Laine’s rumbling stomach. He might have been embarrassed if he had been the only one whose stomach was demanding food. Alma set down a bowl of Spanish rice.

Adela, who kept looking at Laine as if he might bite no matter how friendly he tried to look, carried a tortilla warmer to the table. Along with the frijoles, tortilla soup, chips con queso and guacamole, Laine figured his and Sev’s table had never held such a mouth-watering meal.

“Are we going to say Grace?” Martin asked. Laine got a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Sure enough, Alma nodded at him. “I think either your Uncle Laine or Uncle Sev should say Grace since this is their home.”

Don’t do it, don’t—

Sev grinned. “Laine, would you mind?”

He’d show Sev just how much he minded, later. Feeling like a hypocrite, and trying not to be one, Laine dipped his head, closed his eyes and folded his hands on the table. That was as good as it was going to get. Then he just got the whole prayer thing over as quickly as possible.

“Please bless this food and thank you for our guests. Amen.” It was good enough for him. He opened his eyes and peered down the length of the table. Sev was laughing quietly, the shit, and Rogelio was, too. That kid looked at Laine with a little too much interest. Laine was sure it was just a kiddy crush, but… Well he wasn’t used to anyone but Sev looking at him like that.

Roger was trying to smother a snicker, and Alma was busy explaining to Adela and Martin that, no, Grace did not have to take five minutes.

Laine shrugged and started fixing his plate. The others soon followed suit. Laine tried a spoonful of the tortilla soup. The spicy blend hit his tongue and Laine moaned.

Cilantro, some kind of peppers, garlic, tomatoes and several other flavors melded together in what he knew had to be ambrosia. He quickly spooned up some more, making sure he got a strip of fried corn tortilla. Alma beamed at him from her seat and Laine beamed right back.

“Alma, this is the best tortilla soup I’ve ever had.” Then he didn’t speak again, not much at least, until he’d stuffed himself with the feast she’d prepared.

Leaning back in his chair, Laine groaned and wondered if he could get away with popping the button of his pants. He rubbed his stomach and noticed the other men looking similarly sated.

“That was way better than pizza,” Sev muttered, drooping in his seat. “God, I’m so full I think Laine’s gonna have to roll me out of here.”

“I like pizza better,” Adela said, then followed that proclamation with another mouthful of Chiles Renellos.

“Me too, but this was good.” Martin looked at his mom. “What’s for dessert?”

“Flan,” Alma informed them.

Laine groaned again. He was going to get fat as all get out if Alma cooked for them the whole week she was here.

* * * *

“So, was it as bad as you thought it’d be?” Sev asked as Laine flopped onto the bed.

“No, they were great, but I’m so full I’m miserable.”

Sev eyed Laine’s trim stomach. “Can’t tell you packed away half the food.”

“Hey!” Laine pried an eye open to glare at him. “I did not eat any more than you or Roger!”

“Uh huh,” Sev teased as he settled in beside Laine. “And