Lover Mine(92)

Lassiter smiled a little. "So you're seeing things from a different angle now, are you."

As recently as the night before John would have thrown back a fuck off, but now he was inclined to nod. Especially as he thought of the cracks in the hallway concrete that had been caused by the pain Tohr had been through.

"Good," Lassiter said, "and about damned time. Oh, and I'm not with him at the moment because everyone needs to be alone. Plus I got to have my O fix."

The angel turned away, his blond-and-black hair swinging. "And you can shut it. Oprah's awesome."

John shook his head and found himself smiling. Lassiter might be a metrosexual pain in the ass, but he'd brought Tohr back to the Brotherhood and that was worth something.

Through the tunnel. Out the back of the closet. Into the office where Tohr was still asleep.

As John stepped up to the desk, the Brother woke up on a full-body spasm, his head whipping off the desk. Half of his face was mashed in, as if someone had hit him with a round of spray starch and ironed his shit badly.

"John . . ." he said roughly. "Hey. You need anything?"

John reached into the basket and took out the ham and cheese. Placing it on the desk, he slid it toward the male.

Tohr blinked as if he'd never seen two slices of rye pulling a cinch on some meat before.

John nodded down at it. Eat, he mouthed.

Tohr reached out and placed his hand on the sandwich. "Thanks."

John nodded, his fingertips lingering on the surface of the desk. His good-bye was a quick knock of his knuckles. There was too much to be said in the little time he had, his big concern being that Xhex not wake up alone.

When he hit the door, Tohr said, "I'm really glad you got her back. I'm so damned glad."

As the words drifted over to him, John's eyes latched onto those cracks out in the corridor. That would have been him, he realized. If Wrath and the Brothers had rolled up to his door with bad news about his female, instead of the good kind, he'd have reacted the exact same way Tohr had.

Tore up from the floor up. Followed by a big outtie.

Over his shoulder, John looked at the pale face of the male who had been his savior, his mentor . . . the closest thing to a father he'd ever known. Tohr had gained weight but his face was still hollow and maybe that would never change, no matter how many meals he ate.

As their stares locked, John had the sense that the pair of them had been through so much more than just the sum of years they'd known each other.

John put the basket down at his feet. I'm taking Xhex out tonight.

"Yeah?"

I'm going to show her where I grew up.

Tohr swallowed hard. "You want the keys to my house?"

John recoiled. He'd meant just to include the guy in what was doing with him, kind of a toe-in-the-pool thing to mending shit between them.

I didn't expect to take her there--

"Go. It would be good for you to check it out. The doggen get over there just once a month, maybe twice." Tohr shifted and pulled open one of the desk drawers. As he took out a key fob, he cleared his throat. "Here."

John caught the keys and made a fist around them, shame constricting his chest. He'd been busy shitting on the guy lately and, even still, the Brother manned up and offered what had to be a killer for him?

"I'm glad you and Xhex have found each other. It makes cosmic sense, it truly does."

John shoved the keys in his pocket to free up his hand. We're not together.

The smile that briefly showed on the guy's face seemed ancient. "Yeah, you are. You two are meant to be together."

Jesus, John thought, guess his bonding scent was obvious. Still, there was no reason to go into all the why-nots that were surrounding the pair of them.

"So, you going to Our Lady?" When John nodded, Tohr reached down to the floor and picked up a Hefty bag. "Take this with you. It's drug money confiscated from that brownstone. Blay brought it back. Figure they could use it."

As Tohr got to his feet, he left the loot on the desk and picked up the sandwich, peeling back the Saran Wrap, and taking a bite.

"Good work with the mayo," he murmured. "Not too much. Not too little. Thanks."

Tohr headed for the closet.

John whistled softly and the Brother stopped, but didn't turn around. "It's okay, John. You don't have to say anything. Just be safe out there tonight, 'kay?"

With that Tohr ducked out of the office, leaving John alone in the wake of a kindness and dignity he could only hope to live up to someday.

As the closet door closed, he thought . . . he wanted to be like Tohr.

Heading out into the corridor, it was funny to have that running through his brain again, and its return kind of righted the world: Ever since he'd first met the guy, whether it was the Brother's size, or his intelligence, or the way he treated his female, or how he fought, or even the deep sound of his voice . . . John had wanted to be like Tohr.