Page 167 of Beneath the Stain

Suddenly Trav hoped Grant Adams had a little bit of happy, just a little, before he died. “I’ve got to get out of here. Mr. Reeves, can we step outside?”

“Certainly.”

Trav walked into the sunlight on the back porch and let out a sigh of relief. The porch was surrounded by planters, all of them filled with bright off-season flowers that made Trav feel like he was at a gas station instead of someone’s home.

“Those people,” Reeves said, blowing out a breath and shaking his head. He grimaced when Trav glanced his way. “I’m sorry—that was unprofessional of me.”

“Butveryunderstandable,” Trav answered. “What did you need to talk about?”

Mr. Reeves sighed and looked out across the yard. Stevie had the little girl in his arms, but Jefferson and Blake were right over his shoulder, and they were all petting one of the horses. “They look like good kids,” he said quietly. “I mean, I follow the papers”—he shot Trav a shy smile—“I own both their CDs, but you hear things.”

Trav nodded. “Yeah,” he said frankly. “They were a mess a year ago.”

“That’s what I wanted to talk about.” Reeves had brought another folder out, and he handed it to Trav as they stood. “I’ve got another copy of this—Grant asked that I not show this to his parents, and I agreed. They would use it to make your lives miserable, but it’s something your guys need to agree to.”

“What is it?” Trav frowned, leafing through the documents. “Is this a—?”

“A drug-free clause,” Reeves confirmed. “Grant felt bad about it, but he knew some of the boys had problems in the past, and—”

“It’s his baby,” Trav said with a tight throat. “It’s his baby, and he wants to make sure she’s taken care of. And he’s not stupid.”

“Not at all,” Reeves answered.

Trav glanced at him and then took a closer look. Reeves was gazing out, far away, sadness etched in the corners of his eyes.

“You fell for him?” he asked gently, and the lawyer shrugged.

“A little bit. It will hurt when he’s gone.”

“Tell him,” Trav said, closing his eyes against the sun—the real sun, and not the toxic sun of the Adams house. “It will make him happy, I think. His life will feel bigger.”

“Yeah,” Reeves said before swallowing. “Anyway—are your guys going to balk at peeing in a cup before the little girl comes to visit?”

“For Grant?” Trav half laughed. “They’d bleed in a cup if you asked them. Even Blake, and he just met the guy. That’s who they are.”

At that moment, Kell trotted out of the barn toward them, and Trav nodded at Reeves in dismissal. He took off at a half jog and met Kell on his way.

“Grant’s in pain,” Kell said baldly. “Mackey and I were hoping you could do your big bad soldier thing and carry him back.”

Trav nodded and handed the folder of documents over. “Do me a favor and make sure these get put in the SUV in the pocket of my briefcase, okay? They’re important.”

The lines etched into Kell’s forehead eased up. “Are they about the baby?” he said hopefully. “Because me and Mackey want to.”

Trav nodded, smiling a little, because there was a really pure heart in this caveman, and he was glad he’d gotten a chance to see it. “Yeah. Yeah—get the other folder from Mr. Reeves too—but don’t go inside.” Trav shuddered. “And for God’s sake don’t talk to Grant’s parents. They’re not nice people.”

“I knew that,” Kell said, not surprised. “It’s weird, how you think that stuff is just normal when you’re a kid. But then you grow up and you realize it’s not normal at all. It’s wrong. And you wonder what else you took for granted and need to change your mind about.” He shrugged and turned toward the car. “Go get Grant. He’s in pain.”

Trav set off toward the barn.

He opened the side door just as Mackey was shotgunning his first breath of smoke. Trav paused, stunned, betrayed, paralyzed by the thought of Mackey close enough to kiss, breathing for the kid he’d just been feeling sorry for.

He should say something. He should open his mouth and roar, grab Mackey’s shoulder, scream,You promised!He’d promised. Promised he wouldn’t make a fool of Trav. Promised he’d take care of him.

He should turn around and walk away. Catch a cab to the hotel, never to see Mackey again. He’d done it. He’d done it with Terry, just turned around and walked away.

The thought felt like a shaft of glass through his testicles, ripping up through his stomach, tearing the muscles, skin, and flesh in jagged layers.

He had to grip the doorframe to keep from falling to his knees.