Page 19 of Someone to Call My Own

I had two best friends that I would lay my life down for at any given moment. We forged that bond while under fire in the heat of battle. I knew that Beau Rossi and Corbin Bouchard would do the same for me too. Still, what we shared was nothing like Josh and Gabe had with their friends. I couldn’t complete Beau’s sentences or anticipate Corbin’s next move outside a mission. I wouldn’t be able to jump in and start quoting lines from their favorite television shows or movies. Hell, we never had time to watch movies or television. Our life was one mission after the other. What little downtime we had was spent fucking, although never with each other. Nothing would screw up a camaraderie quicker than fucking, sucking, or jerking each other off. Were we tempted? Hell yeah, but we made a pact to let nothing come between our brotherhood, and we stuck to it.

I was flattered by Gabe’s invitation and appreciated his kindness, even if he extended it out of pity, but I felt like a fish out of water. I wouldn’t say that all of them were on the same page because Emory seemed a little out of place also.Emory.Damn that long, beautiful brown hair that hung to his shoulders, luminous green eyes that showed his every emotion, and lips made for kissing revved me up. I wondered if his fair skin felt as soft as it looked.Kissing? Since when did I look at a man’s mouth and think about kissing?

I was ready to fist his long strands of hair and kiss him until we were breathless. Hell, I didn’t even like long hair on a man, so what the fuck was it about Emory? The sadness I saw in his eyes called to me. I wanted to ease his pain and maybe find a way to lessen mine in the process. What would it be like to wake up one day and not feel the burn of heartache and sting of disappointment? It wasn’t something I ever entertained until I looked into his green eyes.

Hell, I was randy and ready to fuck before he even introduced himself. When our skin touched during the handshake, it felt like I’d stuck my dick in an electrical outlet. I knew that Emory felt it too because his eyes widened before he closed them for a few seconds. When he reopened them, I saw so much grief and pain that I wanted to do anything to make him feel better. I’d never reacted to anyone as I did him. I never wanted to pull someone into my arms just so I could tuck their head beneath my chin and hold them. I had this intense feeling that Emory needed me and that I needed him just as much, but he shut down right before my eyes. A cool distance replaced the sadness and awareness I saw moments earlier. I felt his silent rejection like a slap in the face.

My gut instinct told me not to back down, so I sat beside him to eat dinner. Josh served some of the best dishes that I’d ever had, but even that wasn’t enough to diminish my awareness of Emory. When the conversation turned to getting to know both Emory and me, we both seemed a little reluctant to divulge information. Hell, most of my locations and activities were top secret, and I couldn’t share with the group, but what was Emory’s deal? He seemed more mysterious than any spy I’d ever come into contact with during my years in covert ops.

I chastised myself the entire meal for even thinking about chasing a guy who clearly didn’t want my attention. He sat ramrod straight next to me throughout the dinner until he learned that my brother was one of the murders in Carter County. Then he turned his luminous eyes on me, covered my hand with his, and sincerely apologized. It was that moment that I was certain of two things: I hadn’t seen the last of Emory Jackson, and I would one day know if his lips were as soft as they looked.

Maybe that knowledge was what pushed me to my feet and out the door so quick. Perhaps it was the culprit for my restlessness and the feeling that something important like a vital organ was missing in my life. I resented the images of Emory that popped up in my head like fucking screenshots on a cell phone. Oh look, here’s Emory smiling across the table at something Chaz said. Oh, wouldn’t I like him to run his middle finger along my dick like he did the water goblet? How the fuck did I even know it was called a goblet? For fuck’s sake, I was losing my ever-loving mind pining over a man I didn’t even know.

Get to know him, Jon!I ignored that damn thought the first million times it crossed my mind, but finally gave in a few days after the dinner. I didn’t have a lot of expectations, but I sure as hell didn’t expect what I found.A psychic?He didn’t advertise his abilities or have his own business. He spent his time traveling around the country helping state and local law enforcement agencies solve crimes. He even appeared on a few psychic detective shows, but he didn’t seem to profit off his work. His story about writing a book was the shittiest cover story I’d ever heard. I didn’t know jack about writing a book, and it was obvious Emory didn’t either. How did he pay his rent or buy groceries? His clothes were casual, but they looked expensive to me.

I scrolled further down and clicked on an article that discussed when and how his abilities began. Then the reason for his sadness became crystal clear to me. Emory was still devastated by the loss of his husband, River. Was he living off his husband’s life insurance money? Wrongful death lawsuit? I wasn’t sure why it was important for me to know; it just was.

I kept scrolling through the pages until I finally found an article that included his surname, Emory Connor Whelan. The psychic articles shocked me, but the ones that came up when I googled his surname knocked me for a loop. Emory was the son of Donovan Whelan and Audrey McIntire-Whelan, which didn’t ring any bells, but I sure as hell recognized his grandfather’s name. Emory was the only grandson of Connor Morgan Whelan, CEO of Whelan Whiskey. Fuck, that was my absolute favorite and some seriously expensive stuff.

I saw an article where Whelan Whiskey welcomed Emory on board as Director of Research and Development. They included a picture with the article and Emory couldn’t have been more than twenty-one or twenty-two at the time. His smile was broad and confident, and there were no signs of the sadness and disillusionment I saw a few days prior. Of course, who wouldn’t look confident in a suit that easily cost nine thousand dollars? I couldn’t take my eyes off his smile though. That was Emory before life kicked him in the balls. That was the Emory I wanted to kiss awake after a long night of loving so I could do it all over again.

Wait! What?Oh, hell no. I didn’t do sleepovers and slowly kissing a lover awake.You will with Emory, my mind whispered. I wanted no part of the protective feelings that surged through me every time I thought of how much he hurt or the desire that hummed through my body when I pictured his face and remembered the way he made me feel alive for the first time in… ever. Emory Jackson was a broken man who would require a lot more than I had to offer him. Besides, most days I felt just as shattered as he did. What kind of help was half of a man to another who was also missing huge pieces of himself?Two halves make a whole.

“Shut the fuck up!” I said out loud. Fuck, what I feared had come true. I had gone soft.

Quick! I needed a diversion!I looked at my watch and saw that it was only ten o’clock. I could get dressed and head to the club to pick up some action. Maybe fucking someone else would wipe out Emory’s face every time I closed my eyes. Maybe I could sink my dick in a tight, welcoming hole and not picture fisting that glorious mane of hair while I rocked in and out of Emory. I rose to my feet and headed to my bedroom to give it a try when my ringing cell phone stopped me.

I walked over to the hallway table where I laid it and saw that Beau was calling me. I smiled because I was certain that talking to my best friend would pull me out of my funk.

“Howdy, Deputy,” I said into the phone. In a surprising move, Beau had retired from our unit first and moved to Big Timber, Montana, to pursue a career in law enforcement. He’d taken a lot of ribbing from us about his decision, but he held firm. He had said that it just felt right. I always suspected there was a bigger reason, but I decided to wait until he came clean on his own.

“That’s Sweet Grass County Sheriff to you, asshole,” Beau said into the phone. I heard the smile and pride in his voice.

“Sheriff? Hell, you’ve only been there a year. Who’d you have to fuck or kill to get the job?” I pondered out loud.

“I didn’t fuck or kill anyone, but the old sheriff went boots up a few months back, and they held a special election. Yours truly won in a landslide,” Beau replied.

“Again, who’d you fuck or kill?”

“You just jumped to the top of my shit list,” Beau replied sarcastically. “I haven’t had a moment to catch my breath since the election, and I’ve missed talking to you. How’re things going?”

“Nothing as exciting as winning an election.”

“Let me be the judge of that,” Beau told me.

“Okay, but I’ll probably bore you to death,” I warned. I told my friend about the suspected theft in the club and the latest development in my brother’s case. “I just can’t believe that Rick was involved.”

“Then he probably wasn’t. I’ve never known anyone as intuitive as you are when it comes to reading people.”You should meet Emory. I tried to stop the snort that left my mouth but couldn’t. “What’s that snort supposed to mean?” Beau asked. “You know damn well that you’re a human lie detector.” He got quiet suddenly then added, “I could use a guy like you on my team.”

“Not gonna happen, my friend.”

“It’s fucking beautiful here, Jon. The clear blue skies, lush grass, breathtaking mountain views, and the people are as friendly as can be.”

“If it’s so peachy then why would you need a human lie detector?” I inquired.

“There’s this cold case that I’m working in my free time. A ranch hand went missing ten years ago, and no one seems to know what happened to him.”

“Do you suspect foul play locally?” I asked.