Fish in a Barrel by Amy Lane

Author:Amy Lane [Lane, Amy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-64108-410-9
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Published: 2022-04-12T00:00:00+00:00

OR MAYBE it was just that he was done with words. When he got back to the house, Henry was asleep in the bed next to Jackson, Mike was asleep in the chair, his head tilted back, and Jackson was curled up on his side, the cats parked—Billy Bob behind his shoulder blades, Lucifer behind his neck—and a Marvel movie was drawing to a close on the TV.

Ellery let out a sigh and said, “You guys want the guest room and Henry can take the couch?”

“We can’t,” Mike said, sitting up and scaring Ellery badly. “We have to let the dog in. Don’t worry. I’m awake.”

“Does that all the time,” Jade admitted. “Scares the shit out of me, but he seems to really be okay.”

And with that, they gathered their things to leave. Ellery leaned over Henry and touched him softly on the arm. He grunted, squinted up at Ellery’s face, and then groaned.

“You can take the guest room,” Ellery said, since Jade and Mike were leaving. “When’s Lance off?”

“Ten a.m.,” Henry murmured. “I’ll do that and text him. He can pick me up in the morning on the way home.”

“Fair enough. I’ve got some sweats if you want them.”

Henry rolled off the bed and stretched, yawning. “You’re a good man, Charlie Brown.”

Ellery blinked at him and realized that, besides Jackson, nobody else had used that line on him all night. He chuckled, grateful that Henry had wandered into their orbit, then got him some sweats to sleep in and sent him to bed in the other room.

Jade and Mike let themselves out, setting the alarm and killing the lights, and Ellery changed into pajamas, brushed his teeth, and climbed into bed. After he displaced Billy Bob so he could at least tangle his legs with Jackson’s, Jackson let out a sweet little sigh.

“’Lo, Counselor,” he rasped, laryngitis not much better. “How were the cobras?”

Ellery leaned close enough to kiss his shoulder and then pulled away, not wanting to brush his back, even a tiny bit.

“Deadly,” he said, meaning it. “But they can wait until the morning.”

“Good. Love you. Glad you’re home.”

“Love you too. And God, I’m glad I’m home with you.”

Something about the physical contact, Jackson’s sleep-slurred words, the normalcy of the two of them in the same bed, allowed Ellery’s buzzing brain to quiet down, and he fell fast asleep.

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