Page 7 of Protecting his Heart

“It’s because you’re getting old,” Owen quipped.

Evan backhanded his shoulder, making Owen laugh again. “If I’m old, so are you.”

Owen frowned. “Shit.” He hadn’t thought about that. “Fuck that. I’m in my prime. We’re obviously different ages, despite having been in the same year throughout school.”

“I’m sure that’s entirely possible. Not.”

“Hey! Remember, Julie? She had been moved forward a year because they were smart. That could’ve happened.” Owen glanced over at him, a smile trying to break out across his face.

“They also keep people back when they’re not doing so well. Ever thought of that?” Evan grinned.

“Fucker,” he muttered.

Their easy camaraderie continued until Owen parked outside his mum’s house. The bungalow was smaller than the house they’d lived in when they were kids, but it was easier for his mum to manage. Fifty-eight wasn’t old by any means, but she was a nurse, just like Evan, and didn’t have as much time to look after the house, so buying something smaller was a good thing in her case.

Sally was already at the door when they climbed from the car, and Evan jogged around the hood and into her arms before Owen had even closed his door. He heard murmurings, but he didn’t move close enough to hear until they pulled back from their embrace. His mum glanced at him with a wide smile and held open her arms.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she said. “I wondered if I would ever get the chance to see you.”

Owen smirked. “I know. It’s been soooo long since we’ve seen each other. Three days was soooo long ago.” He stretched out the words, taking him back to when he used to complain that dinner was an hour away, which, as a child, seemed like forever.

Sally batted his chest with the back of her hand and chuckled. “It was. When you get older, time goes by so fast, three days seems like three months. Come on in. Dinner’s almost ready.”

Evan waved for Owen to enter the house first, and his heart raced at the gesture. Evan had always done things like that, but even more so since he’d returned from Italy. Was it something that he’d learnt over there, or was something else causing him to look after Owen in that way? It might seem like nothing, but to Owen, it was a sign of how much he cared, and he wasn’t sure what to do with that. Could he truly still care about Owen after what he’d done?

He brushed the thought aside as he followed his mother, the scent of curry in the air. “Masala?” he asked.

“Try again,” Sally said.

“Vindaloo?”

Evan stepped past him. “Kofta.”

Sally pointed at Evan. “Correct.”

“It’s been far too long since I’ve had that,” Evan said, patting his stomach. “You’re spoiling me.”

It was times like this that Owen wished they were together because he wanted to wrap his arms around Evan’s shoulders, lean down and kiss him. He blinked, shook his head and faced his mother, who looked at him with knowledge in her eyes.Uh-oh.She couldn’t know. No one else did.

“I’ll get the cutlery.” He strode for the drawer where it was kept, avoiding anyone’s stares, and listened with half an ear while he set the table. He almost bumped into Evan when the man went to fill some glasses with water. “Ah, sorry.”

He finished putting everything in place and asked, “Do you need me to do anything else?”

Sally stirred the pan once more, banged the spoon on the edge and set it down. “No, it’s all ready. Sit down. I’ll bring them over.” She turned off the cooker and pulled three plates towards her. Watching her movements helped Owen get his equilibrium back, and though he could feel Evan’s stare, he refused to look at him. Something was hovering by, as if ready to fall, and although he didn’t know what it was, he was sure he wouldn’t be able to stop it if he acknowledged it.

Sally put the plates in front of them, and they both groaned, Owen because the scent was strong and reminded him so much of home. He smiled and picked up his fork but waited until his mother had taken a seat before starting.

“Thank you for dinner,” he said, meeting her gaze and seeing the love shining in her blue eyes. The same eyes he saw in the mirror every day.

“Yes, thank you,” Evan said.

“You’re both welcome. Anytime at all. In fact, make it more often,” she chided.

Owen chuckled. “With your shifts, Evan’s shifts and my own working hours, we’re lucky to get tonight.”

Sally nodded and spooned some curry and rice into her mouth, though her eyes still spoke—far more loudly than her voice. She knew something was up, and as any mother would, she would mine for information until she figured it out—if she hadn’t already.

“Evan, how are you settling back in to English life?” Sally asked.

---