Love Lies Bleeding Remmy Duchene (fantasy novels to read .txt) 📖

was precisely what he needed—to feel close to someone.

Moaning, he eventually, reluctantly, lifted his head.

Chapter Fifteen

Anderson finally talked Leo into getting some sleep. For a while after Leo was snoring softly beside him, Anderson simply sat there, holding him against his chest and trying to remember the last time he felt so at ease with a man. His last relationship ended abruptly when Anderson realized love wasn't in Ken's cards. Turning, he kissed Leo's head, praying if anything happened between them it would be real.

Finally he laid Leo gently on the bed and made his way down the stairs. He had dinner with Mildred and the coach then sat in the living room with Coach Jessops. Mildred had long since cleaned up, with his help, after dinner and went up to the bedroom to read. He wished he'd brought some work to mark because it was so quiet. Standing by the window, he stared out wondering how this was all going to end. No matter how long he thought about it, he just didn't see a happy ending in sight.

"He's a good man, you know."

Turning around, Anderson shoved his fingers into his back pockets. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Kim—Leo. He may act tough and no-nonsense but he's a good man."

Anderson said nothing about the way Leo'd laid his head into his lap earlier. He'd seen a part of Leo in that one action that spoke so much more about him. Perhaps Anderson was reading too much into it but he saw a man who wasn't afraid to let a lover hold his very soul.

Damn, I sound like a fucking Hallmark card.

He sucked in some air and made his way across the room to sit with the coach. "How long have you known him?"

"Since he was about fourteen. He was somewhat of a terror then until your father got his hands on him."

"How did that happen? Leo hasn't said much about how they met. All I know is he loved my dad."

"Well, your father had a friend who worked in the school system as a teacher. He's dead now—heart attack. His name was Christopher…"

"Christopher Mason. I remember him and when he died. My father was very sad."

"Yeah. They met in university. Anyway—one day, Christopher had your father come in to talk to his class about the legal system. Halfway through the talk, the fire alarm went off and people started darting from the classrooms. Not your father, he searched until he found the kid with the red paint on his hand."

"Leo? And what red paint?"

Coach laughed softly, fondly. "They kept pulling the alarm too many times for no reason. So what the fire department did was have this thing put on them. If someone pulled the alarm, a dye pack burst and stained the person's hand. Leo wasn't a bad kid. His mother was sick; his father was—I don't even know where his father was or what happened to the man. He just needed some structure. Once your father got a hold of him—complete three sixty."

"My father had that effect on people. That's one of the reasons I didn't go into law enforcement. I considered it but I just couldn't be him."

"I'm sure Jazmon didn't want you to be another him."

"It's just that he had a way with people. He always told me he saw people at the worst times in their lives; they just crossed a line and didn't wander too far. Sometimes he was able to push them back across that line and help them stay there. Other times, he had no choice but to put them away. Those were the times he hurt the most."

Coach Jessops nodded silently for a moment before his shoulders rose and fell heavily. "I still cannot believe he's gone. There's a hole now."

"In more ways than one."

"What do you think is going to happen?"

Anderson shrugged. "I don't know. I've been living in limbo since my father died. Leo is doing the best he can—I know he is. But he's tired. He's worn out. I don't think he's slept in days."

"How'd you get him to sleep just now?"

Anderson blushed deeply and cleared his throat. Walking away from where he was sitting, he folded his arms and looked out the window.

"I'm an old man, Anderson. I know how this works." Coach Jessops laughed softly. "I have been married for forty years."

"It's not that."

"Then what?"

Anderson turned to look at the old man he was speaking with as though they'd known each other for years. "It's just strange to talk to a straight person about…"

Coach Jessops nodded. "I know."

"How did you and Mildred stay together for so long?"

"Hard work."

Anderson chuckled. "I was afraid you were going to say that."

Coach Jessops walked over to where Anderson stood and rested a hand on his shoulder. The man leveled his brown eyes on Anderson and for the first time since his father died, Anderson felt the love and patience of a father. "Just remember. Everything that's worth having takes time. It takes patience. Hell, I courted Mildred for five years before she said a full sentence to me."

"Five years? What were you, a biker?"

"You would think so, huh?" Coach shook his head. "Nope. I was a nerd. I was into all the classic books and research. She wanted a biker."

Anderson laughed. "Yeah, girls and the bad boys."

"But I wasn't one—you see. After five years, I guess she knew love when she saw it."

"Do you think Leo would know love if he saw it?"

Coach nodded.

"I guess I don't love him enough. He can't see it. Sometimes he looks at me and I think he's looking at the most beautiful creature in the world. Then other times he looks at me and I'm not sure what he's seeing."

"Don't be silly. I see the way you look at him. I want my son to find someone to look at him the way you look at Leo. Maybe he's too caught up in catching the killer and can't see what's right in front of him.