No Sacrifice Read online

  “Well, let’s keep it from being a few million and two.”

  Chapter 21

  Hartsfield-Jackson airport in Atlanta was a mess. Chance had known to expect it to be busy, but between work on one concourse and a load of people, he ended up carrying Avery while Patrick juggled their bags, rather than risk him getting lost. Avery was disappointed to learn they didn’t need to ride the train, but Chance pacified him with the promise that they’d try to ride it when they came back to go home.

  He sort of wished he’d agreed to let Vannah pick them up rather than fight the lines at the car rental, but he knew better. The last thing he needed was to depend on his family to go somewhere if they wanted to get out and away from the house. He’d learned that the hard way the first time he came home for the holidays.

  Chance had no idea how Patrick managed to corral Avery while he waited in line, then spent an inordinate amount of time on paperwork. Finally they were loading up the bags and settling into the compact they’d rented. Before they made it off airport property, Avery was dozing in his car seat.

  “I hope he’s not going to end up cranky,” Patrick said, frowning.

  Chance glanced in the rearview mirror. “Well, if we need to, we can put him down for a nap when we get to Mama’s.” Chance focused on traffic and driving for a few minutes, not speaking again until he’d turned onto Central Avenue. “Hey, uh, Gareth is supposed to be here. And, um… just… don’t let him get to you, okay?” He saw Patrick look over.

  “I won’t. I’m used to asshole siblings, remember?”

  Chance chuckled. “True. But Gareth might just make your worst brother look like a saint.” He sighed. “I swear, I wish we weren’t related.”

  Patrick put a hand on Chance’s leg, and Chance lifted the hand and dropped a kiss on the back. “You know?” Patrick shook his head. “I don’t give a shit what he says about me. But he starts picking on you, I can’t make any promises.”

  Chance shrugged a shoulder. “He quit that back when I left. Hasn’t tried it since then, not seriously. But, well….” Chance paused to focus on driving for a moment. “I never told you about my dad. Well, father. I didn’t know him. Or, well, I don’t remember him, anyway.”

  “Oh? What happened?” Patrick lifted Chance’s hand and kissed it.

  “He… took off. Right after Vannah was born. Mama never talked about it, but I know it hurt her. I’d catch her crying once in a while.” He shook his head. “Anyway, Gareth knew him, remembers him, and I’m pretty sure it messed him up pretty bad when our father left.”

  Patrick didn’t speak at first, and Chance looked over when they’d stopped at a light. Patrick considered him. “I had a lot of friends whose dads left, but you know what? That didn’t give them a right to be an asshole, especially to their siblings.”

  Chance turned back to watch where he was going. “No, you’re right about that. He’s needed help ever since he was a kid, but he’d never admit it.”

  “Then there’s nothing anyone can do for him,” Patrick replied. “Unless he’s willing to be the one to admit there’s a problem.”

  Chance nodded. “True. Anyway, I’m sorry if he makes things… well, if he ruins the weekend.” Patrick didn’t reply, just kissed Chance’s hand again, then let go so Chance could make his turns.

  Chance looked around, noting very little had changed since his last trip a year ago. They passed the MARTA station and the Laundromat—Chance remembered the times he helped his mother haul their clothes when their washer broke—and the Taco Bell a little farther down. They passed all three banks—no, four; apparently another one had gone up in the last year—the city building, and the little salon his mom worked in. “There’re more churches in this tiny area, I swear, than most of Atlanta,” Chance said, chuckling. “I’ve often wondered if Mama didn’t pick this place ’cause she hoped they’d have a good influence on us kids, even if we didn’t actually go to church.” He glanced over at Patrick to see a smile on his boyfriend’s face. “What?”

  “Your accent’s back,” Patrick said, smile spreading into a grin.

  “Aw, hell,” he said, scowling, making the last turn onto Cleveland Street.

  “It’s kind of cute, actually.”

  Chance shot a glare at Patrick—making him laugh—then focused on the last intersection. Finally, he pulled up in front of the small cottage-style house that had been his home for as long as he could remember. His mother had apparently had it painted over the summer. The light blue on the siding looked brighter, as did the white on the picket fence. The mailbox was new—metal now instead of wood—and Chance would bet it had been a victim of mailbox baseball at some point. Chance saw new plants in the front yard and couldn’t help but grin. His mama had always talked about looking forward to landscaping instead of grass when they were grown, but now she had grandchildren, so a good half the yard was still nothing but lawn.

  He climbed out of the car, then came around to help with Avery, who was still asleep. “Vannah’s here already. That’s her car.” He pointed to a Honda minivan in the driveway. “She lives on the other side of Atlanta but’ll probably be staying here to avoid traffic. Her husband, Darcy’ll, be here starting tomorrow.” Chance hoisted Avery, who laid his head down and continued dozing as they went through the tiny gate.

  “Darcy?” Patrick asked.

  “His mama was a big fan of Pride and Prejudice, apparently. I don’t think she got her own Mr. Darcy, so she named her son after him.”

  “Oh. Okay,” Patrick said, chuckling.

  “Vannah always says she’s just glad he didn’t get named Fitzwilliam. Could you imagine that?”

  Patrick laughed and shook his head again as they approached the house. “You know, I could, and I’d feel nothing but sorry for the poor guy who got stuck with it.”

  There wasn’t a lot of room on the porch, and to Chance’s annoyance, the front door was locked, so he knocked and stepped back to wait.

  A moment later, the door opened, and he suddenly didn’t mind so much that they’d had to knock, because the look on his sister’s face was priceless: pure, unadulterated shock. “Uh… uh… um… I… who….” She stammered for another few seconds, and then she promptly keeled over and passed out.

  Chance started laughing.

  Patrick looked over at him, then back at his sister, then back at him. “What just happened?”

  “I forgot.” He snorted, trying to get control, but couldn’t stop the chuckles from escaping. “Vannah watches your show. She’s got a big crush on you.” He started laughing again, shaking his head.

  “Oh. Great. Uh….” Patrick peered over the threshold at her. “Is she gonna be okay?”

  “Yeah,” Chance managed around his chuckles.

  A shout came from the back of the house. “Savannah Cavannaugh, who’s at the door?”

  “That would be Mama’s dulcet tones,” Chance said, stepping up onto the porch.

  “Who’s that?” Avery asked, pointing at Vannah.

  “My sister,” Chance said, still grinning.

  “Oh,” Avery said, peering down. “Why is she asleep?”

  “Because your da’s too handsome for her.”

  Patrick rolled his eyes, and Chance started laughing again—until his mama approached. She stepped carefully over Vannah, sighing and shaking her head but otherwise ignoring his sister, then turned to him.

  Violet Dillon refused to age. She simply refused. She’d never cared what the numbers said, never cared what the calendar told her. She simply would not cooperate. As such, her pale blonde hair stayed that way, even if it required regular appointments at her salon. She viciously fought every wrinkle and spot that appeared on her face. She’d left a few laugh lines around blue eyes that matched Chance’s, and despite herself, her hands showed a bit more than she would have liked. But she was still the trim, tough woman Chance had grown up with. And loved dearly.

  “Chance! Oh I’m so glad you’re here!” She leaned out to give Chance a
one-armed hug and kiss on the cheek, then turned to Patrick and looked him up and down appraisingly. “Well, I can see why they like you. Nice to meet you, Patrick. I’m Violet, but just call me ‘Mama.’ Everyone else does.” She held a hand out and Patrick kissed the back of it, and Chance grinned when his mama gave an approving nod.

  “Nice to meet you, ma’am… uh… Mama.” Patrick looked a little shocked, but Chance would just have to explain his mama better later.

  Violet beamed at him, then turned to Chance. “And this must be Avery.”

  “Who are you?” Avery asked.

  Patrick blushed, and Chance squirmed a little at Avery’s directness, but his mother just chuckled. “He’s a doll-baby,” she said to Chance. “I’m Chance’s mama. You can call me Gramma.”

  “Gramma?” Avery asked, and Mama nodded. “Okay.” He wiggled to be let down, and Chance set him on the porch.

  “Come on, Avery. I’ve got some cookies that just came out of the oven.”

  Avery’s eyes got wide, and he looked up at Chance, who nodded. He took his new gramma’s hand and stepped over Vannah’s still-unconscious body, and then they disappeared down the hall.

  “Uh, should we wake her up?” Patrick asked, staring down at Vannah.

  Chance’s lips twitched. “I suppose. Oh, I’m going to have blackmail material on her for years after this.” Patrick laughed as he stepped over her and started to squat down, but Chance put a hand on his shoulder. “Um, I should probably do it or she’ll just pass out again.”

  Patrick chuckled and stepped aside. “Yeah, probably a good idea.”

  Chance squatted down and shook Vannah’s shoulder. “Hey, wake up, goofball.”

  She opened her eyes, blinked, then shook her head. “Chance?”

  “Yeah. What’d you wanna go and pass out for? Hell of a first impression to make on my boyfriend.”

  Vannah’s eyes widened, and she stared at Chance for a long moment. “Bullshit.”

  Chance grinned and stood up, holding a hand out, which Vannah took, then stood. “Nope. Not bullshit. Now, don’t pass out again. Savannah Cavannaugh, this is my boyfriend, Patrick Tearney. Patrick, my goofball sister, Vannah.”

  Vannah blinked at him for a long moment, then shook her head. “You… I mean…. Um…. Nice to meet you,” she said, holding out her hand. She shot a look at Chance that promised retribution.

  Patrick took the hand and glanced at Chance with a twinkle in his eye. Chance grinned and watched as Patrick kissed the back of her hand.

  Vannah looked like she was about to pass out again. “Oh my God,” she said, fanning herself with her other hand. She looked down at the one Patrick had kissed and muttered, “Oh… my… God.”

  Chance reached out and shook her. “Vannah?”

  She shook her head hard, then glared at Chance. “You coulda warned me, you rat bastard!” She punched Chance hard in the shoulder—which meant he barely felt it—then turned and gave the sweetest smile to Patrick, though she didn’t seem to be able to look directly at him. “Again, it’s very nice to meet you, Patrick.” With another glare at Chance, she flounced off.

  Chance laughed. “My sister’s a treat.”

  Patrick chuckled. “Yeah. She reminds me a bit of Noa. Well, before she turned into a…. Anyway. You, uh, didn’t tell me she’s an exact replica of you, only in female form,” Patrick said, staring at the place Vannah had disappeared. “Uh, a little smaller, but basically you.”

  Chance didn’t know why that hit him wrong, but it did and hard. He swallowed, then glanced over at Patrick, frowning.

  Patrick looked at him, eyes widening, then leaned in and cupped a cheek. “Oh hey. Hey.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I want you to know that I prefer the male version. You’re the one I’m in love with, a ghrá.”

  Chance let out the breath he was holding and kissed Patrick softly. “Thanks.” He shook his head. “Sorry, I….” He shook it again. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay. I’m sorry. That was a dumb thing for me to say.”

  “Naw—” Chance started, but Patrick shook his head.

  “No. Look, I forget sometimes that you aren’t bi. So I also forget sometimes that, unlike when we’ve admired men together, it would bother you when I look at women, never mind that she’s your sister. I’d punch anyone that looked at my sisters—and have more than a few times. But, no, I get it. And I shouldn’t have done it. I’m sorry, a ghrá. I love you.”

  Chance closed his eyes and rested his forehead on Patrick’s. “Thanks. I love you too.” Patrick kissed him, and after Chance returned it, they headed toward the kitchen.

  Avery was happily covered in chocolate, with a chocolate chip cookie in each hand, Vannah sitting next to him, and her two kids on the other side, both busily chewing on cookies themselves. Avery grinned at Patrick and Chance when they came into the room. “Gramma gave me two! And milk! Is that okay?”

  Patrick and Chance both laughed. “That’s fine, Stinker.” Patrick turned to Violet. “Thank you.”

  “Well, he’s my grandchild just like the others, and I love spoiling ’em.” She dropped a kiss on the top of Avery’s head, then went back to the oven. “That’s Rory, by the way, and the other’s Zach.”

  “I can introduce my own kids, Mama,” Vannah grumbled, though Chance noted she still wasn’t looking right at Patrick.

  Patrick waved, and they waved back, cookies in their hands.

  “Well, you weren’t.” Violet shrugged. “You two oughta get your bags and stuff, put ’em up in your old room, Chance. I’ve got pies to finish.”

  Patrick hesitated. “Is Avery—”

  “He’s just fine here. Go on,” Violet said, waving her hand. “Shoo.”

  Chance had mixed feelings about his old room. He set the bags down off to one side and looked around. It’d been his sanctuary all through middle and high school, when Gareth had done so much picking on him. At the same time, there’d been plenty of times he’d felt more than a little trapped by it. Because it was the only place he’d felt safe. Gareth hadn’t been willing to come into his room, which Chance had been grateful for. He’d landed the small attic room, though he hadn’t minded it. Gareth had whined about climbing the stairs, and Vannah hadn’t wanted to be too far from the bathroom. So the room had gone to him.

  He couldn’t stand anywhere except the middle of the room anymore, but he didn’t much mind. The quilt-covered double bed took up the vast majority of the small space. Two tiny round windows on either end admitted the weak November sunlight, and a larger skylight Mama’d had installed for him provided the rest of the light, along with the small ceiling fan. On either side of the double bed, two small side tables held his ancient alarm clock, a framed picture of Doug, and an old, beaten-up paperback copy of The Fellowship of the Ring. The only other piece of furniture the room boasted was the long, low dresser next to the door.

  The Christmas lights he’d put in along the ceiling still draped over the rafters, and the posters he’d hung ages ago filled the walls. Linkin Park stared at him right next to Rihanna, his attempt at looking straight. He guessed Sully Erna and the rest of Godsmack, along with the poster of Staind, didn’t help that. Then, right over where his piano used to sit hung the poster of Layne Staley and Alice in Chains as a reminder of what not to get into if he managed to succeed in music. Chance remembered very well hearing about Staley’s death and the lethal cocktail that took his life, and swore back then to never do it.

  There wasn’t a whole lot else in the room anymore. Most of his other possessions had made the trip with him to California. It almost looked sad now, in fact, as empty as it was. He shook the thought off. He most certainly did not miss some of the misery that made up his high school years. And as Patrick crossed the threshold and set down Chance’s acoustic guitar, Chance reminded himself it was in the past, and the present was a hell of a lot better.

  “Hmm, let me guess,” Patrick began as he looked around. “Rihanna was your attempt to convince people you w
ere straight?”

  Chance laughed and nodded. “Yeah. Uh, didn’t work, at least with Mama.” He shrugged. “I didn’t mind her. And, well, I like a lot of her music, so….”

  Patrick nodded and stepped up to him. “I don’t think anyone likes remembering most of high school. A lot of us would prefer to put it behind us.”

  “You too?” Chance asked, raising his eyebrows.

  With a second nod, Patrick sighed. “I told you a little bit, but… I kind of barely escaped a gang. I still have friends back there, and some of what they get into, well….” He shrugged. “I’m kind of grateful for the drama teacher in high school that introduced me to Shakespeare. I’m not sure I’d have survived high school without it.”

  “Survived?”

  “Gang, dude. I’m not exaggerating. We weren’t exactly the Crips or Bloods, but there was some pretty serious shit involved. We lived too close to Honolulu, and I spent too much time there.” He shook his head. “So, yeah. For a while I wasn’t sure I’d live past eighteen. Mama tried for a different school for a while, but it didn’t help. I still found my friends, still hung out after school. But then Mrs. Wenson convinced me to try out for the play my sophomore year. And instead of the streets… I had play practice. Probably saved my life.”

  “Wow, I didn’t know that.” Chance shook his head, awed.

  “It’s not something I’m particularly proud of, you know?” Patrick jerked one shoulder in a half shrug. “But that’s what I mean. We like to forget the past, you know? Remember it enough to learn shit, but then….”

  Chance nodded, glancing around his room again. “Yeah. Come on, Mama’s making barbecue for dinner, and I can smell it. I’m hungry.”

  Patrick nodded, leaned up and kissed him, and then they headed downstairs.

  When they got there, Chance saw Avery, Zach, and Rory through the window, outside playing tag while Vannah watched, laughing and clapping.

  Mama was busy stirring a Crock-Pot full of barbecue while a few other pots simmered on the stove. “Y’all can set the table. Just don’t forget to wash your hands first,” she said without looking up.