Angel Box Set

Chapter 1-2

“What the bloody hell did you do this time? I swear you mess up on purpose.” Jay moved the mouse, scanning.

Dean winced. Eerie Jay said so even in jest. Dean was guilty of many things, one being messing with his laptop and so with Jay when Dean needed his skills to sort out the resulting chaos. An accident, on occasion, became intent, though Dean always removed his writing first, sending a folder from Documents to a pen-drive a small but major area of his expertise. Jay couldn’t know Dean played silly-buggers sometimes. His words, so close to the truth, still made Dean squirm though this time he pleaded innocence. Dean never dared to screw with the office computer. He wouldn’t lose customer files as an excuse to call on Jay.

Jay shook his head, expression focused. “Grab me a coffee then leave me in peace.”

Dean fetched the beverage—careful to prepare the drink how Jay liked—before doing as asked. He lasted forty minutes, by which time he’d walked around the garage at least three times and ticked off his staff twice.

Jay dropped a chewed plastic pen lid on the desk, kicking back, sending the chair he sat in sliding a few inches. Entwining his fingers, and placing them on his head, he said, “I can’t find them.”

Crap. Dean’s stomach plummeted. He needed to tell his father. There would be stacks of paperwork to wade through. Not good.

Jay swivelled in his seat. “You’re lucky your dad’s so meticulous about backing up every day. I’m restoring the entire database. Then I can add this morning’s figures.”

Dean as good as sagged. The backup! Forgotten because of his panic and because he seldom bothered. “And Dad won’t realise?”

Jay’s expression reduced Dean’s size to five inches. He shrugged, hoping Jay read enough in the gesture to deduce parents and children were an enigma to each other. Children remained children no matter their age and parents were always parents. Jay’s hard, decisive, “Yes,” sounded eloquent. “I mean no, he won’t.”

“I didn’t do anything, you know. I didn’t touch anything. Or, if I did, I didn’t mean to.”

“You never mean to.” The simple comment sounded like a terrible insult. Something personal.

Maybe something Jay should have set aside three years ago.

A memory wormed its devastating and destructive way to the front of Dean’s skull. A deed for which Dean apologised far too often. Would Jay ever let him forget?

Dean stood in the office desperate to explain, again, dispirited by the need. Dean hadn’t meant to kiss Jay, couldn’t have known the man had grown his hair. From the back, the length made him appear so like his sister. The two siblings might be a couple or so years apart in age, but in many respects they resembled twins. A meagre inch or two separated them; Jay, scarcely taller than April’s five feet seven without shoes. Though an easy mistake, as expected, Jay ratted him out to April, and April told her girlfriends. In time, everyone in his age group learned of his faux pas. Dean should feel humiliated, not Jay. To complicate matters, during Dean’s absence, Jay surfaced from the proverbial closet. Jay was gay, and Dean had kissed him.

Rubbing at a sudden ache in his chest, Dean said, “I’ll leave you to it,” his voice tight. Jay didn’t even glance over.