A Worthy Man Read online

  Samuel Issacs, his rehabilitation officer, had worked with him every week since the notification of his parole, with therapy sessions and playing what-if scenarios in hopes of easing him back into everyday life and prying him from the protective shell he had built over the last decade. He’d taken Shaw under his wing and helped coordinate his release and a new outfit waiting for him on release day. Sam was a man on some holy mission in life to mentor inmates—his boys—and help them rejoin the world. A world Vann thought he’d never see again outside of the barbed wire fence and iron bars.

  He stepped through the open fence and out into the parking lot. He squinted and flattened his hand above his brow, shielding his eyes from the sun. His lips parted on a breath when he spotted the silver car parked to the right. That car. It looked strikingly similar to a drawing he’d sketched ages ago while sitting under a tree. His hand fell to his side, mesmerized by the sleek curve of the silver beast staring him down, drawing him closer. He absently walked toward the car as if the sports car pulled each booted step forward with an imaginary rope. The driver’s side door opened, breaking the trance. He stopped, equally mesmerized by the tall, lean-muscled man emerging from the car.

  Dray.

  So different yet still the same.

  Somehow, some way, he could always spot that man in a crowded room as if his mere presence was a beacon to his senses. Now, it seemed as if a spotlight beamed down on him with a flashing neon sign calling his attention. Screaming for it. He looked just as striking now as he always had, more so if that were even possible.

  Vann resumed his trek, unable to tear his eyes away from the broad shoulders underneath the pale blue Henley shirt. Drayton’s dark hair was short in the back, just as he’d had it when he was younger, but the top was longer and would probably fall over his eyes if it weren’t so meticulously brushed. Only a few steps away, Vann cursed the dark sunglasses that shielded the pale gray eyes he knew were staring at him.

  Drayton casually slid his hands in the pockets of his jeans and smiled.

  “Hi,” Vann said then silently cursed himself. Ten years without seeing Drayton or talking to him and the best he could do was a “hi”? He tugged on his T-shirt again, feeling the heat of the Florida sun burning through the fabric. He squinted, staring at Drayton, admiring how nicely he filled out his lean-muscled six-foot-one frame. He was almost two inches taller than Vann, but he exuded a different kind of strength that made him appear stronger and taller with his head held high. Definitely not arrogance, but a quiet, casual confidence that seeped from every pore and commanded attention. He was certainly not the same withdrawn, geeky guy with the hidden snark he was back then. “What are you doing here?” He lowered his brow. He really needed to start coming up with better shit to say.

  Drayton stood straight with both hands tucked in his pockets as if waiting for Vann to say something more. “Nice to see you too.” There’s the snark I missed.

  Vann ducked his head. He deserved that snap. “I’m sorry.”

  Sorry I didn’t let you visit.

  Sorry I didn’t write.

  Sorry I was the guy you fell in love with.

  Sorry I lived up to every stupid thing those people said about me growing up.

  He exhaled a deep breath. He deserved every bit of snark Drayton threw at him. He should be thankful Drayton wanted to speak a single word in his proximity in a semi-nice tone after denying him visits or refusing to mail replies to his letters.

  “I’m taking you to the halfway house. It’s a few hours’ drive and we’ve got a deadline so we need to start heading out.”

  Vann tugged at his shirt again. Even though he’d take Drayton’s company over his sperm-donor dad any day, he knew better than to break the rules so quickly and risk going back to that hell.

  “Here, you need these. I’ve got another pair I can use.”

  Vann looked up just as Drayton removed his sunglasses, revealing the pale gray eyes and long dark lashes behind them. He took the glasses and peeked through them. “Prescription?”

  “No. I had LASIK done a few years ago. I don’t need the glasses anymore.”

  Vann slipped on the shades, thankful to hide his prying eyes from watching the jean-clad ass stretch into the car and shift until Drayton returned wearing another pair of sunglasses.

  “I don’t understand. I was told a Mr. Shaw was responsible for my transfer. I figured they screwed up the name in the paperwork and my pops would be here. I wasn’t expecting you.” Vann’s knees weakened when a slow smile spread across Drayton’s face. That smile, even more stunning than he remembered, still had the power to knock him out.

  “I’m Mr. Shaw.”

  Vann tugged on his shirt collar again then scratched his head. Maybe the heat was messing with his other senses.

  Drayton shoved his hands in his pockets again. That’s new. Drayton was never the shy type.

  “I changed my name. After everything that happened with my parents, I…” He cleared his throat and quieted, looking off to the side as if gathering his thoughts. “After you went in, I wanted to have a part of you always with me. I took your name. I know it was your mom’s name so I hope you don’t mind.”

  He couldn’t swallow. Apparently the heat had tightened his neck and shrunk his throat. And the sunglasses didn’t seem to help shield his now burning eyes. Drayton had a habit of saying things that twisted Vann’s stomach in knots. Same thing would happen every time he told Vann he loved him when they were young, sitting under their tree by the lake, sneaking kisses or huddled together in the dark of night. He blew out a heavy breath, trying not to make much out of Drayton’s words.

  He knew the power of words. How a few spoken sounds could erupt a storm of emotional chaos and soul-splitting pain. He had learned their painful and destructive power from his father. But he had experienced their healing and strengthening power from Drayton. Vann had often joked with him, telling him his words were special. Not because of the lyrical way he sometimes spoke, but because they had special powers. They awakened an untapped reservoir of resolve in Vann’s soul to push forward.

  After their seven years together and the weekly letters from Dray reliving memory after memory, he still wasn’t sure where things stood between them. Supporting a friend through a tough time? Sure. Vann could see Drayton committing to help his best friend. But there was no way Vann expected the feelings to still be there in Drayton’s heart after all this time. And he certainly didn’t dare hope for more.

  “So no more Double D?”

  “Thank fuck.”

  He missed their banter. A smile tugged at Vann’s lips as he absently looked at the car, following each elegant slope and curve of the silver metal.

  “Do you like it?”

  He glanced up at Drayton. “It looks…familiar.”

  Drayton smiled. “It’s your drawing. It’s the first model I released from the car company.”

  “Car company?” Vann stepped closer to the car, slowly circling it, assessing it at every angle.

  “I engineered an electric motor and some new battery tech. No one thought it would work, so I started a new line of exotic cars for it. Had a wait list of international clients ready before I even showed the prototype off.”

  “You never mentioned it in your letters…” Vann’s words trailed off as he walked to the back of the car, trying to digest Drayton’s words while deciphering his body language. Drayton always wrote of their time together and rarely wrote of new things in his life. If the current Drayton was anything like the younger version, the casual way he had spoken was his way of making something huge sound far less important than it was to lessen the stark contrast between them.

  He finally reached the rear of the car and gasped when the air escaped his lungs. There, below the spoiler, showcased in the center of the rear panel with raised letters in an elegant script font, read the single word brand of the car.

  “You named it VannGuard.” He closed his eyes when Drayton approached and sto
od at his side, far closer than any man had ever dared to stand. The familiar heat warmed his senses and tightened his chest with a sudden awakening of emotion he’d kept locked away for so many years.

  “You inspired the whole idea, so it made sense to name the car line after you. The body is designed from a lightweight, hybrid composite and can survive one hell of an impact. Under the strong and breathtaking design, it’s powerful yet quiet. I couldn’t imagine a more fitting name.”

  Vann’s heartbeat raced. Fucking Dray and his special words.

  Drayton’s arm brushed against him as he stepped away and walked toward the driver’s side door. “We should go so we don’t cut it close. Traffic can be a bitch once we hit Dade County.”

  Vann reached out and ghosted his fingers over the raised letters before walking over to the passenger door. He slid into the soft leather seat and snapped the seat belt in place. He looked at the glove box and saw the same elegant script of the car brand’s name embossed in the leather.

  For the first time in his life, his name was associated with something beautiful, elegant, and obviously expensive.

  For the first time in his life, he didn’t hate his name.

  Drayton needed a break. The two hours of silence in the car with Vann were deafening. “I’m pulling into this service plaza so we can stretch our legs and grab something to eat.”

  He circled the busy lot, finally finding a parking spot. They exited the car and walked side by side to the doorway.

  The moment they crossed the threshold, the constant buzz of chatter from the busy rest stop and the bouquet of scents from the various eatery spots assaulted his senses. He imagined Vann was experiencing the same sensory overload, but magnified. Vann stopped for a moment, his jaw firmly set and his eyes scanning the area. A woman quickly passed him on the right to chase her running child, triggering him to jerk his body to the left to avoid the contact. He crossed his arms and tugged on his T-shirt collar, his chest heaving with each rapid breath.

  “You okay?” Drayton asked.

  Vann quickly nodded. Too quickly. He tightened his arms across his broad, thick chest as his gaze ping-ponged from side to side.

  “What do you feel like eating?”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  Drayton pointed to the quiet restaurant in the corner, farthest away from the fast food stations. “Let’s go over there.” He steered them toward a booth, and they each took a seat opposite the other. The server appeared and handed them two menus, leaving when Drayton requested a few minutes to review the options. “What looks good to you?”

  Vann shrugged.

  Drayton sighed. He hated this, hated seeing the weight of the world lying on Vann’s shoulders. This wasn’t the same man who had beaten bullies for him. This man was different. He seemed broken, as if life had beaten him and kicked him in the gut one too many times and left a shell of a man to go through the motions. He sat across from Drayton, with his head lowered and his hands under the table, probably in his lap. His head was ducked as if reading the menu, but Drayton was sure he wasn’t scanning the printed text. “See anything you like?”

  Vann shrugged again.

  Drayton kneaded the building tension from his temples as the frustration seeped in. The Vann before him was very different from the cocky young man who always had something to say. The server arrived again, and he caved at Vann’s silence, placing an order for two cheeseburgers. They quietly ate, Drayton offering ketchup, napkins, anything he could think of to trigger some vocalized response as Vann picked at his food.

  Nothing seemed to work. They returned to the car and back onto the highway.

  After another hour of silence, his mind drifted to a memory.

  “What’s the deal with your parents?” an almost fourteen-year-old Vann asked. “Why do you sit outside the club instead of going inside with them?”

  “Easier…I guess.” A barely seventeen-year-old Drayton balanced the book in his lap as he shifted a little to the side to make space for his friend to sit.

  “Why easier?” Vann asked, plopping himself on the ground next to him.

  “Someone might see you sitting with me.”

  “So?” Vann said.

  “They might pick on you. I’m not worth the headache.”

  “I’ll sit where I want to sit. If someone doesn’t like it, they can take a hike. So why is it easier to sit out here in the sun instead of being inside?”

  Drayton fidgeted with the edges of the textbook, squinting at the bright sun as he thought of how best to formulate his thoughts. “All the kids from school get dropped off here. So it’d be weird if I didn’t come here.”

  “And where are all those other fancy rich kids?”

  “I don’t know. Probably inside.”

  “Why don’t you go inside? Either with them or with your parents?” Vann asked, shielding his eyes from the sun.

  Drayton shrugged. “No point. They always ignore me.”

  “Why?”

  Drayton shrugged again. “Because they can.”

  “But why?”

  “I don’t know, Vann. For the same reason other people either pick on me or ignore me. They don’t like me. I don’t care.”

  Truth was, it stung like hell to not fit in. Regardless of how hard he tried, he never seemed to read people well enough to understand when his words would be misinterpreted. He aced any higher math and science test he had encountered, but—more often than not—failed at things relating to the human condition.

  “You do care. And that’s going to hold you back. Ignore all that crap.” Vann paused for a moment. Every now and then, the undercover introspective side of Vann peeked through the bad-boy facade others usually saw. “You’re going to change the world and those fuckers know it. I don’t know how you’re going to do it, but I feel it and I’m pretty sure they all do too. You’re too damn smart for them to figure out, and they can’t sucker you into doing what they want you to do. You don’t need any of them and that terrifies them because they all need something or someone. For them, it’s easier to ignore you than deal with that truth.”

  Drayton closed the textbook and set it aside. He brought his knees up and wrapped his arms around his legs, resting his chin on his knees. He’d give anything to be able to figure out people. “I don’t like being ignored.”

  “No one likes that shit.”

  Drayton looked over to his friend. “You don’t ignore me.”

  Vann gave him a half smile. “I could never ignore you. You’re my best friend.”

  Drayton blew out a frustrated breath as his grip tightened on the steering wheel. He recalled the memory easily and how much it stung to be ignored, but it didn’t compare to the ache caused by Vann’s present silence. “Are you going to ignore me the whole drive down?” he finally asked.

  That seemed to grab Vann’s attention. “I’m not ignoring you.”

  “Your mind’s going a million miles a second. It’s obvious you’ve got questions and we’ve got time. So ask.”

  Vann rubbed his palms against his jeans. “Why did you pick me up?”

  Drayton switched his focus between the road and his passenger. “Would you have preferred someone else?” He damn sure wasn’t going to deny that stung.

  “I thought I was asking the questions,” Vann mumbled.

  Drayton sighed. Dammit. This was not how he wanted their first day together to go. “I thought the one-on-one would be easier than getting stuck on a bus.”

  “It is,” Vann said then quieted again.

  They traveled for another half hour, the only sounds the occasional honk of a horn or the wind of the speeding cars driving too close and faster than what Drayton considered safe. Times like these he wished he’d taken up the suggestion to add some sort of sound simulator to the car. The lack of noise from the electric car simply punctuated the sudden distance growing between them.

  “If you’re not going to ask questions, then I will. Why didn’t you answer my letters?”
r />   Vann continued to stare out the passenger side window. “I did respond,” he whispered.

  “I sent you a letter every week. You sent me two letters in ten years. Two fucking letters, Vann. Two.” Drayton ran a hand through his hair, slamming his hand back on the steering wheel. “Why didn’t you let me visit you?”

  After a few minutes of silence, Vann finally spoke. “I…didn’t want you to see me like that.”

  “You know I wouldn’t have cared about that.”

  Vann sharply turned in his seat to face him. “I did!” He inched back in surprise, as if shocked by his own tone. He steeled his features and turned away again, focusing on the view of vegetation moving by in a fast blur out of the passenger window.

  Quiet Vann was new.

  Quiet Vann frustrated him.

  Quiet Vann pissed him the fuck off.

  “We’re not doing this.” Drayton flipped on his turn signal, making his way to the right side of the road.

  “What are you doing?”

  “We’re talking,” Drayton said, pulling onto the shoulder.

  “You can’t just pull off like this. The shoulder’s too fucking narrow.”

  “Watch me.” Drayton slowed to a stop and shifted the car to park. He turned to face Vann, trying to control the slow building mixture of anger, frustration, and worry churning in his stomach. “Talk to me.”

  Vann’s focus was sharply pinned on him. His nostrils flared with the contained emotion warring within. Was he angry? Was he scared? Hell, Drayton didn’t know how to handle this shit. Ten years waiting to see the man he loved, waiting to hear his voice, and now, he refused to accept this was how their reunion would unfold. He did the only thing his mind could focus on.

  He unclipped his seat belt and switched off the car. He swung open his door and stepped out, ignoring the honk of the rigs and cars speeding by them on the highway.

  Fuck the cars and fuck the fact that he’d pulled off onto the almost nonexistent gravel shoulder.

  There was no way in hell he was losing Vann a second time. Especially now that he finally had him so close after a decade apart.