Chapter Eleven - Family
"Grissom." Hurrying down the hallway after his supervisor, Greg managed to catch his attention, just before the man stepped onto the death trap elevator. "We've got something." He presented him the photos from the CCTV footage, with a grin plastered across his lips. "At quarter to nine last night, our crime scene car pulls in the side entrance of the Tropicana parking lot. Female driver, wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses." He pointed her out on the image. "Twenty minutes later, this gray crown vic rolls out with the same driver. Female driver, baseball cap and sunglasses. We ran the plates, the car belongs to Nina Nelson, our victim's wife."
"The wife?" Grissom raised an eyebrow in his direction, before he flipped back through the security images.
"Get this, Bobby Dawson found a permit for a gun in her name that was taken out six months ago. He says if we can get the gun, he should be able to get a match to the bullet found in her husband's head. Brass is talking to her now in the station. I bet her car is out in the parking lot somewhere."
"Hold on, Greg. You need a warrant first." Grissom presented him with a slight smile. "Good work though, Greg. I'm on my way down to the station now. Do you want to take the lead on our interrogation? I'll get the Judge to get us a warrant for the gun and the car."
"Seriously?" Greg felt tingles running down his spine, realising this was his chance to prove himself. "Yeah, sure." He glanced down at his phone as it started to ring, finally seeing a call coming in from Nick. He anxiously bit his bottom lip a moment, hesitating to press the ignore button, so he could join his supervisor in the elevator.
"Was that Nick?" Grissom queried, watching the younger man staring off into space. "Have you spoken to him since he landed in Texas?"
Greg remained silent, zoning him out.
When it was clear that he was being ignored, Grissom zipped his lips, before he said something that he wasn't supposed to. He wanted to ask if Nick had told him that he child he had was theirs yet. He had no idea how he would take it, but he didn't think he would go to the extent of ignoring him completely.
Letting Greg take the lead in the interrogation, Grissom took a back seat in the observation room, while he called in a favour for a rush on the warrants. He thought that Greg handled himself pretty well. He let Brass do most of the interrogating, while he asked the important questions about where she was, who's car she was driving and why she decided to stash her husband's body at the Tropicana.
Nina refused to answer any of their questions, insisting that she had nothing to do with it, until Greg brought up the gun permit.
"Why did you report him missing after you killed him, Mrs Nelson?" Greg tried to get to the bottom of her lies, watching her crocodile tears rolling down her cheeks as she stared into his eyes. "I don't get why you would report him missing then hide his body clear across town. Did you want him to be found?"
"Hey, boss." Warrick joined his supervisor in the observation room. He glanced through the glass window beside him, spotting Greg sat opposite their suspect. "You're letting Greggo take the lead on the interrogation?" He gave the man a curious look. "Are you sure that's wise?"
"He's handling himself alright. Did you find anything?"
"Yes." Warrick raised the file from his hand, handing it over to his supervisor. "Mr and Mrs Nelson have been married thirteen years. Highschool sweethearts, no children though. Craig Nelson was arrested for assault. He did eight years inside. When he got out, he struggled to find work. Nina's uncle got him a job as a kitchen porter. There's a couple of call outs here for domestic disputes. Deputies called out to break up a few arguments, but nothing major."
"Who did he assault?" Grissom queried, slowly thumbing through the information as he kept an eye on Greg.
"Uh..." He stepped up beside his supervisor, finding the page. "There... Travis Bloom. They all went to Highschool together."
"Where's Travis now?"
"Dead." He caught the look on his supervisor's face. "No, nothing like that. Overdose two years ago. I gave his parents a call. They said he had been suffering from depression since he was in Highschool. He was still living with them when he OD'd. Doc Robbins is looking into the report just in case the other coroner missed anything. His parents did mention that back in the day, Travis and Nina used to date."
"Really? Stay here." Taking the file with him, Grissom left the observation room, giving the door to the interrogation room a light knock. He ushered Greg out into the hall with him, handing him the new evidence, hoping to add fuel to the fire. He sat himself next door in the observation room again, admiring Greg's technique to get to the truth. "Warrick, there's a gray crown vic somewhere in the parking lot." He reported, answering a text on his phone. "Get Sara and start processing it. Our warrant is on its way over."
"Alright." Warrick pushed himself to his feet, smiling to himself as Greg managed to get their suspect to spill the beans on her affair with Travis. "The kids got a knack for this."
"He does." Grissom nodded in agreement. "He's not a child anymore, Warrick."
"Nah. Our boy's all grow'd up." The other man smirked, leaving his boss to watch the rest of the interrogation. He grabbed his cell on his way to the elevator, surprised to see Nick's name flashing across the screen again. "Hey, man. What's up?"
"Hey." Nick breathed a sigh of relief. "I was... I've been tryin' to get hold of Greg. Is he there?"
"Yeah, our boy's been busy. He's taking the lead on an interrogation right now." Warrick turned his wrist to look at the time, realising that it was five in the morning. "You're up early. Still can't get any sleep?"
"Nah, I figured if I'm gonna start up back on nights with you guys, I've gotta get my sleepin' back on schedule." He flat out lied, clutching the phone close to his head. "I really need to talk to Greg. He hasn't been answerin' any of my calls."
Warrick glanced over his shoulder, watching Greg hard at work in the interrogation room. He really didn't want to disturb him, especially for a man who sounded as though he had been drinking all night. "He's kinda busy right now, Nicky. Can I pass on a message?"
"No." He snapped, sliding down the wall behind him to sit on the floor. "I need to talk to him. Can you please just go get him?"
"Can't do that, Nicky." Warrick shook his head, ducking into the police stations break room. "How much have you had to drink tonight, Nick? I can hear you slurring your words." He pulled his phone back from his ear, realising Nick had hung up on him. "Oh, Nicky." He sighed, trying his number a few times, but it kept going straight through to his voicemail.
"C'mon Greg, answer your phone."
Throwing his phone across the room, Nick collapsed onto the floor of his brother's bedroom, just as the older man returned with a cup of strong coffee in his hands. He managed to sneak him past his parents after he found him, but now he felt as though he was hiding away his drunk teenage brother, hoping that their parents wouldn't find out.
Billy searched the bed for his brother, noticing him laying on the floor in the corner. "Nicky, get up." He knelt down in front of him, sighing softly as he remained put. "Here, drink this. It'll help sober you up." He held the coffee out to him. "Mama's awake already. She's fixin' breakfast. I think Dad slept in his study. Evan's still passed out in your room."
"I don't wonna sober up." Nick covered his arm over his eyes, attempting to block out the sun from the window above.
"Nicky, you can't sleep there." He set the coffee mug down on the bedside table, attempting to help him up. He was a lot heavier than he looked though and Billy wasn't exactly a young man anymore. "C'mon, gimme your hand. We'll get you on the bed. You're just like my wife when she gets drunk. One glass, she gets a little tipsy. Two, she gets mean. Past three, she gets sleepy." He grabbed his brother's hand, just about managing to pull him to his feet. He sat him down on the edge of his bed, giving out a deep breath of relief. "Wait, wait... we'll get these boots off first."
Ignoring his brother's warning, Nick collapsed back against the bed spread, rolling himself over onto his side. He closed his eyes after his brother removed his boots, burying his face against the covers beside him.
"Don't go." He called out to his brother, snapping his eyes open to see where he was. "Don't leave me."
"I'm not goin'." Billy promised him, sitting himself down on the other bed. "I'll just be over here, okay?" He watched Nick adjusting himself against the bed, twitching ever so slightly as though something was bothering him. "I can't imagine what it was like down there, Nicky. To tell you the truth, I really don't want to, but you gotta do somethin' about this. When Mama told me, I thought she was joking it sounded so surreal. I just think that... you need help, Nicky. It's been weeks and you still can't sleep."
"My shrink gave me the all clear." He reminded him.
Billy couldn't help but laugh, shaking his head at his younger brother. "Remember that shrink Dad sent you to when you first told him you were gay?" He jogged his memory. "You must have been thirteen, fourteen then. Somehow, you managed to convince that shrink that you were completely straight and Dad was the one imaginin' things. You've always been able to turn on the charm when you need it. You could pretty much convince anyone to believe anythin' when you turn on the charm. I don't doubt for a second that you used it to worm your way out of those mandatory departmental shrink sessions." He placed his hands on his knees, looking into his younger brother's dazed expression. "Maybe you should see somebody, outside of the lab. On your dime, so they actually care about what happens to you, rather than whether you can do your job or not."
"I don't exactly have the money for some big shrink to tell me stuff I already know."
"I'll pay for it then." The man suggested so casually.
"I don't need your charity."
"It's not charity. You're my friggin' brother, Nick. You can pay me back with interest if you want. I'm doin' it for the kid. He needs his father. Dad's talkin' about takin' legal guardianship over, Evan." Billy broke it to him bluntly. "The way you're goin', you're screwin' up your chances of winnin' your case. You drove away from him when he was callin' out for you, Nicky."
"He can't take him away from me." Nick shook his head. "He's all I have. Besides, if he proves I'm an unfit parent, Evan will go to Greg and his family. He'll have the greatest Grandparents any kid could ever ask for."
"Is that what you really want, Evan shipped off to live with people he doesn't know?"
"Where's my phone?" Pushing himself to a sitting position, Nick rubbed his tired eyes, looking around for where he had thrown it earlier.
"No, no more drunk diallin'." Billy refused to help him look for it. He had already pried it away from him twice already, trying to stop him from making a big mistake. "Wherever it is, it's better off bein' left alone for now. Do you really want Greg to find out he has a kid from your drunken ramblin's?"
"I need to talk to him." He swept his fingers through his hair, feeling tears burning in his eyes. "He's the only person I've ever been able to trust. He's the only person I've ever loved. It hurts so much not bein' with him. He won't even answer his friggin' phone."
"Hey, I'm sure it's not personal." Climbing up from the bed, Billy put his arms around his baby brother, attempting to comfort him. He held him tightly in his arms, feeling him shaking in his embrace. "If he's still at the lab, maybe he's just busy with a case. You don't really want to talk to him in your state anyway. You need to explain all of this to him face to face. He needs to know all the details in your sober state, so he doesn't go jumpin' to his own conclusions."
Nick knew that he was right, but he still wanted to hear the younger man's voice. He pushed his brother away from him, crashing back against the bed spread behind him.
He felt cold and empty in this house. It used to feel like home. A place where he always felt safe, comforted by familiar smells, childhood memories and all their belongings they had accumulated over the years.
It didn't feel like home anymore. It just felt like a place that he wasn't welcome to. He was constantly under attack for being wrong, different. He wanted to be normal. He wanted to feel safe again, but things would never be the same again.
Nick managed to get nearly five hours of sleep in his drunken state, before he was crawling out of bed, making a dash for the nearest bathroom. He dropped to his knees in front of the toilet bowl, forcing the lid up, before he started throwing his guts up, not realising they had a house full of people downstairs. He threw up until he had nothing left, feeling sweat pouring off his forehead. He managed to push himself to his feet after a few minutes, making his way over to the shower. He started up the water on a warm spray, pushing the door to the bathroom shut, before he attempted to remove his clothes. He noticed a bruise on his ribs as he removed his shirt, briefly remembering falling into a table at the bar he had stumbled into, when his brother was trying to get him home.
"Nick." A knock at the door startled him.
He pulled his shirt back on, wiping the sweat from his forehead, before he opened the door. He forced a smile in the direction of his big sister, Gwen, surprised to see her back here. She still looked exactly how he remembered. Big brown eyes, soft brown hair that perfectly framed her face and a smile that could make any problem go away.
"Hi, Nicky. Sorry, Mama sent me up to check on you. Billy kinda mentioned that you might be a little hung over." Gwen presented him with the tall glass of water from her hand, followed by the bottle of aspirin. "I'm glad you're back, Nicky. It hasn't been the same without you here. I've seen Evan. He's getting so big already. Adorable too, just like his Daddy." She grinned at him, placing her hands on her hips. "Evan told me all about his Daddy, Greg. I'm glad you told him, Nicky. Don't listen to Dad. You made the right decision telling him."
"I wish Mama would see it that way." Nick took a quick sip of water, before he popped a few pills. "She was beggin' me to tell him for weeks, then when I finally do, she thinks I'm bein' selfish. No, you know what I wish more than anythin'." He changed his mind. "I wish I was normal, like you."
"You are normal, Nicky. Whatever normal means. You're exactly who you're supposed to be. We're all exactly who we're supposed to be or we wouldn't be here now. Don't give up on yourself, just because you're afraid of what other people might think. Screw them." Gwen finally brought a legit smile to her brother's lips. "Worry about your own life, your own happiness. That beautiful little boy of yours needs you to be a strong role model in his life. No matter what, you've always had a strong spirit. Watching that little boy out there, I can definitely see that you've passed that onto him. Keep his spirit alive. Don't let anyone destroy it."
Giving her a slight nod, Nick sniffled back his tears threatening to spill, wishing he had heard her advice sooner. "Thank you." He spoke softly, smiling as his sister immediately caught him in a hug, holding him as tightly as she possibly could for the longest few minutes.
It wasn't quite a Greg Sanders special hug, but it made him feel a little less alone.
Rolling up outside his parents house after a four hour drive, Greg breathed in a deep breath, glad to be home. After his big win at the lab, Grissom practically insisted that he head home for the holidays. He was reluctant to at first, but sitting alone in his apartment wasn't exactly ideal. All he could think about was Nick and his betrayal, so he decided that a weekend away with his folks was the lesser of two evils.
"Ow, Mom. Ease up a little." He pulled away from her bone crushing hug, rubbing his achy muscles. "My neck's stiff. I've been driving for four hours."
"I'm sorry, I just haven't seen my baby in person for what... two years now." She pecked a few playful kisses to his cheek, giving him a smile. "We've only spoken to you on the phone for a few minutes every day." His mother stole another quick hug, taking his bag off his hands this time. "You look thin, sweetheart. What have you been eating?" She started her meddling, before they even made it through the front door.
"I eat just fine, Mom." Greg kicked off his sneakers at the door, opening his arms as his Nana Olaf came shuffling towards him. For a sixty three year old with a busted hip, she moved pretty fast and she hugged even harder. Her hair was still a fiery red colour and her blue eyes were still so full of life. She threw her arms around his neck, squeezing him just a little bit tighter than his mother did, before she pulled back to examine him closer.
"Oh... what happened to your hair?" She frowned at the sight of it. "It's all..."
"It's called natural." Her daughter smirked, dropping her son's bag on the staircase. "Daniel, he's here!" She bellowed up the stairs to her husband, ushering her son through to the kitchen. "Let me fix you something to eat. We had turkey yesterday. There's still some leftovers. I can make you a turkey sandwich with lots of cranberry sauce, just like you always had as a child."
Greg knew she wouldn't accept any other answer, so he gave her a reluctant nod. "Where's Papa Olaf?" He winced as his Nana hugged him again, curiously running her fingers through his more natural hairstyle.
"I don't like it." She disapproved, turning her nose up at it. "It doesn't have the same oomph it used to have. It doesn't really look like a Greg hairstyle. What do you think, Jean?"
"Excuse me, aren't you the same woman who grounded this child when he came home with blue stripes in his hair?" Jean reminded her mother, giving her hands a quick rinse, before she got started on fixing her son something to eat. "I believe he was only ten at the time and it was just the spray on stuff that washed out right away."
"Well you weren't going to do anything about it. Obviously it didn't work, because he dyed it all black a few years later."
"Where's Papa Olaf?" Greg asked again, but the two of them weren't taking any notice of him anymore. He left them to their argument, deciding to square away his things upstairs.
"I thought I heard that squeaky rust bucket coming up the drive." His father presented him with a smile, stepping off the stairs. "You haven't got rid of that thing yet?"
"Dad." He practically threw himself into his father's arms, hugging him as tightly as he could. He was the same height as his father now, but the man definitely had more muscles on his bones than him. He had a strong musky smell to him that made him feel comforted. He always gave the best comforting hugs and he always had a scratchy stubbled jaw line that gave him 'Daddy rash' on the side of his face, reminding him of his childhood.
"Hey, firecracker." His father used his familiar childhood nickname, pressing a kiss to the centre of his son's forehead. "Your hairs natural." He pulled back from him a little, admiring his new look. "I like it. Did you finally get bored of dying it?"
"No, I kinda had to go natural." Greg shrugged his shoulders together. "Forced maturity, I guess you'd call it. It's starting to grow on me though. I might have to get highlights or something, so it doesn't get old. Not that I have anyone to please at this moment in time."
"Your mother told me about, Nick. Have you tried talking to him?"
Greg pulled his cell out of his back pocket, showing his father the twenty two missed calls from Nick in the past few hours. "I don't want to hear him lie to me again. Even if he told me the truth, how would I know. Turns out he never exactly told me the truth to begin with."
"There could be a perfectly reasonable explanation..."
"Why does everyone keep saying that?" Greg interrupted his father. "When is it okay to lie to someone that you supposedly love? Do you ever lie to Mom?"
Daniel pursed his lips together a moment, before he shook his head slightly. "No, not really. But we've been together for just over forty years now." He pointed out to his son. "When we started dating, I guess we told a few little white lies here and there."
"How is an affair and secret child a little white lie?" Greg snapped at his father, taking it out on him rather than the man he was really mad at.
"I didn't say it was." Daniel spoke softly, placing his hand on his son's shoulder. "You want me to hate, Nick. I'll hate Nick. I'll ring that bastard's neck if he ever hurts you like this again. Stay away from him, I don't want you to see him again. I shall be having words with his mother if he even thinks about contacting you again." He played the protective father role, getting a grin out of his son. "See, there's that smile." He pulled his son into his arms, playfully ruffling his hand through his hair. "It's good to have you home, son. You should really get rid of that car."
"It's reliable."
"Ha," The man chortled. "It's a rust bucket. You've had that thing since Highschool. It was only supposed to last you the last few years of Highschool. You're supposed to buy a new one that runs better and doesn't sound like grinding metal as you drive it."
"I like it." Greg shrugged his shoulders together. "Besides, apartment hunting is hard enough. I don't want to add buying a new car to that list."
"I didn't know you were apartment hunting. Your mother didn't mention anything."
Greg grinned widely. "That's because if I get her involved, she'll take over and start searching for a place for me. I wanted to do this one on my own. My old building in Vegas is just as old as I remembered it and my neighbours are a nightmare."
"Okay, I won't say a word." His father smiled back at him. "If you're sticking around for a few days, maybe we can go fishing or something."
"Yeah, maybe. Hey, where's Papa?" He queried, pulling back to look into the den. It was unusual that he didn't come to the door to greet him. He was usually second in line after his mother to spoil him rotten with hugs.
"Uh," Daniel pulled up the sleeve of his long sleeved t-shirt, looking at the time on his watch. "He went fishing a few hours ago. He should be home soon. Grandpa and Uncle Mark went with him."
"Grandpa's here?" The last he heard, his grandparents from his father's side were still living out in Florida. They never came back for the holidays anymore. His Grandmother even said that nothing would make her give up her corner of paradise in Florida.
"Grandma too." Daniel nodded. "She offered to go to the store with your Aunt. They just left a few minutes ago. They came back last year too. Of course you'd know that if you visited your dear old Dad every once in a while." He gave him a wide grin, making a move for the kitchen. "Love you, kiddo."
"Love you too." Greg grabbed his bag, making his way up the stairs to his childhood bedroom. He ditched his bag on the floor beside his bed, smiling to himself as he looked around at all his old things. His mother threatened to change it into a guest bedroom if he ever moved out, but other than the occasional clean up, she hadn't touched a thing.
Nick was speechless when he stepped into his room for the first time. Probably realising how much of a dork he really was. He couldn't believe it when he saw Nick's room out in Texas for the first time either. Unlike his room, the Stokes kids' rooms hadn't been personalised at all. The colour scheme of all of them was bland and beige. All of their personal things that made the room feel homely had to be out of sight.
Nothing like Greg's room.
Greg brushed his hand across the posters on his wall, smiling at each memory. Street Fighter was the first one to make it onto the wall. He raced home from school every day, looking forward to the chance to rematch his Papa Olaf in another game. Super Mario, Frogger and Pac-Man made their appearance on his wall a few years later, before he started listening to music. Metallica, Iron Maiden, Gun N' Roses then Marilyn Manson. He must have had over a dozen Marilyn Manson posters scattered across his wall.
Turning towards the other wall, Greg brushed his fingertips across his dusty old sound system, smiling at the memory of his mother threatening to take it away from him so many times if he didn't clean his room. He turned his attention towards the CD's and cassettes he had left behind, pulling out a mix tape he once made for a boy he liked. He flipped it over to read what he had taped on it, feeling a little embarrassed by his choices.
At number one, I want it that way by the Backstreet Boys.
He was fifteen at the time and completely in love with the hottest boy in school, Nathan Reynolds. The lines 'you are my fire, the one desire' and 'but we are two worlds apart' completely summed up their relationship at the time. Of course he never actually got the chance to present him with the mix tape, he just listened to it on repeat in his room, while he fantasised about being with him.
Killing me Softly by Fugees and Torn by Natalie Imbruglia were late additions to the mix tape. All part of the heart break era when Nathan started dating, Cindy York.
Greg replaced the mix tape to his shelf, noticing a piece of paper slipping down the back. He knelt down to retrieve it, sighing softly as it was a photo of him and Nick. The last time they were at his folks house together, they took a trip down to the dock, so Greg could show the man his father's boat. He intended on taking him out on it, but the weather kept them grounded.
With a disposable camera, Nick leant as far as he could over the side of the boat, clutching Greg tightly in his arms. He pressed a big kiss to the side of his head as he snapped the photo, making Greg's heart warm from the memory.
"Greg!" His mother's voice called up the stairs to him.
Brushing the dust off the photo, Greg stuffed it back between his cassette tapes, before he hurried down the stairs to see what she wanted. As he reached the bottom though, his Grandmother caught him in her arms, stabbing her talon like fingernails into his shoulders as she hugged him tightly. She was much older than his Nana Olaf. He wasn't sure how much older, but it certainly showed around her eyes. She said she was aging with dignity, but she had bleached her hair so much to keep away the greys, it was starting to thin out.
"I can't believe you're thirty one already." His Grandmother finally pulled back, gently tapping his cheek. "You've gotta stop getting older boy, you're starting to make me look old."
"I'm sorry, Grangela." He used his familiar nickname for her. Grandma Angela was too hard for him to say when he was four years old, so he used to combine them to make things simpler. She didn't seem to mind though. "You don't look a day over fifty though."
"Oh, you're sweet. But you're a terrible liar, just like your father." She gave her son a playful grin as he appeared. "Daniel, Yvonne could use your help with those groceries out there."
"Yes, mother." Daniel pulled on some shoes, hurrying out onto the driveway to give his sister in law a hand. His younger brother, Mark had been married three times now. Wife number three, Yvonne didn't seem as bad as the last one, but she had a tendency to behave like a little princess, rather than a grown woman of thirty five. He was glad they didn't visit a lot, but he still missed the close bond he used to have with his younger brother while they were growing up.
"Greg!" His mother yelled his name again.
"Good lord, Jean. Stop yelling. The whole of California can hear you." His Grandma Angela scolded her daughter in law, making her way through to the kitchen. "You finally get your son home and all you can do is yell at him."
"I wasn't yelling. I was calling him." Jean ushered him over to the counter, sitting him down with a glass of milk and his turkey sandwich. "I'll get some fresh sheets on your bed in a moment. Any idea how long you're going to be staying with us?"
"Probably just the night. I've got a shift on Monday." Greg broke it to her, seeing the disappointment on her face already. "I'm not even supposed to be here now. I was supposed to be on call. Grissom only gave me the time off because I solved my case." He sensed that he had given him the time off for another reason, but he was too tired to ask. He just wanted to be home with his family.
"Look at that. Got it on my first time too." He overheard his Uncle's voice.
Greg took another bite out of the most delicious sandwich in the world, spotting Papa Olaf, Grandpa John and Uncle Mark making their way back from their fishing trip. Papa Olaf was still as bald as Bruce Willis, but his Grandpa still had a full head of hair, well into his seventies. His Grandpa looked exhausted from their trip, but Mark was sporting a mile wide grin on his lips, holding up a freshly caught trout in his hands. He realised what he had missed out on by opting in to work an extra shift, kicking himself again.
"There's my boy." Papa Olaf threw his arm around his only grandson's shoulders, kissing the top of his head. "Mister Big Shot CSI. Are you running the place yet?"
"Not quite." He smiled up at his Papa Olaf. He stank of fish and seaweed, but his hugs always made everything feel a little bit better.
"Are there anymore of these sandwiches going?" Papa Olaf turned his attention towards the food on Greg's plate. "C'mon, Jeany. Your dear old Dad's starving here."
"Starving?" Jean laughed at her father. "You ate before you left. I believe you had two helpings of my egg bake and you took sandwiches with you on your fishing trip. I suppose you wolfed every one of them down too." She swatted away her father's hand as he tried to steal the spare one from Greg's plate. "No, that's for Greg."
Jean scolded her father, having a sense of déjà vu. She remembered fixing a young six year old Greg sandwiches while his father and Papa Olaf were out fishing. When they returned, Papa Olaf immediately robbed his grandson of his lunch, but Greg wouldn't say a word against him because he loved the man so much.
"Stop." She gave the man a stern look. "He's just got off a twelve hour shift, you know. He needs the energy boost."
"And I don't?" He protested.
"It's okay, Mom. I'm not really that hungry anyway." Greg offered up the other half of his sandwich to his Papa Olaf, smiling as the man immediately sat himself down beside him. His mother didn't approve, but she never did approve of his Papa Olaf stealing food off his plate.
"So, how long we got you back this time?" He queried, licking his lips after every bite of his delicious sandwich.
"I have to be back on shift tomorrow for eleven, so I guess until tomorrow afternoon. Hey, Grandpa." He climbed to his feet to hug the man, smelling the familiar stench of cigars and wood coming off the man. He never knew if it was his aftershave or a shower gel he used, but he always had the same scent. "No luck fishing then?"
"Not a bite." His Grandpa shook his head, looking over the fishing rod in his hands. "Mark said my technique is getting old, but I think it's because I didn't have my lucky charm with me." He playfully ruffled his hand through his grandson's hair. "No boyfriend this time?"
"No, I'm flying solo again." He regretfully informed him, releasing he shouldn't have as the old man started going on about wanted to see his grandson get married before he died. He guilt tripped him with the usual great grandchildren speech too, but he was still glad to be home.
Even without the love of his life.
Who was he kidding? Losing Nick felt as though he had lost an arm.
Thanks so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed it.
Enjoy your weekend!
~ Holly
