Wood (A True Lover's Story #2) - A.E. Via Page 0,114

all right, maybe. But I told you already you need a better breakfast.”

Bishop scoffed. “Bro. Is Wood your boyfriend or your daddy?”

“Both,” Wood bit out sharply before Trent could answer.

Trent scowled, but Wood noticed he didn’t correct him. “Well, what do you want me to eat, then? Some eggs Florentine, maybe some crepes?”

“God you’re such a brat,” Wood grumbled, setting a skillet on the stovetop and pulling some sausage and the last four eggs out of the refrigerator. “I’ll make you a sandwich.”

“Make that two.” Bishop raised his hand.

“Since I need your help with something today, I’ll go ahead and do it this time.”

Trent and Bishop drank their apple juice and talked while Wood made them an early breakfast. “You mean to tell us Edison didn’t make you homemade biscuits and gravy before you left the house?”

“Nope. I’m kinda in the doghouse, actually. Which in Edison’s world means no more lovin’… or cooking, until I apologize.”

Trent reared back and laughed. “And you’re over here giving Wood shit. You’ve got some nerve. What did you do?”

Bishop rubbed his big hand across his forehead. “I guess I might’ve snapped at him when I got frustrated with some schoolwork. He was trying to explain it to me after I wasn’t understanding the instructor, and I may have cursed a little.”

“Cursed a little…” Trent prompted.

“I told him to just leave me the hell alone and that I had it,” Bishop said quietly.

“Uh-oh,” Wood said, whipping the scrambled eggs.

“I’m gonna kill the person who invented motherfuckin’ homophones,” Bishop barked. “It’s like the cruelest joke to a person that can’t spell. Or spells by how a word sounds.”

“I understand,” Trent said. “But you can’t be taking your irriation out on Edison, man. He’s a smart guy. Why won’t you let him help you if you’re struggling with some of the English?”

“I do. All the time. But when I don’t get something and he has to keep saying the same thing to me over and over… it… it makes me feel dumb.” Bishop shook his head. “I know Eddie would never think that about me. It’s my own personal shit I need to get over.”

“True,” Wood agreed.

“I know, I know.” Bishop waved him off. “I’ll fix it when he gets off work. But for now I’m just gonna hide over here with you guys. I was supposed to do a consult on a yard at eight, but the guy canceled, so I’m free for half the day. What’d you need help with, Wood?”

Wood set the plates of food in front of them, hoping what he had to say wouldn’t set Trent off again. “Adam’s family was able to get into our condo after the accident. They didn’t just take his stuff, they stored mine away too. Adam’s mother—god rest her soul—knew everything I’d gone through with my parents. That they’d abandoned me long ago. Anyway, long story short. One of Adam’s brothers owns a storage facility. All of my stuff is in there. He said my art, some furniture, clothes, jewelry, just about everything.”

“Wow,” Trent said, appearing shocked and relieved. “That’s great.”

Wood nodded slowly, a wide smile already forming. Trent stood and wrapped his arms around him. “I’m happy for you. I couldn’t imagine how I would’ve felt if Sil had gotten rid of all my records. I would’ve been devastated.”

Wood kissed Trent’s soft lips. “So, you’ll come help me.”

“You don’t even have to ask that.”

“I’m trying to enjoy my damn sandwich, and you guys are making me sick,” Bishop complained.

“Look away,” Trent said, before slanting his head and flicking his tongue across Wood’s lips, wanting entrance. He couldn’t stop the moan that escaped as he pulled Trent in closer and closer.

Chapter Fifty-Two

Trent

“Oh man. That’s him.” Bishop stared out the passenger window of their small U-Haul truck as Adam stood leaning against the bright orange garage door of storage forty-four. “He’s hot as fuck.”

“Shut the hell up, Bishop.” Trent shoved him roughly.

“I’m just saying.” Bishop continued gaping. “And the cane makes him look even hotter. Adam must’ve had some plastic surgery done or something, Wood, because there’s no way that guy is over fifty.”

“Oh he is,” Wood laughed, but the second Trent turned his angry glare in his direction, he smartly clamped his lips shut.

Trent stared at Wood’s ex as well, but not for the reasons everyone else was. He couldn’t care less about the man’s distinguished good looks and his nice clothes. Adam didn’t have Wood’s heart; he did. That’s all Trent needed to keep telling