27
Drew was startled out of sleep by the sound of moans, and his first conscious thought was that Joe was having another nightmare. Joe hadn’t had nightmares every night, but it happened often enough that Drew didn’t bother sleeping in his own room of their suite anymore. He wanted to help rouse Joe out of his bad dreams as quickly as possible and offer solace in the aftermath. The bed was king-sized, so even though they were both big men, they had enough space to sleep comfortably. Both of them were accustomed to sleeping in far worse conditions in the field, anyway.
But as he reached full wakefulness, he felt a warm, solid presence plastered against his back and the heavy weight of an arm draped across his waist, and he realized the timbre of Joe’s moans was… different. He became acutely aware of Joe’s hard cock pressed against his ass, and he lay still, wondering what the hell he should do.
If he woke up Joe now, Joe might be embarrassed, or even angry, that Drew knew about his erotic dreams, especially since Joe was probably dreaming about Finn.There was no way in hell he was dreaming about Drew!Drew didn’t want to risk losing any ground after the slow, tenuous progress they’d made in their relationship lately. On the other hand, if Joe somehow found out Drew knew about the dreams and hadn’t told him, that might cause problems down the road.Shit!
He didn’t know what to do, and so he opted to do nothing. He let out a quiet, shallow huff of amusement that finding himself in Joe’s arms for the first time made him wish for the simplicity of a trauma-induced nightmare instead.
Joe was breathing hard, and then suddenly he gasped and went still. Drew could feel a tremor in Joe’s arm as he slowly lifted it and started to pull away.
Drew considered pretending to be asleep and letting Joe withdraw, but his caretaker instincts wouldn’t let him.
“You okay?” he asked. He tried to keep his voice quiet, but in the still, dark room, he felt like he was yelling.
Joe swallowed hard enough to be heard. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. Or invade your space.”
“It’s okay. I haven’t been the little spoon in a while. It was nice,” Drew said, realizing he meant it.
Joe was quiet for a moment and then there was a sound suspiciously like a sniffle. “I guess so.”
Drew rolled over to lie facing Joe, peering at him with concern. His eyes had adjusted to the faint light filtering through the curtains enough that he could see Joe, but not enough to let him read Joe’s expression.
“What’s up?” he asked softly.
He felt more than saw Joe’s slight shrug. “I guess… I’m feeling lonely,” he admitted, his voice raspy. “Feeling like things will never be right again.”
Drew shifted closer, his heart aching for Joe, and he rested his palm against Joe’s stubbled cheek. “Right in what way?”
Joe didn’t answer immediately, but Drew could almost feel the weight of his gaze, as though Joe was looking for something specific. He must have found it, since he finally answered. “Like I’ll never feel normal things again. Like I can never look at Finn without feeling guilty, never be with him again because I’ll always wonder if somehow he’ll blame me.”
“Blame you for what?” Drew frowned slightly, puzzled. “You don’t have anything to feel guilty about.”
But Joe shook his head. “For him getting hurt. His leg… what if it doesn’t heal right? What if he has to give up his career, like Herc did? What happened was because of me, whether I intended it or not. What if… he doesn’t really want me anymore?”
“What happened was because of those traffickers, not you,” Drew said firmly. “You don’t need to worry about Finn’s leg, either. He told us the surgery went great, remember? With some rehab, he’ll be good as new.” He stroked Joe’s cheek gently with his thumb, hoping Joe believed him, and took some comfort from the reassurance. “He misses you. He’s worried about you. He still loves you.”
Joe’s breathing hitched again. “I’m afraid I’m going to lose him. That things won’t ever be the same.”
Drew slid his arm around Joe to stroke his back soothingly. “Well, no, they won’t be,” he said. “The last two missions affected you in ways you’re still working through, and you’re not going to be the same man on the other side of that. I’m not the man I was before Stack died. It’s not good or bad. It just is. You’ve also got me in the picture now, but I don’t want to edge you out.” He gnawed on his bottom lip, debating how much he wanted to reveal. “I care about you a lot,” he said at last, hedging a little. Joe probably wasn’t ready to hear the full truth.
“You do?” Joe gave a shuddering sigh. “I… I couldn’t have gotten through these last few days without you. I probably would have just curled up and died. I know you didn’t have to be here for me, but I appreciate it. I guess… I guess I care about you, too.”
“You guess?” Drew teased, giving Joe a playful nudge.
“Fine. I care about you.” Joe sniffled again. “Even if you can be an ass.”
“It’s part of my charm,” Drew said with a quiet chuckle. He stroked Joe’s back in silence for a moment, wondering how much he could test the walls before Joe fortified them again. “Okay, we care about each other. What do you want to do with that?”
Again he felt the weight of Joe’s gaze. “I don’t know. I feel adrift, I suppose. Lost. I’ve always been the steady one, the one who was sure. Now… it’s like I’m a ship without an anchor.” There was a wealth of hurt and loss in Joe’s voice. “I feel like I’m that little boy again, never sure if when the closet door finally opened I’d find myself in heaven or hell.”
“Do you trust me?” Drew held his breath as he waited for Joe’s response.
The silence stretched out between them for an eternity, and when Joe answered, his voice barely more than a whisper.
“Yes.”
“Then you have an anchor,” Drew said, tightening his arm around Joe. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”
