Linc took a swig, letting the fire lick down his esophagus to his stomach. “It was nothing. I had a… a nightmare. The kid was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
There was a long silence and then Jackson asked, “Was that wrong place your bedroom?”
Linc flicked his gaze to his friend before taking another swig and handing the bottle back. “It wasn’t like that. He came in to thank me for leaving him dinner. When he saw I was having a bad dream, he tried to wake me up and… couldn’t.”
It wasn’t exactly a lie. Jackson didn’t have to know everything.
“You were having another flashback.” It wasn’t a question.
Linc scoffed. “I don’t have PTSD. It was just a nightmare.”
Jackson leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head. “A nightmare that could have cost a kid his life and me my company. You need to see somebody, man. I shouldn’t have to tell you this. Martinez ate his gun less than a year after he got out. I have a great shrink. I’ll give you her card.”
Linc was already shaking his head. “I can’t afford your fancy-pants therapist, Avery. All my money’s gotta go to Ellie right now.”
“You can’t afford not to go, brother. Consider it a perk of the job.”
“You already do too much for me.”
The chair groaned as Jackson shot forward, his face growing stormy. “Fine. Then consider it an order from your employer. I can’t have you choking out the bodies I have hired you to guard… even if it’s whattheywant.”
Linc’s whole body went hot then cold. “Excuse me?”
Jackson sighed. “Be careful with him. I gave you this job for a reason. Two other guards couldn’t handle this kid. They both said the same things. Reckless. Self-harming. Suicidal.”
Linc’s pulse throbbed behind his eye. He didn’t like feeling he was being manipulated on all sides. “Meaning?”
“Meaning it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out why Wyatt is the way he is. You know what it’s like to not be accepted for who you are. Some kids cut, some drink and do drugs. Some join the military and turn themselves into bullet sponges. You’re uniquely qualified to watch this kid because you were this kid.”
“So you hired me so I could—what?—mentor him?”
Jackson shrugged. “I thought maybe you could give the kid something he needs… something you both need.”
Linc stared at his friend for a long time, trying to puzzle out exactly how much Jackson understood about Linc’s needs. If Jackson really understood, he’d know he was the worst possible thing for Wyatt. But they were all in way too deep now. “What exactly is it you think I need?”
“Purpose. You’re in free-fall, brother. I’m just trying to offer you a safe place to land.”
Wyatt was a ghost haunting his own house. Ten days had passed since his father and Linc had talked things out in the kitchen, and things had been weird ever since. His father had left but was never really gone. He was like a demon; even though you couldn’t see him, the toxic weight of his hate permeated the place, leaving Wyatt restless.
He didn’t know what his father said to Linc, but any time Graciela even so much as referenced the good senator, Linc clenched his jaw, grunted, and went to work out for an hour. At this rate, he was going to look like the Hulk before their six months were over. Not that Wyatt was complaining… or looking… at all. Well, not much anyway. Just enough to know that Linc was definitelynotlooking at him and it was driving Wyatt crazy. It was like living with a roommate who got along with everybody but him. A roommate who starred in his jerk-off fantasies at least twice a day.
With his bruises long gone, it felt like what happened in Linc’s room had all been some elaborate wet dream. Except it wasn’t. Wyatt could recall every detail with savant-like accuracy every time his hand trailed below his waist. He remembered exactly how Linc’s lips felt on his, how his teeth bit down onto Wyatt’s earlobe as he growled at Wyatt to beg. Sometimes if he closed his eyes hard enough, he could pretend it was Linc’s hands on him instead of his own, but it was never the same. Wyatt wasn’t trying to quote lame movies, but Linc was definitely his particular brand of heroin and Wyatt was afraid he’d be chasing that high forever. The feeling was clearly not mutual.
Okay, Linc still made Wyatt meals and left them in the microwave and he still left him water bottles with little notes reminding him to drink them. But wasn’t that worse? A person shouldn’t get to ignore another person after giving them the best orgasm of their life and still get to worry if they’re adequately hydrated. Like what the fuck? Who did that? People who played head games, that’s who. Linc was trying to break him down psychologically.
Even now, Linc was walking around the kitchen putting away dishes in loose-fitting sweatpants that did nothing to hide the outline of his dick. Each time he reached up to put something on a high shelf his t-shirt rode up, exposing a strip of tanned, toned belly and a happy trail Wyatt wanted to trace with his tongue. This torture had to be deliberate. It had to be. And two could play at that game.
Wyatt put on his gray joggers that Charlie had forced him to buy because they rode low on his hips and “hugged his ass to perfection” and slipped on his favorite pale green hoodie but left it unzipped. This was war. He wasn’t ripped like Linc, but he was lean and toned in all the right places and tons of guys were happy to tell him so. Maybe Linc just needed to know what he was missing.
When he got to the kitchen, he went straight to the cabinet where Linc stood and wedged himself between him and the counter. “Excuse me,” he said, giving no sign he meant it. He snagged a glass and tried to ignore the twinge of arousal that hit when Linc’s knuckles grazed his belly.
Linc just grunted, his preferred form of communication lately. Once Wyatt had filled his orange juice glass, he took a seat at the island, pretending to gaze out at the patio. His plan to ignore Linc until he noticed he was the one being ignored quickly went south when Linc slid something across to him on the counter.
“Eat this,” Linc commanded.
Wyatt looked down to see a granola bar, grimacing. “I’m not hungry.”
Linc’s response was a low rumble that went straight to Wyatt’s cock. “Did it sound like I was asking?”
