“Maybe it’s best not to anger a woman with both heels and a gun,” Ethan whispered to Blayne.
“I haven’t had my coffee,” Blayne said flatly.
“So,” she let the word hang in the air for a moment, “where is she?”
“I don’t know,” Blayne replied through clenched teeth. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to drag my obnoxiously hot boyfriend into the bathroom for a quick shower. Once we’ve freshened up, we’ll join you.”
Blayne threw the covers off him, swung his legs over the side and stood. He looked back at Ethan and extended his hand. “Honey?”
Ethan glared at the woman and Blayne, then stretched his arm toward Blayne, who helped him out of bed. Blayne positioned himself between Ethan and the woman and guided Ethan toward the bathroom. When they reached the door, he turned and addressed the woman.
“Why don’t you be useful and make breakfast?”
Blayne shut the door behind him.
Ethan
The door clicked behind Blayne, and Ethan whirled on his boyfriend. “What the fuck are you doing?” he screeched out in a high-pitched voice.
“I’m over it. These people just keep invading our lives. I’m just over it.”
“They’re trained fucking assassins!” Ethan’s voice seemed to get higher with each word.
Blayne put his hands on Ethan’s shoulders, looked him in the eyes and said, “Calm down.”
That was it. Ethan exploded. “I willnotcalm down. You need to…what’s the opposite of ‘calm down’?’”
“Get fired up? Work myself into a frenzy?”
Ethan made a screeching noise as panic surged through his veins like an electric shock. His breaths came in rapid, shallow gasps, his chest heaving as he desperately tried to catch his breath.
“Oh fuck,” Blayne said. “You’re having a panic attack.” Blayne shut the lid on the toilet before helping Ethan down. Ethan had a history of panic attacks, and he had told Blayne about his early days as a singer when they happened regularly. Ethan put his head between his legs as he tried to breathe, while Blayne leaned against the sink, rubbing his back. “You’re going to be okay. I’m here. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
After a couple of minutes, Ethan’s breathing normalized, and he finally looked up at Blayne and asked, “Have you lost your ever-fucking-mind?”
“What do you mean?”
“You just told an assassin to go cook breakfast.”
“I did, didn’t I?”
Ethan stared into Blayne’s face. “She could have killed you. She could have killed me.” Ethan heard his voice rising again, so he forced himself to take deep, calming breaths. “What possessed you—?”
“I don’t know,” Blayne cut him off. “Now’s probably not the time to tell you I had a similar reaction yesterday when Denzili came up behind me with a gun and shoved it in my back.”
“You told her to cook you breakfast?” Ethan’s mind struggled to comprehend the absurdity of the situation.
“No. I invited her to coffee.”
“You didwhat?” Ethan’s emotions unraveled like threads in a fraying tapestry. He slipped from the toilet to the cold tile of the bathroom floor. Tears stung the corner of his eyes as he wiped them away.
Blayne slumped down to the floor and enveloped Ethan in his arms. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking. My mouth ran before I thought about the consequences of what was coming out of it. I didn’t mean to sound glib.”
Blayne used his thumb to wipe a tear from the corner of his eye.
“Just stop…” Ethan looked up into Blayne’s face. “Just stop poking the bears. As Ms. Wilson said, they see us as pets, as playthings. Right now, they find us charming. Tomorrow, they may very well put a bullet in you. I can’t live with that. I can’t live without you.” Ethan grappled with the paralyzing grip of panic that wanted to overtake him and the suffocating weight of his own vulnerability…oftheirvulnerability.
“I promise to stop poking the bears. You’re the one I want to poke.” Blayne gently jabbed Ethan in the rib cage affectionately and said, “Poke.” He waited a few seconds, and when Blayne didn’t get a response, he did it again. “Poke.”
