Me?
I just needed to survive.
Four fucking days, man.
13
EMBRY
The haulage run came up on us fast. I was bricklaying the day the convoy was due to leave, and I said goodbye to Mateo before sunrise.
Kind of. I made him a coffee and gave it to him the moment he woke up.
Then I left before he could say anything because four days without him was hard to contemplate.
Pussy.Yup. But four days was a fucking age when I couldn’t remember ever being without him that long. That I’d lived most of my life without him seemed immaterial. Forgettable. What I did remember were the little things. The light and the dark. I remembered him squeezing my hand in the hospital. The fear in his eyes he’d hidden with a soft smile, whispering Spanish shit I’d never understand.
I remembered the borrowed strength I’d latched onto, and somewhere along the line, I’d forgotten to let go.
The site I was working on was Bristol way. I rode there at dawn, the wind and rain in my face, soaking my cement-stained jeans. I should’ve been on the van with the other guys, but fuck that. I needed the speed. The space to breathe, all the while trying not to think about the fact I’d left Mateo in my bed without even speaking to him.
Kissing him.
Touching him.
Must be like sleeping with a fucking corpse.
A cheerful thought that stayed with me all damn day, no matter how many bricks I slapped together.
And it rained from dawn onwards.
Living the dream.
It was evening when Cam called.
I was leaving the site, soaked to the skin and filthy, needing a shower, a hot dinner, and a benzo to make the long, lonely night pass faster. In truth, I didn’t feel much like talking or listening, not even to my president. But I took the call, throwing my leg over the Tiger, ignoring the grumpy twinge in my empty belly. “Hey.”
“I need a favour.”
“Okay.” I absorbed the urgency in his tone and booted the kickstand back. “As long as it isn’t cooking, I’m here for you.”
“I need you to go on the haulage run.”
“What? Why?”
“I ain’t letting Saint go.”
“He okay?”
“No comment.” Cam’s voice pitched low and strained. “Can you get back by seven?”
I pulled my phone from my face to check the time. I had an hour to reach the compound in rush hour traffic.
Piece of piss. “I’ll be there. They know I’m coming?”
“Not yet. Look, I’ve gotta go, but thanks, brother. I owe you.”
He hung up before I could tell him he owed me nothing but to stay safe while we were gone.
