I’d willed myself to wake Tate up and tell him we were leaving in a couple days, but instead of moving towards him, I’d gone to the other side of the room and dropped down into an identical chair to the one Tate had been sitting in and I’d watched them both sleep. I’d stayed until light began filtering through the window and as I’d gotten up to leave, I’d walked right up to Tate. But instead of shaking him awake, I’d merely stood there watching him sleep, his features relaxed. Right before I’d left, I’d run my fingers through his thick hair, marveling at its softness as it had curled around my fingers.
I’d spent the next day at Seth and Ronan’s house shredding my body in their gym in the hopes that the brutal workout would distract me from what I needed to do. And hours later when I’d made the trip to the city again, I’d been determined to follow through with my plan. Only that night ended up like the first one. And so went every night after that. At some point, Revay’s voice had quieted in my mind and when it was finally silent, I’d known it was time to finish what I’d started. So twenty-four hours ago when I’d walked out of Matty’s room, I’d let my fingers rest in Tate’s hair like I had all the other nights, but then I’d gone a step further and leaned down to brush my lips over his temple. He’d stirred just enough so that his lips were achingly close to mine and I’d finally given in to my need to taste him and had brushed my mouth over the corner of his. The result had been electric and it had taken everything in me to step away from him.
I’d driven back to Whidbey Island just as the sun had been rising over the mountains behind me and for the first time in the ten years since I’d lost Revay, I’d felt a few moments of peace. I’d gone backto the motel and slept for a couple of hours before gathering my things. My plan had been to return to the hospital only long enough to take care of the hospital bill, but when I’d spied a toy store on the way to the ferry dock, I hadn’t been able to curb the need to leave a little piece of myself behind with the little boy who’d reminded me what true strength was all about.
Matty’s smile as I’d entered his hospital room had turned me inside out and when he’d put out his arms expectantly, I’d hugged him and fought the sting of tears I’d felt burning the backs of my eyes. I’d only glanced at Seth once because the young man’s knowing eyes had had me wanting to retreat in on myself. I’d had no doubt that he’d known what my plan for Tate was and I hadn’t wanted to risk the same look of censure in his eyes that I’d seen in Ronan’s that first day.
I’d listened as Matty had proudly explained how brave he’d been for all the tests and procedures that had been done on him and that he’d made a new friend named Susie, but my heart had nearly broken when he’d asked if I would spend the night like his daddy did. The doll I’d bought him had helped appease him when I’d explained that I had to leave for a while and I hadn’t lingered after that. Partly because I hated hurting the little boy who’d clearly grown fonder of me than he probably should have, considering the shitty way I’d treated him. But mostly because I hadn’t wanted to run into his father. My obsession with Tate was spiraling out of control and I’d been terrified that even being around him for the few seconds it would take to say my goodbyes would have had me wanting something more than I should.
So for the first time in my life, I’d run. I’d taken the coward’s way out and I’d left a note…a fucking note. And I hadn’t even had the balls to actually tell Tate I was sorry for what I’d done. I’d gotten in my car and started driving and as the miles had flown by, I’d forced all thoughts of Tate from my mind and I’d done what I did best. I planned.
But a stranger showing up in the dead of night wasn’t part of my plan. I had no reason to think it was anyone but a harmless tourist who’d gotten lost while looking for nearby YellowstoneNational Park, but my years of tracking hardened, evil men had skewed my reality and I was always on the alert for any possibility. Hell, truth be told, my faith in humanity had been fucked up from the moment I ran into my burning house and found my wife lying on the floor of our bedroom, her body covered in blood as flames had licked at her skin.
The car rattled to a stop about ten feet from me, but the glare from the security light above the garage made it impossible to see the driver’s face. But the second the door tentatively opened and brown hair appeared, I knew who it was and my stomach dropped out. My mouth went dry as Tate’s eyes connected with mine and I felt heat wash through my entire body before setting up camp in my gut.
Neither of us spoke after he closed the car door and for the life of me, I couldn’t break the connection we had just from staring at each other. I still didn’t understand how I could suddenly be attracted to a man, but what I was struggling with even more was my level of attraction. The idea of touching another man, tasting him, should have made me at least wary. But the only messages my brain was sending me was how good Tate would feel in my arms, beneath me, surrounding me.
Tate’s eyes finally shifted to the rifle I had in my hand and I automatically pointed it towards the ground. I’d terrorized this man enough, even if my threats had been empty ones.
“What are you doing here?” I managed to ask as I forced my gaze from Tate and focused on putting the rifle back in the bag of weapons I’d been putting in my truck. I tried to keep my breathing even as I heard Tate approach me. When he didn’t answer me, I made myself turn to face him and saw that he was less than a foot from me…it would be so easy to draw him forward into my arms. I wondered if he would come willingly. I suspected he was gay based on the encounter he’d had with the man the night I’d broken into his apartment, but I could have read that situation wrong. After all, Tate hadn’t seemed to be enjoying the man’s attentions. And his physical reactions to me when I’d pulled him against me at Seth and Ronan’s house, as well as in the hotel room the night we’d driven up to Seattle from California, could have just been fear on his part.
“Why?” was all Tate asked, his eyes searching mine out. A shiver went through his body and I wondered if it was because of the cool night air or something else. He was wearing the same jeans he typically wore and I was glad to see they actually looked like they fit him better now. And while he still looked tired and a little too pale, he didn’t have the same gauntness he’d had when we’d first met.
I ignored his question simply because I didn’t want to answer it…because none of the answers I had were easy ones.
“How did you find me?”
I employed an online postal services company to receive my mail since I didn’t spend enough time at the house in Rocky Point to pick up my mail on a regular basis, so I’d used my virtual post office box address for the hospital paperwork.
“Ronan gave me your address.”
Irritation went through me because I’d never told Ronan about this place and I certainly hadn’t given him the address. Which meant he’d used alternative means to locate me.
I pushed past Tate, ignoring the rush of sensation that went through me when our bodies briefly connected. I strode into the garage and began searching through the cabinet where I stored my weapons.
“So you’re going after them by yourself?” I heard Tate say behind me.
“Go home, Tate,” I said without looking at him. “Go be with your son,” I added as I carried a couple of clips over to my work table and began adding bullets to the first one.
“What about our deal?”
I put down the clip I’d been loading and turned to face him. “You and I both know it was never a deal,” I finally said. I ended up grabbing the clip again so I could keep loading it because I didn’t trust myself enough to have my hands free when Tate was once again within reaching distance.
Tate appeared agitated as he glanced around the empty, well-litgarage. “They won’t talk to you,” he eventually said. “They’re all afraid of Buck.”
“Then I’ll make sure they’re more afraid of me.”
I turned back around to the work table and reached for the second clip. But then Tate was whirling me around, and to my surprise, he actually shoved me back against the work table, his hands fisted in my shirt. “Please don’t do this,” he whispered.
They were the last words I expected to hear.
Tate’s hands relaxed enough to release my shirt, but instead of pulling them away, he opened them so they were flat on my chest and I barely kept it together as the heat burned through the thin fabric of my shirt. He stared at his hands for a moment and then lifted his eyes to meet mine. I saw the flash of heat go through them and I wondered if he saw the same thing in my gaze. I nearly groaned when his tongue flicked out to moisten his lips and then he was pulling his hands away from my chest, the tips pressing into me for the briefest of moments before he stepped back. At least I had my answer about whether his physical reactions to me had been about fear or something else.
Anger and frustration consumed me as I grabbed the clips and the box of bullets and strode back to my truck. Tate hadn’t moved when I returned to the garage and began closing up the nearly empty gun cabinet.
“I know you came to the hospital every night.”
I stilled, but didn’t turn to face him. I tried to lock the cabinet, but my fingers wouldn’t cooperate.
